If you look into this cut tree, you can see spirals. The circles of this tree’s life, from beginning to end. Some show hard years with little growth, others prosperous and rich. This stump is a good metaphor for my life and some of the lessons I learned last weekend.
I attended (and helped coordinate) an inspiring workshop on Designing a Life with Lauralee Alben. Getting to the workshop was stressful. The preparation work involved, from shopping to copying, left me depleted. The process of the week caused me to fall in to old patterns I strive to stay away from: skipping exercise, sleeping too little, worrying, and rush rush rushing (remember what my New Year’s Resolutions were?).
But, as it would turn out, this was precisely the lesson I needed at the exact right moment. The main lesson I walked away with is that I don’t have to do everything and that I’m not holding the world alone on my shoulders. I choose to make myself a martyr. If I had not been so exhausted, I might not have heard this lesson.
Coming off this weekend I felt a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders and experienced the feeling of lightness, almost joy. On Friday, all I felt was a heavy pile of work to do and no way to get out from under it. I had come so far in 48 hours.
This week, so far even more jam-packed than the last, has challenged the lessons I learned, but I breathe and try to remember that I can ask for help and that the world is a shared responsibility, not mine alone.
Lastly, I must share my life intention (as written this weekend): How can I inspire others to find self worth? The answer will develop over time.
Today was hard. It still is. Our sweet old tabby cat with the perfect ringed tail has enjoyed his last sunset. Although it’s his time and he’s led a charmed life I cannot remember a time I’ve cried so much. But these words, repurposed from a Dixie Chicks song, we’re one of the few things that helped:
Things can move at such a pace
The second hand just waved good-bye
You know the light has left his face
But you can’t recall just where or why…
Choices we are given
Are no choice at all…
But you must always know how long to stay
and when to go
And there ain’t no talkin’ to this man
He’s been tryin’ to tell me so
It took a while to understand
the beauty of just letting go
I’m gonna let him fly…
May you rest in the perfect sunny spot where there is always a hand to pet you and abundant wet food Barney Horton Miller-Scribner-Paulson-Haughey.
“Accept your quirks as your special gifts.”
This is just one of the quotes I retained from a moving presentation by Joel Meyerowitz at the MacWorld conference yesterday. A photographer whose career has been based primarily in street photography, he captures random moments unexpectedly revealed in front of him, as opposed to creating structured fallacies. This approach and his openness to life made a deep impression upon me.
It made me think about how much is contrived and the amount to which life should be as honest as possible. In my life and my work how can I be more truthful? I believe that as human beings, mostly what we seek is connection and meaning, and by bringing forth honesty, instead of contrived promises, won’t we all be happier and more enriched? Or do we want to live in a fantasy?
I’m not sure, but it’s an interesting thought for me, a marketer, a role that has the reputation of falsity. But if you know me, you know that’s not what I’m about. My intention is never to mislead, lie, confuse or falsify. The proof must be in the pudding. I would not do what I do unless I believed the magic ingredient was in fact there.
So as Mr. Meyerowitz discussed that “gut feeling” or “sweetspot” he innately feels when he snaps his camera, I too must follow my gut. If it is one of my quirks, I should accept it as a gift, and you should too.