After my last post, ‘Coming Home’, I’ve been chewing on this question.

What can give us that deep sense of belonging, that sweet sense that we are connected to something far greater than ourselves?

I know why it matters, the way in which a deeper sense of meaning, purpose, and connection helps us sustain and deepen our leadership journeys.

What clues can I glean, from 10 days of wilderness solitude, that might helps others access connection every day?

August 6, 2009. Day 2.  Mid-morning finds me wending my way northward up a thin ribbon of river.   20 miles from the nearest road head, I am solo-paddling my way deep into Canada’s Quetico wilderness, a river and lake-filled land of lichen-laced  cliffs, graceful pines, spruce spires, eagles and loons.

Rounding a bend thick with water lilies, I cross paths with a group of 6 male paddlers as they lift their boats down over a three-foot beaver dam.    They look trail-rounded – that healthy way in which, well experienced, wilderness immersion softens the angular lines of a person, gentles the eyes, quiets the soul.

With the last boat comes the patriarch of the group.

He looks at me with some consternation…. not knowing what to make of me in my solo boat.  He tenses.  Finally he blurts out, “what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

At another point in my life, I might have been offended… This time though, I simply smile, and ask, “what you are doing out here with so much company????”

My obvious ease appears to reassure him.  So does my able ascent of the dam.   He relaxes, turns his attention, and travels on.

And I, in that moment, hearing my own honest answer, I know why I am out solo. Within hours, instead of days, I am “in”. I am fully alive.  My senses, immersed. My mind, quiet.   My emotions, smooth. 

With no paddling partner to synchronize strokes and chat with, my listening was to loons in the distance, the call of nesting eagles, the rustling of birch leaves. Touch was the breeze on my face, and my wooden paddle in my hands.

Until that interchange at the beaver dam, I was so “in the flow,” so immersed in direct experience of life, I was not even conscious of how deeply I had shifted.

I was Home.

I was a sensory being, soaking in all the magnificence in which I was immersed. I was. literally, in awe.

Here’s the kicker though.  You don’t have to travel far from home and hike or paddle deep into the wilderness to access this.

Try this….  Take a few-minute nature break.  Let connection happen.

For just a few moments, sever your human cords… i-phones, laptops, conversations, everything.

Put your body outside, and breathe. (I know its winter now… we had a key saying at Outward Bound that proved endlessly true: “there is no inclement weather, only inadequate clothing”, so if you need to bundle up, please do!)

For a moment, just breathe.  Now feel your feet under you.

One at a time, tune into your senses.

What do you hear?   What do you smell?  What can you feel on your skin?

As I do, in this moment, stopping mid-paragraph to step onto my back patio, I hear the last drips of last night’s rain, feel velvet-moist air on my cheeks, see rain droplets bejeweled on last summer’s crabapples, watch mist caressing hills across the lake.

(Yes, I’ve chosen gorgeous country to live in… but even in the city… nature makes her way… where can you find her??)

Now notice your body. I notice my body slowing down.  My keyboard quickness is replaced with a slower rhythm.  My breath drops.  My mind becomes still, as I simply take in the blue green of rocky mountain juniper, the burgundy of native kinnikinnick.

Find a place in your body that is softening, even just a little bit, relaxing, expanding towards the world around you.   This morning, I find it in my cheeks – that velvety air – and my chest – watching grace unfold in the movement of mist over mountains.

Now expand this feeling.  Let it deepen, let is travel through you.  Let yourself be fluid. (We mostly are!)

What do you notice about the way your “radar”  – what you are aware of – has changed? When we listen deeply outside, we cannot be racing at the same time.  Taking in what is out there, appreciating, savoring, immediately shifts who and what I am.

Let this feeling, this opening, settle deep within.

You can take it with you. Softer ribs, a more open heart, a more relaxed jaw, an easier smile, a calmer mind ….all of these are accessible.

You can do this every day.  No matter where you are. Direct connection comes through our senses and is accessible anytime, anywhere.

In our daily lives, we can fall into a grand illusion of control.  It goes something like this:  “If I just think fast enough, plan carefully enough, work hard enough, I will be able to dictate the flow of my life. “

When I lapse into this high control mode… and in my life, I’ve sometimes done that for years, not just minutes or hours… a part of me dies.

“…we die on the day when our lives cease to be illuminated by the steady radiance , renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.” Dag Hammarskjold , Diaries

When I am muscling for control, I miss being open to wonder.  I miss being open at all..and one day without nature connection… is one day too many… of being less than fully alive.

Yes, create and plant the seeds of your own dream, your own heroic journey…. and notice:

What does your soul hunger for, right now?

Thanks for reading.  If you like what you’ve found, feel free to pass this link on.  If you’d like to comment, I’d love to hear from you!  You can scroll to the bottom and click on “Leave a comment”  link, or email me directly, at Kim@InnerCompassLeadership.com

To lead is to choose to be fully present, and thus able to access the best perspective – and the best course of action - in any given situation.  To lead is to make the most of what is.

Through practice, we can learn to access a calm, non-reactive attention that allows us to access choice and right action over and over again.

This quality of awareness is core to optimizing reality and to leadership… of our lives, and anything else we endeavor to lead!

If, however, we react reflexively out of our habitual, ‘auto-pilot’ patterns, formed through experiences over time, we can’t lead … we can only follow.

Yet, we all have some default reaction that kicks in when certain life experiences trigger us. We get “hijacked” by the autopilot settings stored in our neural pathways.

Some call this conditioned tendency, or conditioned response. I call it default setting, or autopilot. Whatever label you use though, the concept is a thick one, so I’ll say it again: if I unconsciously react to a situation based on my past experience, vs. being fully present in the current moment and choosing my response, then I am following, not leading.

To lead is to be able to choose our perspective, and thus our action.

So… how do we, in the moment, access a different frame? How do we generate a different way of perceiving, a different way of being, a different way of doing whatever it is that we do, vs. habitually doing over and over again what we have always done, even when it does not get us what we want?

First, get curious. Learning what our default setting feels like/looks like/sounds like is a first step towards being able to make a different choice.

Here’s a window into my primary default; see if reading this helps you identify your own. Some of you can likely relate.  Or, if this is not your pattern, see if the contrast helps you notice your core default:

Whenever I hit a tough spot interpersonally, every cell in me whispers… “Be an island…. Life is safer that way…”   I will reveal only competence, the way in which I ‘have it all together’, and project a flavor of “I don’t need anything from anyone…”.

I learned that shape as a small child, mastering independence and competence –academic, athletic, and later professional – and thus created an island of ‘safety’ around me.

Don’t get me wrong. I have a rich network of friends, colleagues, and clients. I belong to several great circles of support, many of which I have helped found or have led.

It’s just that I only let people in so far. That’s my autopilot: I only let people get so close.

What do I now choose to practice instead? Letting my humanity show, not just my competence. Accepting help and support, not just offering it to others. Relaxing into the gift of presence that others bring. Essentially, I am practicing a different choice: to fully welcome connection. So that’s my autopilot, and my new choice.

But to be able to explore new choices, it really helps to know what your autopilot settings are!  So let’s help you look at identifying your autopilot.

What are the ways you react over and over again, in similar patterns, even when it does not get you what you want?

Its time to get curious…. really, really curious! Go on a treasure hunt of awareness. Imagine having a video camera on your shoulder that watches you through your days… a compassionate, gentle watching, without blame of judgment…. that notices all that you think, all that you feel, all that you say and do. And notice: what are you drawn to? What do you move towards? What do you move away from? Where do you lose your temper, or your sense of humor?  Where does your body recoil, and tighten in closer to your spine?  What coaxes you open, into a more expanded state?

There are no good answers or bad answers…there is only the gathering of clues as you watch yourself.

Just be curious. Go hunting for your auto-pilot patterns….

So there’s your homework, if you choose to accept it.

Next post, we’ll explore how to shift… out of autopilot, and into choice.

When we can choose, then we can truly change. And when we can truly change, whole worlds open, that we never knew existed.

Happy hunting!

In any given moment, we have far more choice than we know. We all have moments when our reaction to external circumstances may feel like it controls us. These moments are precious teachers, for their very intensity wakes us up.

12/26/09: I am swooping along mountain roads that lace along the Kootenai River in remote NW Montana, on the way to visit cousins. We’ve been blessed with dry roads, little traffic, blue sky, and sunshine.

In these perfect conditions, I don’t notice the speed limit lower as we approach town.

A patrol car passes, does that distinctively timed braking and pulls a u-turn. I am the only car on this long expansive road. All bets are… he’ll pull me over.

How many of us know this moment, and the flood of emotions, and reactions, this may bring? In these moments, and in every moment of our lives, we have far more choice than we know.

For me, this moment is exacerbated by the knowledge that this scenario may well trigger nightmares for one of my children. I really care about this unfolding with grace.

Below, I’ll explain what I did in the moment, in that lovely mountain valley, with my family watching. In future posts, I’ll break down and expand each of the steps.

As I watch the patrol car turn, I notice my sensations. A rush of heat and prickly intensity rises through my chest, throat and face. Fear. I do not fight the feeling, but simply relax around it, allowing the sensations to flow through me.

If we can stay out of our own way, the bio-chemistry of emotion will flush from our system within 90 seconds. By not constricting against the fear, I let it wash through, and resolve.

I notice and choose my thoughts.

“He is going to pull me over. “ I am able to choose (based on much practice) this thought to think: “this is an excellent chance to practice” – my shorthand for practicing staying centered, calm, focused, and resourceful.

Our minds are like steering wheels, steering us towards the emotions we feel and the physiological states we access. We actually can shift perspectives, and choose where to aim our minds.

I steadily drop my attention to my lower abdomen, and consciously shift my breath pattern to slow, low, full, and relaxed. I proactively pull over on the rocky shoulder.

Our breath is a potent “re-set button” that we can use to shift into a calm, centered state.

Reassuring my children, I speak truthfully about what is occurring in a gentle, steady voice…. no blame, no shame… just the reality. “He is pulling me over. I was likely going a little fast. All is well. His work is to help keep us safe.”

The truth sets us free. Fighting reality is the cage. Choosing to see myself working with others, vs. against, gives me far more options in how I move.

I am not fighting “what is”: instead I am making the most of what I can influence.

When I accept “what is”, then I can make the most of everything that is within my influence and control.

I focus on being the most relaxed body I can be.

Our energy is viral: we literally are contagious with each other. It is as if our emotional state and physiological state is like a stone thrown into a pond, making ripples that reach out in every direction.

We are always making ripples. The question is: which ripples do you want to create? What are you actually creating?

On this Montana highway, I want to create a sense of safety for my children and a spirit of cooperation with the patrolman. I do not fight what is unfolding; I simply do everything I can to make this as graceful an experience as I can.

After a peaceful exchange, the officer issues me a warning, and we softly continue on our way. Within minutes, the town now behind us, clear skies give way to a mountain snow squall, our wide-open road narrows in a long canyon, and I am grateful…

for the officer who helped me slow down.

From calm center, we have infinite choice over what we perceive.

This is a simple path…. a joyous path… one that can lead to living with far more power, and more grace.

Where in your life are you fighting what is?

What might you ‘soften into’?

What situation do you choose to see with new eyes?

Where might aligning with the truth set you free?

Friday, I learned something completely new.  At 6,000 feet, bathed in bright sunshine and bitter cold, Gary taught us how to spin 360s on our skis. 

At first I thought he was kidding.  This was something for the instructor to show off with… not something for our mature gang of skiers to try.  

I was wrong.  “You’ve got to commit to flat skis.”  He was talking us through.

I was hesitant.  With my left hip my weakest link, I did not even want to try.

With my eyes dropped down, I gave a few half-hearted attempts, and then looked up, expecting confirmation that this would not work.  What I saw startled me: my older peers, some of them less practiced in balance and flexibility, starting to truly spin.

Hmmnm.  As a coach, I know willingness can trump ability.

This got me.  I’m not a die-hard skier, but my off-mountain fitness practices often give me an edge, especially when Gary teaches us tricks, like skiing on one ski.

So I committed.  I pictured myself spinning.  I felt a surge of playful energy course through me as I held the image.

What do you want to experience, learn, discover?

Where do you need to commit?

See yourself succeeding.  Feel the feeling success will bring.

Shifting internally from resistance to willingness, realizing I wanted that playful sensation – that look of delight on the others faces – I hunkered back into practice. 

Where is lack of willingness impeding your ability to make progress?

The secrets?  First off, flat edges.  The skis stay completely flat on the snow to allow rotation to happen. Here is the challenge: in most skiing, using ski edges pressing down is one the primary means to turn and to manage speed.   Read: control.   

This is one of those great life moments where attempting to control in traditional ways can be a barrier. To be able to pivot around, I had to be willing to let go of my urge to control the rotation by leaning onto the edges of my skis.  

Where is a desire to maintain control restricting your ability to allow something new to come to form?

Progress.  Partial turns.  Progress is good!  I was learning!  Something was still sticking though – even though I had surrendered my edges. 

 A new batch of skiers slipped by.  I looked up.  I rotated, on flat skis, while looking up, and I spun my first 360!

Balance.  Relaxation.  Alignment.  This is what shifted.  When I was hunkered down, I was trying too hard.  I had released my edges, but I had not softened into relaxation, so that my body could follow the initial rotational movement all the way to completion.  I was essentially still fighting myself.

I stopped and applied what I know.  I settled my attention and my breath into my deep center, and allowed my neck and shoulders to relax.  I opened up my vision to take in the wide angle (owl eyes.)

The next spins came with ease!  

Where might you look up, get perspective, breathe into your center, allow your shoulders to drop, and allow a new movement to come to form?

Another ah-ha.  Coaching, I know that opening up our physical stance, and relaxing those muscles we habitually hold tightly can help us breathe better, increase our oxygen supply, allow new moves.

Learning to spin on skis was no different.  Creating a relaxed centered presence on my skis, the spirals came with ease. 

 What do you most want to learn?