A restorative force

A few weekends ago, my friend and coworker at the Handel Group, Jo Sawalha, introduced an interesting idea about how we subconsciously maintain the status quo in our lives.

I have noticed in my own life that often after a period of intense joy or accomplishment, anything worthy of Whitney Houston's "One moment in time" (pre-Bobby Brown) as a soundtrack, I usually have what can best be described as a slump day. A day when I get cranky, down-in-the-dumps, and overall blah.

For example, after leading my last two-day coaching workshop in New York, I spent the following Monday on the couch watching whatever Netflix Instant Viewing cared to throw at me. It would be one thing if this was my delicious reward for a weekend well spent: a day of blissful movie-going. But it wasn't. It was me feeling too blah to bother getting off the couch and doing something that would really make me happy. It was like I was treating the day as a sick day.

I thought that this pattern was just me being quirky. But then Jo mentioned that she experiences the same thing, and her comment was met with almost universal nods of agreement from my fellow coaches. Some of the coaches described how they would get sick, or moody, or pick fights with their spouses. Woah, I thought. It's not just me. How peculiar.

You could come up with many hypotheses for this trend. Maybe we over-exert ourselves, leaving us more prone to illness. Maybe we tap into some sort of energy reserve, and then need to recharge.

Jo had her own hypothesis. She cited work by David Hawkings (whose ideas she mostly disagrees with, by the way, because they state that people really can't grow and evolve to any great extent), that claims that each person lives at a certain "level" in their day-to-day life. That level can be thought of as an energy level, or a greatness level, or a happiness level. We go about our lives pretty much hanging out at a certain level and that level feels "normal" to us.

Then we do something great, and our level rises, maybe even by a lot. But this new level feels strange and unfamiliar to us, and so unconsciously we create an "equal and opposite force," to quote physics textbooks from time immemorial, to bring us back to our old level. A restorative force. Like laying on the couch watching Netflix. Ah, back to familiar ground.

This concept got me thinking, because it puts us in the driver's seat. What if that restorative force really is deliberate, and not some physical law of human-ness? What if my days of blah have really been me just wanting to return to familiar ground? This would mean that, after an amazing accomplishment or experience, I could stay at that new level if I so choose. Wild. What would it take to stay up there, to make that my new level? What would that shift be like?

It's funny how even as I write this, my first response is "that sounds exhausting." The voice of restoration is persistent, that's for sure. But what if I could bust past the belief that it has to be exhausting, and see what's on the other side? What if?

The signs are everywhere

I am convinced that there are no accidents or coincidences in this world. Everything has a purpose, a message, a meaning. Sometimes this message subtle, and sometimes it is glaringly obvious.

This weekend, the universe decided to skip subtle nuance, and go for blatant.

Something I have been working on is bringing my heart to the table. Loving people for exactly who they are, and when I sit beside them, really being with them. Not giving myself the right to recede in my head and start a running commentary on them. Just loving them, period.

It has taken focus and intent, but it's amazing what a difference it makes.

This weekend, I was on a morning run in North Salem, CT, and I ran across a bridge that I noticed had some graffiti on it. Now, for those of you who have never been to North Salem, this is the sort of town where purebred horses outnumber people, Whole Foods is considered pedestrian, and a full European Union of imported cars zoom past you on the streets. Graffiti in a town like this?

Attached is a picture of that graffiti. Ok, universe, I gotcha.

Talking back

Two posts ago, I introduced the concept of writing a purge. Rachel, a writer, was resisting finishing her novel because of fear of failure. So I had her purge the thoughts in her head about writing, to see how her fear manifests itself.

Today, I'm going to go into the purge in more detail. The idea behind the purge is this: as long as we keep something safely hidden inside our heads, away from the light of day, it can live as true for us. For example, I remember that I once thought my friend Lynn was upset at me. I would see her, and gather more evidence for the theory that she was cross: that she said "hi" and not "hi, how are you doing?", that she didn't tell me that her sister was in town, etc. I gathered a nice pile of evidence, and it lived as truth to me. Then I spoke to a mutual friend, Arthur, who seemed perplexed by my conclusions. When he asked me why I though Lynn was upset at me, and I spoke my list out loud, I realized that it didn't hold water. There were dozens of other explanations for each piece of evidence, and there was no jury on earth that was going to side with me on my conviction.

By getting the thoughts out of my head, I was able to see all of the holes in my reasoning.

This is why we do purges at the Handel Group, to see the bugaboos that live in our heads for what they really are. By writing down all of the thoughts in your head, as if you have a tiny microphone in there recording everything, you can hold your thoughts up to the light and see the holes. And then you can talk-back to the thoughts, just as Arthur talked back to my thoughts about Lynn.

To demonstrate, I would like to share with you an example from my client Leo. Leo is an established actor, and is looking to expand his craft to include screenwriting as well. He had a good idea for a script, had taken a screenwriting class, but he was resisting writing the script itself. Here is his purge:

"It’s a great idea but unfortunately that’s all it is: an idea. I lack the necessary writing skills to bring this project to reality. I can’t do dialogue at all. Writing a script would be way over my head. I should just stick to what I do best which is premises.

I just don’t have the kind of brain for plot twists and catchy dialogue. There are people out there for whom writing comes easy. The fact that it is hard for me is a sign that I should just leave it to the pros.

I don’t even know where to begin. The fact that I don’t know where to begin is a sign that I shouldn’t. Writers know where to begin. They have a technique to this stuff. I don’t have the base of knowledge necessary to undertake something this large. It would be a hot mess. It’s just better to devote that amount of time to something else.

Maybe I could do it, but I couldn’t do it well so I’d rather just not do it at all."

As long as these thoughts lived in his head, they were his truth. But once he put them on paper, the holes in his reasoning became apparent. Here is his talk-back:

"It’s a great idea but unfortunately that’s all it is: an idea. Of course it’s just an idea. All projects, large and small, start out as an idea in someone’s head. The difference is that they followed through on theirs.

I lack the necessary writing skills to bring this project to reality. How is it possible to know that when I haven’t even tried it yet?

I can’t do dialogue at all. Ridiculous. Being an actor gives me a well trained ear for not only scene structure but the rhythm of good dialogue.

Writing a script would be way over my head. I should just stick to what I do best which is premises. There’s no reason why this should be way over my head. People much less talented and qualified than me finish script all the time. It is entirely possible for me to do so.

I just don’t have the kind of brain for plot twists and catchy dialogue. There are people out there for whom writing comes easy. The fact that it is hard for me is a sign that I should just leave it to the pros. NOT TRUE. The vast majority of working writers speak of being lost for long periods of time on projects. My idea of an easy birthing process is a myth. It’s wishing to have the end result without the work, pure and simple.

I don’t even know where to begin. The fact that I don’t know where to begin is a sign that I shouldn’t. Writers know where to begin. They have a technique to this stuff. I know exactly where to begin. I could finish plotting my outline where I left off in class. My old class notes that I’ve kept would give me a huge leg up towards getting some work done, and the steps necessary to do that.

I don’t have the base of knowledge necessary to undertake something this large. It would be a hot mess. It’s just better to devote that amount of time to something else. Chicken! This is an excuse. I would love to work on a project like this and it’s a logical next step in my career. This is fear of failure. The truth is I have EXACTLY the base of knowledge necessary to complete a project like this. I’m an actor with an intrinsic instinct for structure, dialogue and building drama. All I have to do is channel this existing talent into this new project. It should be fairly simple actually.

Maybe I could do it, but I couldn’t do it well so I’d rather just not do it at all. Brat! “I won’t wanna!” I can do this. I know in my heart that I can not only do this well, but knock it out of the ballpark. The only thing that is stopping me is my fear. I don’t like playing games I’m not already the best at. But if I put my mind to it I could write a first draft of this script easily in my free time.

So you see, most of the thoughts in Leo's head were not entirely believable when he put them on paper. He was using those thoughts as an excuse to not take on the scary proposition of writing his script. With the excuses stripped away, he can move forward to work on his script, and gather some real data from the experience about what it's like to write a screenplay, how much he enjoys it, and what his ideal role in the movie production process is.

A formula for communication

I recently attended a great workshop, as part of my Salon 9 discussion group, on Nonviolent Communication (NVC). The workshop was led by Luigi Morelli, an NVC teacher and practitioner. The goal of NVC, as I understand it, is to teach people how to better understand their own needs and feelings, communicate those insights, and connect with the needs and feelings of the people around them.

Luigi outlined four aspects of compassionate human communication, which I would like to share with you right now. I have found them to be a valuable tool when communicating with people. As Luigi mentioned, none of these four is astonishingly new, but taken together they serve as a useful structure for organizing communication with others. In fact, one of the participants said that her biotech company gives new employees a small card with these four aspects printed on them, to be stored with their ID badge and consulted in times of need.

Part 1: Observation vs. Interpretation.
Let's say that your spouse made a joke about your dancing skills in front of her friends, and this hurt your feelings because, heck, it's taken you years to get up the courage to dance in public at all. In fixing this upset, the first thing to do is to explain your observations. "When you told your friends that I dance like the love child of a robot and a buffalo...". The key here is to avoid talking about your subjective interpretations: "When you were showing off in front of your friends at my expense...". You really have no idea what her intentions really were, so stick with the facts-- the more objective the better.


Part 2: Feelings vs. Judgments
Next, say how you felt during the event. "... I felt self-conscious, alone, and embarassed." You should not focus on judgments about the other person, such as "... you were being a cold, insensitive witch!" Beware of judgment statements that try to hide as feelings statements, like "... I felt that you were being a cold, insensitive witch!" Just because it has "I felt" in there does not mean that it's judgment-free.

Part 3: Needs vs. Strategies
Next, say what you need. It's a simple idea, but it's amazing how, in the heat of the moment, we sometimes focus entirely on the feeling of upset, and not on what we actually need to move forward. For example, "I need to feel supported when I express myself, no matter what that expression might look like." The antithesis of needs is strategy, or telling the other person what they should do: "you need to love me for who I am."

Part 4: Requests vs. Demands
This one is pretty self explanatory. A request gives the other person the choice to grant or refuse your request: "Would you be willing to refrain from making jokes about me in front of your friends?" A demand is an order, and strips the person of their right to an opinion. "You'd better stop joking about me in front of your friends."

So in summary, using the four elements of NVC, you move from:

"When you were showing off in front of your friends at my expense, you were being a cold, insensitive witch. You need to love me for who I am. You'd better stop joking about me in front of your friends."

to:

"When you told your friends that I dance like the love child of a robot and a buffalo, I felt self-conscious, alone, and embarassed. I need to feel supported when I express myself, no matter what that expression might look like. Would you be willing to refrain from making jokes about me in front of your friends?"

Formulaic, maybe, but ultimately a good communication tool. Try it out and see how it goes!

Image courtesy of http://www.webdesign.org