Have you ever noticed that certain stories or story lines keep returning in your life? Sometimes these returns are developmental, e.g., as with the notion of karma and the integration of shadow elements we’ve discarded along the way. Sometimes these returns are intentional, e.g., the final stage of the heroic journey as we return ‘home’ with the gains from our passage. I see this all the time with clients who keep circling back through a series of stories—all revolving around a similar theme that slowly crystallizes and the heart of it becomes clear. It is from this clarity that the deepest sense of their calling becomes apparent . . . and they now know what must be done.

Finding our way

The goal as narrative-based coaches is to be patient and present enough to let clients’ stories flow, gently guiding them along the path as it emerges.

Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?
(Lao-Tzu)

In the busyness of our lives, it is so easy to overlook these often subtle rhythms and patterns. As part of my own discernment process these past few weeks, I’ve been slowing down to think about the purpose of money in my life. One outcome of this process led me to Frederick Marx, a documentary film maker most well-known for his role in Hoop Dreams. In doing so, I realized that I had lost touch with the importance of place, of home, of sanctuary to me. Is not that in some ways what the innate drive for “return” all about?

Making new choices

As a result, I’ve decided to make a serious donation to help him finish his next film about Zanskar, the last remaining Tibetan Buddhist society with a continuous lineage (dating back thousands of years). The story is about two monks who are instructed by the Dalai Lama to do everything in their power to insure that Zanskar’s culture, language, and religion survive. This is a movie about their journey back to Zanskar. You can read about the 17 paths here.

What stories are cycling back into your life these days, carrying with them messages for you? What “mud” needs to settle in your life settle so you can more clearly see the next right action on your journey?

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: WTL photos
I learned this morning that Michael White has passed away. Known to many of us in the story community as a co-founder of narrative therapy, he was a pioneer who paved the way for many of us who do this work. He brought a deep critical and social consciousness to our understanding of stories; he liberated both stories and storytelling so practitioners could work in creative and powerful ways with clients. His death seems particularly poignant for me right now as I launch my new narrative coaching programs and think more deeply about where and how I most want to invest my life energy. Perhaps his death will inspire me to play a bigger game.

Michael’s work was an important bridge for me in connecting three domains of my narrative study and practice that had long been separate: Jungian psychology/spirituality, cognitive development and learning, and social justice. On a personal level, I felt inspired by his work to be more courageous and confident in bringing together these domains in my narrative coaching work. I experienced him as a deep thinker, a complicated writer, a consummate practitioner, and a gifted teacher. He has left a legacy that will live on in the thousands of professionals who have been shaped by his work and the many contributions of narrative therapy to our language, perspectives and practices. Thank you, Michael.

“The evolution of the lives and relationships of persons is akin to the process of reauthoring, the process of persons entering into stories with their experience and their imagination, of taking these stories over and making them their own.” (1992)