“As human beings, not only do we seek resolution, but we also feel that we deserve resolution. However, not only do we not deserve resolution, we suffer from resolution. We don’t deserve resolution; we deserve something better than that. We deserve our birthright, which is the middle way, an open state of mind that can relax with paradox and ambiguity.”
― Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice For Difficult Times

Oh, Pema. I don’t know if I can “relax with” it, but I sure am grateful for your encouragement to try. Sometimes I feel like maybe I can just ride this choppy sea.

I can’t say how grateful I am for these lessons — to Pema, and to a few other humans, who held my hand during some very hard stuff. And to the ones who hold my hand these days. So grateful.

that time you stood
feet planted, unwavering
in the galeforce rage

feeling small
your heart aching
impotent
to please her
unable
to leave her
to self-destruct

Authenticity is everything. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.

I’ve been thinking about vulnerability, transparency, how to write about what I’m experiencing… whether to write about it…
I’ve been thinking about clarity, and compassion, and speaking from the heart. And listening from the heart. And, mostly, how much easier it is — for me, anyway — to do one or the other than it is to do both.

I keep re-discovering this cool thing: compassion for me and compassion for others depends on the same stuff. I don’t have compassion for myself or anybody else, unless I remember how much we humans have in common. We all share the same needs; we all reach for the same treasures. Whatever somebody says or does, I can understand it from a human perspective, often by asking myself “what would make a brother or sister choose this?” (Or, if I’m in a place where I’m thinking about good and bad, “what might make a good person choose this?”) And I can understand the things I do in this way as well.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes one person’s pain trumps everything else. It could be my own pain, where I start blaming other people, or someone else’s pain, in which case I might start blaming myself.

To avoid forgetting, I want to stay real and present with what’s happening. I want to say ouch when it hurts, instead of lashing out. I want to be open and vulnerable, risk hard conversations, listen and speak from my heart.

I wrote a post not too long ago about telling the truth. Tl;dr:

What I usually end up finding is what Marshall Rosenberg has called “a tragic expression of an unmet need.” That is, “you are a jerk” actually points to some pain I’m carrying. Like maybe “I’m scared when you say that, because I have this idea you don’t care about me, that I can’t trust you to help me, and I’ve really been hoping for help.” Or it might mean something else, but whatever it is will point to some very human longing for a treasure that isn’t controversial at all. Even the person I thought was a jerk can agree that it’s “the truth”.

Truth of this sort says I’m happy, or anxious, or lonely. It says I notice I’m longing for something very human. It notices my story of lacking this thing I’m longing for. It acknowledges that I’m asking for connection, for help.

The flipside of that truth-telling is truth-hearing. On a good day, I can listen to that same “you’re a jerk” coming toward me, and hear what’s underneath it. It’s not about whether there is a definition of “jerk” and I do or do not fit it. It’s about some pain inside a fellow human, pain that has something to do with the relationship between us. I can listen, ask questions, find out what’s alive inside this friend, and create a connection that can change everything.

As I place myself on the cushion tonight, it’s with a prayer. I ask the universe: May I stay open, true to my heart, and see each person as a fellow traveller. Let me be willing to feel pain, to let the tears flow, to listen to my heart. Let the time I take for self-compassion strengthen my ability to listen with love.

Let me see each of us as a spark of the divine fire.

There’s a reason I bring this up.

Lots of folks have asked about my apparent contradictions. I see myself as a spark of the divine fire, as completely good enough, exactly as I am. I invite others to live in that vision with me. I’m a spark of the divine fire, as are you. Sometimes I think that tends to be obvious to folks. That’s the me that wears “shameless” on my arm.

And then I also say that I have a deep self-loathing, right at my core. And I do. It hurts. I spent many years trying not to think about it. Pushing it away, covering it with addictions. I tried not to feel it. (Why so transparent? Because I think somebody else out there might have a similar pain. It might help someone to know they’re not alone.)

Folks get confused, sometimes, by the apparent contradiction. But I just got an idea about how to explain. :)

Two realities at once

Folks who’ve had hallucinations talk about experiencing the real stuff and the imaginary stuff at the same time. The same writer I linked to above says clearly that when she’s having an auditory hallucination, she hears both what’s really happening, and something else entirely.

This is exactly what it’s like. Exactly how it feels to have both self-loathing and self-love. It’s like I can see both layers.

These days, I rarely lose sight of the vision of me as good enough, as beautiful, as a spark of the divine fire. (Though I’m considering a real tattoo to help me remember.) I see that there’s room for me here on this earth, that I contribute, that it’s more than ok for me to exist.

The other vision, the one I won’t name, exists in juxtaposition. It fades, sometimes, till I can barely see it. Once in a while, though, I have to work pretty hard to remember which vision is the one I choose to see as real. I have to look past the hallucination.

Sometimes I see the dark vision clearly. But now, after years of work, I remember, even when I’m scared, that there’s an alternative. I see both at once.

huh.

I mentioned that I say all this because I figure there are other folks who share my habit — seeing themselves as “not-ok”. I want so much to help those folks join me in the alternative. Wonder if there’s a way? Wonder if this will help?

I am happy to listen to my shame, but I don’t accept its theories about who I am. I won’t live in the house shame built for me.

I have a different story. It says I’m a spark of the divine fire, a creator, a decider. I belong here, and my gifts are unique, and we’re all in this together.

How about you? What’s your story?

A genie comes and gives you a three by five card from the world of Harry Potter. You look at it when you’re waiting for your coffee, and it shows you short updates from five or six people. One is interesting to you, and the rest are not, and you stick the card back in your pocket, slightly more informed than before.

Later, you glance at it again. Different people, nothing interesting. put it back.

Then you look at it over lunch and you see a blog post that is *really* interesting, and helps you solve a problem. You also discover that somebody just got hired by somewhere, and you learn that your competitor has just signed a huge client in your town. Oh, and you read something that gives you a knot in your stomach, and you call your broker and sell some stock that’s been bugging you anyway, because you just know something is going down.

And wait. He’s playing golf with them? Does this mean there’s a deal brewing?

That afternoon, you find out about the Japan earthquake before it hits the news, and you find out because you read an update that says “This is really intense. The ground has been shaking for like 5 minutes!” and another that says “Oh, this looks bad,” both from Tokyo. You have friends just outside Tokyo. You worry, glad that you have a news stream in your pocket. You send them a quick message, and wait for a reply.

Lastly, you read a tweet from your own employee, at a client you’re particularly invested in / worried about, that indicates that things are really going extra-well. You check concern off your list, without having made time for an extra half-hour call, and knowing your info wasn’t filtered the way it sometimes is when you call and ask for a report, because you’re — you know — important.

Meanwhile, someone else is reading your stream. Because Twitter is designed to help folks connect just the people they find most interesting, they’re thinking how they appreciate the interesting stuff you share, and how you cheer them up sometimes when they need it, and you seem pretty smart. They’re thinking how it sure would be cool to work with you. They watch for job postings, or call you up to talk about a business problem, already feeling like they know and like and trust you.

We need other people to work, to create, to make money, to play. Twitter helps us connect with people.

Alas, it was out of season. No figs. “Damn you, tree!” he said. “You suck!” He kept walking, and the tree withered.

“Uh, Jesus? Dood. You just killed that tree.”

“Aw, shit,” Jesus said. He paused.

“Guys,” he said, “see, this is what exactly what I’ve been telling you. You are fucking *powerful*. Be careful what you do with it.”

I’ve been thinking about whether I’m congruent—that is, the same person on twitter that I am in 4D (“meatspace”). I know that I use more colorful language in person than I do in twitter. (I’m about 68% in the “it’s just a word” camp, and 29% in the “why scare people, though?” camp. And 3% in the camp that’s sadly sometimes too mad to care, in the moment.) Plus, with closest friends, I’m also kinda… bawdry.

But while I occasionally tweet sadness, I don’t typically tweet in moments when I’m … well, being an ass. And I don’t tweet the kind of things I’ll say in a room full of adults. I can’t tell if this means I’m phony, or just choosing not to burden a bunch of people with my craziness. No, actually, I do know. It’s that I don’t want to be spreading pain via twitter. That’s not why I’m here.

Twitter debates, ftl.

Sometimes I find myself in one by accident, but I don’t intentionally get into debates on twitter. There are a few reasons.

• It’s hard to understand nuances in 140 characters. Conversations can go in all sorts of directions over a single word, and miscommunication can be hard to correct.
• I’m here to help people experience joy, and twitter debates can easily create a lot of pain.
• Connection is more important to me than being right.

Doesn’t mean I don’t talk about things. Twitter helps me notice life’s richness, the gratitude I feel, the curiosity, even the sadness. So I let myself feel these things, and share them, and converse with other people.

So what, instead?

I’m thinking about this, partly because I’m tweeting a company account, and been thinking about what that means. I already know it means to show up as a real person and engage. But what do I want to talk about?

tl;dr;

Or, to cut to it, what would I want to retweet? I’m thinking

• events I or my friends are excited about
• interesting questions & discussions that contribute to a body of knowledge
• stuff that doesn’t depend on somebody being right and somebody else being wrong
• funny things that aren’t funny at someone’s expense
• stuff that strikes me as encouraging, but not preachy.

What’s your take on this? How transparent are you on Twitter? What kinds of tweets do you like reading?

When we talk about peacemaking and the ‘third way of Jesus,’ people inevitably ask bizarre situational questions like, ‘If someone broke into your house and was raping your grandmother, what would you do?’

The thing is, I don’t hear the Source of Love calling me to adopt a non-violent strategy for getting by in the world. The call I hear is way simpler, and, in some ways, harder. It’s a call to drop my agenda, to surrender, all the way, to love.

I don’t get to decide whether to get in an airplane and fire a missile intended to destroy people and property in Libya. I don’t get to decide whether to walk with my family to the town square in Benghazi to protest. I don’t get to decide what anybody else should do, only what I will do. And what I will do, when and as I can, is to love.

Sometimes, that love involves action, and sometimes it involves sitting with pain, tears streaming down my face. Sometimes it involves getting in the way of someone who would cause harm, and sometimes it involves not getting in the way. I’m never sure I have found the most loving path. But once each moment passes, I find myself in a new moment, with a new opportunity to love.

“If you want to build a ship,
don’t drum up people together
to collect wood and don’t
assign them tasks and work,
but rather teach them
to long for the endless immensity of the sea.”

— St. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry