Up to the highest height

I'm not sure which Greek sage first announced, "Know thyself". It is attributed to at least six. While presently the thought shows up in the modern-day film,The Matrix, on a plaque above the Oracle's door, the saying encourages us to achieve our potential.

Today is Sunday. This weekend I observed myself through attention to others while my family came to visit. The gene pool lever knocked on the back of my mind while I noticed a key habit of my father's - the quick release jaw during laughing. I have always been mindful of how often my mouth flies open wide when attempting to kick a ball, shoot a basket or block a shot.

Although I have meant to adjust that habit so my tongue isn't quite so evident, I never think about it soon enough. Well sure enough, Dad's does, too. And not just when he's attempting a physical feat. It's also when he exclaims, laughs and wonders.

Just when I began shaking my head in wonderment, I noticed it again. My mouth had flown open. Suddenly I was aware that this behavior was not learned but natural. It can not be controlled.

Sure, Pythagorus, Socrates, Plato - all the ancient philosophers - have led us to reach our highest height of understanding self while witnessing those around us: actions, behaviors, morals, habits. Even applying this to our understanding of God, the universe, and our collective consciousness.

Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height
Let's go fly a kite
And send it soaring.
Up to the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear.
Oh, let's go, fly a kite.

On this sacred day of days, what I have discovered about myself gives me little sense of divinity. My opportunity of flying a kite, of discovering enlightenment, has led me instead to sucking in flies.

Reaching Into the Great Beyond

About a month ago I had coffee with someone who, not surprisingly, expressed her fear of making phone calls. My coaching work often leads me to those in business development who feel anxiety when using the phone to call upon strangers while seeking business. Cold-calling is a drudgery for many in sales, yet it leads to the eventual result - an appointment.

In this case a month ago, my companion wasn't reaching out to make a sales call. She was instead attempting to discover information about herself. She experiences social anxiety - something many experience at varying degrees, yet we have often heard it called "shyness". According to Jonathon Berent, ACSW, when we call ourselves shy, we avoid control over our condition. Calling ourselves socially anxious, we "are on our way to a more relaxed, fulfilling life in which we are in control".

I was forewarned to expect a call from my socially anxious companion, and within a week, she called. Now that's amazing. I remember thinking I'd never hear from her, for after all, what was motivating her to reach out? Yet she did call.

While on the phone she mentioned her fear of phoning, allowing me to marvel at the followthrough. Beyond that was her fear of meeting in public. Yet her intent in making the call was two-fold: could my coaching help her address her anxiety in specific ways, and if I thought so, could we meet?

After I shared my willingness to learn more about her, we agreed to meet. I selected a comfortable coffee shop convenient to both of us, while also very "public". If our work together was to be effective, it would get demonstrated immediately by our public location. My new acquaintance agreed and 2 days later we sat down together with coffee.

Reaching out into the great beyond, this woman chose to conquer her problems and overcome the symptoms that get in her way. Like others, she has constantly held herself back from relationships, personal fulfillment and career moves simply because of her embarrassment, fear or loss of confidence when assuming others are judging her.

Odd as it seems, this is a common factor we all face, daily. Daily. Often hourly.
We retreat back into isolation when our mind - logic - informs us it is time to reach out. Yet our fears of the result - our emotion - blocks us from following through with our intentions.

The manager considers checking in with a direct report, yet struggles with being unable to answer endless questions, hearing negative talk or having to make a decision he/she doesn't want to make. The sales professional avoids the client who wants a return call, fearing their dissatisfaction, or they fear cold-calling which leads to lack of interest or feeling of no value.

In our personal relationships we simply want positive reinforcement. When we don't get it, we assume things beyond what's actually the case.

Initiating contact with people is not always, but sometimes, a huge risk. But as in the earlier woman's case, it leads to information we need. And from there, possible connections that are of major importance. In the meantime, we find we have a more relaxed, fulfilling life in which we are in control.

In what way can you reach out instead of retreating, today?

Slow to Fast

One of the joys of living in urban Columbus is having eating and drinking establishments a few steps away. We're 1 block from the nearest coffee and bagel shop, 1 block from a tapas restaurant, and able to walk to tens more choices of bar restaurants within 2 to 10 minutes.

Like many urban dwellers, we keep little in the cupboards, yet we don't go hungry. Nor is fast food the routine. Although our diet restricts most meats, carbohydrates and sweets (no snacks are in our cupboards), we enjoy eating. Give us humus, eggs, beans, fruit, yogurt, nuts and vegetables, and we're good. While out eating, similar finds are noted on menu's, and with little need to loss sight of our diet, we enjoy. I can still enjoy the eventual fries or pancakes, yet now my body responds poorly when it happens too often.

Today, while on the treadmill at the gym, I read about the fasting of one of Dan Brown's characters, Ma'Lak, in The Lost Symbol. His attachment to it is the purification his body goes through. That's what got my interest. Ma'Lak glories in his control over his body, his decision to fast, to sacrifice and to get through it. Two days of liquids, nothing more. Two days of focusing on the enjoyment of self-discipline.

Discipline is a lost art, today. For the most part, discipline comes with personal benefit that is not immediate: diet, exercise, practice of skills, cold-calling, and other long-term, preventitive and proactive behaviors. In the American way of life, we stay so fast-paced with enjoyment, entertainment, impulsive behaviors, that our eating habits follow suit.

Though some take pleasure in food preparation, few take pleasure in exercising food discipline enough to partake in eventual fasting. When it comes to diet in America fast-fooding, not fasting, fast-fooding takes precedence! Habits that lead us quick to mouth are in control. When our stomachs talk to us, growling in hunger, we respond almost immediately.

Unless our faith encourages fasting and prayer, most of us would not practice this sacrifice. We are slow to fast, quick to eat. Does this mean we have no self-control?Perhaps we are seldom fulfilled in ways other than eating. If that's the case, we would jump at any chance to eat, simply to gain fulfillment.

I'm not sure, yet, whether I will try fasting. Many logical excuses come to mind as I consider it. Yet I do know that life fulfillment is worth exploring in ways other than using plate, fork, fingers and teeth.

Less Than Half Empty

It's beer:30 on my day off. I've worked up a sweat on this first day of October, sitting on the rooftop while reading. Hard to believe, but it actually feels like it's 80 degrees up here! After an hour, suffering, I go inside, reach for a cold brew - a real brew! not the MGD 64 substitute I usually find in the fridge - so I can feel that click in my head that relaxes me.

Because so far this day has been only mildly relaxing. Sleep in until 7, skip the gym, have breakfast out while reading the new Dan Brown release, go to the river and watch kids throw bread crumbs to the ducks.

I need another way to relax. I've slowed my pace, yet I need to FEEL it. Beer:30 usually does the trick. Good thing Blue Moon has twist offs - I don't want to waste anytime digging for a beer bottle opener. Now, it's time to go full tilt.

Yep, that works. That works well. And since I'm a little hungry, I reach for the Quick Fix. Dry roasted peanuts are a great companion to beer. On your day off, you take a break from routine, whether it's work, meals, the gym or anything else on the schedule. Days off are meant to be lived without routine.

I'm running out of beer. On the contrary, I'm laughing. Even singing...."Blue Moon, you make me..." Okay I forget the words to that song. What I do know is, drinking Blue Moon on a relatively empty stomach creates a joy I forgot was possible. Wait - I thought I had another still in the side door of the refridgerator - now that's an odd word, isn't it? Refridgerator? Doesn't "re" mean "again"? What got fridged again?

You're not supposed to let cold beer get warm and then iced down again. I know a guy who bought a case from a carryout, yet by the time he got home it was warm, so he returned it and actually got a replacement since he claimed to have received it warm!

Has my Blue Moon been iced down after it got warm? Can I pull that off? Pulling out the cash to run down to the carryout, I'm laughing. Can you imagine the look on that guy's face when I ask him if he can prove the beer I bought from him before was iced without first getting warm?!

Naw, I don't think I can deliver the punch line without laughing. My bottle is less than half empty and I have to do something about this. I need a FULL Blue Moon.

Running down to the local carryout, I open the door, look for the Blue Moon section and spot a new entry on the chilled shelf: Full Moon. Yes!!!! Does that mean you can just keep tipping?? I turn to the owner who has just finished serving a customer, laughing and pointing, my mouth wide open.



"I love it!" I said. "A Full Moon for my Beer:30!" He just looked as though he was looking right through me. "What?" he said.

Then I look further and see the seasonal distinction. For the winter months. Huh? Who wants a cold beer in the winter months? Aha! No wonder they stay full then! Blue Moon is pretty clever!

Finally, I see the Belgian White - the Belgian-Style Wheat Ale. "Oh, good. That will replace what I've been drinking," I say aloud to the owner, who by now has made some decisions about me and my behavior.

As I approached the checkout, I ask him what time it is. "Ten minutes til 4," he replies. "Good, that still gives me enough time to enjoy these six while it's beer:30."

"Blue moon, " I hum while exiting, suddenly remembering to check the temperature of the bottles I'm carrying out. And instead of asking my owner friend if they were able to keep the bottles chilled while re-stocking, I decide I need to run home before they get warm. Perfect. I'll work up a sweat, need the twist-off cap to quickly come off, then can enjoy the first at full tilt before I reach for the peanuts again.

What a day off.

Stirring the Pot

This morning I made oatmeal for breakfast, different from my daily eggs routine. I needed a new warmth - comfortable and laced with sweet. As I stirred the oats, I anticipated the sticking sensation, the heft and cling to the wooden spoon. Refreshing.

Quickly the oats boiled, puffed and worked their magic in the pot, while I stirred, eagerly awaiting the addition of the brown sugar. Turning off the burner and putting the matching lid on the pot, I then reached up for the brown sugar canister - one of the finest staples in the kitchen. With spoon in hand, I dove into the canister, pulling out several scoops while planting them into my ceramic bowl. I left the chunks, chunky.

Once the hot oatmeal hit the bottom of the brown sugared bowl, I stirred. Stirring, I saw the swirls of sugar color my oatmeal. With measured doses of milk, again I transformed both the consistency and the color of my breakfast. Creamy white mixed in with the earthy brown. Too much stirring and the swirls dissolved - just enough and the diverse blend of ingredients held their own, like thick threads in fabric.

My bowl was clean before I even sat down. Warm in my hands, I cupped it against my body while dipping and swirling the oatmeal onto spoon and into my expecting taste buds.

It's that time of year when my soul reaches for nourishment. Depth and enlightenment in new possibilities. I stir the pot. Again ready for the next dose. The thick oats, purifying milk and earthy brown sugar. Let it fall into place.

Breakthrough Blockbuster

Those of us who grip the steering wheel of life like we're on a collision course may have re-considered the seatbelt or breaks once we saw the movie, CRASH.

Don Cheadle, Sandra Bullock and others keep us on edge during the violent pace when the scenes of 36 hours of their characters' lives weave into pure impact with others. This blockbuster's blend of corporate stress, cultural tensions and a little girl's faith in her daddy's angel shift us from reality to divine as we ponder the bigger picture of how we are all connected, even when we wish not to be.

Unmercifully my tears broke forth as I observed a scene wrought with fatality, seconds before key characters realized their fate. The gracefully crafted scene of daddy and daughter brings the violent, angst-ridden language of previous scenes to their knees. In this moment all of us viewers understand IMPACT.

From that scene forward,IMPACT is utterly all we can see as the rest of the movie unfolds. How the actions, the attitudes, the words of each character led to distressing results.

Yesterday, while I was with a wonderful person, I witnessed IMPACT of his thinking and actions while awareness came crashing down on him. In his case, as in the case of the blockbuster movie, the essence of life came to a standstill. Presence. In the now. All he could see was facial expressions. Proof of the impact he made on others. His daily treadmill of life, a common collision-course for gunning the gas and shifting into another gear dissolved.

As I watched, I witnessed his reactions to the impact he made on others. It started with contorted pain. His lip muscles working to hold back twitches, to slow his breathing and to deny the response his anger and awareness couldn't help but create.
And then frozen. He was speechless, focused and transported elsewhere.

Suddenly the pain relaxed and his eyes glazed over, his breath caught and held. Divine intervention flowed through him. He saw himself for what he had done, owned it, and with new breath, resolved to make things right. Once he crashed, took responsibility and allowed divine intervention, he found peace. Just as in the breakthrough blockbuster movie.

Sure, it would be better to never crash at all, but we're human.

At a loss for words

Live and in color - breathing shallowly, red-faced, and beginning to sweat, my mind races while I search for something to say. Looking for a sign, a clue, something for my mind to pick up on.

No, I'm not on stage right now. But feeling at a loss for words on stage has happened to me. There, I could at least respond to something else in the moment. Nor am I feeling this way in front of a group giving a presentation. Yet again, this has happened there, too. In front of a group I would ask for a cup of water, see how much time is left - something to momentarily divert focus, giving my mind a chance to connect to a congruent thought worth expressing.

Right now, in the "fight" mode of "fight or flight", I scan the surroundings, insisting my mind lose it's hold on the inner workings of my brain where it's stuck in the emotional, not the thinking side.

"What have you accomplished?", the question repeated in my head, as I momentarily looked at my interested companion slowly manipulating the coffee cup on the table.

I have noticed some people are better at being at a loss for words than I am. They shrug it off, letting the moment pass without incident. It seems there is no drama. Their hands don't shake, their skin tone remains the same and they stay even-keeled and non-plussed.

Perhaps they remark with simple responses such as, "Oh I don't think in terms of accomplishments," or "Who has really accomplished anything these days?", diverting the focus and redirecting conversation. Even suggesting a vulnerable response like, "Oh, nothing to write home about" while grinning, shifts the mood from serious to light-hearted.

But during the times when I wasn't prepared to respond with proof of my value, yet cared to, I, the literalist, couldn't identify anything worthy of note. Especially this particular day, when just starting out in an interpersonal skills business, looking across the table at a gentleman who thrives on statistics, analysis, systems and results. He wasn't going to be a client, and he surely wasn't going to refer me to those who needed me, for he didn't value what I had to offer. And at that point, neither did I.

Fortunately I have traveled down the road of understanding for quite some time now, while embarking on the journey of personal value. What a difference that makes when sharing one's message. Not only am I brief and articulate with the value, I no longer am suffering for the "inspiration" in the moment.

I now realize, when I don't know my value, I wait to hear it from others. And when they're at a loss for sharing it, I have nothing more to add.