As entrepreneurs, we have to stay agile and light on our feet. Periodically, we need to throw out the old view of ourselves and our companies, the way we always did it — and reinvent. Refining our brands is a constant imperative. And clutter blurs clarity. That means we have to let go of anything that drags us back to some old idea of ourselves or our companies.

It strikes me that this applies to life as well. I tend to devote at least part of Labor Day weekend to cleaning and purging all the clutter that has built up in my apartment while I was in vacation mode. My ingrained academic calendar tells me that September is time for new beginnings. The crisp autumn air holds possibilities for new beginnings, refreshing ongoing projects and moving forward. What stays? What goes? What serves me? The proper Bostonian Director of a Day Care Center I worked at for many years constantly reminded us to not “throw out the baby with the bahth water.” I will keep this in mid as I treat the baby that is my business to fresh water and maybe even a new tub.

Lyrics by Donovan

Deep Peace

 

 

 

Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace deep peace

Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you
Deep peace of the wandering wind to you
Deep peace of the flock of stars to you
Deep peace deep peace

Deep peace of the eastern wind to you
Deep peace of the westeren wind to you
Deep peace of the northern wind to you
Blue wind of the south to you
Pure red of the whirling flame to you
Pure white of the silver moon to you
Pure green of the emerald grass to you
Deep peace deep peace

From Cat Stevens:

Peace Train

Now I’ve been happy lately, thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun

Oh I’ve been smiling lately, dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be, some day it’s going to come

Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again

Now I’ve been smiling lately, thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun

Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller

Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on now peace train

Get your bags together, go bring your good friends too
Cause it’s getting nearer, it soon will be with you

Now come and join the living, it’s not so far from you
And it’s getting nearer, soon it will all be true

Now I’ve been crying lately, thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating, why can’t we live in bliss

Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again

 

You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition.  What you’ll discover will be wonderful.  What you’ll discover is yourself.

~Alan Alda

Waht will you discover?

This quote from George Bernard Shaw seems to be a companion to the oft-quoted Marianne Williamson’s My Deepest Fear:

This is the true joy in life – being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

Michael Hingson has been blind since birth. Roselle was his guide dog (she’s now retired) at the time. His mighty purpose that day was to guide everyone from his office safely out of the building. His lifelong mighty purpose, it seems to me, is to improve access to everything for the sightless, to educate the sighted, and to motivate us all.

I think of many other people I have met who live their purpose every day. My business coach, Terri Levine, is one of them. An acquaintance from college who has lived a life of service to others despite battling cancer since 1965. There are many others I could add to the list, and I’m sure you have a list of your own. The book and the quote both inspire me to think harder about my purpose and work harder to be thoroughly worn out – not stressed, not overworked, just knowing that I’m happy with what I was able to give – before I’m on the scrap heap.

What is your purpose? How relentless are you in pursuing that purpose?

The goal is to be fluid in life because flexible is too rigid.

What does it feel like to be fluid?

Have a wonderful weekend!!!

The goal is to be fluid in life because flexible is too rigid.

What does it feel like to be fluid?

This is a challenging time to allow the change, and the word “paralyze” is a good indication!

Right now, I am paralyzed with discomfort. It’s alright, because I have found that growth is usually commensurate with discomfort. I have not felt this much discomfort in a very very long time, hence I’m due for some leaps and bounds.

In the meantime, I will honor the discomfort by feeling it, as opposed to trying to make it go away (which only prolongs it, anyway), and wallow in sef pity for a while. For those of you who resist wallowing, you might not understand the benefits inherent in a good wallow.

Of course, the way that a wallow is beneficial is to combine it with traction, while understanding that the wallowing itself isn’t a means to growth. If the wallowing is wrapped in entitlement, you might stay there a very long time. If the wallowing is a tool to release and find a path to greater self understanding, there’s your traction.

I’m already knowing this is indeed a catalyst to a greater life experience. And I’ve only just begun to wallow. It’s going to be an interesting weekend!

The storm caused many of us to slow down – whether because we were engaged in hurricane preparation or stranded by transit shut-downs or without power – it didn’t matter – the pace changed. We slowed down. Some of us may have even relaxed, but some paced like caged animals. Slowing down doesn’t come naturally. Some of us may resent it.

After Irene, we had to clean up. For some people, that meant the hard process of trying to salvage something from the wreckage. For others it simply meant clearing the cobwebs and getting back to work.

Now, we are starting to move on. Flood waters are starting to recede. People are going back to work. People are starting to return to their homes and their lives.

It struck me that there’s a pattern here that’s worth adopting. It’s so easy to get caught up in our work and our lives that we no longer include time to slow down, space to reflect, room for rest.

One of my clients (who is also one of my coaches) and I both came to the realization this week – perhaps inspired by our Irene-induced slow down – that we had been operating more like hamsters in wheels than productive humans. We needed to slow down. And reflect – clear out some gunk, make some space, clean up.

Now it’s time to move on. Slowly. Deliberately. Without feeling the stress to do, do, do. Now it’s time for some be-ing.

I got thinking about my question of the week from yesterday, because examples of environment/body resonance conversations have been popping up more than usual lately.

We are, as a whole, as a society, as a medical community, as a scientific community, as a spiritual family, becoming very attuned to the connectedness of all life. Perhaps you’ve become aware of how your body reacts to certain emotional stimuli. Or that you experience wooziness before an electrical storm. Maybe you sense when someone close is in need. However it shows up, it’s interesting to note and tune in.

10 years ago, when I was a year into menstrual cessation, my younger daughter was lamenting that she, among all her peers, had not yet begun her menses. Her hope was that it would occur before her approaching 15th birthday.

A couple of months before her birthday, I had a period. Although it stunned me, as it had been at least 12 months since I needed to check the cabinet for tampons, my inner voice immediately shouted my daughter’s name. I knew, just knew, that she would soon begin. And within a couple days, she did, indeed.

I love this story for many reasons,  mainly because it is a palpable reminder to tune in. I have learned to regularly “feel” the resonances in my body, because they are usually not as overt as the prior example. But they are there, subtle, gently, beautiful reminders that we are, indeed, connected. To the earth, to the stars, to one another.

Pretty comforting, IMHO. ♥ ♥ ♥