broken
One of the best pieces of advice I've encountered comes by way of a Zen master. Ajahn Chah holds up a glass of water before his young student:
Do you see this glass? I love this glass. It holds the water admirably. When I tap it, it has a lovely ring. When the sun shines on it, it reflects the light beautifully. But when the wind blows and the glass falls off the shelf and breaks, or if my elbow hits it and it falls to the ground, I simply say, "Of course!" When I know that the glass is already broken, every minute with it is precious.
Some of you may close yourself off from this, simply because I told you that it comes from Zen teachings. You may believe it to be contrary to your own faith somehow, or perhaps you will think that you are hardly the type of person capable of grasping and practicing anything so deep or philosophical. As I point out in the preface to my forthcoming book, if something is truth, then it existed before anyone put it to words. Likewise, truth inherently works when put into practice. This being the case, it matters very little then whether truth comes by way of Mother Teresa or Mickey Mouse. So I encourage you to stay open and to try. Give it some thought, perhaps during a little time spent in stillness, and see what comes of it.
For me, this truth has resulted in a profound level of peace. I do not expect anything to come my way. And I do not expect anything to last. If I expect anything at all, it is that the unexpected happens all the time. I try to see every glass in my life as "already broken." Imperfect. Temporary.
This does not lead to negative, Eeyore-like thinking nor to a sense of resignation, as some might speculate. Rather, it keeps everything in perspective, as gifts that are mine only for a short while. And this really does make every minute with something – or someone – precious. Rather than feeling entitled, becoming complacent or taking things for granted, I feel rather lucky on account of all of these "unexpected extras" around me at any given time.
In practical terms, here are some other "broken glasses" the acceptance of which may bring you an increased level of peace:
Expect your kids to blow it. When they do – and they will – don't be so surprised, irritated or angry over it. Say to yourself, "Of course! They're kids!" We all went through the learning process. In fact, if we are truly living, we are still going through it.
Expect that the house will not stay neat and tidy at all times, whether you just cleaned it or not.
Expect your spouse, lover or friend to be less than perfect.
Expect "the best laid plans" to go awry. Tell yourself before a big event, "There will be snags. I know this, and that's OK."
Expect people to flake out, drop the ball, or leave you in a lurch sometimes. Consider that if someone does come through on what they promised, it is a bonus. Appreciate everything. Hang your stars on nothing.
Expect your new gadget to fall, crack, get lost or stolen, or slip into the pool. It won't last forever.
Expect the glass to break. Accept it when it does: "Ah, so today is that day I've known was coming all along!"
You cannot change what will be. Getting angry, worried or stressed will not fix what goes wrong in life. Rather, these things only prolong the loss, distracting you from present moments spent enjoying the many wonderful things and people that still exist all around you.
Instead, learn to think at every turn, “Oh well, I knew from the start that this would not be perfect or last forever. This glass was already broken before it came my way. I enjoyed it while I had it." This mindset has worked wonders in my own life. Change does not throw me for long. I easily accept, adapt and move on. And if I can, so can you.
In so doing, you can hold the pieces fondly on the day your glass finally breaks, not in bitterness but remembering the joy you were so fortunate to have had for a time.
ties that bind
In Monday's post, I briefly talked about a time when, as heartbreaking as it was, I had to cut ties with someone I cared greatly for. In that instance, it was truly not a selfish decision. I was not acting out of anger. I was not feeling used or abused. And it was not merely the easiest choice. Rather, it was a choice that I sincerely believed was best for the young man in question.
The sad truth was that drug abuse was ruining him. Holding him down. I couldn't bring myself to allow the relatively pleasant and "normal" lifestyle he enjoyed with me to delude him into thinking that continued drug use would lead to such good things in the real world he would soon enter as an adult. So, when yet another episode of use and blatant lying occurred, I chose to send him packing, trusting that the hard reality of where he found himself would eventually speak more truth than my words were currently achieving. And as I've said – in doing so, he got the message. Today, he is happy and healthy.
This particular cutting of ties was done for the benefit of another person. But there are times in life when we must make the difficult choice to dissociate – or at least limit our time – with people for our own benefit, a measure aimed at allowing us to move forward toward positive personal goals.
If, for instance, I am serious about adopting a positive outlook in my life, yet a certain friend is constantly negative and sarcastic, I may need to make the decision to spend less of my time with this person.
Typically, I will attempt to have several positive conversations with this friend, explaining my goal and inviting them to join me. If I've previously been "guilty" of the same behavior, I call myself – not them – out on it. For example, I have said to people in the past, "You know, I've realized that I [not "we"] tend to cut other people down for the sake of humor or amusement too much, and I really want to change that about myself. Will you help me by pointing it out to me whenever you hear me doing this?" If my friend is also guilty of the offense in question, inviting him to keep me on my toes may be enough to limit his own sarcasm toward others, at least in my presence. If it isn't, I might point it out to him at a future time: "Hey, you can't say those things! Remember, you're supposed to be helping me stay positive toward people."
However, if this friend just isn't interested in my "new leaf" and continues to be negative despite my requests, I may suddenly begin to be unavailable more often, at times when we might normally have otherwise gotten together.
Making a decision like this can often be awkward or painful. It helps to view your choice as directly related to the other person's choices. They choose negativity, and so they choose not to spend as much time together with you. Conversely, were they to choose not to cloud the space with negativity when you were together, you would be happy to spend more time with them again.
This is not selfish. It is not unkind. Often, making the choice to cut ties is simply part of being responsible – planning not to get into trouble. Where a relationship can sustain it, an honest and direct conversation may be helpful, going so far as to say, "I'm really serious about change in my life, and it's difficult for me when we spend time together, because of the negativity that tends to be part of what we talk about." [Notice that I still do not speak in terms of "what you are doing," but rather of the behavior – "the negativity."]
Serious dieters clear the fridge and cabinets of snacks. Likewise, they choose not to go to book clubs that are bent on meeting at pastry shops or fast food joints.
Guys intent on saving their marriages don't hang out with their buddies at the strip club on the corner.
Drug users who really want to quit don't continue to visit crack houses where old friends hang out.
So it is for those who want to be intentional about adopting and maintaining a positive outlook and lifestyle. Some things just have to go. Again, think in terms of distance from behaviors and not people. You are not rejecting people, only their current choices that hinder your own.
pickles
A brother and sister I know had been having some issues with one another. They had found each other particularly irritating as of late. They argued more. They just weren't communicating. Each of them had dissolved to tears over it one day while I was there, having had yet another blow out the night before. The brother retreated sullenly to the basement, so I used the opportunity to talk with his sister for a while. After hearing her perspective on things, I went to the basement to round things out. Having heard them both, I could see where each of them was coming from. And I could also see why they weren't seeing eye to eye. As they'd gotten older and continued to form their individual personalities, those personalities could hardly have been more different.
I brought them together and helped them talk things through. They were both already pretty worn out mentally and emotionally, but they were troopers. After some honest dialog, the biggest problem seemed to be that things that were an 8 of importance and emotional upset on her scale were a 2 on his scale, and vice versa. And this seemed to be quite a revelation to them.
What they clearly held in common was that they loved one another. So they were willing to work on understanding each other better and treading with more care in areas of individual sensitivity. In the end, it was a fruitful though hard-earned conversation.
Have you ever had this kind of breakthrough conversation with someone in your own life? After struggling for days or weeks – even longer – you knew you had no choice but to just sit down face to face and hash it out until you got somewhere. Hearts raced. Words flew. One of you got up, ready to storm out, but then took a deep breath and sat down again. You tried one more time to explain. Or to listen.
Somewhere along the line, lights began to go on and you saw each other in a different way. Maybe you laughed over some old memory that you had intended to prove a point. Or silent, unexpected tears gave you compassion again where you'd almost forgotten it. But you didn't quit. And it paid off. Things ended with a hug and decisions to try harder. And you both meant every word.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could bottle those conversations? If the next time a similar issue arose, you could just pull the cork and pour out the peaceful ending right up front, rather than starting all over at the bitter beginning?
There just might be a way.
I've found that you can use a key word as a place marker when you have those conversations that cover good ground. It doesn't really matter what the word is, as long as you both agree to it. In the case of the brother and sister, I suggested using the word "pickles." The idea is that, the next time they found themselves repeating old patterns or feeling hurt by one another, they could remind each other of all the positive ground they'd gained by simply saying, "Hey... pickles." That one word now held all the meaning: "I love you. I know you love me. We promised to be careful. I understand what's going on here. Let's not do this." All of it.
Not only did "pickles" work like a charm on future occasions, it actually bonded these siblings together even more. They now shared a secret. And when tensions mounted, they could laugh about it. Now, it's actually more of an expression of endearment between them than an avoidance of catastrophe.
As silly as it may sound, if you're open to some creativity and taking yourself a little less seriously,"pickles" can hold real power.
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planning not to
I had paid the $50 bail and signed the forms twenty minutes ago. I sat in a chunky, wooden chair with a pea-green "cushion" that crinkled and reminded me of a swimming pool tarp. An infomercial played on the small, tube-model TV that was bolted to a swiveling stand high up in one corner of the stark room. The volume was too low to make anything out, and the hazy picture made it feel more like 3:00Am than just before midnight. Occasionally, the overly enthusiastic hosts would fold into accordion pleats or blip or roll upward on the screen. Sometimes, I took to watching the thin, red seconds hand on the industrial clock make its steady rounds as I waited.
Finally, John came around the corner, escorted by a middle-aged officer with a quirked mouth and a raised eyebrow, causing me to feel as if I too had done something wrong. John smiled sheepishly at me. I smiled back.
I thanked the officer and clerk, then headed outside with John. "Thanks for doing this," he said. I gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
Once in the car and on our way, I asked the obvious question: "So what happened?"
John began by explaining that all of the police in the town had made it their sole purpose in life to stalk him and make his life miserable. But, yes, he admitted, he had been drinking. And, yes, he'd been in a car with other boys who'd been drinking. He became more animated as he told the details about how they'd been pulled over, and how panicked they had been, and how the car had been towed. After his story ended, I let the silence speak for a while. John seemed to be listening. "I wasn't planning to get in trouble," he said finally. "It just … happened."
As a mentor, I have had up-close and personal dealings with hundreds of kids over the years. Maybe even a thousand by now. And it would be impossible to calculate the number of times I've heard this same refrain: "I wasn't planning to!"
And my reply is always the same. "You can't just 'not plan to' get in trouble. You have to plan not to get in trouble."
Going through life "not planning to get in trouble" usually leaves us … in a lot of trouble. Trouble is out there. It's lurking, waiting to entice the unwary. Trouble thrives on those who are "not planning to."
Before you nod in agreement, envisioning your wayward nephew or the kid on your block, this doesn't apply merely to teens who are sowing their wild oats.
It applies to dieters who are serious about weight loss.
It applies to married adults who just happen to have that cute, younger coworker – one who thinks you are incredibly witty and interesting.
It applies to parents who often go to bed with a knot in their stomach, wondering again why so many conversations with their teen end in an argument.
Really, it applies to each of us. Planning not to get in trouble requires being self aware and honest enough to know our weaknesses, and then making the difficult choices to put escape routes in place.
Maybe it will mean asking a parent or responsible friend to call and check in with you frequently that night.
Maybe it will mean telling a confidante what you will eat at that party and asking her to keep you to it.
Maybe it will mean saying no to a certain lunch or phone call with that coworker.
Maybe it will mean initiating a week-long "mutual respect" pact with your son or daughter, admitting that you need as much help with it as they do.
In short, planning not to get in trouble is expecting that trouble will come – because it will – and being ready for it when it does.