Responding Quietly

Cool morning. A very light rain falls in the half-light. A large construction vehicle floods the Temple garden with noise though it’s not yet five thirty in the morning. Birds sing sharply, adding the descant to the rumbling bass.

The nasturtiums in the corner wiggle ever so slightly in response. Is it the sonic vibration or the unseen breeze that moves them? It you didn’t look carefully, you’d think they were still. Easy to miss this subtle responsiveness of all things to each other. Now that I look closer, I see each round leaf and each golden blossom moves independently—each one positioned and shaped to dance with the winds of its unique life. One plant with a multitude of separately sensing lives.

I feel tired and slow this morning. The great winds of conviction and inspiration that sometimes blow through me are quiet. I try not to panic and cover over. I trust something smaller. I wait and listen louder. I begin to sense the zephyrs that move silently and leave only the slightest trace.

I look around me and try to find my way into where I am. I sense my place. My weather app said ‘foggy’ this morning. I didn’t realize it was talking about my inner weather. Curriculum this morning: moving slowly in the fog. I may not be thrilled about it, but it’s better than pretending.

I started up the weed-whacker yesterday for the first time this year. The gas-powered noise-maker started right up. I was so excited to have it when I first bought it ten years ago. But I like things fairly disorderly here in the garden so I rarely use it. I can’t tell whether it’s because I don’t like noise and hard work or it’s really an aesthetic choice.

I appreciate formal gardens with nothing out of place, but I don’t find them relaxing. When nature is used for show, I appreciate the mastery of the gardener and the work of those who maintain it, but it doesn’t help me cross the space between me and the natural world. The plants and paths are used to express the pattern in the gardener’s mind. It’s simpler, more geometric and sometimes easier to understand and appreciate, but rarely inviting to my soul.

I like the wildness of things to be a full partner in the design. Of course, the wildness of life is present within even the most formal garden, all you have to do is look close enough. The branching of each of the row of carefully trimmed shrubs is actually quite different and each of the blossoms of one hundred tulips is a different slightly different shade from its neighbor.

But I like it to be more obvious – where you sometimes can’t tell what is intentional and what just happens and aren’t quite sure who’s really in charge. This feels more encouraging to me—this intertwining of plans and actual life. So much of the content of our lives comes from the billions of actions that have come before this moment—ours and others. The past fully invades the present to constrain and guide what is to come. And each moment invites us to participate fully. Each action creates the world that we move into.

What we choose to do and what we choose to pay attention to joins with all that has come before in an interactive feedback loop that we call a life. Each moment is wild and constrained at the same time. Not a problem.

The leaves of the nasturtium like to bounce and jiggle. Their morning exercise in the twilight waiting for receive the photon packets of light later to power their green factories. I bounce and jiggle in my mind, learning to be still enough to catch the small breezes of delight that pass through.

A two-inch hummingbird comes by on her morning rounds. Buzzing like a small diesel, she carefully sips the nectar from one or two golden blossoms then wheels away. I sit still, then go on tapping on the keyboard.

Personal Practice – Sit still for a few minutes with your eyes closed. Let your mind go dreamy. Now open your eyes. Look around notice what catches your attention. Whatever it is, spend a few more minutes just looking carefully at it. Notice its shapes and colors, textures and sounds (if any). Let yourself sense the qualities of what you see. Imagine yourself as this object. What does it feel like from the inside? What might the wisdom of this thing be? Imagine that it has some tip for you today. What is the wisdom tip this object has to give you? [aka ‘flirts’ from Process Work and Arny Mindell]

Shaving as Spiritual Practice

1. It’s getting harder
to shave. My arms
and hands work
fine still but
my face is hollowing
here and folding
there caught in its
downward glide
toward full repose.

2. My vanity insists
I do my best
to avoid the old
man’s shave—
the tufts of stray
white whiskers
that appear unwanted
on the neck or under
the nose or by
the ears—unseen
by the bearer and
slightly embarrassing
to the viewer
who must overlook
the natural oversight.

Stretching patches of
face and neck I
momentarily regain
the smooth surfaces
and familiar contours
I took for granted
over decades of daily
dragging and scraping
the expected and
ever-changing contours
in the mirror.

3. At the end of
his life, my brother
shaved his father-in-law.
Hands of the doctor—
always willing to
be helpful even
through the inevitable
criticism and irritation.

4. My brother and I
began shaving
with the first excuse
of facial hair. In
the smell and excitement
of it all we began
enacting our appointed
roles of manhood
competing and complete
with our barely conceived
dreams of soft romance
and hard adventure.

5. Now, how many
shaves have there
been? Even my
current lax standards
require two or three
sessions per week.

I stand with myself
and look in the mirror.
I try to see more
than my father’s hooded
eyes and slack skinned
neck that appear
before me—all included
in the karmic legacy
that continues this day
through this face and these
countless and determined

whiskers.

Truth and Reconciliation

In early June, a little publicized piece of legislation was announced:

‘Congresswoman Barbara Lee [Oakland, CA, Dem.] announced legislation calling for the establishment of the first United States Commission on Truth, Racial Healing, and Transformation (TRHT). The Commission will examine the effects of slavery, institutional racism, and discrimination against people of color, and how our history impacts laws and policies today. 

The legislation – supported by a broad coalition of members of Congress and community partners – will be officially introduced Thursday, June 4. The full text of the resolution can be found here. 

“The murder of George Floyd and the current COVID-19 crisis illustrate once again the painful and dangerous legacy that white supremacy has had in our country, and the desperate need to fully acknowledge and understand how our history of inequality continues today,” Congresswoman Lee said. “This inequality is at the heart of every crisis we’re dealing with right now – the crises of police brutality and mass incarceration, the COVID-19 public health crisis which is disproportionately affecting communities of color, and the crisis of poverty excluding so many minority families from the American Dream. This is a matter of survival for countless Americans. Only by understanding our past, and confronting the errors that still haunt us today, can we truly move forward as a people and a country.”

On July 2, Suffolk (Boston) County District Attorney Rachel Rollins announced she was joining with DA’s from Philadelphia and San Francisco to create Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commissions to hear from individuals who feel they have been victims of violence or prosecutorial misconduct.

Some people might say we shouldn’t dredge up old stories and we should start fresh. But our past is always with us – ignoring the pain and violence that are woven into our American history does not make them go away. A fresh start means coming clean. We must look beyond the self-serving myths of freedom and equality into the sometimes invisible systems of preserving privilege that have actively worked against so many.

Jesus said: ‘The truth will set you free.’ ‘The truth’ can only be uncovered when we begin to listen to all the voices—not just the ones of the educated and the powerful, but the voices of those who have been silenced. While Christianity has been used to justify terrible violence and oppression in this country and others, it also has been an inspiration for generations of sisters and brothers, priests and lay people. They have sought the truth by standing with the poor and powerless (as Jesus did) against the systems and the people in power.

May we too be inspired to use our voices and our privilege to hear the voices and the stories of all of us. Given the hidden barriers of privilege, unless we actively seek out and create new systems and relationships, we will not hear these voices. The status quo is stacked against the connections and the truth that many of us say that we seek. Let us all vow to live out our values more fully as we intentionally listen to hear what has been silenced and to energetically look to see what has been hidden.

Personal Practice – Curiosity. Find out something new today. Begin by being curious about the people closest to you—your family, friends and neighbors. What are their truths that you may have been blind to? The stories of their inner lives that they have felt they needed to hide? Then see if you can find a story on line or in a book of someone who has a radically different life from yours. Listen or read and notice what you have not noticed before.

On the Positive Function of Shame

The great Japanese Zen Master Hakuin taught that shame is one of the necessary conditions for progressing on the spiritual path. I have often been bothered and puzzled by this teaching. Shame is such a painful emotional state that seems to leads to a state of fear that narrows our lives and inhibits our growth. So what is the positive function of shame?

I think it has to do with our perpetual human blindness. We are naturally subject to greed, anger and ignorance. Though most everyone I know has good intentions, we all do things, sometimes terrible things, that hurt each other. The history of humanity is filled with ruthless violence. We humans act collectively through armies, laws and police power to subjugate and violate other groups of humans we see as different or lesser. And these systemic acts of violence are most often carried out under the delusion of high ideals – a perfect society, a democracy, God’s true and perfect kingdom.

Each one of us, though we have most likely not killed or physically beat someone personally, is inconsistent, blind and defensive. We don’t always act in alignment with what we know to be true. And when we realize that we are in the wrong, our first impulse is to deny, attack or simply disappear.

From this perspective, shame is what arises when we come face-to-face with the pain we have caused by our blindness or by our willful acting out of our worst impulses. We feel our natural human connection to the people we have hurt and we see how our actions have hurt others we truly care about. If we are lucky, we feel shame and remorse.

Shame and remorse are a power that can allow us to transform some part of our ancient habits of self-centeredness and separation. These impulses of greed, anger and ignorance keep us locked in a world of delusion. The little self that asserts its fundamental independence from others is painfully misguided. Pretending to be autonomous, it rejects its place in the mutuality of all life and lives in fear and endless struggle. Though it can be very painful to wake up to the degree of our self-delusion, it is the only path toward a life of connection and true freedom.

For me, these moments of shameful realization often feel like a kind of death. This is the necessary death that is an ongoing part of growing in love and understanding. When confronted with the unskillfulness and meanness of our actions, we realize that we are not the good and perfect person we wish to be. The death of this image of ourselves is very painful. Our old certainties of the moral high ground and specialness are stripped away. It is this dying of the old self that creates the space for transformation and true change.

Shame is part of the process of waking up. I don’t like it one bit, but I am learning to accept it and trust its power. I can’t fix it or fix me or fix anyone. But if I can stay still and keep my eyes open long enough, shame has the power to help me move toward my true place in this wondrous, confusing and precious world.

Personal Practice – How does shame operate in your life? What have you done and do you do that you most regret? What embarrasses you most about yourself? Can you explore these areas without trying to fix yourself or others? When you turn to these places, is it possible to simply feel the shame or regret without falling into despair or self-justification? Go gently and see if it can be enough just to bring compassionate awareness to these areas.

No Way Forward

Sometimes there is no way forward.

Situations arise within and without that we cannot fix and we are powerless to change. From the American perspective of constant progress and perpetual improvement, these moments are to be avoided at all cost. These times of stuckness are, however, the ways that individuals and systems grow and change beyond the confines of the bubble in which they have been operating. Carefully hidden secrets come to light. Old strategies and identities no longer suffice. While denial and defensiveness are our instinctive reaction, these are times of life-giving change and possibility. They almost always feel terrible.

We are facing such a moment in our society with the casually sadistic killing of George Floyd and our subsequent growing awareness of the brutal and overt racism embedded our system of policing. But policing is not the root problem, it is a manifestation of an intentional pattern of American aggression against black bodies for the last four hundred years. Many of us good white people have been doing our best to live good lives and to avoid having to look too closely at these terrible injustices that are at the foundation of our supposedly enlightened democracy.

President Trump has been a big help in bringing awareness to these (and other) important issues. His words and actions are so transparently mean-spirited and self-centered that many of us have been shocked out of complacency. Trump is a twisted and perfect realization of white American manhood. He’s ruthlessly out for #1 and proudly denies the mutuality of life. He only cares about appearing powerful and takes no responsibility for the consequences of his actions. But Trump would not last another day in the White House unless he was held in place by a system that supports and encourages this kind of behavior. The oligarchy of the wealthy needs protection from the consequences of their actions and Trump is just our man.

In the exaggerated mirror of Donald Trump, some of our country has begun to wake up to our hidden secrets and injustices. Beginning with the Women’s March on DC at the inauguration and to the #MeToo movement and now to Black Lives Matter. Trump’s negative example has inspired many of us and called us into action—challenging us to go beyond our comfortable lives and to own the power we have to create a world that includes truth, justice and opportunity for all.

So how do we move forward when we are at the impasse—the impasse of a pattern of inequality and racism so profound that it is easy to feel powerless to do anything productive? Flowery words and superficial apologies are of little use.

A colleague of mine at a gap-year school where I worked used to say to young people who had run afoul of our minimum standards of participation: ‘You can’t talk your way out of a situation you have behaved your way into.’

Chinese 10^th century Zen Master Hongzhi gives us this advice ‘abandon stratagems and take on responsibility’.

In these painful times of awakening, we come face-to-face with realities we would rather ignore. Our natural inclinations are defensiveness, avoidance and helpless collapse. But we are encouraged to see if we can begin to learn what it might be to take responsibility for our situation in some new way.

Taking responsibility begins with accepting that there is no quick solution for the pain and confusion present. Our actions and the actions of all who came before us have led us to this moment. In opening our eyes and ears and hearts, we can begin to let this moment change us. By staying right where we are without offering explanations or solutions—by looking and listening and feeling—perhaps the situation itself can begin to teach us what we need to know and point its own way forward.

Personal Practice – Think of some area in your life where you are feeling stuck. It could be in a personal relationship or in some part of the larger social issues we are all dealing with. Or it might be some place you are stuck within yourself. Whatever it is, turn your attention to the situation itself. Can you notice your tendencies to fix or to turn away? What would it be like if you gave up trying to ‘solve’ the problem and just let yourself be stuck? Allow yourself to feel and see and listen. What if this place has something important to teach you?

Abandon Stratagems

“…We all have the clear, wondrously bright field from the beginning. Many lifetimes of misunderstanding come only from distrust, hindrance, and screens of confusion that we create in a scenario of isolation. With boundless wisdom journey beyond this, forgetting accomplishments. Straightforwardly abandon stratagems and take on responsibility. Having turned yourself around, accepting your situation, if you set foot on the Path, spiritual energy will marvelously transport you. …”

Zen Master Hongzhi Shengjue, from Cultivating the Empty Field; tr. Taigen Leighton

Imagination Required

Days of rain have soaked the garden. The koi pond is full to the brim. Meanwhile, the pandemic lumbers on. Here in the Northeast our numbers of new infections, hospitalization rates and deaths continue to decline. But elsewhere in America, rates are rising. Nationally and globally we are seeing day after day of unprecedented numbers of new COVID-19 cases.

The social problem with this virus is that it is not virulent enough. Plagues of the past have infected and killed at much higher rates. Not that the terrible illness and deaths from this plague haven’t been enough, but it’s not like a quarter of the people I know have died. For many of us, our families and neighbors are reasonably safe and it takes an act of imagination to remember the danger we are all still in together. Whatever the numbers say, even here in the Northeast, we are in the middle of this battle against our invisible viral foe. But the pandemic continues and no one knows what the final tally will be. Some studies say that, even now, we have grossly undercounted the numbers of COVID-19 related  infections and deaths.

Now four months of battling COVID-19. Mid-March is when we closed the Temple and began radically altering our lives. This effort has touched almost every aspect of our lives. Yesterday we drove by a playground near where my grandson lives. It’s a wonderfully creative and inviting urban park near where he lives. We took him there several times on some warm days last winter and he loved all the things he could touch and climb. He was also fascinated by the other small two-legged creatures who were exploring and playing as well. I expected we would spend a lot of time there once the warm weather came. Driving the playground yesterday, I felt how distant that dream was.

Our new normal is donning masks (not for him yet, though I suppose at some point he will want his own mask so he can be like the grownups around him) and carefully avoiding people we meet on the sidewalk. The three of us, Melissa, me and our grandson, walk down to the corner and sit on his neighbor’s lawn, behind their chain-link fence to keep us a safe distance from the sidewalk. We watch the cars and trucks and pedestrians go by. He is delighted by the whoosh and flash of the moving objects. Anything with wheels, from his toy train to the rumbling dump trucks, enchants him. He will sit in our laps and watch contentedly for long periods. Yesterday he even he even began to exclaim something that sounded a lot like ‘Wow!’ when an especially loud or large truck swept by.

Our grandson doesn’t mind the pandemic. He doesn’t know anything else. There is no playground. The neighbor children who live next door are not part of his world. Playgroups and gatherings of small people are not things he could even miss. For his generation, this will simply be part of the story—nothing out of the ordinary. ‘I stayed mostly at home the year I was one…or so they tell me.’

Sometimes I don’t mind the pandemic. Sitting outside on this lovely morning, it could be any year of the past four or five. The morning glory vines have once again summitted the pergola. Sounds of unseen birds and the falling water of our perpetual (as long as the electricity lasts) waterfall mingle with those of the passing cars driven by people beginning to resuming their external daily activities.

But imagination is still required. Unseen danger surrounds us. I guess this is part of being an adult—knowing that the world is not limited to our immediate senses—that we do indeed have to be care full. It has always been this way. We all know that when we turn the dial on the front of the stove that the gas and the flame and the heat come next—all of which are fine for boiling water and frying eggs, but are disastrous for touching. We know danger and avoid it without thinking, except from time-to-time realizing that we need to make sure to pass on these survival tips to the smaller ones who have not yet internalized the knowledge and cares that they will and must carry.

The fullness of life is undiminished by all of this. Limitations and danger are not the problem of life, they are life itself. I have never been able to jump over tall buildings and have never suffered a moment because of this lack of capacity. Acting freely within limitation is the open possibility at every moment. Let’s continue to hold onto our freedom as we act wisely to move through these ever-changing circumstances.

Personal Practice – As you move through your day, can you appreciate the freedom you have to do whatever you are doing? To be exactly where you are and to be feeling exactly what you’re feeling? You can’t sense it directly because this fundamental freedom cannot be conceived or objectified. Life itself lives us—beyond our calculations, worries and urgencies. See if you can catch a glimpse of this larger freedom. Today.

Gremlins (part 3)

Gremlins are the voices in our heads that want to keep us right where we are. I sometimes think of them as an electric fence we have set up around ‘the way things are.’ In this image, we are all wearing dog collars tuned into the channel of that electric fence. When we get near the boundary and especially when we cross beyond our comfort zone, we feel the shock of that fence—the gremlins.

The original purpose of the fence is to keep Fido safe (and the world safe from Fido) but the fence, and the boundaries of who we think we are and what is acceptable/possible for us to do are arbitrary and always outdated. Our healthy and human boundaries and patterns are helpful as long as we can ignore and rethink and revise them from time to time as conditions (internal & external) change.

Yesterday I wrote about hearing the self-sabotaging voices of the gremlins for what they are. Listening and then giving a clear visual and personal identity to our gremlin(s) can be incredibly useful in working with their negative power. We can move through the thicket of confusion they throw up and take the risks that keeps us learning and growing toward lives of purpose and fulfillment.

Here are few more tips for working with gremlins:

Gremlins always have some beneficial intention. Beneath their fear and generally bad advice, there is some kernal of truth. Though they are quite limited, gremlin are not really against us. So as you sit with the gremlins that have arisen in the moment, you can ask them: ‘ What is your beneficial intention?’

Going back to the gremlin that encourages me to not exercise, who says: ‘You just don’t have the willpower to exercise regularly.’ His beneficial intention might be to help me avoid failing and feeling discouraged. I may need to reassure him that it’s actually OK for me to fail or be discouraged and that this is simply a part of life and that we’ll be fine, even if that happens. Gremlins often just need simple reassurance.

Gremlin statements always contain both truth and falsehood. Asking ‘What’s the truth and what’s the lie?’ can also be a powerful question. In the above example, the truth might be that sometimes I have great ideas that I don’t follow through on. The lie is that I am quite willful, determined and even stubborn about things when I set my mind to it. Remembering this helps me see the bigger picture and then choose more freely.

All of the above strategies can be helpful in hack your way through the brambled barrier of gremlin voices. But the most powerful strategy for not being stopped by your own self-sabotaging voices is to remember your purpose.

Doing things because we should do them is rarely successful. In the grand scheme of the universe, willpower is a very weak force. Inertia, fear and a host of other forces overwhelm willpower everyday. Thinking that I should exercise because it is good for me is not very helpful in actually getting me out there on my bike.

Remembering my purpose, in this case, is asking myself: ‘What is important about this action?’ or ‘What deeper purpose does this serve?’ As I inquire about the deeper importance of exercise I come up with many things: I love to move and feel better during and after exercise. My body is an amazing gift that allows me to do so many things I love; like gardening and walking in the woods and making bread. I want to preserve my ability to do these things for many years to come. Also I think of my joy in picking my 17 month-old grandson out of his crib after his nap when he reaches for me and says ‘Baba, Baba.’ (my granddad name).   Regular exercise is one way I can help make sure I’m able to hold and play with him for many years to come.

That’s all powerful stuff that touches something much deeper in me that what I think I should do. As I consider these things I feel like I’m remembering and aligning with some deeper intentions of my life. When we remember what is truly important, gremlins have little power. We are willing to take risks and endure discomfort because it is in service of something much larger. Inconvenience is not a problem when we remember what we are here to do. Remembering our purpose is one of the most powerful things we can do in working with these natural forces of inertia and homeostasis: the gremlins.

One final word of encouragement. When you are beset by the gremlins ‘whispering their bad advice’ as Mary Oliver says, you can be sure you are in an important place. The gremlins try to keep us from changing – at all and ever – so their presence is a sign that you are in the land of possibility, creativity and change. You can appreciate yourself just for that, remember what you really want and step forward into your life.

Personal Practice – Think of some new action or behavior you’d like to have in your life. Get as specific as you can. Now consider what is important about taking this action? What is the deeper purpose of this step? Take as long as you need with this consideration until you find something that stirs you—something that feels truly important. (If you can’t find any deep reason for your intended action, then it probably isn’t important enough, or necessary, to do.)

Now think of the first step of this action/behavior and do it.

Gremlins (part 2)

All of us make up a psychic geography that we imagine as safe. We live our lives within the boundaries of the rules we have made. For the most part, this serves us well. But we must, from time to time, step over these artificial boundaries. We must—and we long to—step out of our comfort zone—leave the so-called safe harbor and head out to the open sea.

Yesterday I wrote about ‘the gremlins’ – the critical voices in our heads whose only purpose is to keep us right where we are. When we set out on an important journey, or when we are in a situation that calls for a new response or when we simply are sick and tired of our habitual response—then we have to find a way to work with our gremlins so they don’t stop us right where we are. A couple perspectives might be helpful.

The first step is hearing the gremlins as gremlins. Our minds are usually filled with voices and images coming one after another. We may feel anxious and fearful and not even know why. When you’re feeling unable to take a step in your life you’d like to take, it’s very likely there are some gremlin voices around. Identifying these self-sabotaging voices as gremlins is the first step in finding your way through.

The second step is to change the language of the gremlins from first person (‘I just don’t have the will power to exercise’) to second person. (‘You just don’t have the will power to exercise’)   This shift allows a little more space to hear these voices as simply one part of us rather than the whole of us.

Creating a specific image of some of your gremlins can also be helpful. As you hear the voice of a gremlin, notice the quality of the voice. Is it high or low pitched? Is it smooth or gravelly? Is the voice coming from above you, or in front or inside? Then, if you’d like, you can create an image of your gremlin. It may simply be a dark and heavy cloud or it may be a creature or a person with specific features and clothing and presence. The more detailed you get, the better. (Of course we’re just making all this up, but it’s all in service of working with these very real and challenging forces within us all.)

Once you have an image of your gremlin, you can give your gremlin a name. Commonplace names like Elinor or Bruce are fine (no offense to you Elinors and Bruces out there), or you could have a more descriptive name like Mr. Critical or Ms. Prim. A name can make it easier to access and work with this particular part of you.

Now that you have an image and a name, you can use them to communicate with your gremlins. WARNING: Do not try to argue with your gremlin. When you argue with a gremlin, you always lose. Gremlins are wildly creative and endlessly energetic. They often present themselves as quite reasonable and helpful—but they are not. Their one focus is to keep you right where you are. Gremlins see the status quo, even when it is painful and dysfunctional, as preferable to any kind of change. Whatever argument you make, they will have a response.

If you respond to the above gremlin voice about your lack of will power by citing an example of a time when you did something that required will power, your gremlin will remind you that it only lasted for a few weeks, then you fell back into your old habits. Gremlins are incredibly inventive and wondrously persistent.

Rather than argue reasonably with a gremlin, you can play with the image you have created. (Remember, you’re the one who made it up in the first place.) You can shrink the size of the gremlin down to someone who fits in the palm of your hand. You can give your gremlin a funny voice. You can imagine putting your gremlin in a glass jar with a tight lid where you can’t hear their bad advice. You can also give your gremlin another task to do. They seem to really like being busy. Perhaps they can go give advice to some politician you don’t like. Perhaps they can take a trip to the other side of the world, or they can go down to the basement to begin the clean-up project you haven’t gotten to. Be creative.

(to be continued tomorrow)

 Personal Practice – Think of some action you’d like to take or change you’d like to make. For the sake of this exercise, make it a small one. What is keeping you from making that change or taking that step? Turn that barrier into a gremlin. What’s stopping you from exercising may be that you don’t think you have enough time. So change the voice to the second person (from ‘I don’t have enough time.’ to ‘You don’t have enough time.’) and then dream up an image for the being/part of you that is raising this objection. Give your gremlin a name. Take a moment to appreciate their persistence, creativity and belief in themselves. Do they have other reasons you can’t or shouldn’t do what you want? Listen to these too. Then remember what is important to you about taking this next step, deal with your gremlin in some creative way and then move ahead with your plan.

Gremlins (part 1)

One tool I learned through coaching is the image of the gremlin. The gremlin is a name for the critical voices we hear in our heads. The purpose of these voices is homeostasis—to keep us right where we are. Our gremlins don’t care whether or not we are happy or in the place we should be—they are the parts of us that only want everything to continue as it has always been.

While the gremlin voices can box us into small and fearful lives, stability and continuity are actually important aspects of a well-functioning human being. Though physicists and Buddhists tell us that everything is in motion—everything is in a constant state of flux—our psyches order the world into discreet objects with relative permanence in order to be able to function. We live in a world where everything is really a verb, but nouns are the useful fiction that help us get by. I wake up in the morning and shuffle downstairs to the kitchen and rely, without thinking, on the mugs being in the same cupboard they were yesterday and the familiar blue light that emanates from the hot water kettle that still rests in the same spot on the counter as it did last nigh.

The relative stability of my thoughts of my self and my internal map of the world around me is important, but the gremlins take this useful projection of constancy to the extreme. The gremlins want no change at all. They want you to stay exactly where you are. They don’t care whether your current situation or worldview is helpful or not, homeostasis is their only goal.

These gremlin voices that masquerade as helpful and reasonable actually come from an irrational fear of change. It’s impossible and unhelpful and no fun to try to stay exactly where we are. So learning to work with our gremlins is a useful skill in living a creative and purposeful life.

The first step is gremlin recognition. Here is a small list of familiar gremlin statements:

• You’re too old to begin that now.
• Who do you think you are?
• Don’t make a fool of yourself.
• What will other people think?
• You tried that before and it didn’t work.
• You shouldn’t reach so high.
• You should be content where you are.
• What if you can’t do it?

Whatever keeps you from taking action on things you care about is a gremlin. My first coach told me that his job was to keep my scared shitless in service of what I loved. Moving toward what we love is the joy and purpose of our lives. Playing it safe is ultimately exhausting and deadening. We are hard-wired for the adventure of following the deep unfolding of being human. We all long to live lives of meaning and purpose—to know what we are meant to do and to realize the hidden potential that is unique to each one of us.

So if you are hearing (or sensing or seeing or imagining) gremlins, it is a good sign. You are moving into new territory. You are stepping beyond the artificial limits you have made up for yourself. You are living a creative life. Doing new things, setting out on important journeys, living beyond old rules will always be accompanied by a certain amount of fear and self-doubt. This is not a problem, but it can be very helpful to realize how this necessary but sometimes often over-functioning process of self-regulation works.

(to be continued tomorrow)

Personal Practice – What are the critical voices that you contend with? See if you can begin to hear and identify some of your gremlin voices. They can be surprisingly subtle and hard to clearly recognize. Listen today in moments of discomfort and doubt. When do you criticize yourself? When do you hold back from taking risks in doing something new? What are the rules you have made up for yourself that may no longer serve you?

When you do encounter self-criticism – see if you can rephrase your inner dialogue to the second person. Instead of ‘I’m stupid and selfish.’ you could change it to ‘You’re stupid and selfish.’ See what difference it might make to, as we say in Zen, to create a little space between the brain and the skull.