Sustainability Inside

Earlier this year I wrote about 2011 being the year of authenticity. And in May I wrote about calling myself out - realizing that I had bet on myself.

As we contemplate changing locations for Firefly Willows, and wrestle with all that such a choice brings, I am once again confronted with that "self". When I realized that I had bet on myself, I grounded the anxiety I had been feeling about failure. That helped a lot.

Now, though, I'm wrestling with another aspect of this problem.

I readily admit that during my career (and my life experience outside my career) I would reach a moment of opportunity. And somehow, for some reason, I would take a step that led me away from the opportunity in front of me, and toward some uncertain consequence and future. Either by overt commission or subtle intransigence I have, in some sense, sabotaged myself.

I need to really find out what is happening. I don't think it's deliberate - I don't think it's because I am afraid of success.

I look and reflect and conclude that during those moments, I said something like, "Oh, it's not really worth the effort/pain/discomfort."

So why wasn't it?

I had a flash of insight that reminded me of playing basketball. I'm kinda short for basketball, so when I drive to the basket for a lay-up, I have had a tendency to use speed (get there before the other guys) to ensure that I'm not blocked.

But that doesn't work when they're already there. So I've also adopted another technique - stretching myself so my reach is as high as possible.

My basketball colleagues will tell you that when I drive the lane it's often a comical sight (in a Buster Keaton "Oh My GOD there's going to be an ACCIDENT!!" kind of way).

Definitely NOT me...

I recently figured out why that is. As I approach the basket, I'm moving so fast and I'm so stretched out that I have very little capacity left to tweak my move, adjust my body, or reposition the ball. If I haven't picked my approach perfectly, and moved impeccably, I'm just going to end up in a heap. And even if I HAVE, there are still other players with their own free agency and they can do the unexpected. Which, if I'm too strung out, will result in my ending up in a heap.

Either way, no score.

No score.

I see now that I often am running so fast and am so stretched out that there is no room to adjust to a new inspiration or opportunity. I have no capacity left to respond.

I have discovered that I run myself so close to the edge that anything along the way that is not exactly as I've envisioned it can derail the mission. What's worse is that I run myself this way on missions that are not really in alignment with who I am - my personal mission, so to speak.

So what have I done in the past? Typically, I've overdriven the machine in a way that is not sustainable, eeking out a measure of success through sheer force, and damaging myself in the process.

At some point, I do become exhausted, and my subconscious just forces me away from the table. I either bail out explicitly, or my subconscious unstitches key seams in the underbelly, and I just kind of fall out in an ungainly, inefficient way.

(Thank God I have friends and family that love me...!)

Now, upon reflection, it makes complete sense. I've often been pushing too hard on a particular vision to have anything left to be responsive to the world. And eventually, I get exhausted and have to stop.

How does one fix this kind of problem, and what does the solution look like?

It dawns on my that, first and foremost, I have to be clear about what I sign up for. In particular, I have to be as honest as I can about the following parameters:

• How much sustained effort will this take?
• How much do I really care about it?
• How long can I keep doing it?
• What happens if I have to stop doing it?

Ultimately, this analysis compels me to examine the sustainability of my own actions. And here, I'm talking about things as simple as writing this blog, or hosting a weekly event at Firefly Willows, or starting a new project.

I have lots of instantaneous capacity. The key question is, what is my SUSTAINABLE capacity?

It's obvious when I go running, or play soccer, that my instantaneous capacity and sustainable capacity are not the same. I get winded and have to stop and rest.

In basketball -- and it seems, in life -- I'm not so aware.

Is it odd that I've never actually contemplated a limit before? I think I've always viewed my instantaneous capacity and my sustainable capacity as equivalent when it comes to my "work" life. And as a result, I have been ill-equipped, misaligned, and exhausted at key moments in my life.

That's just plain weird. Who could be so profoundly oblivious to something so obvious? I surprise myself with the depths of my dysfunction sometimes.

Good thing I can laugh about it.

The Power of a Paper Napkin

I took a walk just now, down to the coffee shop to get a beverage. Beautiful afternoon, sun shining. I was in a cheery mood, happy for my little place in the sun along our tree-lined street.

Inside, I was happy to chat with the baristas about the way the drinks are made, and what variations were available. (Did you know that you can get a Chai Frappuccino? I didn't...!)

Good thing I got there when I did. By the time my drink was ready, there was a line almost out the door.

Standing in line was a woman holding an ice-cream cone. I noticed that there were little drips heading over the edge of the cone, due shortly to impact the little paper wrapping (and then, no doubt, her politely manicured fingers).

As I walked toward the exit, I reached for a paper napkin, and with a demure flourish, proffered it to her as I walked past.

My friend and colleague Ivan Temes says, "Care enough to take action." I remember these words often.

Who would have thought? Her joy was complete. A squeal of delight, a smile of gratitude, a "How did you know....?"

And it was just a paper napkin.

Mars, and the Remainder

I had a long and difficult conversation with Mars the other night.

All of us light-workers love to hate the God of War.

War. Really, who needs it? It sucks, it's pointless, it's cruel, causes suffering, wastes resources…WHY do we have it? Why do we need a GOD of it, for heaven's sake?

Wouldn't it be great if there were no wars? Wave your hand and have peace reign?

As usual, I don't get to have (or share) the easy platitudes. The introspection becomes so deep it's like surgery. Surgery while I'm awake.

Here's what happened:

So, I'm calling in the spirits, and after the four directions, I get to the compassionate spirits of the heavens. And for some reason, this time, I'm really taking my time and not just calling their names and asking for their help. I'm actually greeting each one as they arrive.

I call to the Sun, and the Moon, and start to work my way through the planets.

I get to Mars. And my nice, happy, deep, comforting journey work becomes something else.

I think this is really the first time I actually met him.

As he approached my space, I was shown the horrors of war. The suffering of the soldiers, but even more the suffering of "the innocents" who are caught up in it. Grist for the mill of war, ground into pulp of flesh and wails of suffering.

It was horrible. And there he stood, his sword pointed up, resting against his shoulder, one eyebrow slightly raised, looking at me expectantly. Waiting for something from me.

Testing me.

How could I welcome him? Why would anyone welcome him?

I reflected on my Celtic and Runic studies, the North, the Morrigan, the Calleach, the whole notion of battle rage. I checked in with as many angles as I could think of. It didn't fit. It wasn't complete enough to account for all that horror, pain, and suffering. All that scarring and soul-loss and senseless death.

He waited.

So I looked the only place left to look. At the horror. At the pain and suffering. I stared into the grinding maw as it consumed families, cultures, swathes of Mother Earth. I took in as much of it as I could stand, and then I took in more. It was the only place that made sense to look, and I knew I wouldn't understand unless I did.

It was horrible.

"What is this?!" I cried. "What is this…THING…that is so present and so insatiable and so seemingly unstoppable, and so cruel?!"

And he said, calmly but not comfortingly, "It's the remainder."

Auugh. It hit me like a punch in the gut.

The remainder of our lack of integrity.

The remainder of our lack of pure intention.

The remainder of our arrogance.

The remainder of our self-indulgence, our willful self-delusion, and our unwillingness to face the consequences of our actions.

War is the remainder of our personal, cultural, and societal choices not to speak the truth, not to keep our word, not to clean up after ourselves. And not to listen and accept the truth with a warrior's heart.

We have war, because we choose not to live like warriors. It's what happens when we sweep the inconsistencies of our logic and the entreaties of our conscience under the rug.

War is the remainder of our lies.

And the bigger the lie, and the more of us that engage in it, and the longer we tell it, the larger the account holding the remainder.

Inevitably it must be purged.

Mars is so often depicted as a war monger, always ready to start it up and roil the waters.

The Mars I met would say, "Go to war -- early and often!" Lance the boils, cleanse the wounds. Get it done as soon as possible.

In fact, he would counsel that we go to war in every single breath. Because then, we would each examine, reconcile, and exhale our remainders. There would be no account to be purged, because we would all be warriors, living impeccably in every moment.

But we don't. And so that account has to be managed.

Like Death, Mars has a difficult and dirty job. But unlike Death, Mars can rightly scold us for making his work harder. Death catches us all. Eventually, we either stop running from her or simply lose the race. Her embrace is, ultimately, gentle and compassionate.

But Mars -- he looks at us and growls, "WHY?!"

Why do we choose to ignore his counsel, and sentence ourselves to such horrors?

(He sometimes scowls at the other Gods and Goddesses, too, so comfortable and patient and didactic are they in their godding. "Things will work out," they counsel him. "Be patient. They're inherently good..."

To which he responds, "Do you guys ever WATCH this show?" )

This remainder I was shown is not optional, because we live in a world of challenge, complexity, and free will. How large the account becomes - that is indeed optional. It seems that arrogance and greed make it grow fastest. And self-indulgence. Ignorance and lack of personal discipline are also factors.

Fear of Death, too, if truth be told. But Death catches all of us, eventually, so why bother being afraid of it?

We should fear War more than Death.

I think living and dying as warriors is much better than living and dying in War.

The Mars I met would agree.

"You should probably quit your job..."

Here's a post from the Ottawa Citizen. As one who has taken the leap, I can share with you the following nuggets:

1) It's not easy to decide

2) It's not easy once you make the leap

3) It can be scary

And most importantly,

4) It's no worse than what you are currently experiencing. In fact, it's 100 times better.

All the fears and challenges and difficulties you imagine are waiting for you - well, yes, they probably are. But if you look honestly at what you're currently doing, there are fears and challenges and difficulties there, too. It's just that you know what they are, and perhaps, if you're lucky, you feel like you have a handle on most of them.

Same is true once you take the leap. You'll adjust. You'll see the challenges. You'll rise to them.

And it will be way more fun and satisfying.

Do what you love. It's the only thing that will save you. Time is short. Life is short. Don't wait another minute to bring meaning into your life with all the energy you can muster.

If not now, then when? If not you, then who?

Love to you all!

jc

It's been a while...

Hi everyone,

So sorry for the long gap in posting. We've been quite busy over the last few months, both at Firefly Willows and at home. Sons are back from college, we had our first anniversary, and I went to my first Native American Sun Dance ceremony in June. It was a crazy month.

Plus, I got myself an iPhone 4 (better pictures and movies from my travels), and the Los Altos Art & Wine festival FINALLY yielded a couple of ear cuffs that I thought might work for me. Here's one...

I'm back now, with an armload of stories and experiences to discuss, and new plans to share. It just keeps on coming!

Here's a video from my iPhone of Montebello Open Space Preserve. I'm excited to be able to share more of my local hiking experiences!

So stay tuned to the Firefly Willows blog. Look for another post this week.

Snakes, Black Clouds, Walking on Glass

When things come into our lives, we recognize them as opportunities. The same is true when things leave our lives, but it's harder to recognize, sometimes.

My friend and colleague Annette Wagner (artist, high-tech refugee, leader of Creative Expressions workshops at Firefly Willows) wrote an interesting post about seeing and feeling shifts. Some of them are entrances, some of them are exits. Some of them are "letting go"s, some of them are "reaching out"s.

Its beautiful to watch, a blessing (and humbling) to participate, even in a small way.

Don't doubt the power of a kind word, a helpful insight, a shared perspective. To dance the great unfolding is a privilege. To dance it with those around us, fulfillment. Enjoy her post.

Fear of Failure

Calling Myself Out

I'm not really sure how it happened.

I was having one of those deeply enjoyable, provocative conversations with my Warrior Friend (the one with whom I spar and joust, just to keep my edges trim and cutlass sharp), and in the middle of his sentence, it just happened.

A Rock in My Gut Dissolves and Fades Away
I could feel a big, black, invisible-but-tangible-thing in my gut - between my solar plexus and my second chakra. I could feel its outlines and its volume, perhaps for the first time. It was not just three-dimensional. It somehow also occupied space in that inner infinite universe that is in each of us. It wasn't exactly like a black hole. And it wasn't exactly like an obstacle.

It had the characteristics of a sterile space (not a void, which is full of potential, but rather a place in which nothing could grow). It also had an energy-generating characteristic, too - but not "good" energy. It generated negative energy, and compelled my body to generate energy to keep that negative energy at bay. So it was a "powered" thing - a device of an alchemical, spiritual sort, rather than an inert blockage.

I noticed all this only by way of noticing it start to dissolve around its edges. It was invisible until something about it shifted. (What is that kind of vision? Like the kinds cats and T-Rex's have? Field? Background? A quick Google search turned up nothing…).

It looked like the edges were kind of lit up, like the burning edges of a sheet of paper when it smolders.

And I felt an incredible loosening around it.

As the dissolution progressed, I felt some part of my gut react - "surprised" or "startled" that a pain that I had forgotten I bore was suddenly receding. Not a pain, really - a stress. A burden getting lighter.

Act I - The Setup

It happened because my warrior friend made a comment about my situation. We were talking about what it was like for him and for me in our professional circumstances. Our careers, once on very similar tracks, had diverged dramatically. He was now a CEO of a challenging startup. He was trying to create value from a true "fixer upper". High risk, high reward, high stress. High tech.


I had jumped the track, gone off-trail. I was blazing a path from ordinary-splashy through eccentric to downright odd and perhaps even embarrassing. I had decided to open a healing arts center in conservative, white-bread, fashionably old-fashioned Los Altos. Not Beverly Hills or Berkeley where eccentricity was part of the currency, but right smack-dab in the center of Protestant Work Ethic and Left Brain Conquers All Technology Executive Land.

What was I thinking? What was I DOING?

Oddly, at the time I started Firefly Willows, it didn't seem so odd, really. It seemed like it could fit in alongside spas and nail salons and such, if we played our cards right. The business plan was based on massage, a staple in these parts.

But a funny thing happened on the way. The business plan - the massage part of the business plan - fell flat. And other parts of the action seemed more vital, more true, more engaged. More honest, in a destiny kind-of-way.

As the months have worn on, we've been very busy. Firefly Willows is a handful of a toddler. At 13 months old (ten and a half since we opened), it keeps all of us very busy like that harried but joyful parent we all know.

And in the middle of all this is me, working every day to figure out where we're going, what we're doing, where we should be investing, what we should be emphasizing.

As the original business model showed its weaknesses, I tried to optimize and re-arrange and re-prioritize. And while we have had our successes, and those around me celebrate what we've accomplished, I've had this ongoing sense of dread and paralysis.

It's been hard to describe. But with help from many of my new colleagues - practitioners, workshop leaders, and friends I would never have met in high-tech - I've shifted block after block, recognized self-defeating behaviors and set intentions. I've made amazing personal progress.

And still, the dread. The paralyzing fear.

I reflect that despite my apparently successful life, I've had a fear of failure all along. A fear of not being good enough in other people's eyes. A fear of being laughed at for my incompetence and stupidity.

Of being a fool.

Where did it come from? It's been hard to identify. I have some handy stories that attempt to explain it, but I know inside that those stories don't really tell the tale. Why, when I have been given so many personal gifts (that I can readily acknowledge) do I feel like at any moment I could be the laughingstock of the community, the pilloried neighbor, the great disappointment?

Why am I so afraid?

I could not pin it down. No matter how hard I tried, no matter who I talked to, this painful, desperate perspective would not disappear. A deep, paralyzing anxiety - fear of failure.

Fear of Failure vs. Fear of Failure

It turns out my Warrior Friend also has fear of failure. But what was weird was that his fear is entirely the opposite of mine. His is a galvanizing, active fear. In other words, he does pragmatic things to preserve and protect himself. He has a job that pays him well. He cultivates connections. He observes the landscape around him and senses the presence of opportunity or danger.

He lives in the world. He does what it takes to survive and thrive.

Perhaps one could argue that this is not a fear of failure. But in a moment of lucidity, I saw it so.

And I was envious.

His fear of failure was so tractable, so manageable. So CONCRETE! Mine was so amorphous. I was not sitting on my hands; on the contrary, I've been working more, longer, and more productive hours than I have in most of my career. And yet this paralysis…

The Trickster Fixes the Game
Then my warrior friend said the magic words.

"You bet on yourself, John."

It was the last piece in a diabolical plan concocted by Coyote, the Trickster. Coyote medicine is the kind that you have to learn to love, after hating it for many many years. Coyote medicine is when the only way you'll learn what you have to learn is to be pantsed in front of the homecoming crowd at halftime at mid-field. And you get to have a good laugh at yourself while you figure out what just happened, because there is most certainly a valuable lesson that is much deeper than the obvious one.

That's Coyote. And he was sitting right next to my warrior friend, with a cunning, deranged grin on his face that night.

"You bet on yourself, John."

The words echoed in my ears and down my throat and into my heart. I really had bet on myself. There was nobody else. I was standing in the middle of a maelstrom of my own making. And I was in good and deep.

How could I have done such a thing without realizing it?

As the months have progressed at Firefly Willows, I have heard, occasionally, people say to me that I'm the motivating force, the center, the dynamic piece, the unique differentiator of Firefly Willows. I have always felt uncomfortable with those comments. I thought it was because of some kind of modesty. I held it as modesty.

But that's not why it made me uncomfortable. The truth is, those statements made me RESPONSIBLE. Responsible for Firefly Willows, for its success, for its vitality, its purpose, and its efficacy. And its costs - both financial and personal.

I did not realize it until I heard those words. "You bet on yourself, John."

I had? I had. I really, truly had.

I would never have done such a thing if I had known I was doing it. I would have chickened out. I would have backed away. In fact, I've been chickening out and backing away for a very very long time. I don't know when it started, or why - that's work for another day.

Today, I realize that, ummm, well, I … uhh... bet on myself.

And Coyote rigged the game not so that I would win or lose, but so that I would actually place the bet, knowing, as he does, that if I had been aware of the game, I would have kept talking about the table, but never stepping up to it.

The Art of the Con
As the incredibly well-orchestrated machinations of the Trickster culminated in this great "reveal", I stood stunned. Stunned at the amazing con. Stunned at my obliviousness. Stunned at the artistry of my guiding spirits providing me with the plethora of distractions required to keep my attention elsewhere while they get everything into position.

I feel like a character in either the The Sting, or A Hitchhikers Guide. The joke, to my ongoing amazement, is on me, played artfully by myself. And it's not a cruel joke, but a loving one.

Student and Teacher
They say when the student is ready, the teacher appears. I know this is true. I know
this is a fundamental part of the wiring of the Universe, of the presence of God in all things. The Coyote is the perfect illuminator of this fact, because of the way he operates. The truth it seems, is that I am my own teacher. Somehow, the divine in me is orchestrating the whole thing. When Coyote is in the house, it's just all the more unavoidably, painfully, amusingly obvious. I see that at a very deep, subconscious, transcendent level, I am the one creating the obstacles and the opportunities through which to learn, grow, and discover, whether through others or through the circumstances of my reality. And I recognize myself as the perpetrator of the mess and the teacher of the lesson all at the same time. Some part of me is waaaay ahead of me.

What Next? Fear Transformed
I felt - observed, because it was multi-sensory - that black alchemical fear device dissolve. I exclaimed to my Warrior Friend what was happening. He was surprised, too, and joyful for me. He wanted to know how and why.

What was happening was that my nameless, faceless, paralyzing fear - my anxiety - was becoming grounded. It was alighting, for the first time, on something tangible. Instead of "not knowing" why I was experiencing this fear, it became very obvious. I was now capable of experiencing the same fear of failure as my Warrior Friend. A pragmatic, practical, tractable fear, resolvable by taking direct action to secure my position, husband my resources, choose my path.

For the first time.

I know that sounds weird, but its true. For the first time, I see that my destiny is unavoidably and unequivocally my own, in ways that are concretely practicable. I have a responsibility to myself and my circumstances that I have never felt before. I have a clarity of obligation that goes very deep. Perhaps I have just come around to an old awareness at a new and deeper level, that spiral of growth where we walk old ground in new shoes, observe it with new eyes. It certainly feels different.

I now have a healthy fear of failure. The kind where I actually know what's bothering me, and can face it, and address it.

Breakthrough, Not Success
I've learned that every time I get one of these amazing breakthroughs in awareness about myself and my path, it's not a victory. Rather, it's just an opportunity to gather myself for the next period of growth. It can be exhausting, because finding the trail out of the woods is nice, but seeing that the trail leads steeply upward is…well…humbling?

And my old fear is replaced with new ones - Have I awakened in time? Who the heck is this clown that I've bet on? What are his skills? Can I count on him in the clutch? Is he ready for this kind of responsibility?

(Clearly, as we've already established, had I known I was betting on him, I wouldn't have.

Too late for that, though…heh heh...)

After Enlightenment, Chop Wood, Carry Water
I feel much better. I have a much clearer grasp on what is in front of me. I have much more sense of choice and free agency. I see how I can hold (and, unwittingly, always have held) the reins. I see, frankly, that I MUST hold the reins, and do so with awareness and integrity, for it is MY life expression that hangs in the balance, and it's MY responsibility to live it to its full potential. What others think about what I do is informative. What I think about what I do is essential. To abdicate that responsibility is to sully something sacred.

Now the work begins. Focusing my intention. Being honest with my reality. Asking for help. Saying no to that which does not serve me.

Wish me luck.