Archives for April 2020

Everyone I know, I’ve been blessed to see imperfect. I say this is a blessing because I’m one who has struggled with perfectionism. It goes something like this: When I see someone succeed or cast a vision of success in a way that I have hoped to achieve myself, I see them as a reflection of perfection, especially in opposition to my personal imperfections (which I seem intimately aware of). It’s a mind trip that I don’t wish upon anyone.

So it is a gift for me to see my friends (especially those whom I admire) bear witness to their weaknesses, their personal challenges, and their very human navigation of reality.

We all face ourselves in the light of imperfection at some point (seeing that we are not who we would like to be). If our sense of worthiness is beaten upon, we may search for the things that will give us peace. Some of us will be snagged by traps that ultimately cause us mental, emotional, and physical pain on account of this search. Others will dive into productivity, working to give ourselves value. Others will stand upon their opinions and values.

In the midst of my challenging time friends (and strangers) have offered their love in a particular way that brought me immense peace. They each said some variation of this:

I want you to know that if I could, I would sit with you, and hear your story, from beginning to end. I would laugh with you, and cry with you. I would carry your questions with you. I would encourage your dreams (and help battle the nightmares). I would feel the pain of your pain, and feel the joy of your joy (I’m an empath, so that’s a real thing). I would turn off my phone before you started your story. I wouldn’t run away as you shared. Your story would have my full attention. You would have my full attention.

I would do this because I would want to listen. I would want to share this time with you, because you are important, and I genuinely want to know you. Your story and our time together would be a gift to me. I would care for it the best I could.

There was something about someone wanting to know me (not just what I did), and caring, that made such a difference. In that realization, I found peace, and the rest that comes with it. I wish the same for you.

This is not a note to prove that miracles exist, or whether or not they should be defined exclusively as events that are inexplicable outside of the supernatural. Others have already done that.

This note, instead, is a reminder to be looking for them.

I define miracles as those happenings that, given the constancy or inconsistency of things, should not happen. Of course the definition must include that miracles tend towards good. Therefore, it is miraculous, the moment emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual burdens and pains are lifted (regardless of the amount of “work” put in to lift such things). It is miraculous when we are given the grace to carry such burdens in the first place. It is miraculous when we find ourselves uniquely disposed for the work of a particular time and place. It is miraculous when we find ourselves able to adapt and change to thrive a particular time and place.

In the past weeks we all have had unique experiences. Our personalities, work, relationships, geography, economies, and governments, have all interacted in ways we may not have ever experienced in same way before. Maybe we have seen parts of ourselves and our world that we didn’t quite know existed. Maybe we were pleasantly surprised. Maybe surprised, but not so pleasantly.

In the midst of it all, I’m keeping my eyes open for the miraculous. The artist who still protects time and space to create. The family whose relationships are renewed by experiencing a crisis together. The solitary soul who experiences their good neighbors checking in on them. The solitary soul who find themselves checking in on their neighbors. The birth of ideas, relationships, and life in the midst of so much trauma and death. Some of these might seem little in the grand scheme of things. I find them all to be miraculous.

I’m curious, what kind of miracles are you seeing today?

Just a few days ago I finally saw “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” – the film dramatizing an episode in Mr. Roger’s life. I had seen the documentary, but had no idea about the particular slice of life that this film focused on. I couldn’t stop crying.

Have you ever had an episode when a story, or even a particular set of words, set off your emotional well-spring?

It’s such a common occurrence with me that I’ve come to see it as a feedback loop to engage with. It seems that for me, the triggers point to things I’m more present to at a particular time. As examples…

• Any story about loss might trigger feelings of missing special people in my life.
• Whenever someone shares generous commendations or expressions of pride in another (as a parent might to a child), the trap of, “I have to do something amazing to be worthy of love” rather than the more healthy “what I do is fueled by the amazing love I’ve received” is loosened.
• If ever there is a story about reconciliation (especially between a father and a son), I’m struck by the miracle of full and deep reconciliation.

I make note of the last example, because the trigger does not apply to me specifically. My own relationship with my father is thankfully quite good. There is just something about that story that gets to the heart of my being, and my desire to witness and be a part of reconciliation, wherever it may be needed or happening.

The interesting thing I’ve experienced is that depending on what I’m working through (what areas of my heart are more exposed), the triggers change. One story that could have been a guarantee to bring on the ugly tears one month becomes a trigger for joy the next. I take note of this too, as it seems to signify growth and/or healing (a cause for celebration and thanks).

What has been hitting your heart these days?

Throughout my childhood I was gifted with a set of parents who always wanted to see me happy. So much so that they would worry if I was stressed over particular responsibilities, working too hard, or going through a period of melancholy. I was one of those kids that even at a young age, “took things seriously” and was “too sensitive.”

Regardless, joy was a significant part of my life. I remember laughing a lot, with my whole gut, and sometimes to tears.

As an adult however, I’ve found it more and more difficult to remember the things that bring me joy. They are buried underneath the requirements of the day. They are covered with dust. Maybe even unrecognizable at first sight. Upon the encouragement of a close friend I’ve tried writing a list. That helped, but I’ve been digging deeper.

I’ve realized that there are things that I take for granted. Things that I have the ability to do quite easily, that also give me great joy. The completion of a jigsaw puzzle, or finishing a lego build really quickly, are two examples. The experience of tap dancing for a few hours and discovering new sounds and rhythms is another. However, because I take these for granted I don’t put much focus on them, protect time to engage in them, or even allow myself to enjoy them as much as I possibly could.

I say to myself, there are other things that are “more important.” Work, mostly. It may be analog to someone carrying this opinion, “How can you be happy when there’s so much sadness in the world?” Please know, I am not saying that we shouldn’t have empathy and compassion for (and by extension actions to support) our fellow humans. Of course we should. We should also carry great joy for the gift of life each of us have been given.

It is a gift after all, this weird and wondrous life, in all of its trauma and celebration.

What joys would you like to remember?

I’m a list writer.

I love scratching off each line on a to-do list. I enjoy organizing my often sporadic thoughts with lists. I’ve caught myself spending hours reading every “Top 5 best ways to…” and “Seven things you can do to…” list online. Suffice it to say, it’s a thing.

With all these lists that abound, and that I find myself writing, there are three that I seem to keep coming back to.

1. What bring me joy?
2. What I need or what gives me life?
3. What are the questions I’m holding?

The first list serves as a reminder. During one of the most challenging times of my life, I was encouraged by a friend to list 20 things that brought me joy. At the time I could only come up with 7. It was a small list, but helpful. Indeed, I have a habit of getting consumed by work, concerns, and random thoughts that like to swirl and can weigh me down. Having a list of what brings me joy (the things to which I smile automatically) reminds me what to reach for when I’m down. It might sound trivial to write it out, but I included things like tossing a tennis ball against a wall, and seeing a baby discover their hand for the first time. I still don’t have 20 things on my list. It doesn’t matter how many things you have. It matters that there is something there, no matter how trivial it might sound.

The second list serves as a guide. I work in various fields, with lots of different people, who have lots of divergent opinions. I enjoy find it difficult sometimes to maintain a sense of my own opinions and beliefs, while navigating such terrain. So I’ve come to right them down. Things on this list are big ideas like needing space (mental, physical, emotional), and smaller ones like what food is best to have stocked in the house.

The “needs” here are in recognition of and response to how I’m wired. By working to acknowledge how I’m uniquely wired, the needs that come with that, and work within their boundaries I find myself more filled with life than if I fight against it. It’s my way of engaging with self-care. I test these out, of course, to see if they are actual “needs” or just preferences or wants. Preferences can wait until the needs are fulfilled, and wants can be weighed against what is actually good in a particular time (for myself and those around me). I also test to make sure that “how I’m made” is being put toward “what I’m made for” and not anything else.

Lastly, the third list helps me keep track of the questions I’m holding. I enjoy finding good questions, and asking them often. My friend Michael Bungay Stanier also does this really well. Sometimes I hold on to them for a while before I get an answer. Sometimes I want to remember the question even after an answer come so I can come back and ask it again later or share it with others. So I write them down. All in one place.

Do you have key lists that you keep?

I write this feeling extremely overwhelmed. It’s a feeling I’m sure many of us have experienced in the past weeks. Life has shifted in ways we may never have thought possible. Our responsibilities remain, still reshaped by our new context.

Yesterday, I shared a little bit about what it has meant for me to focus on a single day during this time. Today I’m thinking through what it means to plan ahead in a time of such uncertainty. What should I be planning for? How can I even know?

Let me say this first. We are supposed to be planning. Even in the midst of uncertainty, we are called to be imagining possible futures, and make choices for the care of the people and resources that have been placed in our sphere of influence. I believe this to be true regardless of our official roles or capacities or contexts.

We can look at our spheres of influence in concentric circles. The innermost circle might include family, close friends, and immediate resources, with work colleagues, neighbors, and resources we have access to in the next one, and so on.

As I have attempted to do some planning of my own, I’m struck by the following realizations:

• How I see the world fundamentally frames what I see as possible futures
• Whether I feel hopefully or distraught informs the quality of my planning (and my ability to even start)
• I am continually confronted with grief as I go through this process

A friend recently pointed me to this article by the folks at Praxis Labs. Praxis Labs is a really cool organization that cares for leaders from the context of a Christian Worldview. As evidenced in the article, that worldview (combined with the most current scientific research) is key to the way the authors process our current situation. This is true for each of us as well. Our own worldview is going to provide the guiding principles, values, and informed imaginations, that will guide our planning process. (Taking on others past experiences, as well as history, can help expand our imagination as to possible futures, as well.) These principles and values can stay constant while the context in which they express themselves continues to change. We should be able to lean on them as a solid foundation.

On the emotional side, it has been amazing to witness myself hold both the hopeful, almost opportunistic, view of our current time, and the dystopian, end of the world as we know it, view at the same time. I have recognized that in order for me to plan well, I have to hold tightly to the hope of a future in which the principles and values I hold dear may still flourish. Love can still reign.

Still, the world will not be the same as it was when this particular time has passed. For every dream that we have invested in, planned for, and worked towards that will not come to pass, there will be grief to process. Many dreams will die, many will survive for a time, and many new ones will be born. Even in the midst of the hope I hold to and whatever dreams may be born in this time, I know I will surely need some time to process the grief I am experiencing. That’s okay.

So, as I get to planning, I find myself holding loosely the dreams of work, projects, and achievement, while holding tightly to the values of hope, trust, and love.

What is giving you hope as you plan for the time ahead?

When our schedules get uprooted. When our touch-points change. One way I find myself grounding myself again is to ask this one question:

“What do I need to do for today?”

There is the idea that each day is a gift. Each gift comes with its own responsibilities. There might be work, burdens, and joys to experience. These aspects may be completely unrelated to the day prior or a continuation thereof. We never really know. We may bring into each day our own set of goals, tasks, and desires, but there may be other things to watch out for, too.

To really drill into this idea I enter into a conversation about the day. I do this the night before or when I wake up first thing in the morning. In the morning the conversation lasts through my entire wake-up routine. I might review my lists, or check my calendar, too. While I’m still asking the question, I write down what I hear. The conversation has to end before I can go to sleep the night before or begin working that day.

I trust that the thoughts I’ve been given for the day are enough to focus me in the direction of the day. I have learned to stay open to nudges, too, but there is a balance here. Focus on the particular direction day and keep my eyes and ears open.

What do you do, to focus on the gift of today?

This might sound like an obvious question, but I’ve been asking it anyway. It gives me the opportunity to take a second look. So much is changing, taking a second look at the actual details is helping me see where the opportunities for real change actually are.

Backstory: A lot of my life is either in front of a computer (email, video editing, writing, etc.), on the boards (tap dancing practice, rehearsal, etc.), or with people (the Table, coaching, speaking, performing, etc.). As kind of experiment, I’ve also been holding one-on-one online tap dance coaching sessions via Bluejeans video conferencing.

As I take a step back and look at what is really different in my life today there isn’t much. I still sit at my computer, and practice on a board. I still teach one-on-one online lessons.

What has changed, and has opened the opportunity for more change, is the kind of gatherings I’m involved in. I’m much more flexible with where I practice. The friends and family I’m in touch with is now more diverse. The kinds of performances that are available are totally new. Even The Table is online now. My daily routine has been broken wide open, too.

In this moment – when the context upon which we base some of our fundamental frameworks shifts underneath us – we can take the opportunity to shift with it.

So I ask myself: What can I do differently now, that I wouldn’t have thought of before?

What can you do differently?