dare to dream

Living the dream. Life's a breeze. Not.

During a particularly challenging week at work, I happened upon an article by Robert S. Kaplan titled Reaching your Potential which offered up the teaser, "maybe you feel frustrated with your career--convinced you should be achieving more. You may even wish you had chosen a different career altogether."

I was definitely frustrated, and even discouraged, but did I wish I had chosen a different path?

Not really.

As I reflected on Kaplan's article, I realized that I'm right where I want to be.

In sharing this insight with one of my friends, she kindly, but pointedly asked,

"Did you really think that living your dream isn't challenging, discouraging, and difficult?"

To which I sheepishly replied, "No."

The truth is there's a pretty large shred of me which believes that in living my dream, life will be breezy.

This isn't, and can't be, true -- am I the only one who wants it to be?

Do you remember Psyche's 3rd task?

The task that requires her to fill a flask with water from a raging river alongside a craggy cliff, a task which is a metaphor for our learning to accomplish goals against inevitable distractions and tough odds.

This image is copyrighted by Mallika Sundaramurthy and Whitney Johnson, 2008.

Would it be accurate to say that Psyche didn't choose to be on the hero's journey? That she wasn't precisely where she wanted and needed to be? That she didn't want to accomplish her goal?

No, no and no.

But it was difficult.

It is for us too.

After one of your tough days, do you find yourself wondering if you really are living your dream? If you're not -- then that is another conversation. If you are, do you ask why things aren't easier? Why do you think we believe this?

Did you notice how Psyche delegated the task of filling the flask to the eagle? As we are dreaming, whether our dream involves full-time mothering, full-time careering, or some amalgam of the two, what tasks can we delegate?

If you were to interview dare to dreamgirl Dana King, who recently started designHop clubs, and has been featured in St. Louis Magazine, will she tell you she is happily living out her dream? Absolutely. Will she tell you it's easy? I'll let you ask her.

Or if you were to interview Rebecca Nielsen, the mother of young twin daughters, who recently wrote about Rightsizing our dream, what will she say? Easy? Hard? Both?

Related posts:
The Myth of Psyche
Psyche's 3rd Task
Second thoughts on Psyche's 2nd task
dare to dreamgirl: Dana King
Rightsizing our dream: Rebecca Nielsen

If you get defensive, you're getting close

Several months ago, my friend Kathleen Stone introduced me to Manhattan entrepreneur Janna Taylor. Knowing of Janna's pedigree and track record, I was surprised to read that she had initially been defensive when people suggested she open her own tutoring business.

I had unequivocally believed that if people saw possibilities for us that we couldn't ourselves see, we would readily and gratefully embrace these possibilities. Yet as I reflected on my own life, I found that this has not always been the case.

BUT, here's what I've discovered -- the more defensive I become, the closer I am to identifying my dream.

With Janna having pinpointed defensiveness as a bane, but especially a boon, to daring to dream, I've asked her to 'tell her story'.

May you be as encouraged as I was.

In fall 2007, I opened Mind Full Tutors, a tutoring company located on the upper east side of Manhattan. Even though starting a tutoring business had been my dream for several years, I resisted pursuing it like a stubborn mule.

Prior to receiving a Master's of Education at Harvard, I'd helped build a successful tutoring company. But when I graduated, I took a job working for a non-profit teacher education program with no plan to start a tutoring business. Even though my work for the non-profit was meaningful, I was unhappy. The job responsibilities did not play to my strengths and were far from the “action” of educating students.

When I complained to friends about my job, many responded with, “When are you going to start your tutoring company?” Each time, I met this encouragement with defensive responses such as, “There is no way I can do that,” “I can’t even think about that right now” and “Maybe someday…I don’t know.”

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I have wondered -- why was I defensive?

Firstly, I was protecting my heart. I fervently wanted this dream to be a reality. But to pursue the dream would be to expose it to possible failure. I wondered if my heart could bear the disappointment.

Secondly, I was deflecting guilt for not acting authentically. I knew in my bones that part of living authentically was to start my own tutoring company. Because I knew it was going to be difficult and risky, I resisted.

These two factors blinded me to the possibility of success.

After several more months of job dissatisfaction, I decided to take a chance on what my friends and family could see, and what I had lost sight of. I wrote a business plan and five months later opened Mind Full Tutors. When I shared this news with my loved ones, all of the responses were akin to, “Finally!”

So what were my friends seeing that I wasn’t?

My friends saw an open road to success, where I saw barricades and roadblocks. They saw abilities, where I saw deficiencies. They saw, “Why not?” and I saw, “Because…” They saw my need to live with passion and purpose, and I saw a need to compromise because of fear.

I’ve learned that others can play an important role in anchoring us to our dreams. They remind us of what we can and are meant to accomplish in this life. While it is true that some people can detract us from our dreams, those who know us the best often see us for what we are – women of great ability and purpose.

Mind Full Tutors has been in business for almost a year now. My heart feels alive and I know that I am making difference in the world every day – one student at a time.

How would your loved ones respond if you asked them, “What do you see is my dream? And what qualities and abilities do I possess to make my dream a reality?”

Have ever felt defensive when someone mentions you should fulfill your dream? If so, why?

Have you ever fulfilled a, “Finally!” dream?

Related posts:

Play to your strengths
Rock climbing and rethinking our competence
What is your dream?
Why we tell our story
Walking through the unknown

Mammograms and helping hands

Some months ago I read about a woman who celebrated each birthday with a mammogram.

That woman would not be me.

Had it not been for my friend Liz's astonishment when she learned that I'd never had a mammogram, and my friend Jane who, being equally dismayed, proceeded to schedule the doctor's appointment for me, it may have been another five years before I'd gone. 

And I should have gone five years ago.

I couldn't help but wonder as I drove home -- is it possible that going to the doctor/getting a mammogram is as difficult for me as it is for some women to dare to dream? 

If there is an even remote possibility that it is, may I share what I've learned? 

1)  Drawing on one another's strength gives us strength -  My friends wanting and expecting me to go to the doctor (even taking the initiative to make the appointment for me), was precisely what I needed to safeguard my physical health. 

What if we were equally persistent in encouraging our friends to dream, and thus help them avoid becoming desperate and/or depressed?
 

Source:  istockphoto

2)   Wonderful things happen when we face our fear --  I am proud of myself for walking through the fear of going to the doctor.   But I'm also happy to learn that it wasn't as awful as I had anticipated, that I can confirm I'm healthy, not to mention, that I have some friends who care deeply about me. 

Isn't it also true that when we dare, and we dare some more, we inadvertently begin to open the door to our dream?

3)   Nurturing our selves is ESSENTIAL -- After leaving the doctor, I was emotionally drained, and  needed to do something nice for myself.  So, I went to the Cheesecake Factory for a Chinese Chicken salad  (nope, no cheesecake today), and was then off to Barnes & Noble where I browsed, and bought, and browsed some more.

I didn't use to do this.  I would walk through something tough, (doctor's appointment, dream, what have you) and expect myself just to keep on walking.  No nurturing, no 'Atta Girl', no nothing.

I'm learning.

Whose strength have you drawn on recently?

And vice versa?

Having faced your fear, how did you feel?   What were some of the unintended, happy consequences?

When was the last time you gave your self an 'Atta Girl'?

P.S.  Isn't the above illustration wonderful?  It's titled aptly titled the 'Tree of Life'.   

Related posts:
Systergy in St. Louis
Farmer's market metaphor
What I learned about seeing from my glasses
Looking back can be a good thing
Walking through the unknown

 

Dreaming or deflecting?

Why, oh why, do I put my ideas in writing?

Well, I know why.

Because, among other things, going 'on record' pushes me to 'walk my talk'.

It is ironic, though, that not less than twenty-four hours after writing Asking for what we want, I read Matt Langdon's post in which he outlined his Hero Workshop accomplishments for 2007 and goals for 2008 (you can either squint or click on the graphic).

My immediate thought was "Good for you Matt". You've set concrete, achievable goals for yourself, goals that will make the world a better place. You've achieved them, and now you are setting more goals.

I considered following Matt's lead and putting my goals for 'dare to dream' on this blog, but immediately quailed. The mere thought of doing what Matt had done made me feel uncomfortable, awkward, embarrassed -- did I say uncomfortable?

Which led me to wonder -- what is GOING on?

Why am I having a such a visceral reaction?

Here's what I've come up with thus far, though more questions, than answers:

1) When we list our accomplishments publicly, aren't we making the decision to acknowledge ourselves, to accept, rather than shun praise?

2) When we state our goals, are we not implicitly, if not explicitly, asking for support?

3) When men 'list and state', how do they feel? How do we respond?

4) What about women? How do we feel? And do we respond as I did to Matt, thinking "Atta boy or girl"? Or do we instead think -- 'she's a bit full of herself, now isn't she?'

I'll confess that even amongst my closest friends it's painful to say 'Look what I did," and so I don't very often. In fact, if you want to see just how masterful most women have become at deflecting (a signal at just how painful the praise is), the next time you are talking with a group of your girlfriends -- ask them to talk about something they (not their husband or children) have done well this past year.

That's right - we probably won't; we will quickly and deftly re-direct the conversation far, far away from us.

The ideal of a feminine woman seems pretty hard-wired.

Does it feel this way to you also?

If this is true, then aren't we in a bit of a double bind?

Related posts:

Asking for what we want
Second thoughts on Psyche's 2nd Task
Leah leaves the building
Et tu, Whitney?
NY Times -- Now the News: Couric Still Isn't One of the Boys

Telling my story to Pursue the Passion

Thanks to an introduction from Matt Langdon's The Hero Workshop, in early August I met with Brett Farmiloe and Zach Hubbell from Pursue the Passion. Both recent college grads, Brett and Zach have been on the road for 100+ days interviewing people who are passionate about their careers.

In embarking on their very own hero's journey, Brett et al were intrigued by the following two data points: Half the American workforce is not satisfied with their job, and only one-fifth apply passion toward their career.

When Brett interviewed me, he did what any good interviewer does; he asked good questions, and seemed genuinely interested in my story. If you'd like to read the blurb, and take a peek at the video clip, here it is. Then I'd be interested in your thoughts on the following:

Did you notice how the hero's journey of a man, differs from that of a woman?

If you were to be interviewed for 10 minutes about your story, what would you say?

Isn't it interesting that even in the U.S., there is still so much discontent? We may be placated, even pampered, but if we're not dreaming....

For any of you that read Of Corvettes and Porsches, you'll find the juxtaposition of that entry with this interview odd. My hope is that you'll take courage in my self-contradiction, that even as I am daring you to dream, and most of the time I do a pretty good job of walking my talk, I have my moments.

P.S. Off camera, I was able to ask Brett and Zach about their dreams. Their moxie is impressive: a dream, and a few dollars, and they were off.

I recently went rock climbing for the first time.

Scaling the face of a rock was so far outside my comfort zone that I suspected there was something to be learned about daring and dreaming.

Lesson #1 -- Surround ourselves with heros of support
When Whitney C, our host, asked a group of us who wanted to go rock climbing the next day, I immediately raised my hand. In a quieter moment, my husband expressed surprise and delight; he had fully expected I would stay behind. Five years ago, his prediction would have been accurate. Fear of heights, falling, looking clumsy. Yep, I would have opted out.

Are we surrounding ourselves with people who want us to be the hero of our story? People who, when they see us doing things differently than we have in the past, moving from the sidelines of our life to the center, encourage us? Are we, in turn, heros of support?

Photo courtesy of Kyle Hirsch

Lesson #2 -- Systergy bridges us from imagine to explore
I wanted to climb, but I was scared. Laurel, who had agreed to belay me, not only made sure there was so little slack in the rope that if I lost my footing I wouldn't fall more than a few inches, she continually shouted out "atta girls".

When we want to explore, and showing up is a feat in and of itself, being able to place ourselves in the capable hands of another, often bridges us from imagine to explore. Knowing that Laurel, and her husband Devon, were committed to helping me and the other neophytes in the group was a gift.

Photo courtesy of Seth Neilson

Lesson #3 -- Exploring helps us rethink our competence
Once I’d reached my summit, I was truly proud. By exploring, I had conquered (at least for the moment) my fear of climbing, looking clumsy, and especially of heights.

It is, however, interesting to me that while I love going fast (perhaps because speed is somehow emblematic of ambition), I don't love heights (symbolic of perspective?). When we go fast, we can only see to the horizon; when we go up, we see so so, so, much more. Could it be that our possibilities, indeed our magnificence, albeit glorious, frighten us just a wee bit?

What have you tried recently that you were afraid to do?

Why were you afraid?

Even if you were fairly clumsy, as I was rock climbing, how did you feel afterward?

What role did the people around you play?

What similarities do you see between belaying and mentoring? Parenting?

Are you ever overwhelmed by your own possibilities of who you are and what you can accomplish?

I am. Perhaps I'll try sky diving next.

For her third task, Psyche must fill a flask with water from an inhospitable stream, etched into a jagged cliff and guarded by dragons. "To help her in this seemingly impossible task, the eagle of Zeus, CEO of Olympus, has the ability to see what it wants and plunge from the sky and grab it with its talons," writes Jean Shinoda Bolen.

Psyche’s ability to fill the flask is symbolic of her learning how to set a goal and to achieve that goal, avoiding the inevitable distractions.

Tomorrow I begin working full-time on one of my dreams. There are so many things that need to be done to get this business up-and-running (legal documentation, bank accounts, insurance, payroll, etc), the start-up tasks could easily occupy all my time. But, the fact is, these tasks are secondary. The primary task is to invest wisely and well the monies entrusted to us.

Would it be easier and less frightening to focus on secondary tasks?

Absolutely. I could probably even persuade myself they are primary tasks, and become distracted as Psyche no doubt did; fortunately the eagle was there to help.

Photo courtesy of David Watson aka astrothug

Do we get easily distracted when working toward goals?

Worse yet, do we even bother to set and achieve goals, to dare to dream?

Sadly, a lot of women don't. Because for many, if not most women, from the time we were young girls, we may have been placated, even pampered, but our dreams were subtly, if not overtly, discouraged.

Could this really be true -- you ask.

Just take a moment and ask yourself these questions:

When you compliment women and girls, what do you emphasize?

What about men and boys?

Would it be accurate to say that with women, we focus on their appearance, or how kind they are (e.g. giving something to someone else) and with men, we focus on accomplishments?

If you're still in doubt, over the next few hours, why not compliment women/girls on what they are accomplishing, and men/boys on how they look and what they do for others?

Feels kind of wierd, doesn't it? Which is why filling the flask isn't as easy as we might have supposed.

So, the next time you get that awkward little feeling as you're daring to dream, maybe, just maybe, it's not because the dream is bad or wrong, maybe it's because we haven't really dared for a while, if ever.

Happily, we're not alone as we dare -- the eagle's there.

You have something that IT has not. This something is your only weapon. But you must find it for yourself. Mrs. Which, A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle.

One of my beloved childhood books was A Wrinkle in Time. In re-reading the below passage from Ms. L'Engle's memoir A Circle of Quiet, I couldn't help but wonder, what if she had given up on her ambition, if she hadn't dared to dream?

She writes:

I am often asked how I came to write A Wrinkle in Time.

Even with all the hindsight of which I am capable I can't quite explain it. It was during a time of transition. We had sold the store, were leaving the safe, small world of the village, and going back to the city and the theatre.

While we were on our ten-week camping trip from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back again, we drove through a world of deserts and buttes and leafless mountains, wholly new and alien to me. And suddenly into my mind came the names, Mrs. Whatsit. Mrs. Who. Mrs. Which.

But why did those names come to me just then, and from where? I haven't the faintest idea. I suppose that my writing mind, which is always at work no matter what is happening on the surface level, took over from there. I had brought along some...Einstein, a few other books on cosmology...and...the influence of these books on Wrinkle is obvious. I was also quite consciously writing my own affirmation of a universe which is created by a power of love.

After an early rejection (there were many), "X turned down Wrinkle...saying he loved it, but didn't quite dare do it, as it isn't really classifiable. I know it isn't classifiable, and am wondering if I'll have to go through the usual hell with this that I seem to go through with everything I write...[and yet] this book I'm sure of. If I've ever written a book that says what I feel about God and the universe, this is it. This is my psalm of praise....

...In 1963 (c. three years after the above entry), when I was in Chicago to receive the Newberry Medal for A Wrinkle in Time, a woman who was a fine editor...but who had rejected Wrinkle, said to me, "I know I should have published this book. But I wonder: if I had accepted A Wrinkle in Time, would it have been the right moment for it? If it had been published then, maybe you wouldn't be here now...."

She was a very wise woman.

1. Are you in a time of transition, a "bleak period of your life" as L'Engle describes the period during which she wrote Wrinkle?

2. What activities are you involved in, what books are you reading, that could be furthering your dream?

3. Are you in the unknown right now? How does it feel?

4. If your dream is facing rejection after rejection, is it possible that the timing is not yet right?

5. When you tell your story, in whatever form it takes, what beliefs will you be affirming?

6. For those of you that have read A Wrinkle in Time, think for a moment about protagonist Meg Murry and how her journey parallels that of Psyche's: Meg willlingly undertakes a journey fraught with danger so as to find her father.

7. If you don't dare to dream, what gift to the world that only you can give, might not be given?

I'm back in the saddle again. — Gene Autry (1907-1998), American cowboy actor and singer.

I registered, and made my hotel reservations for Ladies Rock Camp months ago.

Two days ago I cancelled my trip.

Camp started this morning, and so I'm sad.

I was on the verge of moving beyond just imagining to exploring my possibilities; on the threshold of finding my voice, discovering more of me.

But it won't happen this weekend.

There are times when circumstances beyond our control prevent us from exploring. I wonder though, if, more often than not, we lose our nerve.

It's probably good for us to sort through the why of our decisions. But it's more important that we never, never, never, never give up on exploring...

And when we fall off the saddle of our possibilities, we get right back up.

I'm going to.

Will you?

Photograph courtesy of Judy A. Mosby, one who has gotten back in the saddle many a time.

It's now been about two years since I said "no" to Wall Street so I could say "yes" to a different dream.

While I have no regrets, there are moments, particularly over the last few months, when dreaming really is daring, even frightening, because I just don't know what the future will hold.

Which is why I found this photograph of a tunnel so compelling.

Deciding to walk into the unknown is unnerving to be sure, but it is also thrilling, while still being quite safe; adrenaline for the armchair dreamer, if you will. Before we walk into the unknown, we are still surrounded by the known, be it our identity, or simply our daily routine.

But once inside, we can be shrouded by second-guessing, self-doubt: "what was I thinking when I decided to do x, or y or z?" goes the refrain.

Then what?

Retreat? Advance?

Probably a bit of both.

Remember the day when a headhunter called me, and I took over twenty-four hours to say no, when I knew I would say no, just because it felt good to be wanted?

Then there will be days of derring-do, when we'll be willing to sell our home, if need be, to finance our dream, all the while trusting that we will again move into the known, knowing that it will be a better known...

Because we will be more of who we are.

Alfred Hitchcock once said, "The only way to get rid of my fears is to make films about them."

As you think about daring to dream, and moving into the unknown, or if you are already in the unknown, what fear do you have?

What would happen if you wrote about the fear? Or talked about it? Would the telling of your story help?

Melinda was voted off of American Idol this week.

But that's beside the point.

Do you remember how timid she was at her audition?

If you don't, you can watch it on YouTube.

Then listen to and compare her performance of I'm a Woman after she was voted off.

The transformation is striking, isn't it?

In screwing up her courage and saying "It's my story. I'm going to be the hero," Doolittle's Leah has not only left the building, she ain't comin' back.

Because that's what happens when we dare to dream.

When one of my friends first told me about her her big idea, she said that she'd had ideas before, but hadn't pursued them due to a lack of resources. My immediate, somewhat cavalier, response was -- of course there are resources available to make a dream happen, especially in the developed markets. You just have to be willing to go after them.

Well, within weeks, I came to rue my brief moment on the soap box. I needed to make a decision as to whether to allocate resources to me, to my education and training, to Whitney, Inc., if you will. And to my surprise, I found myself balking, stressing really, over this investment. Should I make it? Isn't this risky? The timing and probabilty of a return on an investment is so uncertain.

Hmmm. Maybe it's not as simple as -- if you can dream it, you can do it.

I encourage all that come within my orbit to dare to dream; I'm even willing to consider investing time and money in someone else's dream, and I won't invest in Whitney, Inc.?

So, I tried to pass the choice-making buck, by getting my husband to tell me not to spend the money.

His response? Spend what you need to spend.

Which is when I really began to squirm: double binds do that.

Here's how I saw it.

If I choose to allocate resources to Whitney, Inc., then I feel I am sacrificing my femininity, because society tells me I'm only feminine when I'm giving something to someone else. But if I don't invest in me, if I don't dream, won't I be desperate and depressed?

Happily Psyche's fourth task illustrates that what I thought was a double bind, is actually a double find, for while she must temporarily say no, as she learns to exercise choice, she is learning to yes -- in perpetuity -- not only to herself, but to her loved ones.

Jungian psychologist Jean Shinoda Bolen summarizes:

There is a potential heroine in everywoman. She is the leading lady in her own life story on a journey that begins at birth and continues through her lifetime. Though life is full of unchosen circumstances, there are always moments of decision. To be a heroine, she must act as if her choices matter.

So -- you ask -- Will I say yes to Whitney, Inc.?

I'm scared, but I will.

But enough about me.

Will you say yes to you?

As you consider a dream that you want to pursue, what resources are at your disposal? If expertise and/or money are not readily available, do you have a skill which could be bartered? Think Intellectual Immigration Fund. Most importantly, are you surrounding yourself with people that will encourage you, that will be your heroes of support?

Can you think of a time when you wanted to do something, but almost didn’t because you felt guilty? Or were scared? How did you feel afterward? Did you find that by saying yes to yourself, you were in fact, saying yes to your family and friends?

Women under stress release the hormone oxytocin which encourages us to make and maintain friendships with other women. UCLA Study on Friendship Among Women – Gale Berkowitz

Two weeks ago I had one of those moments (well, days) when I cried, and I cried, and then I cried some more. Yes, it was after the interaction during which I had felt more like a meal ticket than a mentee. I was so gut-wrenchingly sad that, apart from the meltdown my husband was privy to, I tried to avoid contact with anyone that I know, and sought refuge at the local Borders.

In the book, The Price of Privilege, Madeline Levine titles a chapter: “Having everything except what we need most: The isolation of affluent moms.” She writes, “Experienced clinicians find an unexpectedly high amount of depression, anxiety, loneliness, and plain old unhappiness among well-to-do mothers.” (She is defining well-to-do as income of $120k plus per year). Continuing:

While affluent moms can be many things: bright, competitive, persistent, protective, interesting and funny. They are not vulnerable – at least not publicly. Vulnerability is a kind of admission, of hurt feelings, of neediness, of things not going well.

Hmmm.

Not wanting, but wanting some contact, even comfort, I sent an e-mail to one of my friends outlining what had happened. When she first tried to call, I didn't pick up. But when she persisted (which can sometimes be quite difficult in the face of possible rejection), I finally screwed up my courage, and answered the phone. Yes, courage. Because I was afraid that in recounting my experience I would again unravel, cry, and appear vulnerable, even needy. And, well, neither of us really needs Madeline Levine to tell us what we already know is true -- appearing vulnerable does take courage.

Here’s what was interesting.

As we spoke, I shared how I was feeling, how sad I was, and after my friend listened for at least 10 minutes, she said something akin to “That’s really hard.” In other words, no profound words of wisdom were asked for, needed, or even wanted.

But because she listened, and I knew that she cared – well, I felt better.

Not just a little better.

A lot better.

In his editorial Of Human Bonding, New York Times columnist David Brooks writes, “I’m not trying to reduce all human relationships to one hormone. But I am trying to emphasize the importance of human attachments. In the policy world, we debate how to improve productivity, competitiveness, education… but often it’s the space between individuals that really matters. Everything we’re learning about the brain confirms Adam Smith’s observation that the ‘chief part of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved.' So maybe it’s time to focus a little less on individual capacities and more on nurturing attachment."

If our sisterhood can buoy us up on a bad day simply because of how we are hard-wired, just think of the possibilities on a good day. Because of the chemical connection to one another, this feel-good hormone multiplies as we share our dreams and help each other pursue them (SYSTERGY!). As discussed in Identity Crisis, it won’t be easy – we can only really connect when we are willing to be vulnerable, but when we do, we bridge ourselves to a much happier place.

Make that fours cheers for oxytocin!

Can you think of a time recently when you were sad or anxious about something, and you were able to share with a caring friend -- did you feel better?

Was it difficult initially to let her in?

Or what about when you've gone to lunch with a friend, and come home energized simply because you were able to listen and share?

Did you almost cancel the outing or wonder if you actually had time to go in the first place?

To realize their dreams, women need to understand why they are willing to walk away from them. Anna Fels

It took a nanosecond -- less than a nanosecond.

I had just read: “O, the Oprah Magazine, announces a contest for 50 lucky women to win a spa vacation with Oprah Winfrey, filled with life lessons and little indulgences at Miraval Resort, Tucson.”

And almost before I could form the thought, “What an amazing experience; I’m going to enter,” one of those ne'er-do-well thoughts pounced, which was:

"I can’t."

Why? Does it cost money to enter?

Yep. About a dollar when I include postage.

Ok, so not really. Or at least it doesn’t have to cost much.

So why not enter? Are you embarrassed to say that you like Oprah?

How can I not like a fairy godmother?

Why then? Can you not figure out what to say on the postcard?

I guess I could just tell the truth. Something like “who wouldn’t want to spend 5 days and 4 nights with 49 women from whom I can learn and delight in, all the while observing Oprah, Gayle et al up close and personal?”

So I guess I do know what to say.

By this time I’ve peeled back so many onion layers of excuses, I’m on the verge of tears, but ready to get to the real why. Which is: I don’t think it’s okay to ask for what I want. Asking for what I want can be almost unbearably uncomfortable; the more I want something, the greater the discomfort.

Anna Fels writes: “In both the public and the private spheres…women are facing the reality that in order to be seen as feminine, they must provide or relinquish resources –including recognition—to others.” She continues, “the expectation is so deeply rooted in the culture’s ideals of femininity that it is largely unconscious.”

Maybe it’s also because no matter how successful I become, I just can’t quite believe that I’m Rachel and that I can ask for what I want. No matter how far I’ve come, Leah’s still lurking inside me.

Once I figured this out, the gauntlet had been thrown down, and I had to enter the contest.

Will I be sad if I’m not chosen from the possible 100,000+ women that enter the contest?

Of course, I’ll be sad.

But I'll be more happy than sad - because for a brief moment, Leah has left the building.

P.S. Here's the pOstcard: Thanks to Mallika Sundaramurthy, a talented up-and-coming artist, for bringing my idea to life!

You have learned something. That always feels at first as if you had lost something. H.G. Wells

More than once when I have wanted one of my girlfriends to go somewhere with me or do something, I have cavalierly said, “just get a babysitter” or “why can’t your husband watch them for a few hours?” or “one of your friends has asked you repeatedly to let her watch your children, why not take her up on it?”

And when my friends didn’t give in to my pleading and leave their children with a sitter for an hour or two, I just couldn’t understand why they hadn’t. It seemed so simple, so straightforward, especially when we could both readily cite the laundry list of quotations as to why they should “take time for yourself, you’ll feel better, ready to face the world.”

But even with ample opportunity to get away for a few hours they didn’t do it. And I just haven’t understood this – at all.

Until last week.

On Monday afternoon I received a call from the BBC based in Washington D.C. As the director of public relations for The Church of Jesus Christ (aka Mormons) in Greater Boston, when reporters call and want to meet with members of my church, it’s my job to make that happen. And with the former governor of Massachusetts, Mitt Romney, expected to become a candidate for president of the United States, there’s a lot of curiosity about my faith right now.

So the BBC called on Monday, and they wanted to do their interviews on Wednesday. Ordinarily I would have liaised with the BBC, arranging for the interviews, and we’d be done. But I had to go out of town and so I couldn’t set up the appointments – and I needed to delegate that responsibility.

Surprisingly, I found this really difficult to do. As I analyzed why I was so disconcerted by delegating this job to someone else, I found myself feeling guilty and concerned about imposing on my committee member – after all she’s busy too.

But then I realized that what I was really feeling was Fear.

Fear that in not doing “my job”, my identity would rub away.

Let me see if I can explain what I mean.

Each of us has an identity, probably several, a way of defining who we are -- daughter, sister, mother, wife, doctor, investment professional, etc. Though I think each of us has many identities, we usually have a primary identity which tends to be related to whatever we spend most of our time doing. For me, because much of my last fifteen years has been related to my career, my identity is centered on myself as a worker, a gal who goes out gets stuff done. When I get stuff done in the community or workplace I shore up my identity. In turn, when I delegate or give away those "tasks to be done", I perceive that I am weakening that identity. (Oh, bounty – wherefore art thou?)

The paradox of this is that unless I am willing to let go of some of my can-do identity, there isn’t room for me to develop other pieces of myself, like the mothering piece that I wanted to develop (and is part of why I left my gig on Wall Street).

Is this what happens with each us?

If it is, and I believe that it is, as I encourage you to dream, I really am daring you--maybe even double dog daring you to dream. Because for you to find another piece of who you are, you have to rearrange the furniture in your mind and heart to make room for the new piece, possibly discarding a little bit of who you think you are right now. Which, because of the fear, can be tough.

And so with this blog, dated January 22, 2007, I promise that I will be supportive, gently encouraging you – even as I dare you – to become more of who you are …

In the meantime, how about I do some more delegating, you go get a babysitter, and let’s get to dreaming!

Is there a something that you have wanted to do recently, if only for a few hours, that you just wouldn’t let yourself do?

Can you jot down a few of the reasons why you wouldn’t you let yourself do it?

If you find yourself repeatedly wanting to do this thing, will you promise yourself to do it next time – knowing full well that you will be just a little bit uncomfortable?

After a few days, do you still feel uncomfortable, or just a little bit happier?

Remember when you are learning something, it may feel at first as if you’ve lost something!

The only true gift is a portion of thyself. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Each Christmas, I worry about buying the right presents for my children. Not only does there need to be an equal number of presents for each child at approximately the same dollar value, there’s the “do I buy a totally impractical and overpriced gift simply because my son or daughter wants it more than anything?” Oh – and then the presents have to be wrapped.

On the stockings of the annual Christmas angst, comes the analysis.

Why do I become overwhelmed by gift-giving?

Is my distress symptomatic of something greater than the season's "too much to do, too little time"?

Am I afraid that there won't be enough presents for my children? Or is there a more deep-seated fear, that I, as a mother, won’t be enough?

IS there a good enough gift?

Said Emerson, Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only true gift is a portion of….

Your self.

If, in fact, this is true, and I believe it is, as this Christmas comes and goes, I am going to predict that my six year-old and I will remember one particular gift.

In early December, our daughter exuberantly and joyfully encouraged us to put up the Christmas tree, decorate the house, and then to take her out to buy Christmas presents for each member of the family. As her gift of self became a wellspring of enough, out of my mouth came a gift that, in turn, was uniquely mine to give: a compliment bestowed upon a daughter by her mother. Which was, Miranda – thank you for bringing the spirit of Christmas into our home.

A simple, heartfelt compliment, reminded my daughter that she is enough. And, because of the wonderful alchemy that comes when a gift of self is given and then received, I knew that I too am enough.

What portion of your self will you give this Christmas?

Moving into the unknown is often where we find the healing. Dean Ornish, M.D.

Several months ago, I was on a layover in a city where one of my childhood friends lives. I stayed the night in a hotel and flew out the next day. I didn’t tell her that I was going to be in town and then she found out. Busted.

Why didn’t I call and ask to stay with her? Or at least call and see if she wanted to get together while I was in town? After all, not too many months before she had been passing through MA and stayed with my family.

Again – why didn’t I call?

Because I was afraid.

I was afraid that I wouldn’t be received.

Other friends may have let this go. But this particular friend has a strong enough sense of self, and, I daresay, cares enough about me that she told me that I had hurt her feelings.

One of the outcomes of these terribly uncomfortable, vulnerable moments is that in the revealing of true, often painful, feelings the bond of friendship can deepen. And that is what happened in this instance. Kathleen and I have grown closer. Truth be told, most days though I wish I had just called her in the first place. Discomfort and vulnerability may welcome me readily into their residence; I prefer not visiting.

Another outcome of this experience is that I may have seen for the first time that in becoming paralyzed by fear, I couldn’t love; the price of protecting myself had been to hurt another.

The Waste
by
Carol Lynn Pearson

They’re dumping wheat
Into the sea,
And oranges too
I hear.

Just like my heart
That annually
Wastes fields of love
For fear.

My heart annually wastes fields of love for fear.

For fear.

More recently, on a different layover in a different city, I debated whether I should call another friend. The circumstances were slightly different, and a bit more frightening than before. I had tried to be in contact with this friend on a number of occasions and she hadn’t responded. Had I offended her? I couldn’t think of why. So, I had a decision to make. Was this friendship of sufficient worth to me to persist? Or wasn’t it? Sometimes it won’t be. In this case it was.

So I called.

It was a few weeks ago – and she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.

Will we eventually reconnect? I hope so.

Regardless of what happens, this time I didn’t waste my fields of love for fear. And, in my idiosyncratic, rather awkward way, I did my best to love.

As you think about systergy (the good that can happen as women, who by daring and dreaming together, will make synergistic contributions to their own lives and the world), consider the importance of connecting with other women.

Is there someone you’ve been wanting to connect or reconnect with, but you were afraid?

Is there something that -- only you can do -- to connect?

Is it a visit? A phone call? An e-mail? A personalized note in a Christmas card?

We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face. Eleanor Roosevelt

Last night I auditioned for a part in a local play. For several days prior to the auditions I imagined myself wowing the directors with memorized words, music, and oh, the feelings that I would evoke as I graciously, confidently, joyfully sang.

Now let me tell you how the audition really went.

I was far more nervous than I had anticipated. The last time I auditioned for a soloist role was – well never. To make matters worse, I actually knew the two women for whom I was auditioning – both of whom have beautiful voices. So, I looked at the music the entire time, was slightly off key, and there was a quiver in my voice. And it wasn’t a vibrato. It was nerves.

For several hours afterward, I kept thinking – I am so embarrassed. Why did I do this?

But with some hindsight, I realized that despite my poor performance, this audition was, for me, a giant baby step.

Reason 1: Singing is one of my dreams. I’m not very good at singing yet. I was scared. And I did it anyway. I’m actually beginning to feel a slight fondness for those feelings of embarrassment, because they cue me to know that I'm throwing down my pom-poms, and walking through my fear.

Reason 2: In auditioning, I listened to my intuition. When I first heard about the play, my immediate and automatic response was – we are too busy. But then I heard a little whisper that said: “That’s what used to be true, but no longer is. You need to do this. Your family needs to do this.” And so I announced to my husband and children that I felt strongly we needed to take part in this opportunity – and they gamely said yes.

Reason 3: Participating in a play will draw us closer together, building happy memories for our family.

Reason 4: One of the unintended consequences is that my husband will start singing again. He used to love to sing in high school and his early college years, but he hasn’t sung much since. As I heard him audition, I realized that part of my “you need to do this” wasn’t about me, but about my husband coming back to something that he used to love. And, with the supply-demand imbalance that exists so often with male roles and men to fill them, he’ll probably get a pretty fun part.

Reason 5: Another unintended consequence (I wish I could have planned this) is that my ten-year-old son will start to sing. I have wanted him to take music lessons. He fought and fought, using precedent against me. His words: “your mother made you take piano and you didn’t like it. Are you going to do that to me?” (I couldn’t argue that.) I then tried the voice lesson route, to no avail. Finally I resorted to buying A Pocketful of Music music appreciation CD’s. And then these auditions came up. Initially my son was hesitant, but as the audition approached, he wanted to sing, he practiced, he prepared. He wants to participate.

Reason 6: As I continue to daydream about bursting forth into song without fear, about finding my voice – not just when I am alone, but when others are around, and keep taking giant baby steps, some day, a lovely voice will no longer be just a dream.

What fear do you have to face as you dream? How has it felt to walk through the fear? What have been some unintended, but happy consequences of facing your fears?

Rock climbing and rethinking our competence

I recently went rock climbing for the first time.

Scaling the face of a rock was so far outside my comfort zone that I suspected there was something to be learned about daring and dreaming.

Lesson #1 -- Surround ourselves with heros of support
When Whitney C, our host, asked a group of us who wanted to go rock climbing the next day, I immediately raised my hand. In a quieter moment, my husband expressed surprise and delight; he had fully expected I would stay behind. Five years ago, his prediction would have been accurate. Fear of heights, falling, looking clumsy. Yep, I would have opted out.

Are we surrounding ourselves with people who want us to be the hero of our story? People who, when they see us doing things differently than we have in the past, moving from the sidelines of our life to the center, encourage us? Are we, in turn, heros of support?

Photo courtesy of Kyle Hirsch

Lesson #2 -- Systergy bridges us from imagine to explore
I wanted to climb, but I was scared. Laurel, who had agreed to belay me, not only made sure there was so little slack in the rope that if I lost my footing I wouldn't fall more than a few inches, she continually shouted out "atta girls".

When we want to explore, and showing up is a feat in and of itself, being able to place ourselves in the capable hands of another, often bridges us from imagine to explore. Knowing that Laurel, and her husband Devon, were committed to helping me and the other neophytes in the group was a gift.

Photo courtesy of Seth Neilson

Lesson #3 -- Exploring helps us rethink our competence
Once I’d reached my summit, I was truly proud. By exploring, I had conquered (at least for the moment) my fear of climbing, looking clumsy, and especially of heights.

It is, however, interesting to me that while I love going fast (perhaps because speed is somehow emblematic of ambition), I don't love heights (symbolic of perspective?). When we go fast, we can only see to the horizon; when we go up, we see so so, so, much more. Could it be that our possibilities, indeed our magnificence, albeit glorious, frighten us just a wee bit?

What have you tried recently that you were afraid to do?

Why were you afraid?

Even if you were fairly clumsy, as I was rock climbing, how did you feel afterward?

What role did the people around you play?

What similarities do you see between belaying and mentoring? Parenting?

Are you ever overwhelmed by your own possibilities of who you are and what you can accomplish?

I am. Perhaps I'll try sky diving next.

Psyche's 3rd Task: Fill the flask

For her third task, Psyche must fill a flask with water from an inhospitable stream, etched into a jagged cliff and guarded by dragons. "To help her in this seemingly impossible task, the eagle of Zeus, CEO of Olympus, has the ability to see what it wants and plunge from the sky and grab it with its talons," writes Jean Shinoda Bolen.

Psyche’s ability to fill the flask is symbolic of her learning how to set a goal and to achieve that goal, avoiding the inevitable distractions.

Tomorrow I begin working full-time on one of my dreams. There are so many things that need to be done to get this business up-and-running (legal documentation, bank accounts, insurance, payroll, etc), the start-up tasks could easily occupy all my time. But, the fact is, these tasks are secondary. The primary task is to invest wisely and well the monies entrusted to us.

Would it be easier and less frightening to focus on secondary tasks?

Absolutely. I could probably even persuade myself they are primary tasks, and become distracted as Psyche no doubt did; fortunately the eagle was there to help.

Photo courtesy of David Watson aka astrothug

Do we get easily distracted when working toward goals?

Worse yet, do we even bother to set and achieve goals, to dare to dream?

Sadly, a lot of women don't. Because for many, if not most women, from the time we were young girls, we may have been placated, even pampered, but our dreams were subtly, if not overtly, discouraged.

Could this really be true -- you ask.

Just take a moment and ask yourself these questions:

When you compliment women and girls, what do you emphasize?

What about men and boys?

Would it be accurate to say that with women, we focus on their appearance, or how kind they are (e.g. giving something to someone else) and with men, we focus on accomplishments?

If you're still in doubt, over the next few hours, why not compliment women/girls on what they are accomplishing, and men/boys on how they look and what they do for others?

Feels kind of wierd, doesn't it? Which is why filling the flask isn't as easy as we might have supposed.

So, the next time you get that awkward little feeling as you're daring to dream, maybe, just maybe, it's not because the dream is bad or wrong, maybe it's because we haven't really dared for a while, if ever.

Happily, we're not alone as we dare -- the eagle's there.

What if Madeleine L'Engle hadn't dared to dream?

You have something that IT has not. This something is your only weapon. But you must find it for yourself. Mrs. Which, A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle.

One of my beloved childhood books was A Wrinkle in Time. In re-reading the below passage from Ms. L'Engle's memoir A Circle of Quiet, I couldn't help but wonder, what if she had given up on her ambition, if she hadn't dared to dream?

She writes:

I am often asked how I came to write A Wrinkle in Time.

Even with all the hindsight of which I am capable I can't quite explain it. It was during a time of transition. We had sold the store, were leaving the safe, small world of the village, and going back to the city and the theatre.

While we were on our ten-week camping trip from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back again, we drove through a world of deserts and buttes and leafless mountains, wholly new and alien to me. And suddenly into my mind came the names, Mrs. Whatsit. Mrs. Who. Mrs. Which.

But why did those names come to me just then, and from where? I haven't the faintest idea. I suppose that my writing mind, which is always at work no matter what is happening on the surface level, took over from there. I had brought along some...Einstein, a few other books on cosmology...and...the influence of these books on Wrinkle is obvious. I was also quite consciously writing my own affirmation of a universe which is created by a power of love.

After an early rejection (there were many), "X turned down Wrinkle...saying he loved it, but didn't quite dare do it, as it isn't really classifiable. I know it isn't classifiable, and am wondering if I'll have to go through the usual hell with this that I seem to go through with everything I write...[and yet] this book I'm sure of. If I've ever written a book that says what I feel about God and the universe, this is it. This is my psalm of praise....

...In 1963 (c. three years after the above entry), when I was in Chicago to receive the Newberry Medal for A Wrinkle in Time, a woman who was a fine editor...but who had rejected Wrinkle, said to me, "I know I should have published this book. But I wonder: if I had accepted A Wrinkle in Time, would it have been the right moment for it? If it had been published then, maybe you wouldn't be here now...."

She was a very wise woman.

1. Are you in a time of transition, a "bleak period of your life" as L'Engle describes the period during which she wrote Wrinkle?

2. What activities are you involved in, what books are you reading, that could be furthering your dream?

3. Are you in the unknown right now? How does it feel?

4. If your dream is facing rejection after rejection, is it possible that the timing is not yet right?

5. When you tell your story, in whatever form it takes, what beliefs will you be affirming?

6. For those of you that have read A Wrinkle in Time, think for a moment about protagonist Meg Murry and how her journey parallels that of Psyche's: Meg willlingly undertakes a journey fraught with danger so as to find her father.

7. If you don't dare to dream, what gift to the world that only you can give, might not be given?

Getting back in the saddle of our possibilities

I'm back in the saddle again. — Gene Autry (1907-1998), American cowboy actor and singer.

I registered, and made my hotel reservations for Ladies Rock Camp months ago.

Two days ago I cancelled my trip.

Camp started this morning, and so I'm sad.

I was on the verge of moving beyond just imagining to exploring my possibilities; on the threshold of finding my voice, discovering more of me.

But it won't happen this weekend.

There are times when circumstances beyond our control prevent us from exploring. I wonder though, if, more often than not, we lose our nerve.

It's probably good for us to sort through the why of our decisions. But it's more important that we never, never, never, never give up on exploring...

And when we fall off the saddle of our possibilities, we get right back up.

I'm going to.

Will you?

Photograph courtesy of Judy A. Mosby, one who has gotten back in the saddle many a time.

Walking through the unknown

It's now been about two years since I said "no" to Wall Street so I could say "yes" to a different dream.

While I have no regrets, there are moments, particularly over the last few months, when dreaming really is daring, even frightening, because I just don't know what the future will hold.

Which is why I found this photograph of a tunnel so compelling.

Deciding to walk into the unknown is unnerving to be sure, but it is also thrilling, while still being quite safe; adrenaline for the armchair dreamer, if you will. Before we walk into the unknown, we are still surrounded by the known, be it our identity, or simply our daily routine.

But once inside, we can be shrouded by second-guessing, self-doubt: "what was I thinking when I decided to do x, or y or z?" goes the refrain.

Then what?

Retreat? Advance?

Probably a bit of both.

Remember the day when a headhunter called me, and I took over twenty-four hours to say no, when I knew I would say no, just because it felt good to be wanted?

Then there will be days of derring-do, when we'll be willing to sell our home, if need be, to finance our dream, all the while trusting that we will again move into the known, knowing that it will be a better known...

Because we will be more of who we are.

Alfred Hitchcock once said, "The only way to get rid of my fears is to make films about them."

As you think about daring to dream, and moving into the unknown, or if you are already in the unknown, what fear do you have?

What would happen if you wrote about the fear? Or talked about it? Would the telling of your story help?

Doolittle's Leah leaves the building

Melinda was voted off of American Idol this week.

But that's beside the point.

Do you remember how timid she was at her audition?

If you don't, you can watch it on YouTube.

Then listen to and compare her performance of I'm a Woman after she was voted off.

The transformation is striking, isn't it?

In screwing up her courage and saying "It's my story. I'm going to be the hero," Doolittle's Leah has not only left the building, she ain't comin' back.

Because that's what happens when we dare to dream.

Pscyhe and choice

When one of my friends first told me about her her big idea, she said that she'd had ideas before, but hadn't pursued them due to a lack of resources. My immediate, somewhat cavalier, response was -- of course there are resources available to make a dream happen, especially in the developed markets. You just have to be willing to go after them.

Well, within weeks, I came to rue my brief moment on the soap box. I needed to make a decision as to whether to allocate resources to me, to my education and training, to Whitney, Inc., if you will. And to my surprise, I found myself balking, stressing really, over this investment. Should I make it? Isn't this risky? The timing and probabilty of a return on an investment is so uncertain.

Hmmm. Maybe it's not as simple as -- if you can dream it, you can do it.

I encourage all that come within my orbit to dare to dream; I'm even willing to consider investing time and money in someone else's dream, and I won't invest in Whitney, Inc.?

So, I tried to pass the choice-making buck, by getting my husband to tell me not to spend the money.

His response? Spend what you need to spend.

Which is when I really began to squirm: double binds do that.

Here's how I saw it.

If I choose to allocate resources to Whitney, Inc., then I feel I am sacrificing my femininity, because society tells me I'm only feminine when I'm giving something to someone else. But if I don't invest in me, if I don't dream, won't I be desperate and depressed?

Happily Psyche's fourth task illustrates that what I thought was a double bind, is actually a double find, for while she must temporarily say no, as she learns to exercise choice, she is learning to yes -- in perpetuity -- not only to herself, but to her loved ones.

Jungian psychologist Jean Shinoda Bolen summarizes:

There is a potential heroine in everywoman. She is the leading lady in her own life story on a journey that begins at birth and continues through her lifetime. Though life is full of unchosen circumstances, there are always moments of decision. To be a heroine, she must act as if her choices matter.

So -- you ask -- Will I say yes to Whitney, Inc.?

I'm scared, but I will.

But enough about me.

Will you say yes to you?

As you consider a dream that you want to pursue, what resources are at your disposal? If expertise and/or money are not readily available, do you have a skill which could be bartered? Think Intellectual Immigration Fund. Most importantly, are you surrounding yourself with people that will encourage you, that will be your heroes of support?

Can you think of a time when you wanted to do something, but almost didn’t because you felt guilty? Or were scared? How did you feel afterward? Did you find that by saying yes to yourself, you were in fact, saying yes to your family and friends?

Three cheers for oxytocin

Women under stress release the hormone oxytocin which encourages us to make and maintain friendships with other women. UCLA Study on Friendship Among Women – Gale Berkowitz

Two weeks ago I had one of those moments (well, days) when I cried, and I cried, and then I cried some more. Yes, it was after the interaction during which I had felt more like a meal ticket than a mentee. I was so gut-wrenchingly sad that, apart from the meltdown my husband was privy to, I tried to avoid contact with anyone that I know, and sought refuge at the local Borders.

In the book, The Price of Privilege, Madeline Levine titles a chapter: “Having everything except what we need most: The isolation of affluent moms.” She writes, “Experienced clinicians find an unexpectedly high amount of depression, anxiety, loneliness, and plain old unhappiness among well-to-do mothers.” (She is defining well-to-do as income of $120k plus per year). Continuing:

While affluent moms can be many things: bright, competitive, persistent, protective, interesting and funny. They are not vulnerable – at least not publicly. Vulnerability is a kind of admission, of hurt feelings, of neediness, of things not going well.

Hmmm.

Not wanting, but wanting some contact, even comfort, I sent an e-mail to one of my friends outlining what had happened. When she first tried to call, I didn't pick up. But when she persisted (which can sometimes be quite difficult in the face of possible rejection), I finally screwed up my courage, and answered the phone. Yes, courage. Because I was afraid that in recounting my experience I would again unravel, cry, and appear vulnerable, even needy. And, well, neither of us really needs Madeline Levine to tell us what we already know is true -- appearing vulnerable does take courage.

Here’s what was interesting.

As we spoke, I shared how I was feeling, how sad I was, and after my friend listened for at least 10 minutes, she said something akin to “That’s really hard.” In other words, no profound words of wisdom were asked for, needed, or even wanted.

But because she listened, and I knew that she cared – well, I felt better.

Not just a little better.

A lot better.

In his editorial Of Human Bonding, New York Times columnist David Brooks writes, “I’m not trying to reduce all human relationships to one hormone. But I am trying to emphasize the importance of human attachments. In the policy world, we debate how to improve productivity, competitiveness, education… but often it’s the space between individuals that really matters. Everything we’re learning about the brain confirms Adam Smith’s observation that the ‘chief part of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved.' So maybe it’s time to focus a little less on individual capacities and more on nurturing attachment."

If our sisterhood can buoy us up on a bad day simply because of how we are hard-wired, just think of the possibilities on a good day. Because of the chemical connection to one another, this feel-good hormone multiplies as we share our dreams and help each other pursue them (SYSTERGY!). As discussed in Identity Crisis, it won’t be easy – we can only really connect when we are willing to be vulnerable, but when we do, we bridge ourselves to a much happier place.

Make that fours cheers for oxytocin!

Can you think of a time recently when you were sad or anxious about something, and you were able to share with a caring friend -- did you feel better?

Was it difficult initially to let her in?

Or what about when you've gone to lunch with a friend, and come home energized simply because you were able to listen and share?

Did you almost cancel the outing or wonder if you actually had time to go in the first place?

Leah leaves the building

To realize their dreams, women need to understand why they are willing to walk away from them. Anna Fels

It took a nanosecond -- less than a nanosecond.

I had just read: “O, the Oprah Magazine, announces a contest for 50 lucky women to win a spa vacation with Oprah Winfrey, filled with life lessons and little indulgences at Miraval Resort, Tucson.”

And almost before I could form the thought, “What an amazing experience; I’m going to enter,” one of those ne'er-do-well thoughts pounced, which was:

"I can’t."

Why? Does it cost money to enter?

Yep. About a dollar when I include postage.

Ok, so not really. Or at least it doesn’t have to cost much.

So why not enter? Are you embarrassed to say that you like Oprah?

How can I not like a fairy godmother?

Why then? Can you not figure out what to say on the postcard?

I guess I could just tell the truth. Something like “who wouldn’t want to spend 5 days and 4 nights with 49 women from whom I can learn and delight in, all the while observing Oprah, Gayle et al up close and personal?”

So I guess I do know what to say.

By this time I’ve peeled back so many onion layers of excuses, I’m on the verge of tears, but ready to get to the real why. Which is: I don’t think it’s okay to ask for what I want. Asking for what I want can be almost unbearably uncomfortable; the more I want something, the greater the discomfort.

Anna Fels writes: “In both the public and the private spheres…women are facing the reality that in order to be seen as feminine, they must provide or relinquish resources –including recognition—to others.” She continues, “the expectation is so deeply rooted in the culture’s ideals of femininity that it is largely unconscious.”

Maybe it’s also because no matter how successful I become, I just can’t quite believe that I’m Rachel and that I can ask for what I want. No matter how far I’ve come, Leah’s still lurking inside me.

Once I figured this out, the gauntlet had been thrown down, and I had to enter the contest.

Will I be sad if I’m not chosen from the possible 100,000+ women that enter the contest?

Of course, I’ll be sad.

But I'll be more happy than sad - because for a brief moment, Leah has left the building.

P.S. Here's the pOstcard: Thanks to Mallika Sundaramurthy, a talented up-and-coming artist, for bringing my idea to life!

Identity Crisis

You have learned something. That always feels at first as if you had lost something. H.G. Wells

More than once when I have wanted one of my girlfriends to go somewhere with me or do something, I have cavalierly said, “just get a babysitter” or “why can’t your husband watch them for a few hours?” or “one of your friends has asked you repeatedly to let her watch your children, why not take her up on it?”

And when my friends didn’t give in to my pleading and leave their children with a sitter for an hour or two, I just couldn’t understand why they hadn’t. It seemed so simple, so straightforward, especially when we could both readily cite the laundry list of quotations as to why they should “take time for yourself, you’ll feel better, ready to face the world.”

But even with ample opportunity to get away for a few hours they didn’t do it. And I just haven’t understood this – at all.

Until last week.

On Monday afternoon I received a call from the BBC based in Washington D.C. As the director of public relations for The Church of Jesus Christ (aka Mormons) in Greater Boston, when reporters call and want to meet with members of my church, it’s my job to make that happen. And with the former governor of Massachusetts, Mitt Romney, expected to become a candidate for president of the United States, there’s a lot of curiosity about my faith right now.

So the BBC called on Monday, and they wanted to do their interviews on Wednesday. Ordinarily I would have liaised with the BBC, arranging for the interviews, and we’d be done. But I had to go out of town and so I couldn’t set up the appointments – and I needed to delegate that responsibility.

Surprisingly, I found this really difficult to do. As I analyzed why I was so disconcerted by delegating this job to someone else, I found myself feeling guilty and concerned about imposing on my committee member – after all she’s busy too.

But then I realized that what I was really feeling was Fear.

Fear that in not doing “my job”, my identity would rub away.

Let me see if I can explain what I mean.

Each of us has an identity, probably several, a way of defining who we are -- daughter, sister, mother, wife, doctor, investment professional, etc. Though I think each of us has many identities, we usually have a primary identity which tends to be related to whatever we spend most of our time doing. For me, because much of my last fifteen years has been related to my career, my identity is centered on myself as a worker, a gal who goes out gets stuff done. When I get stuff done in the community or workplace I shore up my identity. In turn, when I delegate or give away those "tasks to be done", I perceive that I am weakening that identity. (Oh, bounty – wherefore art thou?)

The paradox of this is that unless I am willing to let go of some of my can-do identity, there isn’t room for me to develop other pieces of myself, like the mothering piece that I wanted to develop (and is part of why I left my gig on Wall Street).

Is this what happens with each us?

If it is, and I believe that it is, as I encourage you to dream, I really am daring you--maybe even double dog daring you to dream. Because for you to find another piece of who you are, you have to rearrange the furniture in your mind and heart to make room for the new piece, possibly discarding a little bit of who you think you are right now. Which, because of the fear, can be tough.

And so with this blog, dated January 22, 2007, I promise that I will be supportive, gently encouraging you – even as I dare you – to become more of who you are …

In the meantime, how about I do some more delegating, you go get a babysitter, and let’s get to dreaming!

Is there a something that you have wanted to do recently, if only for a few hours, that you just wouldn’t let yourself do?

Can you jot down a few of the reasons why you wouldn’t you let yourself do it?

If you find yourself repeatedly wanting to do this thing, will you promise yourself to do it next time – knowing full well that you will be just a little bit uncomfortable?

After a few days, do you still feel uncomfortable, or just a little bit happier?

Remember when you are learning something, it may feel at first as if you’ve lost something!

Enough

The only true gift is a portion of thyself. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Each Christmas, I worry about buying the right presents for my children. Not only does there need to be an equal number of presents for each child at approximately the same dollar value, there’s the “do I buy a totally impractical and overpriced gift simply because my son or daughter wants it more than anything?” Oh – and then the presents have to be wrapped.

On the stockings of the annual Christmas angst, comes the analysis.

Why do I become overwhelmed by gift-giving?

Is my distress symptomatic of something greater than the season's "too much to do, too little time"?

Am I afraid that there won't be enough presents for my children? Or is there a more deep-seated fear, that I, as a mother, won’t be enough?

IS there a good enough gift?

Said Emerson, Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only true gift is a portion of….

Your self.

If, in fact, this is true, and I believe it is, as this Christmas comes and goes, I am going to predict that my six year-old and I will remember one particular gift.

In early December, our daughter exuberantly and joyfully encouraged us to put up the Christmas tree, decorate the house, and then to take her out to buy Christmas presents for each member of the family. As her gift of self became a wellspring of enough, out of my mouth came a gift that, in turn, was uniquely mine to give: a compliment bestowed upon a daughter by her mother. Which was, Miranda – thank you for bringing the spirit of Christmas into our home.

A simple, heartfelt compliment, reminded my daughter that she is enough. And, because of the wonderful alchemy that comes when a gift of self is given and then received, I knew that I too am enough.

What portion of your self will you give this Christmas?

Fields of love

Moving into the unknown is often where we find the healing. Dean Ornish, M.D.

Several months ago, I was on a layover in a city where one of my childhood friends lives. I stayed the night in a hotel and flew out the next day. I didn’t tell her that I was going to be in town and then she found out. Busted.

Why didn’t I call and ask to stay with her? Or at least call and see if she wanted to get together while I was in town? After all, not too many months before she had been passing through MA and stayed with my family.

Again – why didn’t I call?

Because I was afraid.

I was afraid that I wouldn’t be received.

Other friends may have let this go. But this particular friend has a strong enough sense of self, and, I daresay, cares enough about me that she told me that I had hurt her feelings.

One of the outcomes of these terribly uncomfortable, vulnerable moments is that in the revealing of true, often painful, feelings the bond of friendship can deepen. And that is what happened in this instance. Kathleen and I have grown closer. Truth be told, most days though I wish I had just called her in the first place. Discomfort and vulnerability may welcome me readily into their residence; I prefer not visiting.

Another outcome of this experience is that I may have seen for the first time that in becoming paralyzed by fear, I couldn’t love; the price of protecting myself had been to hurt another.

The Waste
by
Carol Lynn Pearson

They’re dumping wheat
Into the sea,
And oranges too
I hear.

Just like my heart
That annually
Wastes fields of love
For fear.

My heart annually wastes fields of love for fear.

For fear.

More recently, on a different layover in a different city, I debated whether I should call another friend. The circumstances were slightly different, and a bit more frightening than before. I had tried to be in contact with this friend on a number of occasions and she hadn’t responded. Had I offended her? I couldn’t think of why. So, I had a decision to make. Was this friendship of sufficient worth to me to persist? Or wasn’t it? Sometimes it won’t be. In this case it was.

So I called.

It was a few weeks ago – and she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.

Will we eventually reconnect? I hope so.

Regardless of what happens, this time I didn’t waste my fields of love for fear. And, in my idiosyncratic, rather awkward way, I did my best to love.

As you think about systergy (the good that can happen as women, who by daring and dreaming together, will make synergistic contributions to their own lives and the world), consider the importance of connecting with other women.

Is there someone you’ve been wanting to connect or reconnect with, but you were afraid?

Is there something that -- only you can do -- to connect?

Is it a visit? A phone call? An e-mail? A personalized note in a Christmas card?

Giant baby steps

We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face. Eleanor Roosevelt

Last night I auditioned for a part in a local play. For several days prior to the auditions I imagined myself wowing the directors with memorized words, music, and oh, the feelings that I would evoke as I graciously, confidently, joyfully sang.

Now let me tell you how the audition really went.

I was far more nervous than I had anticipated. The last time I auditioned for a soloist role was – well never. To make matters worse, I actually knew the two women for whom I was auditioning – both of whom have beautiful voices. So, I looked at the music the entire time, was slightly off key, and there was a quiver in my voice. And it wasn’t a vibrato. It was nerves.

For several hours afterward, I kept thinking – I am so embarrassed. Why did I do this?

But with some hindsight, I realized that despite my poor performance, this audition was, for me, a giant baby step.

Reason 1: Singing is one of my dreams. I’m not very good at singing yet. I was scared. And I did it anyway. I’m actually beginning to feel a slight fondness for those feelings of embarrassment, because they cue me to know that I'm throwing down my pom-poms, and walking through my fear.

Reason 2: In auditioning, I listened to my intuition. When I first heard about the play, my immediate and automatic response was – we are too busy. But then I heard a little whisper that said: “That’s what used to be true, but no longer is. You need to do this. Your family needs to do this.” And so I announced to my husband and children that I felt strongly we needed to take part in this opportunity – and they gamely said yes.

Reason 3: Participating in a play will draw us closer together, building happy memories for our family.

Reason 4: One of the unintended consequences is that my husband will start singing again. He used to love to sing in high school and his early college years, but he hasn’t sung much since. As I heard him audition, I realized that part of my “you need to do this” wasn’t about me, but about my husband coming back to something that he used to love. And, with the supply-demand imbalance that exists so often with male roles and men to fill them, he’ll probably get a pretty fun part.

Reason 5: Another unintended consequence (I wish I could have planned this) is that my ten-year-old son will start to sing. I have wanted him to take music lessons. He fought and fought, using precedent against me. His words: “your mother made you take piano and you didn’t like it. Are you going to do that to me?” (I couldn’t argue that.) I then tried the voice lesson route, to no avail. Finally I resorted to buying A Pocketful of Music music appreciation CD’s. And then these auditions came up. Initially my son was hesitant, but as the audition approached, he wanted to sing, he practiced, he prepared. He wants to participate.

Reason 6: As I continue to daydream about bursting forth into song without fear, about finding my voice – not just when I am alone, but when others are around, and keep taking giant baby steps, some day, a lovely voice will no longer be just a dream.

What fear do you have to face as you dream? How has it felt to walk through the fear? What have been some unintended, but happy consequences of facing your fears?