From The Rooftops

Recently I wrote a review of More Human Than Otherwise: Living & Leading With Humility by my dear friend and most trusted colleague, David Berry.

David’s book is for anyone in leadership, considering leadership, or wondering about leadership. It is a book to give as a gift to someone you know who is seeking to be the kind of leader others would willingly follow. If you are looking for a meaningful graduation present for someone about to step onto the leadership trail, look no further. While you are at it, get a copy for yourself and dive in. After all, you are more human than otherwise too.

After posting the review on Goodreads I noticed a tiny box that could be checked to post my review on a blog, and checked it immediately. Why didn’t I think of that, I wondered, as it’s kind of a no brainer to share good news with as many people as we can, whenever and wherever we find it. In fact, given the state of the world, we should be shouting any and all good news from our rooftops to the world within our reach.

Well, this is me, shouting from my small but mighty rooftop.

David Berry asks us to consider what it takes to become a leader others would willingly follow. It is at once a question and an invitation. It is the question anyone desiring to lead well must not only continually answer but live into every day. Beyond that, it is an invitation to transformation, which is the journey of any leader worth her salt. Because transformation is what happens when we are willing to learn from and be changed by our experiences. All of them, and perhaps most especially, the difficult, painful, and humbling experiences that help us gain more clarity on who we are and how we are showing up in the world as a human being leading other human beings.

One of the many things I appreciate about this book is how David created a safe space for the reader’s own courageous thinking. He does this by modeling a critical element at the heart of leadership. What it looks like to go first. To be the kind of leader that says, “It’s ok. I’ll go first. I’ll show you ‘mine’ (the good, the bad and the ugly) so that maybe you will be willing to show me ‘yours’. He does this by sharing his own experiences, what he learned, and what has changed in him as a result.

It quickly becomes clear that David takes seriously his call to help equip and support the next generation of leaders. Leaders who will be courageous enough to become evermore self-aware. In multiple ways this book reminds us that telling ourselves the truth about who we are is foundational to being a leader others would willingly follow. To do that we need the help of others. Cultivating the practice of seeking feedback on a regular basis, learning in community, and engaging a therapist are but a few of the ways suggested in these pages.

I highly recommend this book for anyone in leadership, aspiring to leadership, of wondering if leadership is for them. To that last point, leadership isn’t confined just to those with the title. To be more human than otherwise is to answer the call to love, help, and heal the world within our reach, which sounds a lot like leadership to me.

From The Logging Road: Lesson #4

Ever since the pandemic hit, we have been hiking what we’ve come to affectionately call “our” logging road a couple of times a week. From our car to the summit is 1.7 miles straight up hill, with an elevation gain of just under 1000’.

This morning it was a beautiful winter day. Blue sky, white snow, and bright sun cresting the nearby hills. Typically we head up the road and don’t stop until we reach the summit. Stopping to rest feels like cheating. For the first mile we were able to walk in the large tire tracks, probably left by a local hunter. It was easy going with Yaktrax on our boots to keep us from slipping, our pace steady and strong.

Then the truck tracks ended.

It was no longer easy going. Doable, but harder, requiring more effort with every step. We shortened our stride, lifting our feet high to clear the few inches of snow on the road. Hearts pounding, breathing faster, stopping no longer felt like cheating.

And so we stopped.

Several times before reaching the summit.

While the logging road is a kick-ass workout, she is also wise teacher.

Changing conditions require adjustments.

Beginner’s Luck

Getting onto the boat, I might have looked like I knew what I was doing, decked out in my Field and Stream waders and King’s Camo fleece. But as we all know, looks can be deceiving. Floating down the river after a few basic instructions about fly fishing, it was obvious that I was a beginner. I looked like one and felt like one, because I was one. Our guide was a wonderful teacher, and when I told him that I didn’t know the first thing about casting or landing the ever-illusive Steelhead, he said Being a beginner is the best. That’s when you learn the most in the shortest amount of time.

The older I get the easier it is to forget how to be a beginner. I’ve learned a lot in my 66 years and hopefully put much of what I’ve gleaned to good use, but it is good to remember that it is never too late to be a beginner. To admit that we don’t know the first thing about something, but are ready to learn. To be willing to look silly, make mistakes, laugh at ourselves, and keep trying.

While I didn’t catch a fish, I was lucky enough to spend two days on the river remembering how good it feels to be a beginner.

Lucky to be a beginner on the Klickitat River with The Evening Hatch Fly Fishing Guide Service

Slow Learner

Here are a few things I learned, again, today:

Most of the things we worry about never come to pass.

Things usually work out.

Things usually take longer than we planned.

Being in a hurry usually doesn’t help.

Don’t take everything personally.

Apparently some things take longer than others to sink in.

Lessons From The Ranch

As I write this, I am anticipating getting on an airplane tomorrow, along with my best friend Kristine, and heading for one of my favorite places on earth, Rancho La Puerta, a destination fitness and spa retreat. We are going as presenters, and throughout the week will work to create a safe space for some courageous thinking for any guests who choose to join us. Our theme is Matters That Matter: At The Trailhead. The intent of our work there is to allow people the time and space to consider where life might be calling them from the trailhead that is their life, and how they can best respond to that invitation. 

It is good work, and a privilege to be asked to return, joining an incredible cohort of presenters from around the world. But what is an even greater privilege is the opportunity to learn right along with those in our audience. The questions we ask them to consider call upon them to be both brave and vulnerable all in the same moment, and if we are going to ask it of them, we must ask it of ourselves as well. So while we are there as teachers, we are also there as fellow learners. 

I never know what I am going to discover when there, but I am certain of one thing; after many trips to this sacred place there are always lessons for me to learn, and I’m looking forward to sharing them with you throughout the week.

Steering

Yesterday I spent a few wonderful hours with my 2 1/2 year old grand boy. We headed to the park with his stroller, him riding, me pushing. Once there we had the park to ourselves, which meant that all of the play structures were his for the taking. He couldn’t have cared less. He was all about the stroller. Not riding in it. Pushing it. 

“Mimi, I want to push it.” he said in his sweet, quiet voice, with ample space between each word.

Determined and sure of himself, off we set. Him steering, me following. For the next hour I walked behind him, mesmerized as he navigated each and every obstacle in his path. When the stroller got stuck in a muddy patch, or the pitch of the path got a little too steep, he would stop, step to the side, peer ahead, assess the problem, and then make the course correction necessary to keep moving ahead. With every passing step his confidence grew, and watching him find his own way, I could look ahead and imagine those same hands steering a tricycle. A bicycle. A car. 

It was one of the most delightful and insightful hours I’ve spent in a long time. One step at a time, we learn what we need to learn in order to be prepared for that which lies ahead. What we learn today equips us for what we encounter tomorrow. Who knows where his journey will take him, but one thing I know for sure; he has already figured out that in order to steer his own ship, he first has to master steering his own stroller.

What a smart boy.  

Crossing The Ditch

Today Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle and I wandered over to the irrigation ditch behind our house. We are working to expose her to new experiences, while also trusting her sense of timing in exploring each new encounter that is just beyond her comfort zone. Rather than push or rush her, or try to solve her problems for her, we simply invite her to explore the wilderness on the other side of her confidence threshold.

It was a gorgeous sunny day, and once at the ditch, I gave her plenty of leeway on her leash, but not so much that she could turn tail and run from the challenge before her. The bank is grass covered and a bit steep, so I went first. Stepping into the water, I simply stood there and let her get her bearings. She was clearly cautious and curious all at the same time, but curiosity eventually won out. Offering her a treat that coaxed her a few inches closer, she nervously snatched it up, dipped one foot into the water, didn’t like the feeling, and retreated. But not quite as far away as before.

Climbing up the other bank, I continued to leave enough slack in the leash for her to explore her surroundings but not escape. The distance between us was still a bit too far for her, so I returned back into the water, this time holding the treat a bit farther away. Grabbing it, she made a mad dash back up the bank, but by then I was standing on the other side again, with a firm hold on the leash.

Making her way down the bank one more time, she was obviously gauging the distance across the ditch. Clearly, she wanted to get to the other side, she just didn’t want to get her oversized puppy feet wet. Suddenly, with a daring leap, she cleared it, her feet never touching the water.

Go Gracie!

We strolled along the path heading back to the house, still on the far side of the ditch, which meant she had another little stretch of water to negotiate. Finding a new place to cross, we repeated the same basic process, only much quicker as a result of her growing confidence. Wanting to see if she had it in her to stretch herself even further, I continued to step from one side to the other, inviting her to follow. By the end, of our outing, she was splashing her way right through that water to the other side of the ditch.

Go Gracie!

Anytime we challenge ourselves to “cross the ditch”, to stretch the boundaries that have become comfortable and familiar, we are a lot like Gracie.

We don’t like being pushed or rushed as we explore the wilderness on the other side of our confidence threshold.

We need enough room to navigate but not run away from a new challenge.

We need time to get our bearings.

We will probably feel cautious and curious all at once, but given a little time, curiosity has a chance to win out.

We might not like the feeling when we first dip our toe into new water.

We may find ourselves taking a sudden daring leap to the other side, but still not get our feet wet.

And, if we stretch ourselves just a little further, we will eventually find ourselves splashing our way straight through the water to the other side of the ditch.

Go us!

Lessons From The Field

Nobody thought they’d make it into the playoffs, but as they have been known to do, the Seattle Seahawks defied the odds and did. After a disappointing loss last night to the Dallas Cowboys, in which they mostly got in their own way, (although kudos to the Cowboys for doing what it took to come out victorious) it is time to reflect on the season, and what we can learn from this team that I love.

It isn’t other people’s opinion that matters.

The team started the year by losing all four of their pre-season games, the first two of the regular season, and entering week 10, found themselves with a 4-5 record. The football world pretty much wrote them off, casting this as a “re-building” year, not a year in which anything special could happen. Au contraire said those inside the locker room overlooking Lake Washington. That something special, as articulated by head coach Pete Carrol, one of the classiest in the NFL, is “Without question, it’s this connection our guys have. Their willingness to keep going the extra step, the extra mile, whatever it takes to keep adding.” They always believe that something good is about to happen, regardless of the odds, minutes left on the clock, or the media chatter, and more times than not, something good does, even if it doesn’t show up on the scoreboard.

There’s a difference between winning and being victorious.

In his post game press conference, WR Doug Baldwin admitted to being frustrated, sad, and disappointed. Who wouldn’t be? However, his message as one of the leaders in the locker room is that if the players, individually and collectively, can learn from this disappointing end to the season and use that to get better, closer, and more committed, while they might not be victorious, they still won in the bigger picture. “The challenges are hard, and it’s difficult, but you should never be afraid of failure. Failure is what helps you grow. If you’re not growing, you’re staying stagnant. If you’re staying stagnant, you’re done.”

While it’s about football, it’s not about football.

No doubt about it, life in the NFL has a relatively short shelf life. Career ending injuries, the end of a contract, or getting cut from the team, if it’s only about what happens on the field, that’s not a great return on the investment these players have to make to be able to play in a game open only to an elite few. If they don’t come out the other side of their career as better men, as better human beings, they’ve left way too much on the field. Again, WR Doug Baldwin - “I think the best thing we will do from this point on moving forward is that we will take these lessons and learn from them and grow and be better, not only as football players, but as men. That is vastly more important.”

Build on the past and move forward.

That about sums it up in a nutshell. On or off the football field, the past serves as the foundation for what will happen next. The past is out of their hands, leaving them free to grab hold of the future, believing that something good is about to happen. That sounds like a good way to live.

Onward and upward.

Go Hawks!

What They Teach Us

As I write this, my 2 1/2 year old grand boy is sleeping. On this gorgeous quiet Sunday, we’ve spent the day just hanging together, and in just a few short hours, here is what I’ve already learned from him.

The importance of play.

No matter what our age, play is good for almost everything that ails us. It reminds us to take life and ourselves a little less seriously.

The importance of finding something we love so much that we can’t help but practice it.

For him, that is golf. Nothing makes him happier than some time with his driver, a few golf balls, and a patch of grass.

The importance of picking up after ourselves.

Whether that means our toys or our clothes, our mistakes or our hurtful words, cleaning things up and clearing the air is our work to do.

The importance of nourishment.

Whether a tiny human or those of us further down the trail, we all need food for the journey, and a well balanced diet feeds body, mind, and spirit.

The importance of growth.

Plotting this little human’s growth since his last trip here reminded me that learning and growing never stop. Or at least they don’t have to.

The importance of standing on our own two feet.

We are not meant to live in the shadow of others, but to find our own solid ground from which to cast our own.

The importance of rest.

Life requires a lot, and bringing our best selves to the party can only happen when we build in times of rest.

Speaking of rest, I hear a little voice calling. I can’t wait to find out what else he has to teach me.

Out of the mouth of babes…

How It Works

"There’s no nonstop flight from order to reorder. You’ve got to go through the disorder." 

- Richard Rohr

Order

 

Recently I listened to an episode of On Being, the Peabody Award winning public radio conversation and podcast, hosted by Krista Tippet. Her guest for the episode was Richard Rohr, the Franciscan priest, writer, teacher, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. In the midst of their rich and robust conversation, Fr. Rohr offered a simple metaphor for the path to spiritual transformation. He explained that he tells his students to imagine three boxes:

Order

Disorder

Reorder

That's how it works.

The only way to transformation is through each of the three boxes. And as much as most of us cling to the desire for order, often clawing and fighting to keep things neat, orderly, and all buttoned up, we can't leapfrog from order to reorder. That's not how it works. Disorder is part and parcel of the path to transformation. For a deeper dive into Fr. Rohr's wisdom on the subject, I highly recommend listening to the entire On Being episode, as well as reading his thought provoking Falling Upward: A Spirituality For The Two Halves of Life.

Reflecting on his three box metaphor, and juxtaposing it with life as I've come to understand it, his words ring true. It also dawns on me that we are presented with an abundance of opportunities, both grand and small, to practice walking the transformative path. As individuals, partners, families, communities, societies, and even as a species. Some of those opportunities are ours by choice. Most of them are not.

We recently had our great room and kitchen repainted. In the course of just one day, as we moved every single thing from the areas to be painted out onto the deck, we went from order to disorder. Anyone driving up to the house that day would have thought that whoever lived there must have died, and an estate sale was in progress. A week later, new paint on the walls and the painter paid, we began the process of reorder. It was sort of a fun-but-royal pain in the ass. It was also a subtle kick in the ass to arrange life differently. To take the time to put back only those things we love and that serve us well. A couple of  trips to the dump and the Goodwill later, our home is in the process of a beautiful transformation. A transformation made possible by the chaos that came before it. Prior to living amidst the disorder, we were unable to see the overcrowded forest for the familiar trees.

Disorder

The good news is that disorder is always an invitation to put life together differently. When we chose to repaint our walls, we also chose to invite disorder into our lives.

The bad new is, that's not how it usually works. We don't choose disorder. Disorder is thrust upon us.   

The landlord informs us that she has decided to sell the house we're renting, and we have 30 days to move. 

We fall into bed, desperate for a good night of sleep, and then our baby throws up, spikes a fever, and we are on the phone with the advice nurse at 2am.

At a routine check up, our doctor finds a suspicious lump.

Headed to a crucial meeting, we miss our connecting flight.

We wake up one morning to find that our car has been stolen.

On an evening walk we get hit over the head with the fact that we have been using wine as a coping mechanism for years. 

A conversation we thought would turn left, takes a sharp turn to the right.

We suddenly lose a beloved member of our family.

The financial rug gets pulled out from beneath our feet.

We cast our vote on Election Day, and wake up the day after.

Order

Disorder

Reorder

That's how it works.  

Time to get to work.

Reorder