Making sense of challenging times

Borrowed from Instagram

Every afternoon, an alarm on my phone reminds me that 'everything is impermanent.' I set this alarm as a strategy to get through my workday at a job I haven't loved before we were asked by our governor to "stay home, stay safe". Now it seems almost prescient. 

Where we are at this moment in time is hard. And, as I heard my mom say more times than I wanted to, "this too shall pass." 

We cannot have pleasure without pain, nor joy without sadness. We can't know comfort without experiencing discomfort.  

And sometimes, we require a strong jolt to move out of complacency or apathy to embrace real, lasting, necessary change.

Transformation, ready or not

Over the last month, I have witnessed real transformation every day at work. I work for a very traditional, allopathic medical group—"western" medicine that isn't my go-to but I'm glad it's there when I need it.  

The change is nothing short of remarkable. In the two-plus years I've worked there, the organization has made numerous changes, but it needed to move faster to keep up with a rapidly evolving market. At the end of 2019, they set up an "acceleration office" to ideally usher in change more quickly. That work was just getting underway... 

And... virus. 

Practically overnight, my organization transitioned to nearly all virtual care, adopted new practices and systems, and relaxed outdated policies and adopted new ones. I, and all my coworkers, are busier than we've ever been—with most of us working remotely. And this isn't true just in my organization, but throughout the healthcare industry overall. 

Opportunity and silver linings

In any way imaginable, everything just got very real. Personally and professionally, no matter where you are in life, what's most important is up for redefining, and our priorities are shifting in countless ways, collectively and individually. 

This might just be a transcendent wake-up call, a reset, a recalibration. At least, that's one way to look at it, and how I prefer to look at it. Not one to waste a crisis, I know from experience there is always something to be learned and gained and that transformation is afoot when things fall apart. This is how we grow, deeply, personally, culturally. 

Yes, I am profoundly troubled by the strife in the world—the fear, the loss of life and livelihoods—and I'm keenly aware of the very real trauma created by this disease and the impact of the stringent measures required to quell it. 

Sadly, there will be casualties, much like war, and the most vulnerable among us will be most affected. This is heartbreaking on so many levels, because no one deserves to lose their life, or that of a loved one, when every waking moment may feel hard and life as we know it can't continue.  

But I have a deep sense that we need this. 

Our systems don't work

So much about our way of life has been unsustainable. Every one of our systems requires an overhaul to work better for people and the planet; right now, this is more evident than ever in our food, healthcare, and economic systems, as well as our environmental policies.

We now have an opportunity to do things differently and to notice how we rely on each other. We're a global economy, dependent on trade, shared knowledge, and combined resources. Darwin's reinterpreted survival theory requires that we adapt, cooperate, and collaborate, not compete. (Watch infectious disease expert Alanna Shaikh talk about global health here and what we must do now to avoid another major pandemic.)  

We are collectively learning we must also play the long game rather than opting for the short-term profits and wins we've become accustomed to. So much of our financial and political focus is based on short-term thinking, and only those who know the game and how to play it come out ahead, leaving so many behind. Here in the US, it's time to reinstate our social contract and leave the 'rugged individual' mythology behind. None of us can do it all alone.  

Resourcefulness = resilience

All that said, however... we must also plan to care for ourselves when disaster strikes, to ensure those who most need help are able to get it. 

Since the hoarding and stockpiling at the beginning of this pandemic indicate otherwise, we must individually prepare for disasters before they hit. Those of us who live in earthquake zones should have at minimum two-weeks of food, water, and god-forbid, toilet paper, among other necessities. And ideally, governments are learning that we must not rely on a just-in-time supply chain and instead keep back-up emergency supplies. Note to self for Clorox Wipes... 

If you haven't yet read The Unthinkable and The Gift of Fear, please make time for them. Both of these books give examples of why we must think about the impossible, while learning to trust our instincts. My partner, who works on container ships, watches disasters-at-sea videos; when I asked why, since I have no stomach for these, he said to imagine the impossible, because the impossible happens. 

Necessity = ingenuity and creativity 

Some of the bright spots—because there are always bright spots if we're paying attention—are the extraordinary creativity, innovation, and ingenuity, along with visible compassion, gratitude, and a real sense of connection, despite physical distance. 

People are helping others in ways we haven't seen in decades. A few examples: 

• We're making masks and donating supplies, creating affinity groups online, finding new ways to fundraise, and re-imagining helpful services. 
• Our front-line healthcare workers are heroes and she-roes, celebrated by balcony and front porch serenades. 
• Musicians are performing live online, and local yoga studios and trainers are offering online classes almost any time of day. 
• Restaurants and bars started new lines of business with take-out and delivery (and I don't mean to diminish how badly these and other services have been hit by this). 
• Church services are broadcasting via Facebook Live, AA meetings and weddings are taking place on Zoom (along with plenty of virtual happy hours), and 
• Businesses previously hesitant to offer their staff remote work made it possible overnight. 
• One of my favorite things so far is a Facebook group, View from my Window, where people from across the world post one (only one per person allowed) image from their window, as the (nearly) whole world shelters in place.  
• The memes are some of the best ever, and all the late-night shows are broadcasting from home. I highly recommend finding and following people and things you love on Instagram, like The Daily "Social Distancing" Show, Trevor Noah's re-imagined home-based show.   

And finally, great resources are springing up all over for those who are struggling. One of my favorites so far is a support guide, chock full of awesome resources, compiled by author and web TV host Marie Forleo. You can find it here. And if you just want to hear a comforting voice, author Glennon Doyle is broadcasting "family meetings" on Instagram, sharing the challenges of being home with a spouse and bored kids. 

For us, not to us

So, let's ask: Is this happening for me, or to me? When we ask ourselves this question (about this or any other thing), it shifts our experience. We get more control over our circumstances, with space to receive insights to weather our storms and see opportunity, even as we grieve our losses.   

This pandemic, and the subsequent stay home measures, is challenging us like nothing else has, and we will all be changed in ways big and small. I hope we all take time to assess what's worth keeping and what's better left behind. Right now is a great time to visualize the world you want to live in, to spend time in quiet reflection, and hold space for a better future. 

As Leonard Cohen sang, "there's a crack in everything; cracks are how the light gets in." Our cracks are showing us the changes we need to collectively thrive. 

I leave you with this quote from author and extraordinary human, Arundahti Roy: 

Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it. 

That I write all this from relative comfort and privilege is not lost on me. And yet I also state it with conviction. Because I have learned we can do hard things. 

While most of us may not be high-risk, we're all, perhaps unwittingly, part of a new, developing social contract, staying in and doing the right things for those we love. At the very least, I hope we hold onto this, and that on the other side, we're all a little kinder, more generous, more compassionate, and more mindful. We are all in this together.  



If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

When life takes a hard turn... can you fix it?

Talented gardeners, builders, creators

Imagine if you will... 

You live in an RV, parked on a city street, with few resources—no running water, no working toilet, no refrigeration or cooking facilities, and little money for food or propane for your stove or heater.

I know two people who fell on hard times and this is their current reality. I feel profound sadness for them and try to help by providing work when they ask, and a little bit extra. And maybe just as important, inviting them in for coffee and conversation, with some dignity and compassion on the side. 

I write this today because I can't get these two out of my mind, and today is Thanksgiving.

I truly believe that nobody should live in an RV or a tent, especially in one of the richest cities in the country. I don't understand why some who have power and means don't connect that caring for others means better care for all, including themselves. Basic health and financial support give those who are able the opportunity to contribute in meaningful ways, for them and us, enriching all of us. We also need better mental health and addiction policies and practices. 

So... now imagine if you will... how can anyone possibly turn circumstances like these around? 

Random vs choice

While randomness is real and bad stuff happens without reason and to people we label good or bad, we can make meaning out of anything.

In our favor, for those of sound mind and body, there's a philosophy that suggests if your life isn't working the way you want it to or think it should, you likely made a choice about what you believed you deserved, perhaps in early childhood. That choice wasn't conscious, because if it was, you'd probably make a different one. Maybe you made that choice because you suffered badly by another's hand, actions, or words. 

While this isn't true for all of us, it's true for a lot of us. Assuming it is, for you as you read this, my questions to you:

• Do you know that much of what you do, feel, think, and experience, is the result of a choice? 
• Do the choices you make improve your life and circumstances, or make them worse?

While other people's actions aren't your fault, as adults, we choose what we make it mean, and what we do about it. This is not victim shaming or blaming. It's a potential way forward. 

My experience, my belief 

Therapy helped me gain perspective on all this, which helped shift my outcomes. For much of my life, I believed I wasn't supposed to be here, that I didn't belong. Long story short: I didn't have a dad; he died right after I was born, signed paternity papers but met me just once. He and my mom weren't married, which was unpopular at that time. His mom and sister dismissed us; his brother was overseas. This and the loss of other caretakers early in my life left me with that deep but unrecognized belief. 

The impact

That belief, an unwitting choice, drove all my actions, including adopting other beliefs, like not being worthy, smart enough, nor capable enough. I looked for love and approval in all the wrong places, all outside of myself. My teen years were precarious, full of bad choices, leading to some scary paths. 

Thankfully, I didn't get far along those paths, but I lost several friends to addiction, the streets, suicide. 

It's hard to internalize that our beliefs drive our choices, and our choices create our lives. Especially when we have no conscious access to what's below the surface of our thoughts and actions. But if we're tired of the life we're living, there are resources to help. 

Meet Kelly & Barry

Kelly takes care of my garden since my allergies prevent me from doing all that needs to be done. We met a few years ago through a neighborhood group. A self-described businesswoman, when we met she was in a vocational program to help others with addiction. She was close to receiving a certificate. 

Kelly's partner Barry gets odd jobs here and there. They're smart, capable, talented, and caring people who've struggled with their own addictions, and while clean and sober now, they had a recent relapse. 

A health crisis sidelined Kelly initially, and family helped her through it. But she hooked up with Barry, still unable to work, and then lost their subsidized housing. They rallied, did some manual labor, and earned enough money to buy a decrepit but out-of-the-elements RV.

On Sunday, we spent time talking as they prepped my yard for winter. Growing up, both had their share of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs). 

How do you fix that? How do you reverse the cycle that's grounded in deeply buried beliefs? They deserve better. We know there are therapies that help, but typically require resources, ability, time, and an extraordinary and often difficult commitment. 

However...  

Barry said it: I know I'm responsible.

OK. Awareness is the first step toward change.

Kelly added: But without meeting that base layer of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, when you're solely focused on survival, it's nearly impossible to move up the hierarchy.

Fair enough...

They offered to work for whatever I was willing to pay them, whether it was $20 a day or $20 an hour. My head screamed: Know your worth! Let's start there. 

They say they know they deserve better, but at their core, I know they don't believe it. They have dreams and desires, and truly, I believe, the capacity to achieve them—when they find a way to get out of their own way. 

Sound mind?

Addiction changes the brain and can impair cognitive and emotional ability, but generally, they're of sound mind (from my layman's perspective). I also know that depression is a serious issue, and Kelly mentioned a while ago that Barry is sometimes incapacitated by this. 

Having watched family on my maternal side suffer from depression, I've seen the impact up close. It's like being stuck in an abyss with no way out. And yet... it's not impossible. Help is out there.  

My own experience with depression gave me extraordinary empathy, as well as the knowledge that change can happen, and it's not a life sentence. I was lucky to have help. Both medical and therapeutic help, along with a better diet and exercise, gave me the leg up I needed to change my own beliefs. 

Dig deep and unearth those beliefs, diligently work on your mindset (stop, notice, redirect, or tell yourself, "there's no place for that language in here!), make better choices, have better problems. We can change our trajectory. Not so simple, but not impossible. Sometimes we can get there by working backwards: Make better choices, see the outcomes, mindset shifts, and eventually, we uncover beliefs. 

Leverage points

I wish I could do more for Kelly and Barry but it's not mine to do. I offer what I can, but I can't change them, their circumstances, their choices, or their minds. I believe in them, and know they're capable. I hope that maybe I'm at least a leverage point.  

This is probably a good time to acknowledge that those who have little also have fewer leverage points. It's hard to get a break. I think about my own privilege and how easy so many daily activities are, like eating, showering, even using the loo. Let alone the stuff I write about here. When you're living on the edge, it's extremely hard to climb up and out of your circumstances. And again, it's not impossible. 

The court of public opinion

On top of all that... Right now, what they face is a scathing public, a public that lumps all homeless people together, as addicts or lazy people who leech from the system. While mental illness is a huge part of the addiction, garbage, and public health problems in our homeless population, and while some do aim to buck the system, not everyone deserves these classifications. 

They are an 'other' and treated as such. There's a both/and here: mean-spirited neighbors throw garbage around RVs or tents and residents aim to keep them clean, while some encampment residents create their own filth due to mental health or active addiction. It's all a public health issue.  

Since housing is a challenge we can't seem to figure out, what if our tax dollars provided a safe and sanctioned place to park, with toilets, showers, and proper garbage disposal areas to better serve them and address public health concerns?  

I think it's on all of us to be aware of the complexity here, mind our own judgments, and do what we can, when or if we can, especially when we see an effort and willingness to make change.   

Our choices have consequences...

Our choices range from the most minuscule to life-changing. Some changes require a deep honesty with ourselves, a willingness to let go of who we are and what we believe, and some solid determination. We have to always ask if our choices line up with what we say we want. We have to imagine what better looks like.

My mantra from Ken Keyes' 12 Pathways comes to mind: I feel with loving compassion the problems of others without getting caught up *emotionally* in what they need for their growth. 

As I told another friend, there are some journeys we must take on our own, and the journey inward is one of these. Even with help, only we can do that inner work.

Live your best life

So, if you're not living the life you want to live, how can you stop and hear your inner voice? Where do you need help? What small choice can you make today that may impact tomorrow's experience?  

It may be hard, but it's a way through. Pain is part of life but how long we suffer is on us. Both are thankfully impermanent.  

We're all here to learn and grow, and we often learn what's most important through pain. My hope for all of us would be that we learn through less suffering.

***

Update 12/3: On Sunday, Anderson Cooper did a story for 60 Minutes on homelessness—or, the 'unsheltered' as they were referred to—where Seattle is front and center. We apparently have the third-largest unsheltered population in the country. While it's mostly fair reporting and speaks to the root problem of unaffordable housing and the growing wage gap, it's not entirely representative. Cooper gets kudos, though. You can watch it here. 


If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

One in a million: live up to your potential

Are you one in a million? 

Psychologists estimate that not one person in a million is living up to their potential. Wait, what? 

Next time you're out-and-about--walking, on a bus, in an elevator, look around and imagine everyone being their best selves. What kind of impact would that have, on them, on us, or in world?   

I'm paraphrasing Eric Butterworth's Spiritual Economics, a book I'm reading for a class of the same name. He doesn't cite a source, and it's from 2001 so not current, but the estimate has a ring of truth even now, although I hope it's exaggerated.  

He then asks, "Look in the mirror and reflect on this same thing. Can you imagine what your life would be like if you could realize your potential?" 

The idea of self-actualization is relatively recent, at least in western culture, and we're just now starting to understand neuroplasticity, the mind-body connection, and motivation. He does go on to also offer encouragement and hope, noting our "civilization is just beginning and the best is yet to be." 

We're actually better than ever

While locally and globally we have great cultural problems, including gaping class and cultural divides, statistically we're better in more ways than not. Author Steven Pinker talks about this and offers a lot of data in Better Angels of our Nature, to name just one example. 

So much of what we experience is our perspective, no matter where we fall on a socio-economic scale. There's research that indicates we don't get happier with more affluence; in fact, sometimes the more we have, the less happy we tend to be. So potential is not tied to perceived success or monetary gain. 

Here's an exercise Butterworth suggests: 

Choose the most difficult thing you're facing right now and say, 'I know that this is the best thing that could happen to me; I know that in the happening there's a new lesson to learn and some new growth to experience. Within me is an unborn possibility of limitless potentialities and this is my opportunity to give birth to new ideas, new strengths, and new vision. I accept the reality of the difficulty but not its permanence. ... By knowing 'it has come to pass', something wonderful is on its way to me far surpassing anything I have ever known before...'

Everything is impermanent

My mother was fond of saying, "this too shall pass" and it drove me nuts. However, she was right (of course). Everything is impermanent. What happened moments ago will never happen in the same way again, nor will what happens next. 

I recently heard someone suggest we view our 'problems' as 'projects'. I like it. Projects end. They always resolve. We can break them into pieces and take on easier-to-digest small part by small part. And they usually end well; at the least, they're always opportunities for learning.  

Spiritual Economics is full of wise words, but because Butterworth was a 'new thought' minister and borrowed heavily from Christian language, I do mental gymnastics with his use of Biblical terms. Conceptually, however, it's gratefully different, and the book is fine-tuning my own thinking—and getting me closer to living my potential. 

What difficult thing can you ask yourself about today?  



If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

Purging possessions: a humbling experience

Seattle's Pike Place Market opened the same year
my family moved into our Ballard home, 1907. 

Off and on for years now, I've cleaned out and purged possessions and keepsakes; I've written about that process here before. Reading The Year of Less at the beginning of 2018 ushered in a new level of clearing, which continues today. That said, how on earth does stuff accumulate?  

My house is small. I have very few cupboards and closets and my storage space is extremely limited. For better or worse, the house came with plenty of stuff when I moved in, as it's been in my family now for 112 years. Even though they didn't have a lot in those days, somehow there was still plenty left by the time I landed here, nearly two decades ago. Add to that our active, busy lifestyle with numerous projects and interests makes functioning in our space that much more challenging. 

Our cottage on the hill, circa early 1900s,
with my grandfather and great aunt.

With much of the small stuff finally gone, it's time for the big stuff, which admittedly is harder for a number of unrelated reasons: emotional attachment even though I don't necessarily like these things, nor have a use for... and, nobody wants them. At least, no one in my family. And apparently, few on the Buy Nothing sites want much, either. 

My grandmother's old upright piano was a tough giveaway but finally went to a home with a young boy about 10 years ago. Now I'm left with the antique walnut dining set my aunt bought at a New York auction in the 1940s, which can seat six at its smallest, and has five leaves for many more—great for extended family dinners back in the day when we had a big family. It's beautiful, but frankly never felt like it fit this house. I'm also ready to part with an old Singer sewing machine, one of the first electric models, which belonged to my favorite great aunt. I've never used it. Its cabinet has been a plant stand for as long as I've had it, which is close to 20 years now. I think things are meant to be used, and while I believe in repurposing, I don't think a plant stand is a good repurpose of a cool machine that can be used to make things.  

Both of these are now listed online on numerous buy/sell channels.

I've also listed a handful of small items with no current personal use on my local Buy Nothing site. Why is it that people say they're interested, make arrangements to come get it, and then never show? And they're not just no-shows—they don't let you know nor even respond! 

It takes time to photograph and list these things. Food went quickly, even those items that had long past 'best by' dates. Go figure. I recall having a moving sale when I left Vancouver; the items that sold continually baffled me. The really nice stuff? Nobody cared... 

Our house today, slightly bigger
than before, but not much.

All of this is a humbling experience. I think I'm of the last generation to care about family 'heirlooms' passed down for decades. And right now, it feels like I'm one of few to actually respect people's time. I'm of a mindset that you do what you say you're going to do, or clean it up... which in this case means: let people know if you change your mind, can't get there, or otherwise are no longer interested. 

So while letting go of possessions is at times a humbling experience with some growth opportunities built-in, having fewer possessions is largely freeing. It makes space for something new, something better (and not necessarily a material thing) to show up in your life. 

That part's exciting.  

If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

Practicing impermanence

Callas are symbols of both rebirth
and death. They die back each year,
but the next year, they're stronger,
more beautiful, and more plentiful
than the year before. 

I am reminded this month of life's impermanence. Although I believe we are all energy, and energy can't be created or destroyed and only changes form, as humans on this mortal plane, we are impermanent. 

So as in life, so as in death.  

As humans, we are ever-changing, moment-by-moment, with every breath. As humans, we attach identity and meaning, but we choose these, either consciously or unconsciously. 

Our circumstances are also impermanent. And this is all good news.  

May is a month of anniversaries for me: the week after Mother's Day is the anniversary of my mom's death—this year marks 19 years. Her sister, who preceded her in death by several years, also left her earthly body in May. There are more. 

I currently have friends who just lost or are about to lose their closest relationships—one whose father recently transitioned, another whose parents are nearing their final days, and another whose date with death is literally planned through a MAID, or Medical Assistance in Death. It's not an easy time for many. 


The gift of presence


Death is hard for those who are left behind. 

On the same side of anguish, however, is presence. Death changes us, marks us, and shifts our perspective, reminding us of our own impermanence. Which makes today, our present moment, that much more meaningful and precious. 

On the other side of anguish is gratitude—for the moment, for our current experience, and for the future we still get to create. For the memories and gifts of those who left. 

On the other side of loss is forgiveness—for words unsaid, deeds undone, and grace not given. 

Parallel to pain is beauty—without pain, we cannot experience joy, happiness, contentment, nor peace. 

Perspective...

Physical loss is real, however the gifts that accompany that loss never leave us. We gain perspective. We grow appreciation. We soften over time as memories fade but feelings remain. We gain compassion and empathy, and are more likely to see others from a widened point of view.  

And, just as we are impermanent, so are our circumstances. There are other losses in my life right now. Changes at work and home, with friends and family. 

Change has many benefits... 

Impermanence serves us. We are not stuck. We can change how we think about our experience, change our response, and see our circumstances through a new lens.  

While loss of loved ones is truly one of the hardest things ever, I will always be grateful for change. Change is hopeful. Change is interesting, bringing meaning, substance and expansiveness from which we grow and learn. I wouldn't want to be the person I was in my youth, or even 20 years ago. Ugh! I am SO grateful for change. I have gained wisdom and experience that only comes with age and change. 

Good, bad, or otherwise, change happens, and our best option, for our highest and greatest good, is to find our way to peace with that. We must go through—there is no shortcut. If you're struggling with change, or the idea of impermanence, Buddhist sage Pema Chodron may be the preeminent authority and her foundation has many useful resources. 

Embrace what is...

We must embrace the anguish, the bittersweet experience that engulfs all loss. Mourn what was. Miss our loved ones. And trust that on the other side, life has its sweet rewards. There are still precious memories to make. Experiences to have. People to meet. I love yous to say. We will grow through loss, gain much, and love ourselves and each other that much more for it.  

Without impermanence, there would be no life.  


If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.