Whisper, the Heart

Angeles Arrien, a cultural anthropologist and famous master storyteller, exorts her readers to "pay attention to what has true heart and meaning."

No matter how many times I read that I seem to forget it. Usually when I need it the most, in the face of adversity, the daily challenges, the ups and downs of life, I go mental.  

We all do it.

Going mental is the safe route.  That's what the mind is there to do, sift through our experiences, our thoughts, make sense of the environment, analyze, compare, and conclude. It throws up solutions at an extraordinary pace, leaving us blinded by our mental superhighway.

And all the while, the heart remains still. It waits, sometimes a really long time. It doesn't speak in words; the language of the heart is more subtle and nuanced. The heart is like the blade of grass that pushes up and cracks the concrete sidewalk. It's insistent, patient, and ever present.

If there was a theme this week in my coaching practice it would be resisting the whisper of the heart. I would ask a client, how does that feel? "Um, well, I think ..."

Deep breathe, how does it feel?

That breathe is the distance between the mind and the heart. It can be a second or a million seconds. If you are patient, if you stalk your feelings, your mind will calm down, enough, for you to hear a soft whisper.

Don't miss it.  The whisperings of the heart tell us what is true, and good, and beautiful in our lives.

Sounds of Silence

No matter who I spoke to this week and last, there was this very subtle emptiness in their voices.  It made me wonder what that was all about.

It dawned on me after giving a speech at Bainbridge Graduate Institute's MBA program that perhaps the emptiness had to do with empowerment, or lack of empowerment.  I got lots of questions about being heard in a corporate setting and I heard huge amounts of frustration and disappointment around this feeling of 'holding back' and 'not saying what is so.' 

That brought me to the understanding that people want to know HOW to speak up. That floored me.  HOW to speak up is obvious, right?  We just load our brains, and shoot off our mouths.  Oh no, this was not what the real question was.  The real question had a twist. 

How do I speak up AND avoid risking my career and paycheck?

Whoa, and there it is, the fear.  Let's call it what it is, and maybe we can shift it. The very foundation of who we are as a society requires us to speak up, ask difficult questions, and know that we are safe to do so. When did it become so unsafe? Where are the pockets of openness, honesty, and genuine dialogue that honor our contributions and support our accountability? 

What I find right now is a genuine knowledge and wisdom just waiting to burst forth into open exchange.  There is a strong desire for change, and a passionate awareness of the need, no the urgency, to change.  And, there is silence. 

This silence is a gaping hole; we appease others, and go along, and don't rock the boat.  I've been there myself.  Not wanting to risk being seen as the one who spoils dinner, who stirs the simmering pot of conflict, I remained silent.  And I watched as the cultures of those companies I worked for and where I witnessed this pattern, diminished, slowly at first, and then rapidly.

The way forward is in cultures of openness, thoughtful patient dialogue, connectedness, and engagement.  Cultures that embrace discomforting discussion, and allow the full range of self expression within the boundaries of respect and integrity

Ask yourself today: where are you in appeasement?  Where do you choose to remain silent when your inner voice would have you speak up to shift a discussion or a decision? Do you work in a place that honors your voice and your wisdom?  And if not, how come you work there?

The Truth stands on its own, is heard for itself, and withstands even the harshest of critiques. Speak the Truth, say what is so, and be known as a person of high integrity. We need your leadership, NOW.

Inspired!

I couldn't wait to sit down to write this post.  After my brother successfully finished the NYC Marathon on Sunday, I was pumped up, excited, filled up.  Simply put, he inspired me - by his actions, by the commitment and the courage.

It made my wonder, what is this thing we call, inspiration?

I looked it up and from a definition perspective I found comments like:  to heighten, to intensify, to stimulate, to encourage.  I do certainly feel these things, even today three days later. 

AND, I feel something else.  It's been hard to put my finger on it, so it took a while for this blog post to be created.  I wondered over the last three days if inspiration comes in compartments, like being inspired on the job versus in your personal life.  It occurred to me that I have had tremendous energy for all parts of my life these last few days, so the answer seems to be, no.  I can be inspired in my personal life and it carries over to all of my undertakings.

So how does something that I did NOT do, come to have such a significant impact on my personal life, my professional life, even in my alone moments?

Then it hit me.  When the undertaking, or "enterprise," is one of scope, risk, and complication and we can witness the undertaking first hand, cheer from the sidelines, hold the belief and trust that all will be well, we are forever changed by what is possible. 

My brother is 38 years old, has three kids, is an amateur runner at best and a year ago Thanksgiving he said he intended to run this race.  At the Holidays, with six siblings, all with kids running around, lots of chaos and fun, someone who says they're gonna run 26 miles seemed more funny than plausible.  And so I did not take much note of this declaration.

But as I cheered him on Sunday, I wondered about the deep sacrifice he made to train for this undertaking.  My teacher says, 'sacrifice' really means 'to make sacred again.'  To get up every week, knowing you had one less week to train, or that this week it was three short 8 mile runs, or next week it will be a long 13 mile run, and on and on. I now understand my teacher's comment.  This had to come from the heart; it can not be your mind that finishes this undertaking. 

Maybe that's a piece of what is inspiring: It is not a focus on what we give up but a focus on what we give.

Three hours after the race, my brother sent an email to so many of the people who supported him during the race.  I was touched by the humility and grace with which he thanked everyone.  He called out the moments when he saw them, at 96th Street, 110th, First Avenue, thanking them all, and saying how much their support made a difference.

Perhaps that's what leadership really looks like - to set an intention, to give of yourself, and to be so grateful for the support and belief of others.

PS, I also discovered that the word inspire means 'to inhale deeply.'  When was the last time you inhaled deeply?

Mine was Sunday afternoon!

And it still feels amazing.  Thanks, Neal. 

A Revolutionary Act

I sat down to write another blog post, and it was like pulling teeth.  I started out with the intention to write about truth-telling and relate it to the workplace, asking the question where do we bravely tell the truth?

Nothing happened.  That creative spark I always feel deserted me.  Gone, poof.  Nada.

I thought at first that I was just pushing the topic into overload, and decided to look for inspiration elsewhere.  Pulled out some of my favorite books, hoping that something would light that fire and the process to create would begin. 

Still nothing. 

Slowly the words crept into my consciousness.  Where aren’t you telling the truth, Kelleen?

Now we were someplace else.  The vague shadow of my life was pushing through the veils of separation and wanted out – out out.

This is Seattle, so being ‘out’ is nearly deifying. I thought how hard could it be, to say the truth, my truth. 

So I typed the next words – I actually typed the truth, the stripped it down, going for broke, truth.

In a total copycat maneuver, channeling Kevin Costner in Bull Durham ala “I believe in long slow deep wet kisses that last for three days…” thang, I typed.  And typed.  My fingers flew, breaking land speed barriers….

Uh-Oh.  (Sh**.) 

You can’t see this but what was on this page, before I deleted it, was my truth. When I read what I wrote, I actually looked over my shoulder in an unconscious move to see if “IT” had gotten out.

What the hell is so scary about any of that stuff anyway; I’ll never know.  But I got the point.  When you’re a coach, and you do my kind of work, it isn’t about knowing all the answers, and typing them up in a nice neat blog post.   

It isn’t about asking the right questions either, which I’m sure surprises some of you. What is a question but an attempt to limit a conversation and take it in a prescribed direction? Right?

The point, is only that we all have truth-telling to do.  And if we’re really lucky we have someone in our life that will be called to witness our truth - a brother, girlfriend, lover, or a coach. We want to know that those mini acts of bravery or those massively courageous moments, are actually seen by someone, someone who knows, someone who appreciates our effort, small or large, to cast off the illusion and step into light. 

And that is the fuel of truth.

George Orwell said, “During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.”

Viva la Revolucion!!!!

(This blog post is dedicated to Kath N. and those of you who have told the truth, stepping into what is true for you, I admire you and respect you.)