photo credit: Aidan M. Grey

I was away last weekend in the mountains of New Mexico for a New Warriors Weekend sponsored by the ManKind Project. It truly was a transformative experience for me both personally and professionally. I would highly recommend it to any man who wants to honestly engage his deeper masculinity and his submerged shadows in order to take both his life and his service to a higher level. The world needs us to be more awake and alive. I was privileged to be a man among men who are committed to that journey.

Where are you holding on?

The thought for today’s post came while I was holding a pine cone while out on a brief walk as part of the experience. I flashed back to a time when I was holding a similar pine cone. I was standing on the western coast of Italy in 1999 overlooking the ocean near the town of Portofino. I had received news the night before that my father had died back in California. I had been led by Spirit to find this spot in order to say good-bye to my dear father since I would not make it back there for a few days. I arrived there just as the sun was setting and in a place that reminded me of the coast of northern California where we had grown up. I’ve held on to that pine cone, both literally and figuratively, as a link to my dad and a memory of that place ever since then.

Where can you now let go?

While I’ve always held the pine cone as a symbol of new life, its meaning shifted for me in the context of the recent weekend. Standing in the high desert mountains, I came to realize that the pine cone’s true purpose is to “die” and fall to the ground so that new trees can be born. It was no longer of service to my father or myself to act as a guardian of the sacred cone. Rather, my choice now is to release it so that its mission can be accomplished. As part of this process, I released another huge layer of my own illusions of immortality in order to turn more of my attention to the “trees” I want to leave behind.

Pine cones need to fall to the ground. In honoring this truth, I was able to leave the weekend much lighter and committed to doing the work that needs to be done. I invite you to identify the “pine cones” you carry for others — and the stories you keep telling yourself in order to keep them in place. Let me fall to the ground so they can fulfill their purpose in the world and you can more passionately and completely fulfill yours. Nothing grows from seeds you hold.

David

photo credit: sbblackley

The title for today’s post honors the recent death of Richard Wright, founding member of the legendary rock band Pink Floyd. In my work with clients, we often focus on creating the ‘container’ in which they can feel safe enough to openly and honestly engage in the stories they’ve long told themselves. It is from this place that they can be courageous enough to explore what else is possible. It is as if they are asked to make new choices about whether they want to add the next ‘brick’ (a story about an experience) to an existing wall or to a new path (the larger narratives we tell and live).

Are you a security guard or a seeker?

One is about security and one is about seeking. While both are important at the right time in coaching and in life, the former is often informed by our fears while the latter is generally informed by our hopes. As Ira Chernus recently wrote, “Whenever people shelter behind walls for protection, they reinforce the fears that sent them behind those walls in the first place.” While the recent economic events in the U.S. have caused many people, myself included, to pay a new kind of attention to issues of real security, I can’t help but see a need to retain our commitment to seek new paths from this place we are in.

Which story are you going to reinforce?

Narrative coaches help their clients to increase their ability to notice the “brick” in their hand and be mindful and courageous about the chocies they make in the moment as to which story they are going to reinforce. This image fits well with what we know neurologically in terms of how habits are formed through the reinforcement of certain neural constellations.

There are certainly times when we all need a healthy and reassuring dose of stability and security, particularly in times of duress and change. However, there is a great need in these times of extraordinary flux to equip clients to fully step onto the pathes in front of them—even those that are not fully formed yet.

Where are you putting your “bricks” today as you think about your most significant experiences and contacts? Are you adding to the walls around yourself and/or others — or are you using them to extend the paths toward what is possible?

photo credit: Wolfgang Staudt
High thunderhead clouds were blowing in from the north as they often do in the New Mexico afternoon. As I set out for a hike, I could see lightning and rain in the distance, but hoped it would pass over before I got into the high country. Making my way up the second canyon I came across a father and two young sons who were white as ghosts and laying in a small arroyo. As we began to talk, it began to rain; we huddled under a piñon tree. It turned out they had been on top of the mesa when the storm hit. One bolt of lightning had struck so close to them that the force of the wind had knocked down the youngest boy. Needless to say, they got down off the mesa in a hurry. Now they were under a tree, petrified to move any further until the lightning and thunder stopped.

The father asked me to reassure his sons that they were safe now. Drawing on my experience in the wilderness and speaking in my most authoritative and calming voice, I told them it was so. They listened with rapt attention, but it still took twenty minutes before they truly believed it was OK to head back to their car. The storm passed and we each headed our separate ways. When I got back from the top of the mesa, I came across the father and sons who had since reconnected with the mother. The boys came running up to me, excited to ask about my hike. They recounted the story to their mother again about what they had been through and how I had helped get them down the mountain.

As I puzzled at their level of admiration for my simple Good Samaritan gesture, the father told me the rest of the story. When I had come across them, the father had been trying to reassure his sons, but he had been unsuccessful. Not feeling safe yet, the boys had asked their dad if they could pray for God to save them. They weren’t much of a religious family, but he told them it certainly couldn’t hurt. So they had prayed out loud to God for a guardian angel to come and rescue them.

Serendipitously, I had come around the corner about thirty seconds after they had said “amen”. To me, I was just out on a walk. To his boys, I was an angel sent directly from God in answer to their pleas for help.

As Seth Godin pointed out, every one of your interactions can become an anecdote that lives on for years. We often look for the perfect story or the perfect opportunity, yet many of our most significant moments in coaching come when we least expect them. Even if I had not met up with the family again, their story about the angel on the mesa would have lived on in them for years to come.

What anecdotes are you cultivating today as you interact with your clients, your peers, your family or even that homeless man you passed on the street?