When it's time for a change, it's best not to go it alone.
It doesn’t have to be like this.
Do you ever mutter that line to yourself when you’re finally closing your computer at the end of an interminably long day? Maybe it crosses your mind and your heart on Sunday night when you’re thinking about all that awaits you in the week to come. Perhaps it’s a whisper that wakes you up in the middle of the night.
It doesn’t have to be like this.
I know that line. And I know how I denied it, pushed it away and worked myself silly so that I would not have to pay attention to it. Because the thing about that line is, when you hear it, when you let the clamor of “doing” subside long enough to hear your highest truth, you might tremble to recognize the full force of its meaning.
“It doesn’t have to be with this,” means something has to change. And that can be flat-out terrifying. Simply acknowledging the need for change can feel like coming to the edge of a cliff overlooking a bottomless chasm. Alone.
When I worked as a mid-level manager in a large corporation, I was squeezed by the pressure – demands from senior managers; managing a team and external partners; striving to meet client requests and shareholder expectations; and keeping up with an ever-changing industry. I felt like the walls were constantly closing in. And today, we layer the pandemic onto this scenario. The stress for many can be unimaginable.
In my case, I would leave the office at 7 or 8 o’clock at night, walk to my car, and hear a silent mantra with every foot fall, “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
The voice of my truth became so loud that I could no longer ignore it, but I didn’t know what to do. The urgency was rising, and I didn’t know how to change. I also didn’t know who to ask for help.
So I just kept doing what I was doing. Working to the bone. Feeling squeezed like a lemon. Dancing as fast as I could. And I ended up burned out. Not once. Not even twice. Over the course of my career, I burned out three times.
That’s not the path I wish for me, for you, or for anyone.
Since my last and final burnout, I’ve spent five years diving deep into an investigation of where things went south for me and what I could have done differently. I’ve been looking at where I could have made incremental changes to create a different outcome. I've been revealing the blocks and barriers to an experience of vitality, joy and meaning at work.
As I've gotten to the heart of the issue, I have been able to see that it was, in fact, all about my heart. My heart, my relationships, and – amazingly – my communication.
I’ve come through to the other side, and I could not have gotten here without the love, encouragement and tireless support of friends like you. You stretched out your hands to me when I was in my darkest, most despairing days. And I’d like to do the same.
I’m here, I'm listening, and I'm inviting you to ask me anything.
I’m answering all questions – big and small.
No judgment, no holding back.
Just my true experience and honest take on whatever you want to ask.
Post in the comments or click here to send me an email and ask me anything about:
By being on my email list, attending my webinars, and engaging with my work, you have been lifting me up. You’ve been listening to me, bearing witness to me on this journey. It would be my privilege to do the same for you. Please accept this invitation as an expression of my gratitude for all your encouragement over the years.
I’m a firm believer that the way forward is through, and the way through is together. I’m so very grateful that we are in this together.
I look forward to hearing from you!
Oh boy, I had a humbling experience this week. I presented a proposal to a new client. I was out-of-my-skin excited about the program I had developed and the personal development work that I might have the privilege to do with a very large group of people. I had thrown my heart into assembling my best ideas in a way that, I thought, would meet this potential client’s needs.
When we met to go over the proposal, I could see by the looks I was receiving that something wasn’t quite right. Within minutes it became clear that I had completely misunderstood the scope of work and my proposal was way too big for the project my potential client wanted to offer their employees.
I missed the mark. By a lot.
An event like this definitely could send me into a shame spiral. It could send me down the path of “shoulda-woulda-coulda” and all the self-berating that comes along with that mantra. It could also send me into a tizzy of looking for someone or something to blame. There’s a voice in my head that, given the megaphone, will holler, “I would NEVER do this! This HAS to be someone else’s fault!!”
The thing is, it was not anyone else’s fault. It was a misunderstanding. I had gathered a lot of information in our initial briefing – all of which I put into this proposal. What I didn’t get was that a lot of what was mentioned were big ideals and not the concrete ideas that the client actually wanted to explore at this time. In my enthusiasm, I missed that cue.
And, I gave them all I had to give. A solid proposal with lots of good thinking and wonderful offers. But it was just too much.
It was a humbling moment indeed. As someone who teaches the art of Authentic Communication, I had a lot to be embarrassed about. I felt like I had failed miserably in applying the principle of LISTEN. How had I imagined that the scope of work was exponentially larger than what the client actually wanted? I failed to listen with intention and focus.
Which is to say, I messed up. [Cringe!!]
At age 12, I knew I was a perfectionist. I remember telling that to my Dad in a conversation in his car. The memory is so clear for me – I remember where we were and the question that he had asked me: What do you think your biggest fault might be? My answer, I might be too much of a perfectionist.
Fast forward a few decades, after a career in public relations and crisis communications – fields where messing up is very, very difficult to come back from – and I’m seeing hope that I’m recovering from perfectionism. Today I can see that the “miss” with my potential client wasn’t disastrous. Though I may have failed at listening, it wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t berate myself for the mistake. Instead, something else kicked in, and I’m pretty sure it was humility.
When I aim to be perfect, I’m shooting to be super-human. Luckily, I’m learning that, well, I’m not. Instead of working hard at being perfect, I’m working harder at being me – a messy and magnificent human being.
I practice observing myself. I try to get out of my own way so I can see who and how I really am – the full catastrophe, to quote Jon Kabat-Zinn. I lean hard into the first principle of Authentic Communication, BE, which is all about self-awareness and presence, and it serves me incredibly well.
This week, when I realized my mistake with my client, I wanted to crawl under my desk. I wished I could just disappear. Despite my embarrassment, though, I was able to tune into what had happened and not collapse with shame. I put my feet flat on the earth, got grounded, and breathed.
And you know what happened? I felt joy.
I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. I felt the humble, honest joy of being alive, of being human. Yes, I made a mistake, and it’s one that can be corrected. I even suggested to the client that we could pretend this massive, comprehensive (and expensive) program that I presented was like a restaurant menu from which we could choose what would best serve the client. In fact, it’s such a big program, I said, maybe it’s even like the never-ending menu at The Cheesecake Factory. So many choices!!
I believe this client will give me a second chance. I can try again. And, as ever, I will aspire to bring excellence to my proposal and all my work. And I will bring joy and humility.
Perfectionism is a hindrance rather than a help in this fine life. I can’t do my good work or live a full life if I am held back by a compulsive need to be flawless.
Today I’m rewriting the proposal. Scaling it back to the scope of work that the client requested, and I’m doing it with a smile. I’m so very grateful that I have the chance to keep the conversation going, grateful for a bit of self-awareness that kept me present in that difficult discussion, and grateful for a willingness to learn and grow from the experiences that life offers up to me. I’m grateful to recover from perfectionism and to find deep comfort in linking arms with all of my beautiful brothers and sisters. It’s good to be alive. Think I’m gonna have some cheesecake to celebrate.
The word “bifurcated” showed up in the news recently. I’m a communicator and a word-geek, and I think that one is a wonder – not least because it beautifully describes the tension of this time.
My “bifurcated” experience of the past several months has felt like having to choose feeling safe or feeling at risk; being dismayed or staying connected; being at ease or being anxious to the point of panic; having some modicum of clarity or feeling like I’m snorkeling through mud.
I have been desperately trying to choose one feeling, state of being, or perspective over another, as if doing the “right” thing happens at the expense of the other. I have been wrestling between this or that feeling/action/word to the point of exhaustion and depletion.
A wise woman reminded me that polarity always has been and always will be part of being human. We will never transcend the experience of this and that, life and death, joy and sorrow, yin and yang. When we accept paradox as part of the human condition, there’s a chance for peace to take root.
The key here is substituting one tiny word for another.
Rather than miring myself in the “or” thinking that requires me to dig in my heels, choose one ideology over another, and defend my little patch of ground to the metaphorical death, I can embrace polarity as natural. I can accept life on life’s terms. I can open to “and.”
“And” is inclusive, abundant and generous. It tells us there’s room here for everything, everyone, every feeling. All are welcome.
It is, though, at least a bit counter-cultural to live into what’s possible with “and.” Perhaps that's because "and" makes everything possible. Everything. And that might feel a bit overwhelming.
So we continue the hard work of expanding our inner containers to make room for all that awaits us when we open to "and." Until and unless we build greater capacity for paradox, we will continue to raise fierce resistance to life, and we will wreak havoc on ourselves and each other. Living in a world where “or” is the order of the day is living in a world of separation, “othering,” violence and war.
Choosing “and” is a way toward each other. First, though, it is a way toward ourselves. It opens space for us to more fully accept ourselves, embracing our own inner complexity and polarity. Befriending the truth of ourselves as frail, fallible and fantastic human beings opens wide the door to befriend our neighbors and begin to knit together this great human family.
To learn how to travel this path, I lean into words from the German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, that have long offered me guidance and solace:
Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final.
“Bifurcated” is a beautiful word – but it’s no way to live. Just keep going. Keep going past the “or” that has defined our lives and our culture and has separated us from each other for far too long.
Lean on each other to do the good work of building your inner capacity and acceptance for the paradoxes of life and the tension they can create. Keep opening to what’s possible for you, for all of us, when we ground ourselves not on what separates us but on one tiny and powerful word: AND.
A CEO recently asked her social media connections about when it’s appropriate to interrupt someone who’s speaking. I love her courageous inquiry into whether it’s ever OK to interrupt, and it prompted some thinking from me about listening.
I believe all good communication originates with the communicator. To be effective in our communication – and I think listening is the silver bullet in effective communication – we first have to take a look inward. It seems to me that’s just what my CEO friend is doing. Love that.
So, in the case of when and whether to interrupt someone, I’d back things up and ask myself two questions: What kind of listener am I? And, What’s my intention for this conversation? I’d also contemplate conscious timing.
First, we all have preferred listening styles. Becoming aware of my default approach to listening can help me tune into the dynamic I’m creating in the conversation. It also helps me see that I have other choices.
For example, I’m a task-oriented listener. I listen to find out what I have to do as a result of this conversation. I’m also content-oriented and can get judgmental and distracted if I perceive inaccuracy in what the other person is saying. It sounds like my CEO friend might be more of a time-oriented listener. She wants to get to the point.
Each of these listening types has an upside (a time-oriented listener can be very efficient) and a downside (a task-oriented listener can miss the big picture). We can learn to maximize the positives and work to reduce the less-positive consequences of our listener type by appreciating and even adopting some of the other listening approaches.
Once I have an awareness of my listening preference, I can more easily address the second question: What’s the intention for this conversation?
Sometimes conversations are about getting things done – they’re about planning, coordinating and taking action. Sometimes, though, they’re about exploring – about going into new territory together to poke around and making discoveries together. Sometimes they’re a little of both.
Before things get rolling, ask the other person what it is that she wants to talk about. Is she focused on accomplishing a task or a project? Does he want to talk about a workplace issue that might involve discussing various office relationships and personal emotions? Do they want to run a new idea by me?
Conversations for action often benefit from efficiency. If the topic is how to get something done, and I know I have a propensity for time-oriented listening, I can use it to my advantage. I can let the person know that I may jump in to help us stay focused on the task at hand so that she can get back to working on it.
The exploratory kind of conversation – a conversation for possibility – needs more time and space. These conversations may ask me to cultivate different listening styles that will better serve me and my team in this situation. We can all learn to listen in a way that allows others to express their genius most naturally.
For both types of conversation – for action and for possibility – I’m a fan of conscious timing. Time is a precious resource that we can never reclaim. When it’s gone, it’s gone. It’s our responsibility to use it wisely, and to know that when people give us their time, our highest and best action is to respect that.
One aspect of conscious timing is scheduling. If I recognize that I can’t listen with intention and focus when someone wants to talk to me, I might ask to postpone the conversation – even a few minutes – until I know I can be present.
The other side of conscious timing for conversations has to do with their duration. I like setting time limits on conversations and committing to being present for that time. And I let the other person know by saying something like, “I have about 15 minutes to talk about this. Does that work for you? Shall we give it a go and see what we can get done?”
If the conversation can’t be completed in the time allotted, I can always extend it or set another date to pick up the conversation. My husband and I have been having a certain conversation for possibility for well over ten years!
It’s not always easy, but better listening can be learned. Get to know your preferred listening type as well as what’s wonderful and not so wonderful about listening that way. Maybe you can explore another listening type to expand your range in this critical leadership tool. And learn to distinguish the types of conversations you’re having. Then you can set guidelines for yourself and others to make those conversations as productive and meaningful as possible.
The work I do in Authentic Communication rests on three principles: BE, LISTEN and ACT. We start with self-awareness (BE) before turning our attention to the other with focus, intention and curiosity (LISTEN), and then we take mindful action for effective, productive and authentic communication (ACT). LISTEN is the central principle of Authentic Communication because it is so vital for leadership and teamwork.
I’d be delighted to have a conversation with you about how to build listening skills for yourself, your team or your organization.
Image Credit :: Pawel Czerwinski via Unsplash
Just before the 2016 election I moved to a place where the majority of people hold a very different political view than mine. And some of those people are in my family of origin.
These past four years have taught me to live with people who are genuinely different from me. I have been learning not to be in perpetual judgment and opposition. To set and defend healthy boundaries. And it is has not been easy.
Of course I want to be heard. I even want to be right. But more than that, I want to live in a world where respect, truth, dignity and peace are the order of the day. And I’m convinced that realizing a measure of that ideal requires that I listen.
Psychotherapist Esther Perel talks about the Perception Gap, a study conducted by the non-partisan, non-profit More in Common. Perel explains that, when we are entrenched in our opposing views, as the United States is and has been for years, we become increasingly binary in our thinking. We perceive ourselves through one lens and the “others” through another.
We see ourselves as complex beings, nuanced individuals. We are sensitive to our own rainbow of emotions, motivations and behaviors. We see the “others” in black and white. We call them simplistic and narrow-minded tribes. And, the reverse is also true. The “others” see themselves in all their intricate individuality and see “us” as monochrome masses.
This gap manifests itself in the workplace as well as on the social and political stage. Just think of the last time the Marketing team had to justify an expensive campaign to Finance.
So how do we bridge this “perception gap?” I believe we start with ourselves, with an honest introspection. And then, in short order, we look for common ground and common language. From there, we can build a bridge toward each other.
I work with human values, and I think this might be a place to start.
Every single person on planet Earth – regardless of age, gender, race, creed, culture, language, economic situation, sexual orientation, education, job, or political affiliation – has values.
We might begin to close the Perception Gap with an examination of our own values and an appreciation that all other humans have values, too.
I invited a friend to read this piece before I posted it, and he highlighted the way an absence of “truth” in the United States has acted like a steel spreader to keep “us” from “them.” With every act of disinformation and prevarication, the spreader turns another rotation and widens the Perception Gap.
When we talk about values, we stand in an unwavering reality: Values are as essential to every human as a heartbeat. They are always true. And that applies to every single one of us. Values offer us common ground.\
Values also provide a universal vernacular for telling our stories to each other. Storytelling has brought humans together since language emerged. Starting from the common reference of our values helps us access stories that connect rather than divide.
But a story has to be heard. To make any progress on closing the Perception Gap, we have to take the time and make the effort to listen to stories, ideas and experiences that are different from our own.
Through listening, we can open to learning about the values and stories of others and begin to bring into focus the shades and subtlety of their human intricacies and fragility.
Getting grounded in my own values is vital work in self-awareness.
Aligning my life with my values is how I live with purpose.
Acknowledging that other people – even those I don’t like or don’t agree with – also have values points the way to mutual understanding.
Working with values gives me and you common language to share our stories.
And listening – listening with intention, curiosity and courage – listening to others as they speak from our common ground and share their own values and unique stories – listening begins to build a bridge across that Perception Gap.
I know that speaking to each other about our values will not bind all our wounds or tele-transport us to a place where “truth” and “facts” mean the same thing to everyone or even where Marketing and Finance will align. It will not magically eliminate the Perception Gap.
Still – it’s a way to “start close in,” as the poet David Whyte says, and goodness knows, we have to start.
I’m redoubling my efforts to listen. To honor human values so I can see past the “monochrome masses.” To cherish my own nuances and complexity, and those of my human neighbors. All of my human neighbors.
Will you join me? We are resilient and creative and up to this. Together we can restore respect, truth, dignity and peace for everyone.
Shall we give it a go?
[Do you need a hand getting started? Please get in touch. I have tools and resources and would be delighted to work with you, your team or your organization.]
I don't know.
You don't know.
We don't know.
And that's OK.
Maybe it's even a relief.
Maybe it's a kind of sacred surrender.
I've been lugging these bags and bushels of
anger and anxiety and blame and fear
for so many months
down so many thorny paths
dragging them through the sand, looking for that solid ground that I once thought was underfoot.
Now I'm putting them down in the not knowing.
And I'm taking a seat.
I'm waiting and I'm watching and I'm praying.
And I'm loving. I never stopped loving. I'm sure not stopping now.
Maybe that's the only thing I do know:
In the end, as in the beginning, it is always all about the love.
I can rest here.
Maybe you can join me.
And we can be delighted by this not-knowing kind of love.
Maybe we can let the future come to us,
enticed into our midst
by the riotous laughter of our unknowing.
I have a confession to make: I’ve been struggling with Authentic Communication in this pandemic political season.
The goals I've set for myself and my business and my clients – communication as an act of love, listening through difference, cultivating trust by speaking truth – can sometimes feel like very high and far-away ideals. One woman recently told me that truth has vanished from American society. Can that be right? It makes my whole being quake. So – like most people – I'm tolerating a lot of uncertainty and discomfort right now. A lot.
I’m finding that it helps to stay focused on what I do know and I can do. I can deliver workshops. I can be kind. I can love my family – even when their views are different than mine. I can find joy in being where I am. I can write. I don’t have to solve every problem, or even pretend that I have any answers at all. I can be messy and still claim my place as a communication consultant. I can release perfectionism – every day, release more and more. I can hold space. I can collaborate with other people – and together we can support each other – together we can stay with it, even when it’s uncomfortable and challenging.
Doing this is the seeding and watering. I don’t know how Authentic Communication will grow in the months ahead, but I will continue to show up, for myself, my business, and my amazing clients. And I will do my level best to keep doing that with acceptance, curiosity and humility. I will do this because – even though it's messy and hard – it's also worth it. Just like Love.
Yesterday I caught the Happy Virus from my beloved friend Francesca, who spoke to me through the fence. She left me flowers and a lovely lotion on the wall that stood between us. Not being able to touch her made my heart ache. And gazing into her shiny eyes, being in her radiant presence was a balm – lifted my heart and my spirits.
It’s so beautiful to think of the many and surprising ways I have been loved up in these past too-many weeks. The gorgeous green veggies that land in my kitchen every week from Can Carbo. The radiant Mariana raising our kundalini and our personal mastery every. single. day. Lyrical wisdom proffered so generously by wondrous Mirjam. Lemons, eggs, and sweet treats baked with love, from our dear next-door neighbors (not to mention the applause and shouts of "¡Ánimo!" from our balconies every day at 8 p.m.). Courageous conversations, idea exchanges and deep laughter that rises from tinny speakers and winds its way into my waiting heart.
I desperately miss the hugs, the touch, the simple ease of being together. But these gestures, these personal encounters – however they’re served up – keep infecting me with the Happy Virus.
I don’t always feel it, but I know I always have the Happy Virus. My beautiful and generous friends have it. The stars and night jasmine and spring flowers have it.
I hope you have it too. If you don’t, it would be my pleasure to give it to you.
IMAGE CREDIT: Brent MacKay
Today I take refuge in the clouds.
Cottony and low, backlit by the morning sun. Gray and wispy in the mid-sky. A front portending rain. All in one sweeping view.
Nature’s exquisite offerings – each one unique and full, effortlessly unfolding and rolling and welcoming. A simple and generous and ever-present embrace of me as me – with all my magnificence and messiness.
These morning clouds have something to teach me. I awaken today to learn.
Here you'll find some of my thoughts about communication, contemplation, yoga, life and various other topics. Thanks for giving them a read.