Great Question

“Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Lewis Howes, a NYT bestselling author, lifestyle entrepreneur, former pro athlete, and host of The School of Greatness Podcast, asks his guests the same question at the end of every interview. He calls it Three Truths, and he sets the table for the question like this. He asks his guests to imagine (paraphrasing loosely here) that they are at the end of their lives, and, when they are gone all of their work will go with them. Whatever body of work they have created will leave the planet when they do. With this in mind, he asks them to share three things that they know to be true, and would want their loved ones to know.

What a great question!

Since I may not be invited to be on his show, I decided to pretend that I was one of his guests. We were at the end of the interview, and I imagined that I was at the end of my life, and my body of work was packed up and ready to head out into the great beyond with me. 

So Molly, what are the Three Truths you would want your loved ones to know?

We are all created in the image of God. However you define that force, at our core, we have a spark of that from which we came.

 We are all called to live authentic, wholehearted lives.

We are all called to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

My prayer is that when the end comes, I won’t have to answer that question, because I will have lived my answers out loud.

What are your Three Truths?

(Written with gratitude for Lewis Howes and his good work and great question.)

Ending Well Matters

Thomas Merton wrote, for me to be a saint means for me to be myself… We owe it to the God who created us, to ourselves, to the people we love and to all with whom we share this troubled planet to become “saints”. How else can we run and complete the errand on which God sent us here?”

from The Road Back To You: Ian Cron & Suzanne Stabile

I first posted this piece in March of 2016. Maybe it’s because of the fact that every day I grow closer to my own end here on planet earth, but ending well feels more important than ever.

The ending is what stays with people.

The ending is our last word on whatever it is we have just completed.

The ending says even more about who we are than any beginning ever will.

There are always endings in front of us, and however small or large those endings may be, finishing well then and there, begins right here and now.

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No matter what it is, ending well matters. 

Whether retirement from a meaningful career, ending a relationship, navigating a courageous conversation, saying goodbye to a parent, or the last line in your manuscript, ending well there starts right here. By now we have hopefully learned that absolute control over anything is...well..a joke. However, mindful consideration of a desired outcome can help us better order our steps from here to there.  But while we can work mightily to achieve a goal, make things go our way, craft a specific outcome, influence another person, or take all the right steps, there will always be an element of "it's a crap shoot". If we focus solely on exactly how we would like things to turn out, we've missed the deeper issue. What matters even more than how it turns out, is who we are when it does. The essence of beginning with the end in mind can be summed up in one question: When the end of whatever "it" is comes, who do we want to be? 

Examples of endings are everywhere. Some that end well, and others, not so much. Whether you are an NFL fan or not, this years Super Bowl is a prime example. The Carolina Panthers, led by their talented, brash young quarterback Cam Newton, were the hands-down favorite. Expected by everyone, including themselves, to win. They didn't.  By a long shot.  An hour after the game, Cam Newton stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation.  Hoodie pulled low over his face, he sat in a chair, eyes down, gave short sullen answers until getting up and walking out mid-interview. Did he want to win?  Of course!  Why else would he play the game?  Had he given thought to who he wanted to be, win or lose?  Apparently not.  Compare that to last years Super Bowl when the Seattle Seahawks, led by their talented, humble young quarterback Russell Wilson, experienced an even more devastating loss.  Expected by many, including themselves to win, they didn't. Within seconds of winning the game, with that ill-fated, still debated call.... they lost.  An hour later Russell Wilson stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation.  Suit and tie, he stood, faced the camera, expressed appreciation for his teammates, took responsibility for the loss, and praised the winning team. Did he want to win?  Yes!  Why else would he play the game? Had he given thought to who he wanted to be win or lose?  Apparently so.

One of the greatest lessons in ending well came for me personally when my mom passed away.  Her name was Ashby, and the word that best describes who she was and how she walked through the world is 'grace'. There was nothing Asbhy loved more than what she liked to call a "good visit".  Whenever you showed up on her doorstep, announced or not, whatever the task at hand was set aside and replaced with a cup of tea, served in her best china.  She was short on advice and long on understanding. She loved by listening. The last week of her life we brought her back from the hospital to the home she loved and tucked her into the bed she still shared with my dad.  Every day was filled with her grace, along with a constant stream of friends and family who came by for one more good visit. They would sit on her bed and talk to her, sing to her, laugh and cry with her. No longer able to speak, she did what she did best.  She loved by listening. After she was gone, I realized that I had been given the opportunity to stand at the end of her life, and look back on my own. From that vantage point I understood that ending her life with grace wasn't the result of some grand decision, but rather is an accumulation of choices. That realization reminds me of a quote from Mr. Carson, the butler of Downton Abbey.  "The business of life is the accumulation of memories.  In the end, that's all we have."  The way in which we end things is either the accumulation of a memory or a regret.  To gather more memories, begin with the end in mind.

What endings are on your radar screen? When the end of whatever "it" is comes, who do you want to be? What would ending well in those situations mean? Now is when ending well starts. Here is where it begins. This present moment is what you have to work with.

Sunset on Mt. Adams - Tom Pierson

Time For New Stories

As I reflect on this new year, I want to share a singular thought that keeps coming to me—2018: The Year of New Stories.

I’ve decided to consider what old stories are ready to be put to bed. Those stories that might have served me in the past, or maybe never did. The stories that I don't want to take with me into 2018. And, with more room in my heart, mind, and soul, what new stories might I be able to write? To tell? To create? To live? 

Our stories can keep us stuck in old patterns, and confine us to small dreams and fruitless actions. Or, they can open the doors to new ways of being in the world and in relationship with ourselves and with one another. New stories offer us a vision of how things could be, and invite us to take daring and necessary leaps of faith. Sometimes they even weave new patterns in our hearts that allow us to make peace for the first time with who we are in all of our glory and our brokenness. 

As 2018 begins, I find my heart overflowing with gratitude for you...for those of you who are near and dear, those with whom I have only recently crossed paths for the first time, and, for those of you I may never meet but who share this planet we all call home. You matter in so many ways, and my life is abundantly filled with love, deep joy, and meaning because of what each of you bring to the world.

As human beings we are storytellers at heart, and we see ourselves in one another's stories. May we be bold, and bring forth stories worthy of telling for years to come.

With abundant gratitude.

Molly

Photo: Tom Pierson

When NO means YES

My new issue of Real Simple just came in the mail. It is one of my favorite magazines, as it really does provide ideas for keeping life both real and simple. Especially during the month of December when living up to the holiday  hype feels unrealistic and complicated. The theme for the issue, as we head into a new year is "Say Yes To Saying No." Those sound like marching orders a lot of us could relate to. And, the theme reminded me of an earlier blog I first posted on Matters That Matter. It takes a slight twist on the Real Simple theme, and, as one year winds down and a new one is about to begin, it seems like an idea worth a bit more reflection. What is waiting for your resounding YES? What could use a quiet but firm NO? The answer is usually real simple, but rarely real easy.

In the spirit of keeping life real simple, here was my take a couple of years ago.

My cell phone rang as Kristine and I walked back to the conference center to facilitate another workshop at the retreat. Gathered at a beautiful resort in Woodstock, NY, the woods ablaze with fall colors, it had already been two days of connection and inspiration, new friends and new ideas.  The workshop was one of our favorite topics, a best seller with clients, always a crowd pleaser, resulting in powerful insights for all.  Starting of course, with us. Since as everybody knows…”You teach what you need.”

With a few minutes to spare, and seeing that the call was from a client, I decided to answer. “Hey Molly. We’re in a big bind.  The person who was going to facilitate the Leadership Experience can’t make it.  Would you be able to do it?  It starts the day after tomorrow.”  Immediately I knew the answer to that question….

A vehement “No!”

As in…

Hell No!

Never!

Not on your life!

That kind of No.

While certified to facilitate the experience, I had yet to actually do so.  Not only that, it was going to be with a senior global team, and the facilitator they had really wanted was obviously not me. He had more experience, and was clearly their first choice.  Stepping into a big arena, trying to fill big shoes, coming in at the last minute, with people who expected someone else, felt like a recipe for disaster all around. Besides that, getting an earlier flight out would be almost impossible due to our commitment to the current retreat.  There was one other tiny little detail. I was terrified.   Afraid that I couldn’t do it, wouldn’t meet the high bar set by the group, and couldn’t measure up to their expectations, I respectfully declined, politely thanked him for thinking of me, wished him the best of luck, and hung up the phone, filled with relief.  Except the relief kept getting pushed down to make room for something else.

Regret.

My reasons for saying no were logical.  It  made perfect sense.  Still, I had the sense that I had just let myself down.  Imperfect as my facilitation might be, was it possible that I was the perfect person for the job, and it the perfect job for me?

It was time for the retreat workshop to begin.  Stepping up to kick it off, I couldn’t get that phone call out of my mind. Thankfully, Kristine stepped in and masterfully led the group through the first exercise, allowing me to clear my head of my swirling thoughts.  In saying No to the request, I was saying Yes to my fear.  In answering No to a big challenge, I was opting for a Yes to playing it safe.  Just then I heard Kristine as she continued leading the participants through the exercise, asking them to complete the statement: “If I had the courage, I would………

Oh, did I forget to mention that the topic of our workshop was COURAGE? Oops.

Heads bent over their journals, the participants began to write down as many ideas for completing that sentence as they could.   As they finished writing, I stepped back in front to lead them through some reflection on what they had just discovered. Looking into their faces and seeing their courage, they led me back to my own.

As soon as our workshop was over, I called the client back.  “Yes.  I’ll be there.  To be clear, this will be the first time I’ve actually facilitated it, and I won’t have time to review any of the materials.  If flying by the seat of my pants is ok with you, I’ll change my flight and be there.”  It was a powerful Yes that began as an overwhelming No. Rather than disaster all around, it turned into a blessing for all concerned.  Starting of course, with me. Instead of a miserable failure, it was a mighty success. Starting of course, with me.

Now when I experience a knee-jerk “No!” and want to run the other direction, I pull up my boot straps and start walking the scary trail toward Yes.

When our first response is No, can we find the courage to search for the deeper Yes?

When desperate to scream No, can we find the strength to whisper Yes?

When it feels safer to say No, can we brave the waves to Yes?

Yes.  We can.

No.  it isn’t easy.

And Yes. That means we are on the right track.