Spring Cleaning Reimagined

Before you think it for another second, this isn’t a Marie Kondo spin-off. The spring cleaning I invite you to imagine here is internal.  I think you know I believe in the power of story, and when framed properly, I believe we can use it to transform our lives for the better. If you’ve read what I’ve been writing lately, you also know eulogies have been on my mind. Eulogies contain stories. 

Now imagine writing your own eulogy. (Wait. Don’t stop reading). This is intended to lift you up. I’m a bit fixated on how contemplating our own eulogy can help us to live our best lives while we still have plenty of living to do.

Is it not a secret curiosity we’ve all considered at least once: “What will people say at my funeral?” 

Take it a step further and you might ask: “What would I want them to say?” 

And one step beyond that: “Am I living congruently so that who I want to be is who I actually am?”

One way for us to get clarity on who we are and whether we’re living congruently is to take a good look inside.

Looking inside means noticing where there’s clutter, noticing if you’ve let your cherished personal qualities gather dust and noticing the futility of worn out thinking. 

Most of us are trained to keep our wins on the quiet side, and I do think boasting and self-aggrandizement are boring. As is false humility. But taking time for ourselves to look at what we’ve done right and well, and how we’re not only enough but even special, will give each one of us a fresh, polished, long overdue spring shine. 

We don’t need to share our findings with others. The point of this spring cleaning is to do it for yourself. So you may relax in internal surroundings that bring you some peace, some direction, some fresh energy and some spark. (Hi, Marie).

I wrote my eulogy recently. I left a lot of blanks. Who knows where I’ll be, when and at what age when I depart. But what I could know and what I could hold tangible were the questions, and the sometimes surprising answers about what has mattered, who has mattered, where I did right and where my wrongs presented lessons. Also, what I still want to do and who I still want to become.

Do you see the potential value in this kind of seasonal self-assessment?

This is something all of us can do ourselves, at home, quietly, without telling a soul. When we do, we have to prepare for what we might find and understand nothing is off limits. 

When we do an internal spring cleaning, we might find hard old times, but you know what? We’ll also find some gems, some treasured long-forgotten memories, and we’ll even have opportunities to dust off dreams.

When you go there, and when you decide to discard the worn placeholders that you don’t like, don’t want and don’t need, you’ll create space for air to move through. You’ll discover energy will be reorganized in harmony with your truest, best self. And if you allow it, the result could be life-changing. 

Your health, professional goals, wealth, capacity to love and be loved, your mindset, your relationships with others and with yourself could all benefit. 

Will you do an internal spring cleaning? If you could have help or guidance doing it, would you?

I want you to shine.

Start Loving Yourself Today

I recently shared with you that in addition to opening doors and learning about the world and people around us, I also want to be intentional about opening my internal doors. 

Let me ask you, how often do you seek out your own internal doors? The ones inside you that reveal your inner knowing, your exquisite internal guidance system and your unique relationship with yourself?

Most people carry varying degrees of trauma inside their body, and many avoid opening those internal doors at all costs. But in my experience, if I want peace, I need to find those doors, explore what’s in there and try to understand why it’s hidden away. If you feel the same way, please check in with yourself, and if you need to do so with professional help, please gift yourself the ring of keys that are wholly unique to you. Those are keys to a form of freedom.

As humans, we tend to think well in the shower. Today something profound happened for me after I stepped out of the shower and as I began my mindless ritual of applying lotion to my body. Mindless, that is, until today. I have no idea how many days of my life I’ve done this very thing, but today I noticed something different.

Let me back up for a moment. Like so many of you, I’ve struggled with body image and sometimes even self-loathing. I love and honor others as they are, but I find it difficult to accept myself with the same love and compassion.  Do you know what I mean? I suspect you do. Lately I’ve been working on loving myself right here and right now. Not ‘when’ or ‘if’. Just as I am. Today. For myself and for the people in my life. But how? In addition to things like sunlight, exercise, nutritious foods and good sleep hygiene, I discovered one new way, and that is the simple aha I want to share with you today.

When we have a physical pain, such as a sore muscle, a tight calf, a sensitive skin issue, we apply touch as a means of healing. We massage the sore muscles, stretch them or apply some kind of ointment if there is a cut or scrape. Sore eyes? Headache? Stubbed toe? We comfort with touch.

But when I applied my lotion today just as I do every day, I realized I don’t apply lotion to the parts of my body that I have the most difficulty accepting. Wow. I know with certainty for me,  those parts are a physical representation of pain and a lack of self-acceptance.  

And what have I done all this time? I’ve neglected them, ignored them, denied them care and most of all, I’ve withheld love. I had no idea. Until now. Until I happened upon this door, then dared to open it, I was completely and totally unaware.

But I am aware now.

Do you deny aspects of yourself? Physically? Or maybe psychologically, do you wall off pieces of you and withhold love from yourself?  

Please, start loving yourself today.  It will change the whole world.

The Energy of the River

I’m addicted to taking walks along the Los Angeles River. They energize me. I see beauty even amidst the evidence of hard living for unhoused people who call this area home. Within my ambulatory addiction, I’ve realized the walks are giving me something else besides peace of mind at a time when I need it. Perspective.

There’s a disconnect between the words ‘Los Angeles River’ and the idea those words conjure in my imagination: Soil-rich banks, rapids, the roar of water, the scent of earth and a canopy of protective trees…nothing but nature.

Not this river. At least not this part of it. This section of the 51-mile Los Angeles River (which winds from its headwaters in the Santa Susana Mountains to Long Beach) is concrete, with right angles and equal parts graffiti and scars from its removal. Depending on the depth of the drought, there’s a trickling stream or a flood of muddy water.

I think about the fact that there are reasons why the river is this way (flood control among other reasons), and in the next breath I remember there are reasons you and I are the way we are. We’ve had experiences, events and decisions that have brought us to where we are today. You and I are sentient beings, though, and we hold the capacity to think and learn and feel. We can work to impact the flow of our own lives.  

I asked myself why I enjoy walking here, in the starkness of the city. There are a few reasons:

  • Proximity & relative privacy.

  • The sky can be astonishingly clear or heavy with mood. 

  • There’s no vehicle traffic. 

  • The path that parallels the water has markers every tenth of a mile to keep analog track of distance. 

  • Wide open spaces.

  • It’s not a mountain top or a cave, but the austerity helps me think.

  • Consultation. 

What The River Is Teaching Me About The In-Between

I consult the river for guidance. Some days, I see a river that keeps moving forward even when it’s just barely there. Occasionally, I see it as a force. Most often, it’s somewhere in-between.

I’m in-between right now too. Between jobs, careers, paths. Maybe you are too, or someone you love is. I learned that that in-between space, in the world of psychology, is called liminality. 

Dictionary.com defines this as a state of transition between one stage and the next, especially between major stages in one’s life or during a rite of passage. The concept of liminality was first developed and is used most often in the science of anthropology (the study of human origins, behavior, and culture). In a general sense, liminality is an in-between period, typically marked by uncertainty.

Even in the in-between, I’m grateful to have agency over my life and to have a relatively healthy body and mind. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can see the magnificent sky. I’m grateful that I can appreciate the stripped-down beauty of this space. I’m grateful for the innovative engineering minds who created these surroundings as a solution to a devastating problem. I’m grateful for beautification efforts.

This realization, though, caught me by surprise: I’m grateful for my ability to breathe into this liminality and appreciate it for the gift that it is. I’m facing what is and accepting it. Not as a sentence or an ending. Just, here. As it is. Now. An in-between space holds the notion of a past and a future, and it brings me solidly to the now. It reminds me that I’ve been in-between before, and it’s giving me occasion to re-examine what has brought me the most peace and energy and momentum in my past in-between spaces. The headline that encapsulates all of them is Action. Here they are. Maybe they’ll be of use to you.

• Exercising outside in nature

• Community

• Creative activity

• Novelty

• Nutritious food choices

• Good sleep

I notice the speed of the river. Some days I catch sight of a bubble and marvel when I discover we’re moving at the same speed, effortlessly ‘being’ in perfect time. Today, it’s moving faster than my three to four mile per hour pace.  As I watch the river experience its own ever-present liminality, I’m relaxing into my own. 

If you, like me, are here, remember to let nature be your guide. Everything is impermanent. Whether we are at mile 0 or mile 51, we’re all working our way to the open sea… and we’ll get there. In the meantime, I think it’s our job to find what energizes us and to embrace the waves of change until we find ourselves in a new kind of flow.

What Is Your TRT?

How would we live our lives differently if we were assigned a specific TRT? 

TRT in this case stands for Total Running Time. You get 6 years.  You get 99 years.  You get 65 years. 

We all know we have a TRT in this life. We just don’t know the specifics. We don’t get a cosmic download on Day One notifying us of how much time is remaining.

TV TRT

In my work as a non-fiction television producer and writer, when I’m assigned a story, I’m usually assigned an approximate TRT.  In other words, here’s the amount of broadcast time allotted to tell this story. As we arrange interviews and think about video elements we need to best tell the story, we’re also mindful of our TRT.  Knowing the TRT informs our choices, how much filming we do, how many voices we can hear from (interviews) and, often, how much depth the story will have. A short story told well will still have depth. It’s just more challenging. Remember the quote by Mark Twain? “I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.”

Back to TRT and this life: Using mini-documentary storytelling as a template, how can we live our lives with intentionality to maximize the stories we live while we’re here?

  • What are the essentials? What are the essential elements you want to make sure your life, short or long, includes? Family time? Nature immersion daily? Be a good friend? A good stranger? Achieve certain professional accomplishments? Have quiet time? Travel the world? Be of service? How do you want to show up in the world daily — with love, kindness, courage, character, compassion, patience, grit? Make a list and prioritize these daily.

  • What are the non-essentials? Make a list of the things you’d like to do and the person you’d like to be. These activities and traits are just one layer out from your core. You’d love to do these things and be these things and will get to them immediately, messily, scared. You’ll get yourself out there into the world because this life is yours. Your time is now.

  • What can be learned? In this story that is your life, what tension, what lessons, what  challenges do you want to confront? What hills do you want to climb? What pain will you walk toward in the name of growth? Who will you become in the process and why is that important to you? It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else.

  • How can you allow for surprise and magic? Plans are good and grounding and give us direction. But can you allow for the universe to add its magic? Can you dance when fantastical miracle dust rains down on you and also when it doesn’t?

  • Can you live your life as a call to action? What traits can you leave the people who interact with you in this life? What example of humanity can you be? What kind of inspiration? What nugget of insight or nuance of behavior can you live that leaves the world a little better, today, and for all of the tomorrows until your TRT is known?

As in television, I suspect most people will ask for more time. There’s more to tell. More to see. More to experience. Sometimes, we get more time. Sometimes, we don’t get the chance to ask for more time because our story is cut short or removed from the rundown altogether. 

Even when we are walking through uncertainty, let’s remember this too is part of our life story. Let’s make death a motivator to keep us moving toward living in alignment with our values.

There’s no script for life any more than there’s a known TRT. We’re figuring it all out as we go. We’re writing it with each choice, and we’re hoping it stays good. Can we live in such a way that we will feel our TRT was just right?

In the words of Hunter S. Thompson: “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”

When Goals, Grief and Gratitude Collide

Stories of marathon runners, triathletes and endurance athletes of all kinds fascinate me. Add extreme mountain climbers to the list too. I vanish when reading and watching stories like Touching the Void, The Alpinist and 14 Peaks: Nothing Is Impossible. I’m sucked right into the screen or page, and I disappear. Weird, though, because I don’t aspire to scale frozen mountains in wicked conditions like the icons of the extremes.  But, I’ve always wanted to do a marathon. 

(Insert needle scratch across vinyl transition to less exciting mind music). 

I was riding my elliptical machine one dark morning … when I had an idea flash through my mind. 

Even though I love exercise and will practice martial arts in some way for the rest of my life, my 2023 intention for exercise has seen a reframe: My focus is to move my energy and move my mood by moving my body. In this way, I’ve created space for new ideas to sprout where in the past they may have been crowded out by a feeling of lack, self-loathing and not-enoughness until a certain amount of minutes, miles or mountains were clocked. That sucks the enjoyment right out of the process for me. That approach was a tired old story, and it was time to change it. 

Presently I’m doing what I can with what I have because an ankle and achilles injury combined with similarly precarious knees means running a marathon right now doesn’t feel like the right move. But the flash I mentioned was this: I don’t have to accept that ‘I can’t do a marathon.’ Why not challenge myself to a marathon on the elliptical? Start there. It’s not sexy, but who cares?

I decided I would do it. It would be a solitary event. It would lack the sweaty, salty energy of the collective, the mass of humanity moving as one, the cheers, the music, the water stations and the cool outfits. But it would still be a formidable goal for me. Silently self-motivated.  Something to work toward. Who could I become in the process? How could a goal like this shape my future? 

I put podcasts in my ears and got to work: Ed Mylett, Rich Roll, Ologies, Mobituaries, Across the Dinerverse, Andrew Huberman. I put books in my ears: The Power of One More, The Wealthy Gardener,  The Mountain is You, How The Word Is Passed, Braiding Sweetgrass, Why Didn’t You Tell Me?, The Untethered Soul, More Than Enough, The Tools, Unreasonable Hospitality, Emotion by Design, Forest Bathing.

I read in an article by the Mental Health Commission of Canada that “goal setting is an expression of hope, and fostering optimism for the long term may help you get through some current challenges.” 

I had no idea. 

I already felt I had a lot to think about. My job of many years was ending, and as I looked out from the elliptical into the darkness of that pre-dawn morning, I was looking into the darkness of my imminent unknown professional future. My friend Alie taught me that her friend Cole taught her about anticipatory grief. I think I was experiencing that with respect to my imminent job loss, and I needed to do something with myself to feel it all. The marathon would be my anticipatory grief therapy, I guess. It would be my off-ramp from this career and my on-ramp to my future self.

Training and Mental Blocks

I found a marathon training schedule online and pretended the recommended running miles were meant for me on the elliptical. Week after week I logged more miles, and while it was easier on my body than running would have been, it was a physical challenge and a mental one too. Psychologically, moving in one place for so long, and yet not moving through space, was a peculiar kind of mental challenge. I picked a Marathon Day date. It was to be February 4, 2023— the day after my work would end.

On Christmas Day of 2022, I did my longest ‘run’ on the elliptical — 18 miles. Talking with people who have run marathons, I was told that if you can do 18, you can do 26.2 miles. 

On January 2, 2023, my resolve was shaken when our family’s hearts were shattered. We had a death in our family, and the loss of our loved one was sudden and devastating. I knew I should keep training, but it all derailed me. My mileage and focus faltered, and my tight adherence to the training schedule was broken. ‘Did it even matter now? What’s the point?’ 

After about a week of this thinking, I decided I needed to use my grief to continue rather than stopping short of my goal. I was so close. I needed to get to the finish line. Really, I needed to get to the starting line. Grief can be so paralyzing. With uncertainty around the timing of our loved one’s funeral, I knew if I was going to do the marathon, I’d need to move it up. (There are benefits to a marathon of one. The race day can change on a dime). I knew that I needed to do this marathon and meet this goal now more than ever. 

Setting a goal that’s out of our comfort zone does give us hope. It gives us structure. It reminds us we can still fight.  In fact, the act of goal-setting demands hope from us, and it requires discipline. And when we commit to it, the goal gives us safe harbor.  The discipline brings a kind of freedom. 

Marathon Day

On the morning of January 15, 2023, I went outside into the garage and started. If you know me, you know I love dates and markers and time stamps.  As I got on the elliptical, it occurred to me that 30 years to the day prior, on January 15, 1993, I waved goodbye to my family as I boarded a plane in ice cold Minnesota and flew to Hong Kong where I would live for the next six years. That was a flight into the unknown just as this was to be a ride into the unknown. Glennon Doyle’s voice floated through my mind: “We can do hard things.” We, because it’s always some kind of we. Not I. My family has been encouraging me on the road to this goal and every other goal I’ve ever held.

So on this date 30 years later, I felt even more reflective. I put a story in my ears to accompany me on my long garage ride. As I set out on my journey into the unknown, I listened to a book called Girl In Translation, by Jean Kwok. It is a story about another kind of journey into the unknown. About pain and grief and change and poverty and challenge and cultural differences and loss and determination and uncertainty and grit and friendship and triumph and overcoming and grace and the kindness of strangers.

I pushed play, and I let my body and the story take me away, step by step by step. Over the course of the next 26.2 miles, I traveled to Hong Kong and Brooklyn, through childhood and adolescence, through pain and grief and back again.  I smiled and waved when Eric served as my one in-person cheering section, water re-filler and snack deliverer. I crossed my invisible finish line in 4 hours and 10 minutes. I stepped off. It was done. This was not easy for me. I could barely walk for the next two days. But I did it. We did it.

Now What

I don’t study grief. I’m not an expert on it. But I’ve learned there are stories inside of grief. Stories of love and longing, stories of celebration and appreciation, stories of guilt and regret. No one can ever tell me story isn’t powerful. 

Similarly, no one can tell me that goals aren’t powerful. The goals we set or do not set… they write our stories and shape our futures. Goals can even help us through the toughest chapters of our life stories. 

I think stories are even more powerful than we give them credit for. Imagine if companies, organizations, teams and families could harness the power of each person’s story the way turbines harness the power of water. We could light up faces with love and light up the world in a whole new way. If only…

When goals, grief and gratitude collide, maybe we can transmute our pain into energy. Maybe we can lay a few more railroad tracks to our unknown futures. Maybe we can believe that we are capable and we are strong and that together we can rise.

Story and How it Creates Culture and Connection

Too many of us have listened to eulogies. In no instances do we ever hear this:

• When I spent time with S, I knew I’d need to have my walls up, fists too.

• S was cold and mean and unforgiving.

• S loved to make others feel irrelevant.

• S despised kindness of any form and endeavored to live a life that made others feel unseen.

• S thought only about S.

• S never tried to communicate with people who didn’t look and sound like S.

• S was proud of knowing not a grain of detail about anyone else’s life and family and was not about to waste energy in that effort.

No eulogies ever mention these ways of being in the world. Eulogies celebrate the human story. They share ways in which the departed connected to and meant something to the speaker.  In the example of S, these are clearly not celebrated human behaviors. Yet too many of us participate in, perpetuate and protect these ways of being in an organization, on a team or in life.  Why?

Because we lack trust. 

Because we’re scared. 

Because we don’t know ourselves.

It seems a little old school Cobra Kai. (Remember? Karate Kid? Strike first. No mercy). That way is not the way, my friend. The Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso version of Cobra Kai meets Miyagi-do will win in the end every time.

Be the brave one.

Be like water.

Find ways to see each other.

Find ways to be genuinely, kindly curious. 

In organizations and teams, it’s common to see an “About” tab or “Our Story” on a company’s website. Companies want to give the customer or consumer a sense of who they are, what they’re about, possibly where they came from and what they aim to achieve or provide. 

In turn the company aims to understand the customer, anticipate their needs and position themselves for a long lasting relationship. It’s an exchange.

Do you think that same level of attention happens in most organizations internally? Whereby the organizations give the same attention to their employees — to aim to understand them, to anticipate their needs and work toward building a long and lasting relationship? Some do, for sure. But I am genuinely asking, is it common?

What if the same weight was given to the power of story internally as externally? What if an exchange of values and experiences could be playfully incorporated into workplace cultures to make employees feel seen, heard and valued for a long time to come? 

Nothing brings clarity like story. Nothing brings understanding like story. Nothing sparks the imagination like story. You can see it in your mind’s eye— that flash of light that illuminates the eyes and face of someone rapt by a story, connecting to it, being dazzled and energized by it.  Nothing connects and brings a feeling of oneness to a group or organization like story. Story connects in relationship with others and in relationship with oneself. 

The Flipside of Story

But story has a flip side, and I wonder if you see it in your organization or on your team.  

On the flip side of story is: Gossip. Judgement. Conflict. Assumption. Misunderstanding. 

Rather than connecting, it divides.

While gossip gives the illusion of connecting, it’s coupled with a cloud of mistrust that creeps into that falsely delicious space and a subconscious crevice forms. Connection formed through gossip is built on a faulty foundation. It’s temporary. It’s unstable. 

To gossip is to weaponize story. 

As leaders of our families, our companies, our organizations and our personal lives, how can we foster an environment that encourages — in a healthy, constructive way — connecting through story?

Where would you begin? 

What creative ways can you dream up that would be unique to you and your situation?

I can offer one starting place:  Ask a question. Then listen like you love each other. And listen like you care.

One day, we will find that we do love, and we do care, in spite of ourselves.