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#122: Momentum requires caring, but recovery requires letting go

Learnings from momentum, failure, and recovery

I’ve been away from this space for a bit; I was trying to do something big and intense that I’ve been hesitant to even attempt. I finally faced my fears. I created a stable psychological base and leapt knowing I might fail. And fail I did. The speed of failure was unexpected and the loss has reverberated in unexpected ways. It has also been an unexpected teacher. The observations and learnings are still unfolding and, over the next few weeks, I’ll share a few that are top of mind. May these be helpful to others.

Here’s the first one: Momentum requires caring but recovery requires letting go.

I knew going in that there was a high likelihood of failure so my goal in trying wasn’t to succeed at all costs, it was to minimize regrets and squash future “what-ifs”. I thought I’d give it a shot and move on if I failed. But my path was littered with obstacles and I could only build momentum by admitting to myself that I cared about the outcome and that it wasn’t all nonchalant under the surface. Once I acknowledged this truth though, I became more attached to specific outcomes. I gave my best in the service of a vision but giving it my all melted my internal boundaries. I started dreaming just a bit more even as I tried to be even-keeled.

I looked back at my hard road and I looked ahead at the potentially positive outcome. I thought maybe everything was harder for me for a reason, maybe I was meant to enjoy the richer sweetness of delayed joy. I didn’t even realize I was weaving these ephemeral stories. Although these stories were fleeting, they left enough of a mark that I started becoming a wee bit more attached to outcome. Even when I knew I was facing failure, there was a part of me quietly looking for the silver lining: “maybe the sweet ending will come in a different way…if I just keep going.”

The reality is that I don’t know why I was nudged in this direction by my psyche or the powers that be. I know definitively that this experience has added to my personal history and given me a glimpse of a life experience I didn’t have, and in turn created another flow of empathy. A big personal realization is that the act of letting go needs to be absolute and without caveats.

Abhyasa (practice) and Vairagya (non-attachment), is a core principle of Yoga philosophy that helps me in letting go whenever I get stuck.

  • Abhyasa means having an attitude of persistent effort but it’s a specific flavor of effort; it requires a focus on mental stability and not the outcome. This stance doesn’t just appear out of the blue at our time of need, it’s an everyday practice. It’s recommended we practice this type of effort uninterruptedly for a long period time of time so it becomes a part of our operating philosophy.
  • Vairagya is about learning to let go of the many attachments, cravings, aversions, fears, and false identities that get layered on just by the act of living and engaging in the world. This non-attachment isn’t about abandoning things and not enjoying life, it’s about the relationships we create with everything around us. We attach value, create dogma, feel aversion based on our subjective interpretations and then spend inordinate effort craving or avoiding things and situations. Vairagya is a tool to cut through these erroneous perceptions and projections to reclaim mental and emotional stability.

Abhyasa and vairagya represent two essential aspects of a spiritual life that, when combined, liberate us from everyday injuries. These principles help us create a dynamic balance on the polarity of practicing and caring on one end, and letting go on the other.

Failure is never easy but it’s a pretty regular life-occurrence. Being able to move through loss without letting our sense of self and psyche get too dinged is a helpful skill. It makes us more capable of navigating loss, taking chances, and contributing in life without the fear of getting burned. 

“The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.”— Tara Brach, psychologist and meditation teacher

Photo credit:  thelittlelabs. Click image or here to view animation.

#120: Emptying the regret-filled suitcase

It’s almost one month into the new year. Personally, this is right about when I switch from the optimism and promise of planning-mode into the reality of review-mode. I realized last year that I resisted my weekly reviews because that’s when my judgy mind would shoot regret-arrows. Every missed item became a perceived failure.

I had become really good at shoving regrets into my mental suitcase, zipping them up under pressure, and storing them in mind’s attic. To be opened at another time when I felt better resourced. Intellectually I knew that reviews and adjustments are what make plans successful and that planning is iterative, but I still found myself avoiding review time. The regrets I had saved were stealing energy from the future. 

So before doing any planning this year, I opened that regret-filled suitcase and spent time reviewing the regrets themselves.

It sounded scarier to me than it actually was. The fabric of each regret was simply dreams and hopes. Innocent dreams and hopes, might I add. Although I really had to pay attention to parse out the ones that were actually mine. Some were in my suitcase because they seemed to be in everyone else’s. Some were mine to begin with but I had outgrown them and they no longer fit. Some I kept, in case I could fulfill them in the future. No dream was left unseen. I essentially emptied the attic.

Whatever dreams I kept, I hope to hold them very lightly. Because even if I fulfill them, they may happen in a different way altogether than I imagine.

I don’t want to make superficial plans that I hold on to like a control freak. I want to orient around deeper and consistent intentions that transcend annual plans. I want to keep clearing this extra mental weight as it builds up so I can enjoy the process of doing, learning, and reviewing. Of succeeding at some things and inevitably failing at others. When regrets start stealing energy from the future, it’s time to let them go.

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” — Marie Curie, physicist and chemist

Photo credit: Gio/Unsplash

#119: The leaking faucet, unlocked door, and boiling kettle

My bathroom faucet has two knobs, one for hot and another for cold. On a particularly busy day, I rushed out of the bathroom and didn’t turn off one of the knobs fully. I came back later to running water that was more than just a minor trickle. I was disappointed in the waste I had contributed to and surprised by my lack of attention.

Then another day, my husband (Tim) left our primary key fob hanging at the lock on our front door. His hands were full so he left the key in the lock intending to come right back out to grab it. Meanwhile, I locked the door from the inside. We realized what had transpired after a couple of hours. The key fob had all our keys: the house, garage, car and mailbox. This was a big deal because we’ve personally seen an uptick and consistency in petty crime since Covid—stolen mail, packages, garbage cans, and most recently a smashed car window.

This last example is the most recent. We were stepping out for a walk when I felt a nudge to go back inside the house and check the stove. I found one of the burners on at low flame. We had just wrapped up brunch and Tim meant to make a second round of coffee in our moka pot but reduced the flame when he got interrupted. It went unseen by both of us.

After these events I became hyper-aware of turning off faucets and burners after use, and ensuring keys weren’t left hanging on external-facing locks. I was very tuned-in to the potential of harm from each of these scenarios. I knew that countless other random things can happen and do, but the ones I fixated on and learned from were those that happened to me.

I see this tendency in all of us and even for the bigger things in life. I knew a person who had almost drowned in her teens and had been on a life-long journey to overcome her fear of water. Another friend had difficult experiences in foster care and hadn’t seen healthy examples of family life growing up, so she chose to not have kids. Yet another highly competent surgeon friend was publicly brutalized by her boss even during intense surgeries, so she’s working on making medicine more humane for patients and providers. I have repeatedly experienced unexpected and out of turn deaths. This created an outsized fear of losing my loved ones and a heightened awareness of our limited time on earth. My experiences have shaped how I value human relationships and the work I’m choosing to do moving forward by centering relationality in my vocation.

There are countless human experiences and we can’t have them all. We are designed to tune into and learn from our leaky faucets, our unlocked doors and our boiling kettles. Experience is the primary tool for learning and once we embrace our own painful experiences fully, they become gateways to see another more completely. Difficult experiences may not be life’s weapon against us, they might be its most potent growth, connection and empathy tool. 

“Tears water our growth.”— William Shakespeare, playwright and poet

#118: Let it flow

Guidance on imagination and creativity is often designed to help us unblock what’s already there within. We are nudged to trust ourselves, tune into our unique expression and—bit by bit—let go of the debilitating psychic poisons we’ve accumulated over time. These could be unkind words or harsh circumstances that left an imprint and now bottle us up when all we really want to do is flow more freely.

You might be thinking this doesn’t apply to you, but think again. I’ve had to bust some of my own creativity misconceptions over the last few months. Here are a few:

  • I’m not an artist so this doesn’t apply to me: Creativity and imagination aren’t just for people whose professional bios include the term “artist”. They are our resting state as living beings. Have breath = will create. Whatever we see out in the world, even the most analytical and left-brain activities are born out of someone’s imagination and creative action. It’s easier to apply ideas around creativity to Hollywood than it is to companies listed on S&P 500 but Tesla prototypes, Chat GPT and annual business plans involve countless people embracing possibility and their creative expression.
  • I don’t hold back, look at all the chances I’ve taken in life: I’ve taken some big detours and gone against the grain at pretty much every turn in life, but I still hold back in many ways. I notice it’s easier to hold back as I gain more life experience. Unlike plants and animals that can’t help but evolve into their next iteration, my intellect gets in the way of creating. It tries to protect me by nudging me to “please be quiet” or offering an even more insidious “not yet”. The mind very easily takes over the pure, joyful and messy acts of creation.
  • But…I create art so freely!: We live contextual lives. I may be very free playing with watercolors but when things really count, like in my work, do I really let it rip? I feel the need to have my act together before I allow creativity to shine through. I over-strategize at the expense of joy and flow. The grownup me thinks the childlike me is wasting time when it’s actually deep in problem-solving mode. The play we do in low-stakes spaces doesn’t always translate into behavior in high-stakes spaces. Bringing joy into serious, grownup workspaces is challenging work. Creativity wants us to be ok with messy first and fifth drafts, and the doodles in the margins they come with.
  • I don’t think I’m afraid of what others think, I like people: If joy unlocks creative expression, trust keeps it going. I may like people but creative blossoming needs a specific type of incubation. The work starts in the dark and ideally sees light progressively. We first share it with trusted others who understand us emotionally and the work practically. They share honest, generous and kind feedback with the sole objective of making the work more potent. Such combination and input is a gift, and an important part of the process because it fertilizes our vision and confidence. We then need to share the work more broadly. This is by far the scariest part of the process, because some of the broader audience will not be kind. But we have to share because nothing of consequence takes life without seeing light. As simple as that. We will get injured and when we do, we’ll have to find ways to recover quickly, otherwise we’ll circle back up to point #2 above and start holding back.

Creativity takes us to our existential core: What am I here to contribute? Will it be of any value? What if I totally butcher it…will they laugh at me, ignore me, hate me?

We can’t wish these questions away. They probably come up for everyone at some point. We can only do them away. Notice them and do, notice and do, notice and do and their self-protective hold weakens in time. Especially when we see that these doubts are choking all the joy inside. Let it flow and maybe then it’ll start gushing out.

“Everyone is born a genius, but the process of living de-geniuses them.”— Richard Buckminster Fuller: architect, systems theorist, inventor, philosopher, writer and futurist.

PS: Highly recommend the Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron for creative recovery.

#116: Choosing our axis and rotations

Rotation is the action of spinning on an axis or a center, and we often associate this movement with the planets. It is Earth’s habitual movement that gives us the experience of day and night. Living beings also seem to spin around an invisible central axis, which creates our visible rotations. Animals have recurrent migratory and homing patterns. Humans go back and forth to school, work, grocery stores, to spend time with loved ones, and to entertainment spots. All of us like kites connected to invisible threads anchored somewhere in our life.

The central axis around which any individual spins is determined by their biological needs—both physical and emotional—and these keep evolving as we develop. This invisible and ever-present axis manifests clearly in the combination of roles one inhabits: a student, a sibling, an entrepreneur, caregiver, athlete and so on. These roles in turn determine how we use our time: the places, people, and activities that fill our days. Just like for Earth, our axis (needs and roles) determines our rotations (time spent in habitual engagements).

But unlike Earth, our axis shifts in response to life changes, both big and relatively small: moves, babies, deaths, acute injuries, new friendships, or home repair projects. We take on new roles or drop old ones. Consequently, the makeup of our time shifts quite organically; where we spend it, with whom, and how alter without too much effort. A change in our needs and roles changes our lived footprint. A shift in axis, changes the rotation.

Axis and rotations are inseparable from living organisms. They create the observable footprint of our days and, over time, a life. We can intentionally choose them or they come into form on their own by the mere fact that we’re alive.

If we wish to change our life experience, a useful first step might be to note the axis around which our life is anchored. While it’s not always easy or desirable to shift our axis, we do it many times over a lifetime when we make big life moves. Rotations rarely venture far from the axis we’ve settled into. Even so, it’s easier to shift the structure of our rotations vs. our axis. We can choose the physical places and online spaces we spend free time in, the relationships and interests we cultivate, ideas and information we engage with, and our patterns of engagement and rest.

Most of us have more agency over our life and attention than we realize, and we must exercise it. When we don’t, we end up creating a life that looks nothing like the one we crave to live. Unlike our beloved Earth, we have the power to see our habitual patterns and make changes.

“We give no significance to human attention. Things open up and change only in response to attention. Otherwise old cycles repeat endlessly.”— Sadhguru, yogi, mystic and teacher