I promised and now I have a new puppy to take care of.
Image Courtesy of RustyAmber Labradoodles
Over the last 12 months I have come to the realisation that I am surrounded by puppies.
Puppies that I have promised to take care of. Puppies that people trust me to take care of for them.
Some days there are so many of them I am not sure I will be able to manage. It has gotten to the point where even though I would love to offer to take on more I have had to stop myself.
I have had to say no.
Kids make promises all the time. “I promise Mum, I will do my homework tonight.”, “I promise I will be good.” “I promise I won’t spill it…” “This will be the last time I ask,I promise.”.
“I promise I will look after the puppy! I will feed it and give it water and I will clean up his messes.”
But as a ‘grown-up’ when was the last time you made a promise?
When was the last time you kept a promise? Or more importantly, when was the last time you took care of a promise for someone?
Did you listen to that last question?
When was the last time you took care of a promise for someone?
Took care of it like you would take care of a puppy? Fed it. Watered it. Cleaned up any messes. Really took care of it.
Do you even think of promises that way? Or do you think that you stopped making promises about the time you left primary school?
My friend and colleague (and coach and mentor) Phillip Crockford has been working with me (and letting me work with him) to help me see that the promise is the fundamental currency of every relationship in our lives. We make and accept (and hopefully keep) hundreds of promises every day in all aspects of our lives.
Some are big promises… “… ’till death do us part”, signing on to play as part of a team for next season, the confidentiality between doctor and patient, lawyer and client, the confidentiality between friends.
Some are small promises… getting milk on the way home, getting the meeting minutes out before the end of the week, not swearing so much.
But big or small, each one of those promises is something that we have promised to take care of for someone else.
Each promise is a like puppy you are looking after for someone else.
Their puppy.
You cannot just say you will look after it and then leave it in a box in the corner.
You cannot just say “Sorry, things got really busy last week and I didn’t get around to feeding it or giving it water. I meant to tell you but it just slipped my mind…”
You said you would look after it for them – so look after it.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
there are no points for not playing
A: Somebody is going to get hurt; and 
B: There is no room for anybody else.
It was absolutely engrossing and I just could not look away. Surely the bell would ring soon and bring the madness to an end?
Twenty-two kids and three balls on the same basketball court. Three separate games going on at the same time – probably four if you count the group that would occasionally ignore the main game and chase each other around the court just for fun. Getting to the basket was not as simple as getting by your opposing team, you had to get through the two other teams who were playing their own game! Sometimes the small group of kids who were playing with the soccer ball would be shooting at the same time as the large group playing with the basketball. Other times they all would meet in the middle with the kids playing their own game.
It was chaos and I was sure someone was going to get hurt.
And then a couple more kids arrived. Surely someone was going to stop them taking to the already crowded court? They must see there was no space for them to play.
Nope. They didn’t even blink. They walked straight on to the court. They bought their game and they played among everyone else already filling the space.
Which got me thinking about the spaces that I want to play in.
I am putting together a new coaching course focused on helping leaders at all levels craft and deliver their communications. It draws on my experiences as an actor and director, as a barrister and mediator and on some new ontological and psychological research I have been drawing together. There is nothing like it in the market place – it is a different kind of game.
But there a lot of people who are vying for space on the court. There are a lot of people who may look at the game I want to play and say the court is already too crowded with people playing the “presentation skills” game. There is a voice in my head that agrees with them and is trying to convince me there will be more than two or three other teams running a full-court press towards the same goal and that they will stop me from finding a space for me to bring my unique approach. So why should I even try to get on the court?
Because you don’t get points for not playing.
The only thing that really matters is whether you are on the court. Sure it is crowded. And you are going to get bumped and jostled and yes maybe even hurt.
And sometimes there will be people shooting for the same hoop at the same time.
And sometimes they will make their shot and you will not. So what?
Show up and get on the court. You have the opportunity to play so play.
Now.
If you don’t the bell will ring and the opportunity will be taken away from you.
So that is what I am going to do. If you are interested in playing with me and taking a new and powerful approach to crafting and delivering your message then give me a call – there is always space for one more.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
you cannot see what you cannot see
I went for swim recently. The first of the spring.
It wasn’t a particularly long one. I managed 600 m in the local public pool before deciding that was enough.
It felt good to be in the water but I was breathing pretty hard by the end and my eyes were starting to hurt. That was no surprise. The same thing happens every spring. I get in the pool and try to go too far without goggles. My eyes do not enjoy the chlorine.
The drive home was blurrier than usual. I couldn’t see as far as clearly as I usually could. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend once.
Standing out the front of his new home on the hill I commented that you could see all the way to the mountains almost 100 km away. He said that is what he had been told but as he couldn’t make out anything much past the end of the street he couldn’t be sure.
Cooking dinner that night I couldn’t make out the instructions in the recipe. The same one I had read many times before. I started to feel frustrated that I couldn’t see.
The ability to see something is not just a function of how well your eyes are working though.
A colleague was asked what he thought of the new safety initiative – a TV screen above the entrance to his workplace. It had been in place for a couple of weeks but he said he couldn’t comment as he simply had not seen it there. It was what he said to me next that really resonated:
“That was when I realised that when I come in to work lately I have my head down and I am looking at my feet…”
Negative moods limit our future possibilities in ways we are often blind to.
The negative mood my colleague was experiencing as he walked into his work meant that he was literally unable to see something that was clear to others. His eyes worked just fine but all he could see was his feet.
A mood of resignation or despair arises as a result of a belief that there is nothing that we can do to change the future. If we are living or working somewhere that those moods prevail it is likely that we will not be able to hear suggestions from others that are directed towards creating a better future. If we believe there is nothing that can be done then what is the point in listening?
But all is not lost!
Becoming aware that you are looking at your shoes is the first step to shifting your mood and opening your eyes to new possibilities – as long as you are ready to commit to exploring your mood and the possibility of shifting it.
Make that choice and then ask yourself what (or who) is this mood about? What is the story you are telling yourself while you are in this mood?
Is it possible that you might have some of the ‘facts’ in your story wrong? Might you have gotten some of your ‘assumptions’ wrong?
Can you ask for help or maybe a second opinion? Find a way to prove or disprove your assumptions? Do you need to apologise or maybe make a complaint? Sometimes even just sharing what you are feeling with someone else can be a powerful beginning to shifting your perspective.
If you can create a space to look for what might be missing, you can create a space to take action that may shift your mood and create a new, brighter future. It may even open your eyes and help you to see what you could not previously see. You see?
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
cleaning up your frame
I remember when this frame was first put in.
Looking through it you could see right across the river. When you stood and looked through the frame everything was clear. There was stuff outside the frame but you didn’t have to worry about it.
If it was a postcard of somewhere that you wanted to go, you knew what that place looked like, how you could get there and what might be standing in your way.
The frame helped clarify things for you.
Over time the trees have grown. Looking through the frame each day you wouldn’t have noticed that your view was becoming increasingly narrow – gradually obscured, so that now you are lucky to see a quarter of what you did when you started. And now lot of stuff that was outside the frame is, well, no longer outside the frame.
If it was that postcard of somewhere that you wanted to be by now, it would be hard to remember even what the destination looked like let alone how you might get there.
The frame no longer helps to clarify things for you the way it used to.
And now that you can see that, you will see that you have options.
You can do some work to clear out the frame. Get rid of that other stuff that has crept in and is distracting you. Refocus yourself on where you want to go and get back to work getting yourself there.
Or, you can decide that you no longer want to be in that place anymore. It might be time to get yourself a new frame and set your sights on a different destination.
Or, you can decide to just sit a while right where you are now. Looking at what you have looked at for a long time now.
Take this time to look at the frame in a different way.
It may be for you that the stuff that has crept into your frame (the stuff that you have ignored all this time) is really the stuff that you need to be focusing on. Maybe the frame has done what it needed to do by keeping your attention long enough so that you are finally able to see what you need to see. The stuff that has grown and changed around you and within you.
And now that you can see that, you will see that you have options.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
the show must go on
Walking down the street near where I work today I recognise someone who works for the same organisation. He is with his partner and he is holding their newborn child.
Their future stretches out in front of them as wide as the smile on his face. It is just their beginning.
Sunday 24 June, 2012
It is rare that I am moved to tears. I have just witnessed the most incredible performance. A dozen 10 yr old kids dressed in jungle themed outfits take the stage as part of a competitive Eisteddfod. The music starts and so do they.
Then the music stops.
Silence. Everybody knows for certain something has gone wrong.
They look at each other. Then from out of nowhere a voice sings the next line. It is a song and dance number so that is what they do. They sing and they dance – without the music – all the way until the end.
When they stop the usually polite crowd of parents erupts into long and sincere applause.
Their singing was average. Their dancing without the music was ok at best.
Their commitment to their performance was breathtaking.
Friday 25 May, 2012
Opening night of Same Time Next Year. Act 1, Scene 2. This time there are just two actors on stage when the words stop.
Silence. Out of the hundred or so people in the theatre there are only five who know for certain something is wrong.
The guy in the lighting box and the Stage Manager who are following the show with their copy of the script can see the words that are supposed to come next, the Director (who doesn’t need a script to know what is supposed to come next) … and the two actors standing on the stage. Still.
Silence. The actors know that between them they do not know. As they had agreed they kiss in the silence and step apart. Between them they still do not know.
In the audience now the silence is absolute. They have stopped (and so has the Directors heart!) almost at the beginning.
Then out of nowhere the actors find the words. The show goes on. All the way to the end.
A day in September, 2012
There is nothing special about any particular day this month – no opening night, no eisteddfod – except that on this day a friend of mine has been ‘made redundant’ after working for 23 years for the Queensland Government. She is not the only one this month, not the first, and sadly she will not be the last.
For her, I know the music stopped. For now there will be no dancing.
For her, I know it will be hard to find the words because she does not know what she is supposed to say next . For now there will be long stretches of silence.
For her, I know it is the end.
But I know her.
Somewhere a voice will sing the next line (and there is a chance that she will be the one singing it!)
Out of nowhere she will find the words.
She, like me, knows that the show must go on. Today, this day in September, is just our beginning.
And we are committed to keep going.
All the way to the end.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
a different perspective on betrayal and hurt
The words of truth are always paradoxical.”
– Lao Tzu
I want you to do something for me.
Try and remember a time when someone has betrayed you. Hurt you bad. Got something?
Now I want you to tell me the story of that event – from the other person’s perspective. And I want you to justify why you (they) did what you (they) did. Convince me why it was OK for you (them) to do what they did to you that hurt you so much.
Can you do it? Can you tell that story?
Can you tell the story from their perspective without judging them and without making it clear they were even just a little bit wrong?
Not easy is it?
I wonder if I asked you if you could recall a time where you have betrayed somebody, hurt them bad, if you could find something?
No?
I wonder if it might be easier if you were trying to remember a time where someone else felt they had been hurt and betrayed by you? Is that an easier story to tell – why your actions in those circumstances were completely justified?
I don’t know about you but my actions are always completely justified. I never deliberately set out to hurt anyone let alone betray them.
And yet I know there are people in this world who feel that I have. They are correct.
And so am I.
Telling the story from their perspective is not easy.
Unless you have forgiven them.
Doing so does not mean they are right and you are wrong; any more than it makes you right and them wrong. It just means that you are able to forgive them because you have taken yourself to a place where you can understand exactly why they acted the way they did.
If you can get to that place something interesting might happen…
There may no longer be a need to forgive anybody.
When you have come to truly understand why somebody has acted in that way – the truth is there is nothing left to forgive. And that is the paradox.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
for the sake of what do you speak?
Recently I decided to go back to school.
To practice being a better actor.
One of the tutors said that the biggest mistake an actor can make is to think that it is all about them. About their character. They become inwardly focused and get lost inside themselves.
What we needed to realise that an actor must always have a target. Something or someone outside themselves that they are seeking to have an effect on …
… to seduce
… to impress
… to annoy
… to reproach
… to comfort
… to incite
… to consider.
Every character in every play wants something. Every time they open their mouth to speak it is because they want to do something to make things better or to stop things from getting worse.
As an actor if you open your mouth to speak and you do not have a clear idea of who your target is and what you are trying to get them to do you are in trouble.
It is a powerful lesson to learn.
Recently I decided to go back to school.
To practice being a better leader.
One of the tutors asked us a question. “For the sake of what do you speak?” Apparently, the biggest mistake a leader can make is thinking that it is all about them. About their character. They become inwardly focused and get lost inside themselves.
What we need to realise is that as human beings we have the power of speech and there is only one reason that we ever use it.
We speak to create a particular future.
Think about that.
We speak to create a particular future.
I wrote those words to you just there because I want to have an effect on you. I want to create a future in which you take the time to stop and consider the implications of that statement.
I say the words “Can you bring me a glass of water?” because I have a particular future that I wish to create. One that has me drinking the water that you have brought to me.
I write (say) these words, in this blog, because I have a particular future that I wish to create. One in which I am someone who writes for sure, but if I make the mistake of thinking it is all about me and forget that there must always be a target then there will nobody to read (hear) my words. You are the target, the person I am seeking to have an effect on …
… to seduce
… to impress
… to annoy
… to reproach
… to comfort
… to incite
… to consider.
It is for the sake of a particular future that I wish to create that I speak. Always.
That lesson will make me a better actor.
The same lesson will make me a better leader. It can do the same for you.
The next time (and every time) someone speaks ask yourself the question…
for the sake of what do they speak?
What is the future they are trying to create? Do they want …
… to seduce you into their bed so they will no longer feel lonely?
… to impress you so you will hire them?
… to annoy you so you will be distracted from you current course of action?
… to reproach you because you have hurt their feelings and they want you to stop?
… to comfort you because your pain is their pain and they also want to stop hurting?
… to incite you to take action to change the course of history?
… to consider that what they are saying might change your world the same way it has changed theirs?
They are speaking because they want you to do something to make things better or to stop things from getting worse – for them. And you are their target.
Think about that.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now. You read this far so send it on.
Guest Blog: deep love
Sunday. I have taken the garbage and recyclables to the road for the Monday pickup, lots from a weekend full of visitors here for William‘s walk for curing Mitochondrial disease at Freedom Park followed by submarine sandwich picnic. Named submarines I guess because that is what the sandwiches look like, one long baguette filled with meats, cheese and tapanade and olive oil. We also had the peanut butter and jelly submarine.
Sometimes I feel a kind of deep sadness
And today I have it
Not always provoked
But yet and still
There is the deep love I have for my grandchildren I have been with for the last two days
William, 4, of course jerking looking around smiling laughing pausing listening eternally floppy and our surprise child never knowing how much we take healthy strong children for granted and never knowing how we can deal with this again and again.
When we first heard of mitochondrial disease we looked on the internet and the first sentence was “a form of dementia”…
I don’t look on the internet anymore.
Deep love
Deep love for Davis, 10, and his freckles and his enthusiasm and eagerness for everything, the escalators at the museum, pushing William at the walk, roasting huge marshmallows, writing with a charcoal stick on the rock, making a comic strip about reincarnation,
Saying “being at the museum, that this is heaven”…
I tell the curator.
Deep love for Alexander, 7, making it through the night, making his fort and having his book to read himself to sleep, sitting up and talking to himself that he can spend the night here and not be homesick, loving the outdoor shower long and hot in the cool of an October night, smiling with chocolate Oreo cookie in his teeth, crazy all of them for the hammock.
Deep love for Phillip, 10, being the oldest and telling us several times that he is and therefore he is the boss and Phillip finding each person little gifts under $15 at the museum shop including “Jewel” for William and can still at ten can unabashedly at the park crawl into his mother’s lap
And then deep love for Julia, 8, curling up with her mom, telling me how much she loves her biddy babies American girl doll that I gave her for her 8th birthday just last week and thoroughly entertaining to Alexander at the museum planting and replanting artist Romrare Bearden’s garden in the art room the place where you can touch the art, you can be loud, you can draw, and build towers and laugh.
Deep love, being alive, emptying garbage and recyclables and glad that I can do that.
***
This is a guest post by Nancy Dorrier. Nancy and her team at Dorrier Underwood are doing amazing work helping to transform organizations and individuals throughout the USA. I think much of their success comes from the fact that they “walk the talk“. You should call Nancy and find out more about the work that they do. I had the pleasure of questing alongside Nancy as a part of a team in the recent WEST program. Nancy helped me to see my world and my future in new ways and it seemed only right that I should support her desire to write more by sharing some of her wisdom with you here in my blog. Image used with permission: www.paulfetters.com
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now.
the war of your Art
“That which is suppressed is expressed.”
I don’t know about you but things have been weirdly intense for me lately. I have had some incredible conversations with some amazing people and almost all of them include me saying these words “You have to read Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art.”
Early on in the book , under the heading of THE UNLIVED LIFE are these words:
“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us.”
That is what we end up talking about.
The unlived life within us, that which we have allowed to be suppressed.
The part of us which is (perhaps only temporarily) winning the war and expressing itself.
There is a certain amount of sadness in the conversations. A realisation that there is a part of us that has to fight to be seen and heard.
There is a certain amount of joy in the conversations. A light in the eyes that is has at its source a fire in the belly.
There is a certain amount of courage in the conversations. Coming from a growing understanding of what must be done and how it can be done.
There is a certain amount of fear in the conversations too. I don’t need to tell you where that comes from.
Or maybe I do.
This is my 100th post here on finding my own Way. In many ways it has been a long time coming. I guess there is a part of me that wants the 100th one to be significant in some way. So I haven’t been writing. (Thank you to everyone who noticed and asked what was up!) I have been waiting for just the right thing to write to come along. I haven’t even sat at the keyboard staring blankly at the screen. And now that I am sitting and writing I am having to fight strong urges to just quickly do other things.
- That Google search for that piece of software I have been thinking that I need.
- The end of that episode of Game of Thrones that I haven’t finished.
- A nap. Everything is better after a nap!
- Checking my email. Facebook.
- Food. Green tea. Yes that would be nice. That would help me write.
- A different post altogether. That one will be really, really good.
Underneath all of that is fear.
Sometimes it will distract us for a few minutes. Sometimes a few decades.
But that which is repressed will be expressed.
And that is why things have been so weirdly intense for me lately. I find myself sitting with the most amazing people who are taking steps (sometimes very small but steps all the same) towards expressing the unlived life within them. Those conversations are hard. But they are also my favourite conversations to have. Important conversations to have.
Every day.
And today, Wednesday August 1 2012, is an important day for one of them. Today my colleague, mentor and friend has become what few can claim to be.
He is a published author.
Many years in the making. Many distractions along the way. Many friends urging him on.
I introduced you to Engibear a little while back. You can read about how he came into being in this post. Then you can go here to booktopia and order a copy of the book for your kids or the kids of someone you know or just because you want to show your support for someone who is ( perhaps only temporarily) winning the war of his Art.
He had to publish it because that which is repressed WILL be expressed.
Congratulations Andrew.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now.
death hangs from the trees
Life takes so many unexpected twists and turns I wonder why we say they are “unexpected”. Let me tell you some of the story of this past week as a case in point…
Just seven days ago I was performing the last two shows of a season of Same Time Next Year and I was just starting to feel that I had settled into the role. The matinée performance was, our Director said, the best we had ever done. The unexpected (but much hoped for) series of moments when everything was perfect. It was vivid and real and full of life.
It moved people.
Just a couple of hours later it was over – seemingly before it had really begun. What I felt most keenly is the hole where it used to be. It feels like something or some part of me has died.
Back to work and the prospect of a week back in real life. Meetings. Email. Phone calls. Clients. I was just starting to feel that I had settled into that role again and circumstances changed – almost before it all had really begun. I found myself driving to northern New South Wales for what was to be two wonderful nights together in a cabin by a stream in the rainforest at the foot of Mt Warning.
In the mornings I sat in meditation on the deck and tried to just be. To just see. The water. The birds. The trees. Green everywhere. So much life everywhere. Vivid greens full of life.
It moved me.
But unexpected things can happen when you sit and try to just see. To just be. The rotting. The decay. The destruction. The trees. So much death everywhere. It was lying on the ground and it was hanging from the trees. Vivid greens full of death.
It moved me.
And then, almost before it had begun, it was over and I was driving back to Brisbane and back to real life.
Email was where I started first. A close friend had wonderful news. An unexpected invitation to a new beginning of something she loved dearly. The creation of an exhilarating new future.
Phone calls was where things went next. A close friend had terrible news. The unexpected beginning of the ending of someone she loved dearly. The creation of a terrifyingly possible new past.
Then a moment in the kitchen. A hug from my daughter. “I love you Daddy.” The unexpected creation of a loving new present reminding me to be here now.
Finally a late night text message not seen until morning. A close friend had news. She had not seen. Could not have seen. The unexpected reconstruction of the past – perhaps even of the self. The destruction of what was, the creation of a huge hole in her life where what ever “it” was used to be. New light flooded in, illuminating places and faces and times that had previously been dark. Creating space for the growth of a new, brighter future out of the unexpected reconstruction of the past.
Just like the rainforest.
So much life everywhere. So much death everywhere. It hangs from the trees and it brushes up against you in the night.
Because it has to.
Without death, all kinds of deaths, there can be no life.
Until we take the time to sit, to try to be and to try to see, all we see is the life in the trees.
And then “it” is over. Seemingly before any of it had really begun (whatever “it” is – a career, a relationship, a moment, a life, a fiercely defended perception of who I think I am or was).
What we feel most keenly is the hole where that used to be.
But it is the hole that creates the opportunity for new life. Letting the light in and creating space for the growth of a new, brighter future out of the unexpected destruction of the past and the reconstruction of the present.
Perhaps then what we feel is not the hole where something used to be? Perhaps it is only through brushing up against death that we become alive to the new possibilities that living offers us? Perhaps it is the tension created by that vast potential that we feel most keenly?
Just like that moment as a child when it was you hanging from the tree. Afraid to let go of the branch. Sure you would be hurt by the fall. Terrified. Exhilarated. Present.
***
If you enjoyed reading this or my other posts you can subscribe and receive them via email simply by putting your email address into the Email Subscription box just on the right of my blog home page. You will receive a confirmation email (which some systems will think is spam so keep an eye on your junk mail) that you need to acknowledge to complete the subscription process.
After you have subscribed, send this post on to your friends. Go on. You know at least one person who should read this post… seriously. Do it now.
finding my own Way 