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Archives for April 2021

#22: Community. Tribe. Cohort. Sangha.

(Our Sanghas, part 1)

The triad of teacher, teachings and community (or the three jewels of Buddhist philosophy―Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha) appear around us repeatedly. Look across faiths, team sports, businesses or even any serious hobbies. In any context that human beings are truly commited to growing or contributing, we’ll always find some sort of a teacher, a set of convictions and a community of practitioners.

Of course the teachers and teachings are invaluable but over time it’s the community that propels us forward. Our communities may go by different names but, when formed with intention, they serve the same fundamental purpose: to be a source of real and sustained strength and guidance as we navigate what we set out to do. Another case in point are Ivy League universities. Students pay a lot of money to go to say Harvard or Stanford and while the quality of professors and research truly makes a difference, the high-quality learning occurs because of interactions with an extremely-commited community. And it is this community that provides whatever type of eventual support or access our ongoing practice might need.

It’s the Sangha that helps us learn, grow, build and contribute. It’s in this Sangha that we lift each other up in times of hardship or doubt. If anything creates momentum in us, it’s the Sangha. It doesn’t have to be large but it has to be real, aligned and commited towards the same goals.

Lastly and perhaps most importantly―our tribes, cohorts and sanghas often influence and sometimes even determine our what and how in life; that is, what we seek and how we go about seeking it. With this outsized influence, doesn’t it make sense to be thoughtful in our “Sangha-selection process”?

“May you be brought into real passion, kindness,
And belonging.” ― John O’Donohue

#21: What is it for?

This is a question that Seth Godin, one of my influences, often asks to help professionals get to the core of the change they are trying to create. This simple question has the power to clarify, shake off excessive business input and open up to specific action. I have a recent non-business example:

I keep a bowl of miscellaneous Legos handy to corral my focus when the mind gets fidgety. So on this one afternoon, I thoughtlessly started creating a Lego structure to redirect my mind and very quickly realized that not only was my structure uninspired, it was outright hideous and pointless. My mind was elsewhere and, with my lack of intention, I ended up creating this black and grey blob of nothingness. Everything about it felt unappealing including the colors, shapes and purpose. There wasn’t an ounce of me that was interested in observing its details or making it better.

I dismantled it and decided to create something joyous for the second round; “perhaps a heart” I thought. Since I have a limited selection, I didn’t know how I was going to create this heart. I just knew I was going to do it with whatever was available. This intention made me dig in and look for the right pieces and explore shapes, colors and movement. I made a heart with valves that could move a bit and then I planted a little “flower flag”, because…why not! I had so much fun in the second round while exploring the pieces and connecting them in ways I hadn’t imagined in the first round. The colors and shapes felt appropriate. The heart looked a little bit like an upturned house so I took it to Tim (my husband), to see if he could decipher. He instantly said “I love you too”. So there—mission accomplished, heart joyous and mind corralled. The same pieces, the same me but the intention provided me a focus that completely shifted the outcome and the experience of creation.

Asking “what is it for” can help us answer a cascade of contextually important questions: why am I doing this, who is it for, why does this exist? It also helps in focusing the work, addressing uncertainty and inviting creative solutions.

“If you’re committing to the process, you’ll need to choose. Choose who it’s for and what it’s for. And the more different the person you serve is from you, the more empathy you’ll need to create the change you seek to make.” ― Seth Godin

#20: Recipe for trial and error when you give a shit

I’ve been working on a framing project for a piece of Indian art that’s precious to me. Sanjhi art is the traditional art of stenciling from Mathura, Krishna’s hometown. My piece is of a classical Indian dancer and cost less than ten dollars but it contains multitudes for me― the vibrancy and creative expressions of my culture, and a connection to my brother whom I bought it with. I had a vision to mount it on a piece of wood with gold blazing through the stenciled dancing woman. I bought rosewood, gold foil, varnishes, and glues to experiment with. Every step demanded problem solving in ways that were new to me.

At a key step in the process, when the foil reacted differently to the varnish on the rosewood than it had during test runs, I started feeling the stress of imminent failure and thoughts of having irreversibly butchered the piece started taking hold. Then another thought glimmer shone through to break this pattern: “So what!!?? Isn’t this a part that I’m ok with messing up? I can always get more foil or another piece of wood.” This seemingly minor shift in perspective made it so that I could keep trying.

It’s hard to swallow errors when we really care about the outcome. We may look at the whole project as if it’s precious but often only some parts truly are. Seeing this way we may notice that we’re extrapolating from the precious core and letting it color the whole, potentially stymying our ability to experiment and innovate. When faced with emotionally high stakes trial and error, we can isolate the less precious parts by asking “what’s the worst that can happen here” and if the answer isn’t that dire, we can keep ploughing through.

The piece didn’t turn out exactly as I had envisioned―the wood looks a bit darker and glossier, and she looks more translucent ―but it turned out pretty darn good. I wouldn’t have come even close if I let the idea of her preciousness inhibit my progress. I would still be tentatively tinkering on the sidelines, never fully jumping in or doing any real work. This helped me see that while my professional goals may feel massive and precious, the two things I truly care about are: the impact my work has on my customers and the culture of the organization; the rest isn’t as precious.

“Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions.” ― Elizabeth King, American sculptor and writer

#19: Community under our noses, part 3

About 20 minutes after my encounter with Rigdzin, I found myself peering into a storefront named Greenwood Pencil Box. It’s a place that fuels courage and creative expression in youth through two complementary organizations that share this space: The Beaureu of Fearless Ideas or BFI, and Sanctuary Art Center. I value these ideas and have an imaginative poster from BFI that I glance at when I need a dose of moxie.

So when I saw this space in the process of being reimagined, I couldn’t resist and literally had my nose to the window when Chris and Troy (from the above mentioned organizations respectively) opened the door after-hours to invite me in. We chatted briefly about their organizations and the impact they want to have in the community and, once again, I was touched by the kindness, integrity and care of my fellow humans. I felt thankful that such people existed in the world.

The more I’ve reflected since, the more I realize that these people exist everywhere. Not just in special corners of the globe where conditions for human flourishing are just right. They are peppered everywhere. Being a piece of the everyday divine. Bolstering others in as many ways as there are humans. I didn’t jump through hoops to find them; I just walked down my main street and stepped into their world, ready to engage and there they were.

I also realized that they are not peppered everywhere―we are peppered everywhere. You, me, everyone. We can step into the world, ready to engage.

“The simple act of showing up and connecting with another’s humanity can help a person rekindle hope in ways they might not otherwise have dreamed of doing.” ― Jacqueline Novogratz

#18: Community under our noses, part 2

I wanted a break. While much needed to be done, I felt tired from the mental lift of work. It was a sunny afternoon so I allowed myself a rare reprieve and left my desk a bit early to walk our neighborhood’s main street.

Because of my timing some daytime stores were still open, including one that sells Tibetan items. I had bought a humble-looking  but unbelievably resonant singing bowl at this spot years ago. None of the other ornate looking bowls I’ve encountered since come close to its vibrancy. This relationship with my bowl pulled me into Pema Kharpo where I heard the owner, Rigdzin, speaking with another visitor. Rigdzin sounded humble, vibrant, lighthearted and wise and I got pulled into the conversation towards the end of this dialogue. We exchanged our geographical past and I realized that he had lived all over India including New Delhi, my hometown, for ten years. I switched to Hindi for the rest of our conversation to feel the warmth of the first syllables I ever heard. He gave me a few items, prayed over me like I was family and sent me away with so much love and care that I felt an invisible thread bonding us. So here I am, unexpectedly absorbing practical wisdom from a man who appeared to be an everyday incarnation of the divine.

7,000 miles and 0.7 miles away from home and still right at home. Held, hugged and bolstered.

“The greatest gift we can give to others is our true presence” ― Thich Nhat Hanh