New Dawn, New Day

Last night, just before early bed, I read a friends caring bridge journal entry: making great strides on a recent-onset debilitating illness, she wrote of seeing what life she can build with what she can still do.  I was humbled; clearly her eye is on opportunity, not just on limitation.  She is facing, and embracing, the challenge of remaking her life.

This morning, waking in early light, lime green covers strewn about, an inner call stirred, demanding that I get up.  Not sure what or why, I sensed it was a moment to say yes.

Finding vertical, I was greeted by a golden ripple of cloud filling the eastern sky, bouncing dream light up off the awakening lake.  Sun radiated through the glowing mass of clouds and connected with rain clouds downstream, setting off rainbows lifting from the lake.

Snuggling in my host’s fleece jacket, wrapping a beach towel over my bare legs, I grabbed my camera and headed for the dock.

Standing there, surrounded by light, I listened. What else did the knowing that pulled me awake have to say?   “Do not be afraid.”

Writing now, wind lifts fresh curls off the waves as dawn flows into day, and the lightest shower eases in, giving moisture to this breath of air, this message feels like:  Learn to write with abandon once again.  This whole glorious cacophony of light and wonder is at your back.  Set yourself free.

What else could one long for, than this aliveness, this beauty, this now?

Yes to listening.  Yes to honoring that voice within that leads with precision, pulling from slumber of all kinds.  Yes to remaking our lives in this changing world, facing, and embracing, whatever challenges emerge along the way.

Edit:  This work on SQ can be freely shared.  I release this post to the public domain.  For the spirit in which I do this, see Leo Babuta’s post, http://zenhabits.net/open-source-blogging-feel-free-to-steal-my-content/ May you improve on it, and share it with the world.

My daughters’ gymnastics studio has a trivia question of the week posted on a big white board.  This week, the girls debated: where are the largest pyramids in the world?  Egypt?  Mexico? Peru?  While they decide which column to mark their answer in, I ask myself a different question: why this human fascination with pyramids, with this triangle shape that crosses cultures and millennium?

In my own work this year, through spring, summer, and early fall, I played with and presented to training groups a number of triangle models, likely my own fascination with the strength of the triangular shape, and the importance of strong foundations.  See what these open up for you:

Here is the first:

IQ

EQ EQ

SQ SQ SQ

Now, take this simple triangle, and imagine it as a pyramid, the strength of all 4 sides supporting each one.

A simple translation of human experience:

IQ, or intelligence quotient, is a small portion of our human experience, yet, like the small portion of an iceberg that rides above the waterline, it often garnishes the most attention.

EQ is the emotional intelligence quotient from the work popularized by Daniel Goleman.  We now know that emotional states have a significant influence on our access to our IQ; when stress triggers a reaction in the reptilian portion of our brains, our access to our highest levels of thought is diminished.  Therefore, that middle layer of the triangle is essential for the top layer of IQ to optimize its abilities.

SQ, the somatic quotient, is by far the most substantial layer of this triangle.  Soma is the Greek for the unity of body, mind, spirit, and emotion.  It is within the container of our physiology that this complexity of interface is working without ceasing, each influencing the other.     IQ is accessed through vital and healthy EQ, and optimal EQ is accessed through a potent SQ: the ability to be gently aware of and positively able to influence our thinking, feeling, and being.

To be at our best, begins in the body.  That stress response that has been attributed to emotion in EQ actually lives in our bodies – in our complete physiology.  To generate deep slow breathing shifts us out of stress response, creating a positive cascade throughout our experience. Without understanding how these four interface, we reduce our ability to access positive moods, reduce stress, access our highest thinking, and therefore live in our most brilliant place of spirit.

To be able to positively influence this interface requires the simple art of awareness and practice.  What is occurring within all of my sensations?  My thoughts? My field of emotion?  How do these collectively impact the spark of aliveness that marks the vitality of my spirit?

If we want to generate change in the larger world, our first building block is change within the individual.   Like moving an iceberg, (10% above water, 90% below), with only a small portion visible above the waterline, the place of greatest change is deep below the surface where the greatest mass lies.

Our physiology is trained through experience. To optimize SQ, which both contains and grants access to optimal EQ and IQ, we choose what to practice.  Notice what you have been practicing: whatever it is, this is what you are becoming.

Now choose: what do you want to become?  What is the larger world calling you to be?  Therefore, what do you need to practice?

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

“When it’s over, I want to say I have been a bride married to amazement, I’ve been a bridegroom taking the world into my arms.” – Mary Oliver

Tonight, I stepped outside after my first yoga class in twenty years.  I had opened tight places I did not even know I had.  As I left the studio, I was relieved that I could still walk!

What really caught my attention though, as I stretched my limbs out the door into this far northern night: stars. A whole sky–full.

Our gorgeous north Idaho summers succumb to long winters of clouds. Our ski mountain loves the snow, but I miss that deeply expansive sight of night sky.

Maybe it was 90 minutes of intense yoga. (I’m in great shape. I looked at the class schedule and forgot my twenty years away…)
Maybe it was the two weeks that have passed since I last saw a sky full of stars. (Here in our remote county, when there are no clouds, we truly see stars. There are many more stars than people… or lights to block the night sky!)
Maybe it was too-long winter hibernation.

I don’t know what it was.

But I do know what happened as I stepped outside, seeing the Big Dipper, Orion, the Pleiades, and the other Winter constellations:
I did not feel like I was 120 +/- odd lbs, standing on a cold stab of north Idaho sidewalk.
Instead, I felt as wide as that sky.

I felt as if time stretched back to my earliest memories of stars…night sailing off Cape Cod, my family singing lullabies….

And my strongest memories… sleeping river-side, sleeping bags encrusted in silvery frost, under endless stars on the cactus-bound Mexican border …

or my favorite memories… tracing winter constellations among the green and pink swirls of northern nights, on the Canadian border, as sled dogs slept, nose under tail…

It was as if, in that moment, all those times, and all those places, existed, all at once.

If I had a label, it would be mystical.

In that moment, I felt the whole wide universe welcomed me. I felt completely Home. I felt, in every cell, as if I belonged.

I’m not complaining… and I will go back for more yoga!

What helps you know, in your bones, that you belong?