Clarifying Priorities

Clarifying Priorities

It takes hard times for many of us to clarify our priorities. When life is smooth and easy, we become complacent, bored, discontented. We get restless and little things crop up to irritate and annoy us.

But then we face a crisis or a tragedy and everything around us looks different. We are changed, from the inside out, and what mattered to us days or weeks before can suddenly shift and settle into a new form.

This has happened to me with my recent hospital stay and my slow recovery. I see now that I had a desperate need to slow down within myself; to learn how to rest and simply be instead of fretting about achieving. I had to practice allowing myself to be loved and cared for, not because I was proving that I deserved that affection, but just because it sprang from the depths of another’s soul. I had to remove myself from my own performance in order to see that I was loved even laying in a hospital bed with a tube in my throat, unable to talk or impress anyone.

clarifyingprioritiesGetting home and recovering, inch by painful inch, day after day, I understand now what it means to be patient. How healing it is to turn my life setting to low instead of high. How much I notice when I am resting instead of running. The details of life become sharp and crisp, instead of blurry and distant.

I am changed. I can finally see what’s important and what isn’t important. Proving, striving, yearning…all a waste of precious time and energy. Being present, grateful, authentic…these things have staying power. They sustain, enrich, nourish. I have gifts to give to myself and to others. I will not minimize these any longer. They matter. I matter. Those I love and cherish matter.

Pain is truly a marvellous teacher. None of us would throw up our hand to volunteer to struggle, to weep, to be shoehorned into surrender. But yet it gives us a chance to re-evaluate what we are doing with our time, energy and money. It offers us a unique window into our motives, our deepest fears, our unsatisfied yearnings. Our unexamined beliefs about who we are and what we are doing in this world.

Like spring cleaning, our souls need refreshing from time to time. Usually circumstances will create this opportunity for us, whether we like it or not. It could be surgery, or the loss of someone close to us, financial troubles, behavioural concerns or a host of other unforeseen situations. They offer us a mirror, into our truest selves, which we can choose to examine or ignore.

My priorities look radically different now. I’m grateful for this, even though I never would’ve chosen the path that brought me to this place. But we all must play the hand we are dealt. This internal work is for a lifetime, with endless journeys to undertake and truths to understand. I know who I am now, on a deeper level, and there are no shortcuts to arrive at this type of meaningful significance that has the power to shift an entire life to a new level.

What is Hard for You?

What is Hard for You?

We have a key jar (courtesy of our friends at Momastery) that we pull out at supper. In the key jar are a variety of open-ended questions designed to get us talking about more meaningful subjects. The kids love it and so do I (I’m pretty sure Jason tolerates it).

I’ve been thinking a lot about one of the recent questions Ava drew out and read: What is one thing that’s hard for you? A few of the answers around the table were “patience”, “being wrong” and “trying new things”. I said, “Watching people do stupid, mean or irresponsible things and not getting involved.”

Asking ourselves this question, “What is hard for you?” helps us get at our blind spots; those areas of weakness we paper over and pretend they aren’t there. Denial is a powerful force. It protects us from pain, but it also keeps us a prisoner of our own bullshit, making it impossible to move forward unless we summon enough courage to face it.

what is hard for youLetting air and light on our greatest areas of shame give us an invitation to grow. We begin to see where improvement is needed and this helps us outline what to work on in our daily lives. For me, I must practice letting go of any misguided notions of control. It’s egotistical for me to assume I know what’s best for someone else. I simply do not have that kind of reach, power or influence.

I must learn to stop obsessing or worrying about what other people are doing. It’s none of my business. If I am asked to help, I can decide at that point if I want to offer assistance. But if I am not asked (which is most of the time), I do not need to trouble myself with any swirling drama, chaos or fall-out from the life choices of other people.

It seems freeing to state it like that – a marvel of healthy boundaries. It’s not so clear-cut or easy to carry out in regular life. I get angry too fast over perceived injustices, frustrating parenting examples, a stranger’s rudeness in a store. Perhaps the only thing I can do is take a long, deep breath and clarify again that I am not the moral conscience of the universe.

As the recovery movement so succinctly declares: Let it begin with me. I must be the change I wish to see in the world. It’s obnoxious for me to tell other people what they are doing wrong, for after all, this is only my opinion and therefore highly subjective.

I rarely tell people how much they annoy me, which I can slot in the “win” column. But I lose too much of my energy, joy and peace thinking about situations that are not my direct responsibility. Bringing this up at dinner has clarified the need for me to put effort into this area.

Strengthening my boundaries is a worthwhile goal, so I can focus on my own priorities instead of worrying about messes and problems I had no hand in creating. Bringing these buried and dusty weaknesses to the light is a painful process, but it gives us a road map to follow when it comes to our own emotional health.

How about you? What is one thing that is hard for you?

Not Responsible for the Outcome

Not Responsible for the Outcome

Last week I had a profound epiphany. Not the kind that happens in the cold, clinical brain, but the one that settles gently with a thud in the centre of your being, where your experience dwells.

I was getting ready for bed, puttering around applying Flexitol on my heels to prevent cracking and putting Blistex on my lips, when this crystal clear phrase landed in my spirit: I am not responsible for the outcome. Instantly, these seven words loosened something that had been jammed up inside of me. I felt lighter, more whole, complete. I began to cry, equally grateful for the revelation and the fact that Jason was out of town so I could work through this on my own while crawling into bed.

All good epiphanies have a lot of significant moments leading up to them. Without these preparatory steps, the big paradigm shift wouldn’t carry as much weight. My breadcrumbs included this podcast from Rob Bell, this kind comment on my blog, this tweet from an author I respect, and this beautiful post by Glennon Doyle Melton.

Not responsible for the outcomeI’ve been struggling for a few weeks with a sense of purpose in my writing. I’ve been unmoored, adrift, afraid. This fog had nothing to do with the work itself, but everything to do with how others reacted (or didn’t react) to the product I put out into the world. I got mired in the familiar self-doubts, the ones that taunt, “You are wasting your time. Go do something better with your life. You’re never going to get anywhere with the type of writing you do. It has no meaning for anyone but you.”

Most of us face these soul-crushing thoughts from time to time. For me, it rips at a very old and weak scar in my psyche. I want to protect that wound at all costs because it didn’t heal properly and will throb like hell if I allow any air on it. This one goes way back to early childhood, filed in the YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH folder. It’s soaked in shame and regret. I don’t want to look at it and I sure don’t want to show it to anyone else.

But to heal it, I know that I have to face it. So Jason went out of town for a week and I used the time on my own to stare this beast down; to intentionally stop running from my fear of scarcity and instead list why I do what I do. I made a long list of my career priorities, then knocked out one after another until I could see the core. I brought my three priority words for 2016 back to the forefront of my life – strong, clear, optimistic – and made sure they fit with the writing, speaking, nurturing and innovating goals I identified as most important.

All of this led to the revelation that I am not responsible for the outcome. My job is to follow my curiosity, be true to myself and my vision for the work I’m doing, and then let go of it. I love it when Glennon says it’s not our job as writers to defend our art. We write because we have an innate need to create, but then we must let go of what happens to it out in the world.

For the new forms I’m experimenting with, particularly Literary Salons and my Nurture is Valuable project, I’ve done my part if I show up and do my best to connect people in a meaningful way. That’s it – that’s all I can do. The rest is not up to me. Knowing this is true in my very bones and marrow suddenly makes it fun and simple again. I feel refreshed, happy, ready to rock and roll.

I’m responsible to show up and do the work. Everyone else is responsible for the outcome.