Embodying Irony Sucks

OK - so I'm writing a book about fear and transformational learning. I know this stuff inside and out; in fact, I researched and wrote a dissertation on this stuff! Still, I'm sitting here staring at the page for chapter two about shadows in the classroom, and I'm almost paralyzed by fear.

Yes, the "fear expert" and "transformation specialist" is suffering from fear that she's not good enough, that she's bullshitting her way through this, and that she really doesn't have anything to say that anyone wants to hear. Stories and admonitions swirl through my consciousness that tell me I don't have enough experience, or the right kind of experience, or that what I'm writing about is useless to "real" educators.

The thing is - I know all that is wrong. I know that people get lit up just talking about this stuff with me and that icons of adult education have encouraged and praised this work as both necessary and worthy. I have taught people in classrooms, workshops, and retreats to overall positive reviews. I have been almost ordered to write this book by people I love and respect and I am, ultimately, the only one that can do it.

So - WTF?!

Well, I'll just write about not being able to write. That's the kind of weird thing writers do.

Part of this could be called laziness. Writing is hard! It doesn't appear that way to observation - indeed one person I allowed to witness how I write quipped, "It just looks like you're wandering around and staring off into space." Regardless of how many times I explain that the work is internal, that the vast majority of writing happens before anything gets on a page, people who don't call themselves writers just don't get it. And I'm tired of my own brain repeating this crap over and over - that I'm not really writing unless I'm putting words to a page (hence, this blog post to get that part of my brain to shut the hell up!).

Part of this is being isolated from others with whom I can talk about this topic in a way that will light up my thinking. While I know other folks get lit up when I talk about this in an introductory way, it has been a long time since grad school and talking with people who light me up. Being an expert (in the "I know more than those around me" way) in something is fine for the ego, but it sucks for really creative and dynamic work.

Part of it is being creatively "out of shape." It has been a very long time since I wrote in this way for this long. My writing muscles are sore and complaining about the sudden upsurge in activity. Perhaps this post is way to back off and keep going...

I still need to write this chapter and book. I can write whiny blogs, I can run errands, I can go back to bed, I can dink around on Facebook, but I still have to write this book!

Ultimately, I will write this book in whatever way it happens. This is my process. Yes, it's self-absorbed. Yes, it's weird. Yes, it's almost completely invisible to the naked eye. And, yes, I can create and deliver something of value as a result - regardless of how long it takes.

Even though I don't want to, and I'm scared, and the irony of the situation is so very painful.

The Taxman Cometh

I saw "The Iceman Cometh" some years ago at the Ashland Shakesperean Festival and was very unimpressed, to the point that I really don't remember the play at all except for the overall feeling of dread every time I hear the name.

I have been dreading 2009's tax judgment for a few months, ever since I committed financial heresy and cashed out all my retirement accounts to get out of consumer debt and get my money away from the Casino on Wall St.

In this moment (an hour or so have hearing the news), there are a few things going on with this:

1) My priorities have radically changed since my mid-twenties (when I opened the first account) and I resent being penalized for growing and changing, i.e., I no longer want to put off my life until I can afford to live it and the United Banks of America do not like that kind of thinking.

2) Somehow, through the squirrelly world of tax laws, I owe more taxes on money I didn't make last year. Huh? The accountant (yes, I employed a professional to navigate these treacherous shoals) rattled off some numbers the "proved" why I "made" way more money than I ever saw, but that did nothing to bring sense to the matter.

3) I knew this was coming and have semi-prepared for it; I still resent it and am too awful of a liar to try to get away with anything.

4) The money that I now owe my government is money that I got to work with last year to float me through bouts of unemployment, divorce (that's another thing: I'm penalized for being single), and multiple relocations. It's money they didn't get to have to do stupid stuff I don't like for one year. Good.

Now I'm all amped up and anxious about how I'm going to pay this huge amount given that I just got laid off and have no immediate prospects.

But, really, that's just an old game my head is playing.

I've lived through my own worst nightmare and thrived in the hereafter. I have resources and assets the government can't touch - friends, family, intelligence, health, creativity, ingenuity, and strength forged through some serious shit. I have savings that will see me through multiple months of no employment, and this kind of situation is exactly why I've been stashing money away!

So, yes, any one of my "untouchable" resources could go away tomorrow, but my ability to keep creating more, to continue to engage with others and life will not go away. Life is in flow...and ebb, like it feels right now. Still, my experience over the last four decades assures me that life, including my own, personal life, finds a way. This is far more important and vital than any amount of government script.

Dancing on the Edge

Sounds rather cliche and a bit crazy, doesn't it? Still, "dancing on the edge" is an appropriate and powerful metaphor for navigating fear and change.

Regardless of the style, tradition, or level of accomplishment, dancing is ultimately about balance and grace (yes, even popping has grace). Often we think of these aspects as evidencing in quiet and stillness, but that would be a rather tedious dance. Balance happens in dynamic movement, in strength and awareness of the web of influences one is playing upon and being played. The balance and grace of dance happens in passionate movement attained over time and practice - on the edge.

To dance at one's edge means to stretch a bit farther than is comfortable and known, to leap rather than step, to allow the music to sweep you away beyond your control. This is learning, this is change. Whether or not you can - I recommend that you do if at all possible - dance, learning about and how to dance can be a very powerful tool for activating the potency of change and fear.

Think about it - which is more scary: talking in front of a crowd (often cited as the number one fear) or dancing in front of a crowd? (I don't even think they surveyors asked about this one.) Accomplishing this feat, surfing this fear can bring you powerful insight into other challenges and fears. Engaging your body in emotional and psychological efforts means you are using more of your mind, which is definitely not limited to the capacity of your skull.

Bill Buxton, one of Microsoft's top innovators, advises: Always be bad at something that you are passionate about. So perhaps dancing doesn't tap that for you - fine - but find something that engages your whole body - yoga, kayaking, gardening - and brings you passion and an edge. It needs to be something which draws you a bit out of your comfort zone, something in which you could make mistakes and even - gasp! - fail. Experiencing, not just "knowing about," the emotional and psychological events of physical endeavor is how adults, and others, learn best.

We need to remain in awareness of the shared value of "dancing on the edge" as we embark on our adventures: balance and grace. Both are gained through strength and practice; both are illusive unless complemented by mistakes, falls, strains, fear, and passion.

Can we hear the kids?

You know that little sinking feeling one gets when the kids go quiet? You just know something is not right; they're either getting in trouble or hurt. When kids are healthy and engaged, we hear them; when we hear healthy, engaged kids it signals to us that things are "right."

Well, in the circles of community development, transition, and improvement I have not heard the kids.

One recent evening I attended the latest one of these circles of people talking...and talking...and talking about what to do to bring about vital, sustainable change for our communities. When my daughter (age 12yrs) asked, "What are we actually going to DO?" she was commended for her insight and then the adults proceeded to talk about how she was right that we had to do something. The one other person under 18yrs in attendance said nothing the entire time.

The day after the meeting, my daughter and I debriefed. We thought of ways kids could be included in this work, rather than just tolerated or added to what the adults are doing. We came up with ideas for creating "pods" for the kids during meetings: when the adults are theorizing, the kids could be working in another space to brainstorm what they can do, start networking with friends, create a website, plan an event to take the theory into practice. At one point, the pod would rejoin the adults and meld what they've been working on with what the kids have brought. I asked her if she thought it would be helpful to have one adult along in the pod to guide, not rule, the process (aware of the pitfalls of distraction). Her response: "No - trust the kids." She beautifully brought me into awareness of my own projection of my frustrations with adult meetings! I then asked her what kind of age range could be encompassed by our ideas of inclusion. She undercut my guess by three years; in her opinion, everyone over the age of five could and should be a participant in shaping a nourishing world.

Two days after that meeting, she had established a group of 20 people - including four adults - who are interested in working for sustainability, particularly in the area of consumerism as it is targeted at kids and teens. My proud-Mom buttons are pinging everywhere!

This is what our efforts need - the energy, creativity, perspective, and experience of our most vital resource! Our children need to be engaged with the work of building their inheritance. We all know stories of "spoiled rich kids" who have no clue as to how to manage the enterprises that have facilitated their lives. Well-meaning parents mistakenly "protect" them from the hardships of the work they've done to secure a particular incarnation of "the good life." How much more important it is for our children to know what it takes to guarantee clean water, air, and soil for everyone! What a waste of time, energy, and resources to constantly reinvent the wheel as young adults have to learn anew, reclaim what their parents and grandparents knew and did.

The sustainability of any movement or enterprise is predicated on legacy planning - who will do this work when you don't? How long will it take someone else to be in a position to replace you when you move on to something else? So often, the answers to these questions arrive in multiples; one trailblazer or hub is replaced by many.

Beyond technology and getting things done, our kids need to learn from us how to do it together over the long-haul. As with so much in life, sustainability isn't just what we do - but how we do it.

In a 21st Century world of collaborative leadership, we need to be listening for and to our kids. Their engagement will made all the difference.