Saying Yes to a Plan

I am not a planner by nature.  The vast majority of the time I enjoy allowing my days to unfold hour by hour.  And, given that I live my life in the company of others, this often means that what unfolds requires me to attend to the details of plans that did not originate with me.  Learning to make a plan often feels like an exercise in being in someone else’s brain, one that carefully evaluates the possibilities ahead and makes rational, logical decisions about what needs to happen when.  Even more challenging is sticking to the agreed upon plan when something more compelling comes along. 

As it turns out, the structure of a plan ultimately serves me well.  It represents a first attempt at understanding the tasks ahead of me and how I might best accomplish them.  Each time I give myself permission to deviate from the plan in ways large or small I learn something important about the task itself and my own relationship to it.  I might see an easier or more satisfying path to take or I might understand more deeply the ways in which the chosen path stands in opposition to rather than in alignment with values I hold dear.  Choosing to stay with the initial plan brings its own set of lessons about trust and perseverance and obligation.  It may ask of me to let go of a fear I didn’t know I was holding or to hold tight to the vision of the future I most want to live. 

Lewis Carrol famously said, If you don’t know where you are going, any road will take you there.  I may not always be sure of my destination.  I may even actively resist knowing my destination from time to time.  Still, the process of imagining a desired destination and the first steps I could take to get there lifts my inner vision, bringing the life I want to live  into sharper focus day by day.  

Making Art

I’ve been drawing lately, trying to capture some of what I see around me in colored pencil.  Trying to understand moments of unscheduled time as opportunities to create.  Patches of color.  A square of my favorite rug.  The evergreens just beyond my window. It’s meditative work, requiring me to focus on the images emerging on the page even as I allow my hand to move in sync with the visuals floating through my mind.  Making art out of my life is a new experience for me, one of many new experiences this year of personal exploration and growth delivered to me day by day.  

One year ago I founded KIVUN Coaching.  I designed, ordered and shared out business cards.  I purchased a web domain.  I signed all the necessary papers to register and incorporate my new business in the State of New York.  I opened a business account at my local bank and paid my first bill with my KIVUN Coaching credit card.  I even launched a website full of my writings and photographs and conceptualizing of what it means to be a client of mine. And, and, I coached. Week by week, month by month, I witnessed amazing human beings recognize their own magnificence and power and agency.  I am humbled by the stories they shared with me along the way, deeply grateful for the trust they placed in me as those stories tumbled forth. 

Today I find it hard to imagine my life without this foundational work.  I walk through an expanded world each day, full of people whose voices and visions add depth and dimension to all I experience.  I see differently.  I listen differently.  I respond differently.  I travel in directions no longer hidden from me, along paths that welcome me in with a wink and a nod as if to say, “You made it! Welcome to the life only you can live.”  And I draw.  At the drop of a hat, I draw.  Who knew??

Some Days

Some days feel much heavier than others.  The air, the light, the sound of another voice, the news, the weather, the look on someone’s face all seem to conspire to add weight to the flow of the day.  And what always amazes me is how quickly it begins to feel as if that heaviness will never lift again.  

When I find myself in that place, the surest way to lift me up and out is to offer my help to another person.   It could be calling the friend I’ve been meaning to check in on or making a donation to a cause I support.  It could be looking every person I meet directly in the eyes as I speak to them, letting them know that they matter to me.  Each action I take on behalf of another lightens the load I imagine myself carrying so that I can stand a bit straighter, smile a bit wider.  

As a coach, I challenge my clients to try out actions that add meaning and value to their lives. We honor the complex of emotions they carry, taking the time to get to know them in rich detail.  And then we get ready to move forward, to test out what it would be like to respond differently to a familiar situation, and to notice what happens when you do. As a client, I know how profound it can be to feel yourself slipping into a well-worn rut and instead of falling in head first, to realize that just to the left of that rut sits a whole new set of footholds just waiting to be discovered. 

Some days require a full stop to get a handle on whatever presses down on me.  Some days require constant motion just to keep up.  All days carry within them the potential for both - the pause to learn AND the action to move forward.  These days being a client is my pause and coaching is the action that lightens my days.  What pause… and then action will you choose to live out today? 

Walk with Me

Certain moments take your breath away. A friend capturing the essence of grief in words and images that stop your heart. A mother describing the confusion of supporting one daughter about to give birth and another desperate to conceive. A husband describing the agony of moving forward a little bit every day in the wake of his son’s death while his wife remains immobilized by sorrow. A child intensely curious about the world yet overwhelmed by a moment of new insight.

I used to hold such moments at arm’s length. I would listen, but I would want to set aside the pain of them, the truth of them as soon as possible, skimming the surface of emotion to arrive at the comfort (for me) of reason and perspective and justification. But lately, I find myself leaning in, opening to the words each person needs to speak. I wait with them, present with them, until the energy shifts and they can breathe again.

I used to think that becoming a coach represented a new direction for my professional life. And it does. But that is only the beginning of my story. Client by client, session by session, I witness profound transformation appearing in small flashes at first and then billowing up and through until there is no going back. Working with my own coach, this process means a new way of walking in the world, a new way of engaging with the people I encounter as if truly seeing them for the first time. It means hearing the stories they need to tell in order to discover the lives they want to live.

And so today, I find myself awash in gratitude for each opportunity to journey for a while with another human being.

When you are ready, come join me. I can’t wait for you to take my breath away.

The Smallest of Changes

Last week I started physical therapy. My elbow, my shoulder, my neck - each one tight, restricted, compromised. For several months, I tolerated the discomfort. I kept doing what I always did thinking the pain would magically resolve. Then I started avoiding the things that caused the most pain. I told myself I could still do yoga, just not that particular pose in that particular way. Week after week, month after month, I found myself accepting these new restrictions to my movement as if they were just the new normal, part of getting older. And then the weather started to warm. My daughter wanted to throw around a softball or a Frisbee or a lacrosse ball. The garden needed attention. There were rooms in the house ready to be cleaned out. But all those activities were now filled with the potential for pain. My elbow and shoulder and neck were no better months later than when the aching began. In deciding to tolerate them rather than address them head on, I diminished my strength, my ability to engage in experiences that bring me joy.

As a coach, I work with my clients to uncover what they are tolerating in their lives. In what ways have they chosen to lead a life of compromise rather than full expression? What choices could they make today, right now that would begin to lift those self-imposed restrictions? How can they turn each moment into an opportunity to respond differently to a familiar situation? And how can that new response represent the best part of themselves?

My physical therapist checks in with me moment to moment. What are you feeling now? Where is the discomfort? It requires me to tune into my body and to give an honest answer about what I am experiencing. No more tolerating the pain. I give the therapist the information he needs to uncover the source of the ache and then to ease it. The smallest of changes provides relief and a sense of forward motion. I can see myself playing Frisbee again without fearing the pain. I can see the smile on my daughter’s face when I say yes to having a catch on a beautiful spring day. And it is clear to me that this new awareness of what hurts followed by a shift in response will return me to a fully lived life.

As a coach, I provide support at a moment of transition when you are ready for change. I hold the space for you to try new responses to your experience of the world, in safety and acceptance. I see you stepping into the life you truly want to live moment by moment, adjustment by adjustment, small change by small change until you can travel your path in strength and majesty.

And the work begins with a question…..What are you tolerating in your life right now?

Saying Yes

Hiking up the rim of a glacier half way through your fiftieth year can take your breath away, literally. So can the view that greets you when you join your fifteen year old son and your seventeen year old nephew at the top. It would have been so easy to say no, to listen to all the reasons that I shouldn’t step out of my skis, hoist them over my shoulder and start to climb. So easy to say, you two go ahead, I’ll meet you at the bottom. You can tell me all about it. That climb, that challenge, that risk - that’s not me anymore. Except it was me. All of it. That possibility, that adventure, that unknown but about to be revealed moment. So, I said yes, let’s go. See you up there. It may take me a while longer, but I’ll get there. And I did. Huffing and puffing and laughing at how much slower my climb was than theirs and filled, filled to bursting with gratitude for the stunning sight that greeted all of us. Saying yes to who we truly want to be takes courage. It requires saying no to feeling small, powerless, and unworthy. Saying yes to the life we really want to live takes grit and steely resolve and a healthy sense of humor. The view at the top makes it all worth the effort. I promise.