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Tag: relationships

Being human

Recently I was rejected. I spent a lot of time crafting the perfect letter, re-writing and re-reading and editing the hell out of my argument to compose a convincing, logical, matter-of-fact and to the point submission. I sent in my proposal confidently. The rejection was prompt, and, of course, it stung.

I received a phone call several days later. “You have to explain why YOU want this,” the man instructed, “You have to say why YOU, not anyone else. They didn’t buy it.” I removed too much humanity from my writing, and the panel wasn’t pleased. They didn’t want perfect. They weren’t looking for politically or grammatically correct. They wanted the messy version: gritty, personal, detailed. They wanted human.

I submitted a second letter, this time writing for a friend. I wrote truthfully, about relationships and desire. I mentioned insecurities and inserted myself back onto the page. It worked.

Panels, bosses, review boards and government agencies — yes, they have a pulse, too. This is the place where we connect, where we can build bridges, where we can learn from each other and help ease our suffering.

Let’s not forget our where our commonalities lie. Our hearts beat the same.

On days you don’t feel like showing up

Nothing is right. You feel poorly. The deadline was missed. Your team isn’t pulling weight. The download is taking too long. He shouted as you walked out of the room. A dish was broken. You’re batting less than average. And now it’s raining.

What if you coaxed yourself into believing your “C performance” is OK? That sometimes, being there is enough. Maybe you’re not brilliant, but you’re here. You’re functioning. You’re committed. You’re owning your work: This is you, it’s yours, and you’re not going anywhere.

What if I told you this was OK? You are OK. Could you step into a gentle place of acceptance? Would you have more compassion for yourself and more importantly, the people around you?

On days you’re less than great, sometimes this is when it counts most.

Fear and places we connect

On Valentine’s Day, I gave roses to strangers in Nepal. It sounds beautiful, but it began as a terrifying experience. I couldn’t bring myself to hand the first rose to an adult, I was too petrified. “What will she think? What will I say? What if the gift isn’t appreciated?” Instead, I approached a ten-year-old sitting beside her grandmother. The smile on the little girl’s face and her accompanying enthusiasm gave me the courage I needed to continue. Almost three dozen roses were distributed throughout the day.

Brené Brown discusses this kind of fear in Krista Tippett’s podcast (On Being is one of my favorites). She labels moments of vulnerability and insecurity as opportunities, treasures that allow us to connect more deeply with others. When we open ourselves to uncertainty and encounter moments of fear, we step into the doorway of stronger relationships. So we do shy away from these moments of doubt?

It takes courage to connect, but the rewards are endless.

PS – Invitations will soon be sent for March’s dinner event in New York City. Make sure you’re on the list or send me a note if you’re interested in attending.

What if it felt like heli-skiing from your desk?

James Altucher recently interviewed Seth Godin on fear, anxiety and doing work that matters. They discuss the separation between the Do-ers and the Sitters, those who put themselves in the game and those who watch from the sidelines wishing they could play.

One of the main categorical differences is fear: the Do-ers don’t let it stop them. They find ways to circumnavigate their anxiety so that slowly, overtime, they can act and experience, learning tactics to manage stress along the way. The Sitters haven’t quite figured out how to conquer their fear. Paralyzed, they’re crippled by the weight of self-expectation and prediction.

Seth brings up an excellent point (41:25): no one learning to ski signs up for heli-skiing. First, they hit the bunny slopes, building up their skills before dropping down black diamonds and exploring out-of-bounds terrain. Some start climbing mountains. With adrenaline pulsing through their veins, they crave more — a greater rush, bigger accomplishments, challenge. Perhaps THEN they purchase a heli-tour to destinations they never before imagined navigating on skis.

Not everyone enjoys heli-skiing, or even skiing for that matter. We have different thresholds for anxiety and adrenaline. Your task is to find your edge, the line that seems scary to cross. The place you are most true to yourself, where your best and most meaningful work await. That moment you’re afraid. That’s when you have to sign yourself up.

Maybe you find that jumping-out-of-a-plane feeling writing silently at your desk. It might be ten minutes of scribbling in a private journal. A comment placed on a public forum. Emails sent to authors you admire. A site launch to publish your ideas.

We’re more forgiving to athletes than we are to ourselves.

A conversation can change your life

When life gets uncomfortable, it’s easy to run. We bury our noses in our phones when we’re bored or anxious. Waiting in line at the store, riding the train to work, even walking around town. A kind word can redirect a bad day, but we’re afraid to say hello.

It’s become too easy to hide. “I’m busy!” “I’m late!” “They don’t know me.”

We’re hiding from ourselves, too, short-changing not only our own potential but that of those around us. Social gatherings have become marred by superficial exchanges. Instead of investing in heart-to-heart exchange, rooms are worked and business cards are flippantly shared. Quantity of connections have trumped quality of conversations.

Relationships can be the spark we need to make big decisions. Stop hiding.

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-by Oriah