dare to dream

Tell your story

Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth. Rumi

Several weeks ago, I stood up in front of a group of friends and shared my feelings about the importance of finding common ground in the community. It was an impassioned, stirring (when not muffled by tears) speech but when I sat down, I wondered – why did I do that? Why did I share my intimate, rather raw, ideas and feelings?

Just days later, my friend Jane, told me she’d had a similar why did I do that? moment. She had just finished writing the manuscript for a book titled I Am a Mother and sent it off to her publisher Deseret Book. In the book, Jane tells true, sometimes uncomfortable stories about herself and her family, all in the service of her message about motherhood. But the price she pays to share this message is opening up her life to, potentially, hundreds of thousands of people. And opening up, whether Jane, or you or me, often cues feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability.

I’m finding though, that opening up -- and feeling vulnerable -- is also a cue that we’re sharing something meaningful, an experience perhaps, or lesson learned. And because we as women instinctively want to help another, we choose to leave our comfortable place, to reveal ourselves, and tell our stories.

And in turn, we help ourselves.

It has been said by a number of psychologists who study recovery from trauma that mourning without empathy leads to madness, and that the person who suffers loss must be able to give testimony to someone as a way of working-through and learning from this loss. We often think of loss of a marriage or a loved one, but there is also the loss of a friend, our spry young bodies, or lost opportunities that need to be acknowledged. We often don’t give voice to these losses because we think they aren’t big enough to mourn. But they are. Just because they are universal doesn’t make them any less individual or personal.

As we give voice to these experiences, whether through words, scrapbooking, painting, song, or other expression, we will experience the catharsis that comes with giving testimony, and our experience gains power, and can influence people's lives, whether the women with whom we are daring to dream, or our daughters.

To date, I have mostly expressed my experiences and made meaning of my life through personal essays and children’s stories, but because of my friend Kathleen's exquisite photography, I find myself more and more drawn to images as a means of telling stories. And, then there are the voice lessons that I am taking...

Have I published anything? Nope. Have I been paid for my stories? No....

....and yes!

In his book, The Gift of Stories, Robert Atkinson writes:

Stories gather up parts of us and put them together in a way that gives our lives greater meaning than they had before we told our story. The ability to see our life as a comprehensible story is a key to our happiness. And, it may well be that we leave no greater legacy than the story of our life.

What better story, whether through word, song, or painting, can we tell our daughters than this: that we have dared to dream and, in doing so, we have discovered more of who we are.

What story will you tell this year?

Will you paint, take pictures, scrapbook, compose a song, write an essay, a poem, write a book like Jane, or start a blog? Or something else entirely?

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?

It's just a game! Precisely!

Last night, I watched the finale of Survivor: Cook Islands. Not a show I typically watch, but I had about a thousand things I needed to be doing so I decided to watch television. I'm glad I did. It was a perfect Throw down your pom-poms case study.

In Survivor, several dozen people are placed on a remote island where their survival skills are tested; every few days the contestants vote someone off the island. When there all only three contestants left, the nine most recently voted off vote on who should win the million dollars.

The final three contestants were Yul Kwon, the son of South Korean immigrants, a competitive water polo player, and a Yale Law School graduate, who came to be known as the godfather or master strategist. Oscar (Ozzy) Lusth, a Mexican-American surfer with Robinson Crusoe-like prowess became known as the warrior; he swims well, knows how to spear fish, and easily scales coconut trees. The third finalist was Becky Lee, also born of South Korean immigrants, and in Queens (as was Yul), a competitive tennis player, and a U. of Pittsburgh Law School Grad. Her actual role? Yul's sidekick?

Which meant that when their peers had to cast a final vote, Yul, the strategist, received five votes. Ozzy, the warrior, received four. Becky, zero. Even I, who wanted to want her to win, wouldn't have voted for her. She not only didn't come across as a leader, she'd been on the island for nearly forty days, and couldn't build a fire.

What's fascinating is that after Yul won he commented that people underestimated Becky's role. She strategized with me; we made decisions together. As a key advisor to Yul, she was the one person he never betrayed. No romantic connection either, just comrades-in-arms. But the roles were clear. He was the general, she the lieutenant.

You know what I am going to say.

Scientific research suggests that women are considered feminine only when they are giving something to someone, be it resources or recognition. Becky was feminine all right, but in this high stakes game, her femininity cost her big. Ozzy, the runner-up, won $100k and a car for being an audience favorite. Yul. He walked away with a million dollars. For Becky, the key advisor? Nada. And, nope, Yul may not share the spoils with her. If he shares, he forfeits.

There are times to hang on to your pom-poms. This wasn’t one of them.

To be clear, relatedness and nurturing are important. If we set aside these traits which are innate to women, we will lose an irreplaceable piece of ourselves. But, being able to set and achieve goals, in the workplace, the community, or even on Survivor, is also an important piece of who we are.

So, when it's time, and you'll know...Throw down your pom-poms.

Do we let our girls know we see them as leaders? That we value their kindness and support of others, as well as their initiative and smarts?

What can we do to make it easier for the girls and women in our lives to get in the game?

Do you need to Do-it-yourself?

If you don’t design a culture, you get one you don’t want. Charlie Hughes, former head of Land Rover, North America

I recently interviewed several law firms in connection with one of my consulting projects. After contacting two all-male teams, I spoke to a third, where one of the partners was a woman. Seemingly out of nowhere came the thought – “I don’t want to hire a woman.” I wasn’t concerned about competence. She had come highly recommended, and after speaking to her I was sold.

So why did this thought flash through my mind?

Because I wasn’t sure how I’d interact with her. Given that I can count on one hand the number of female peers I’ve had in the last five years, I haven’t had much practice working with women in a business setting. Worse yet, I was reluctant to share the inevitable attention that comes with being the only woman on a project.

Whoa – stop right there!!

Here I am encouraging the formation of an Intellectual Immigration fund that allows for women to mentor one another, one that is powered by systergy, and “I don’t want to hire a woman?”

As I examined this pesky thought, I remembered a situation in which I’d had similar feelings. We had just hired a new senior analyst at Merrill Lynch. Andrea Weinberg was covering metals and mining stocks and she was much younger than me so I don’t remember feeling competitive. But, I do remember thinking – I don’t know how to interact with her. Do I treat her like one of the guys? Do I reach out and mentor her? What do I do? It seems I had learned the rules of playing on the boy’s playground so well that I had forgotten how to play with the girls.

Which got me to thinking, analyzing, wanting to understand, and realizing that I have two opposing impulses. I deeply care about and want to mentor and empower women. But I also have learned to play in a keenly competitive world where helping someone may mean I put myself at a disadvantage.

The question then is -- can I reconcile the two?

We needn’t go much further than our local movie theatre to understand the leadership style that is most valued in our society. Think about Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 3. We love the rugged hero – competitive, combative, individualistic.

The traits of these heroes tend to prevail in corporate America, and girls and women are encouraged to adopt these characteristics in order to be successful. However, because women don’t usually instinctively come by these traits, we become even more competitive to prove that we are good enough. So that once we achieve some measure of hard-won success, there can be a piece of us that is reluctant to share our survival techniques (e.g. being the only woman in the room is not only fun, it can actually become a competitive advantage).

But, as demonstrated in the film, based on the book, The Devil Wears Prada, a woman as the rugged, competitive hero doesn’t quite work. Women receive a mixed message: society encourages us to compete like a man, but then condemns us for doing so. In the film, Anne Hathaway’s character is thrown into the competitive world of fashion, and she prevails, only to have her loved ones tell her she’s sold her soul to the devil. Implicit in the story is that for her to get the guy and keep her friends she has to quit the high-powered job. The male hero can prevail AND get the girl. The heroine has to choose: succeed in her ambitions OR get the guy.

My guess is that many women leave the workplace precisely because of this catch-22. It is in large part why I did. A woman enters the business world with her innate leadership style of connecting and caring, but then is encouraged to leave these traits at the door if she wants to succeed. She does so for a time, at least ostensibly, but eventually finds that she values these skills too much to not incorporate them into her work style. She tries to collaborate across departments and mentor junior employees, but her efforts aren’t valued. As a young worker she didn’t have the confidence to go out on her own, but now she does. And so she says: I don’t want this culture any more, I’m going to find a better culture, or create my own.

The irony of this situation is that women are leaving corporate America precisely at a time when our relational skills, those that focus on collaborating and contributing are most in need. Consider Thomas Friedman’s words in the NY-Times bestseller The World is Flat: “Globalization 2.0 was… very vertical—command-and-control oriented [symbolized by the mainframe computer], with companies and their individual departments tending to be organized in vertical silos. Globalization 3.0… has flipped the playing field from largely top-down to more side-to-side [symbolized by the PC and the internet]. This [has] naturally fostered and demanded new business practices, which are less about command and control (traditional male achieving styles) and more about connecting and collaborating horizontally (traditional female achieving styles).”

Did I hire the female attorney?

Yes and no. We hired her firm, but as it turns out we will be working with her partner who happens to be a man.

Did I finally mentor the junior analyst at Merrill Lynch?

Not as well as she I would have liked, but after sort of recognizing what was happening, I made a few clunky attempts.

Did I like "The Devil Wears Prada"?

I LOVED the clothes, but found myself a bit disconsolate when Anne Hathaway’s friends were so critical of her – even after she gifted a very expensive bag to her friend, and especially when she quit her job. I know, I know. It wasn’t her dream job. But what if it had been?

Now, back to my earlier question: Can we reconcile the two impulses? Is it possible to find or create a business culture in which women can thrive and feel empowered to use their innate skills and mentor other women?

I’ve bet my Wall-Street salary on it.

Apart from the Psyche myth (and Jennifer Garner's character in Alias -- sometimes), is there a story in literature or film, in which women succeed at their ambitions and have fulfilling relationships?

Are you already in a business or non-profit situation where you can use your innate skills of connecting, collaborating and mentoring? Tell us more.

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?