I Must Be Right!

The other day, I had a meeting with someone. I put the meeting on my calendar, when it was originally booked. Subsequently, the other person called, and asked to change it to a bit later in the day. I agreed.

Time for the appointment came and I forgot the phone conversation. I only saw what was on my calendar. I was surprised that he was late. I sent an email asking if he was OK, and then got on to other things. At the time agreed upon in the phone call, he arrived.

Still not remembering the change, I greeted him and said I thought the meeting was at the time on my calendar. He reminded me of the phone call. I still didn’t remember and here is where the lesson begins, rather than stepping back and saying to myself, “Maybe I forgot something”, I said, “Let me see if I can make this work.” I spent a few minutes rearranging the day, and then put my attention on our conversation.

The meeting was great. I am grateful for my ability to be present, no matter the turmoil of the preceding minutes. My wife (she sure shows up here a lot) was outside our house, where I have an office and witnessed this process. She reminded me later of how I had handled it.

Her observation gave me food for thought. What was going on that both created the “forgetfulness” and then my reaction? The part about forgetfulness was easy. When I spoke to this person, I wasn’t present with him. I remember now the call, and it came in the middle of a busy afternoon. I looked at my calendar during the call, and saw there was no conflict with the request. As soon as the call was completed, I went back to what I was doing.

The more interesting, and important, lesson for me is the programming I have to be right. I was sure that I had an appointment with this person at the time on my calendar. I was sure they were late. I never considered that I was the cause of the confusion.

How many times do I come into a relationship with the certainty that I know the truth of the situation? Maybe, I believe I know what some action they or I took means. Perhaps I believe our history is a true guide for how things are RIGHT NOW.

Whatever the reason, I am committed to being right. This isn’t just in these types of situations. I remember riding around Lake Tahoe many years ago with a friend. He was expressing his opinion about something (i no longer remember the details) and I immediately wanted to set him straight. He chuckled and said, “I knew you would see this differently than me.” I didn’t take the hint about my behavior and, in retrospect appreciate, his compassion.

I see this in my relationship with my wife. For example, this morning, she asked me to make some pesto from the fresh basil she harvested. I listened to her telling me how to do it, and my response was, “I know how to make pesto.” She remarked that that may be true, but she was offering a different approach to making pesto. I stopped and realized that I wanted to be right about making pesto and didn’t open myself initially to listening.

I find this is a common occurrence. I want to be the one who knows. This is a source of power for me. I know the cost, and it still happens automatically.

I find this present a lot in the talk radio world. People call to have support for their opinions and seem to vilify those who have different views. Being right helps me over the belief that I’m not enough. We’ve talked about that before. It’s a common thread of our humanity.

So what do you believe it’s important for you to be right about? Does being right bring you harmony in life? Do it gain something that truly important to you? Questions that may offer some valuable insights!

I’m sharing this with you so you, too, may take a look at your need to be right. A friend recently commented on this blog that it was like he was the priest in my confessional. I’ve thought about that, and in one sense he’s right. I am using this writing to open myself in service to you. I look around, from time to time, to discern what I’m not sharing. It’s always a clue that leads me to discovering other areas of self-deception. This makes our relationship one that I am grateful for each time I write.

Thank you!

Denial and other things I have in Common with Richard Nixon

This morning I was reading an opinion piece in the Washington Post by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. In their first joint byline in 36 years, these writers made famous by the Watergate scandal, tell a much deeper story of Watergate in 40 Years after Watergate, Nixon was far worse than we thought.

SInce their early reporting and book, All the President’s Men, so much more is known about what actually happened in the Nixon White House. With released tapes of conversations in the oval office, candid interviews and books by many of the key players and internal memos and other documents, the depth of the activities of the President and his team seem to be the stuff of unbelievable fiction.

Clearly the President engaged in serious illegal activity. This activity was motivated by his fears. He was afraid he wouldn’t be re-elected and would do anything to knock out any Democratic challengers. This was only the tip of the iceberg. The article points out multiple fronts where Nixon employed illegal activity to exert his control over what was important to him from the prosecution of the Vietnam War to the liberal media to his war against the democrats.

Nixon’s undoing came from his hatred of perceived opponents. He felt anyone who challenged his programs, points of view or policies was an enemy. It appears Nixon felt he could employ any device he deemed necessary to diminish, discredit or destroy the enemy’s creditability.

As I was reading this article, I reflected on feelings of anger I had when I felt someone betrayed me. At one time, as the CEO of a technology company, a good friend who worked at the company went to the chairman and said he felt I was putting the company at risk by not paying enough attention to one of our partners. I was furious. How could he! I immediately began a “counter-attack”. I discredited his point of view and in short order fired him. My inner dialogue was, “Well I guess I have that handled.”

Turns out my friend was right. The partner was not given the support we promised. I made decisions to shift resources from his project without talking with him about my decision. I felt he would just have to roll with the punches. After all, he was supposed to be serving us. My arrogant perspective and denial led the partner to file an arbitration action against the company. It wasn’t until the arbitrator ruled on behalf of the partner that I took stock of the consequence of my actions.

I’m not sure if Richard Nixon ever looked deeply enough into his actions in the White House to see the impact of his denial and projected judgment on himself and others. In both his autobiography, RN, and his subsequent book, In the Arena, he continued to deny his involvement in many activities for which there are audiotapes of his complicity. In a now famous 1976 interview with David Frost, Nixon said, “I didn’t think of it as a coverup. I didn’t intend a coverup. Let me say, if I intended the coverup, believe me, I would have done it.” Yet over 40 people served prison time and Nixon relinquished the Presidency.

I wrote about denial last week. It is a constant companion when I am afraid of looking at myself without deception. It starts as an automatic reaction to the threat of exposure, and, if not corrected quickly, can lead me down the road of lies that are hard to retract and distrust that’s difficult to heal. It’s a good reminder to keep things clear and clean so that I don’t have to spend time clearing up the mess.

Sometimes it’s Good to do something that Really Scares You!

School had just let out for the summer and the first place I wanted to go was to my grandmother’s house. She was not working that day, so it was just the two of us for lunch. Being a typical thirteen year old, I wanted to go out and play while she was making lunch.

I ran out the back door and slammed it shut. Much to my surprise, I was immediately attacked by a swarm of pigmy wasps. I ran and still they followed. In all I received thirteen stings.

I immediately ran into the house and grandma’s maid quickly applied the old remedy of baking soda on the quickly rising welts. It was apparent that this was not a typical wasp sting situation. My heart rate was elevated and my breathing became difficult. My grandma called my mother so she could drive me to the doctor’s office (grandma didn’t drive).

I was ushered through the backdoor of the doctor’s office and placed on an examining table. It was clear to the doctor that I was in a major health crisis. My heart rate and blood pressure were at dangerous (read life-threatening) levels and my whole body was turning bright red. Immediately the doctor administered epinephrine.Initially, each time I received a shot, the symptoms dropped a bit, but still I was in danger.

In the middle of this drama, my doctor’s associate came in and announced, “I’ve never seen a reaction as bad as yours.” (You can imagine how reassuring this was for a thirteen year old). Over a period of two hours the medication kicked in and my systems returned to normal. It certainly was a good scare.

For many years, I carried a prescribed bee-sting kit. I never had to use it, but it felt good to have it when I was away from immediate medical care. In 2003, I was attending a program at a retreat center outside of Helena, MT. As I was sitting in a patch of clover, I put my hand on the ground for balance. Apparently, I disturbed a foraging bee and was stung between my thumb and forefinger. I waited to see if I had a reaction. Nothing. It seemed that my childhood experience was past. I have had several wasp and bee stings since that time and my reaction is what one would expect – a little swelling that quickly subsides.

Last year, I decided to become a beekeeper. I thought that since my sting incident was past, this should be no problem. Wrong! I built three hives and ordered bees for them. I went to the beekeepers house and brought the preformed combs and bees home. So far, so good. Once home, it was time for me to transfer the bees to their permanent hives.

This is when the fun began. As I opened the first temporary hive, the bees swarmed out. I was not wearing any of my beekeepers gear. I stopped in my tracks. My wife went into the house and brought out my gloves and helmet with veil. I put them on and then put my attention on transferring the bees. For almost ten minutes, I was frozen. All of my fears of death by bee sting were making themselves heard.

I was determined to move the bees, and finally did so. When I got to the third hive, I saw that the bees were more active than the first two had been. I again felt the fear rise up and started to move the hive anyway. In the middle of the process, a bee got inside my protective veil and stung me on the face. Panic was right in my face, and I did run away form the hive. I settled myself down and came back and finished the job.

Now its 2012 and I’m still keeping bees. I had a hive die over the winter and just picked up a replacement. Yesterday morning, it was time to move the bees into their new home. This time I was both aware of the inner fear and a new story – bee stings won’t kill me. I let this new story settle in and then began the work of moving the hives. When the first swarm of bees rose out of the hive and started pinging my head veil, I took a breathe and blew them away.

I felt a deep appreciation of my fear and the deliberateness to face it head on. In fact, my summer’s ambition is to have no fear of bees at all. I’m not sure if that’s how it will turn out, but that’s not so important at this point. I now have an experience of overriding my body’s fear when it is no longer helpful. I’m reminded that fear can be a strong teacher and is something to turn into rather than avoid!

I offer a few questions that may help you along your way. What is it that you are afraid of? How does it affect your relationships with others and yourself? Is it time to face the fear with appreciation and let it go?

Where the Wild Things Are!

As we have settled into our new home, my wife and I have explored the land. It is filled with wildlife that seems to jump from a nature magazine, and wild plants, whose varied identities continue to amaze us. There is a feeling of the green world of Ireland here with its deep beauty and wildness.

As we’ve talk about the history of Ireland and in particular its Celtic heritage, the mythical characters almost take life before our eyes. We have almost three acres of lawn, so a lot of attention can be easily placed on orderliness. Yet, just below the surface, I can feel wildness. Its like the Celtic god, Cernunos, is waiting to appear.

It’s this wildness that I write about today. I find that most of my life is about control. The messages from birth have been to control my sexual drive, control my temper, control my children, control my business – control everything.

At what cost is all this control and is it misguided anyway? When I was feeling the wildness here, I found I became very uncomfortable. My inner conversation was to get into motion so that this feeling of wildness didn’t go too far. Wait, I thought, what’s wrong with wildness? Oh, it’s out of control.

I have to admit I am afraid of wildness. I want the neat and orderly world of my lawn rather than the uncertainty of what lies just beneath. I know that control isn’t really possible anyway. I mean, how can I control the weather, or how you feel, or what the stock market will do today? Control is such an intense focus that creates so much tension and no real payoff.  Yet, I pretend it’s possible. What folly.

I admire people who I feel are wild. I like their unrestrained nature. Is this admiration an invitation for me to allow my wildness to come out? As the terror of letting go of control abates a bit, I am getting interested in seeing what this wildness thing would be like. There are moments when I do feel it already. My wife says the fire comes into my eyes.

Maybe by just admitting my worries about the world being out of control, I can allow more of my wildness to come out. I’m getting excited about this possibility. I’mcurious to see how this unfolds….

LIberation Day!

What are you afraid of? For me, it’s making mistakes. I feel awful, when I believe I have done something incorrectly. Maybe, it’s an old fear of being shamed or teased. I don’t know. Whatever the cause, it’s a limitation that I’m pretty tired of.

When I look at it rationally, it doesn’t really make sense. What if I fall off my bike or burn the stew? What does it matter if my writing is substandard today and I farted in the checkout line? None of these actions define who I am. They are just passing moments that are left on life’s cutting room floor long after I leave.

Today is liberation day. I have decided (it’s actually that simple) that I don’t care if I make mistakes today. You see, the hidden truth is that my fear of making mistakes brings with it more mistakes. It’s ironic – that which I fear, I experience. Quite a conundrum I created.

Today, I’m going to do what I feel is right, with no worry about any errors I make. Just sharing this with you, I feel lighter. The French have Bastille Day on July 14^th, I have Liberation Day on April 25^th. It’s time.

What about you? What are you afraid of? Are you ready for your liberation day?

Thomas

Fear of Power

I have a habit of listening to audiobooks while I drift off to sleep. Sometimes the earphones stay in place as I sleep. Last night, I set my iPod to Dune Messiah and put my head down. Quickly I was out. The saga unfolded overnight, and as I awoke, I was right in the middle of a confrontation between Paul Atreides, who is the emperor and someone who had been unmasked as his betrayer. The raw power that  Muad’Dib (another name for Atreides) exhibited was unsettling.

This unsettlement has been my companion this morning. I sit with my wife, most mornings, sipping tea and looking out at this amazingly beautiful spot we call home. We talk about whatever’s up. I was telling her about my discomfort. She asked me a few questions that helped me become clearer about what was so troubling.

I am afraid of power. Not the power over people that we traditionally think of when the word power is used. I’m talking about power that is the essence of all we see and are. This power allows us to create absolutely any experience we choose. The limits to the use of this power are created by my mindset.

By thinking that something isn’t possible, I inhibit my experience of this power. I believe that what I’m experiencing is all that there is. I have created a prison that traps me in a cycle of boom and bust, despair and happiness.  This cycle continues uninterrupted until I step outside of it and see what’s going on.

The most important action to take is an impeccable self-examination. This reveals all I am are and leaves no stone unturned. From this vantage point of truth, I see not only myself, but, everything else, for I am are but a hologram of everything.  Life is simple and profound all in one neat package.

Piercing the veil of the mind’s distortion is the key to finding that which I deny and, quenching all longings. My unrest as I awoke is a call from the truth for its discovery. Do I have the courage to look at this carefully and completely? Only time will tell.

Thomas