More than our Hearts can Hold?

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I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been getting ready for a garage sale which has had me going through lots of old things to decide whether to keep,toss or sell. Since I am an avid reader and lover of books it means I have a LOT of books about which to make decisions. This is always tough for me. I often take stacks of books to the local library that I am finished with but it always tough for me to part with them. Maybe I should stay there and check out a few instead of buying my own copies all the time. Anyway,last night I was going through a stack and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea. This book was first published in 1955 but I am always struck when I read it how relevant much of it still is today. In my copy of the book I have underlined many passages that spoke to me at my first reading. I enjoy going back and revisiting the passages and thinking about why they spoke to me years ago when I first read them. As I was skimming through the book last night this passage jumped out and grabbed me:

“The interrelatedness of the world links us constantly with more people than our hearts can hold. Or rather –for I believe the heart is infinite –modern communication loads us with more problems than the human frame can carry. It is good,I think,for our hearts,our minds,our imaginations to be stretched;but body,nerve,endurance and lifespan are not as elastic. My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”

Wow –those are words that were written in 1955! Can you imagine what a person who felt that modern communication in 1955 was too much would think of the interconnected information age that we live in? Hundreds of facebook “friends”,Twitter feeds by the thousands,multiple 24 hour new channels and on and on are constantly vying for our attention and begging our hearts to respond with connection,caring,money,support,etc.

Do these “tools”help us to be able to “respond to more hearts”,maintain better connection? Or do they only provide a shallow pool in which to wade and pretend that we are connected? People,businesses and causes use them to reach out to us. Sometimes they reach us, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the more “connected” I am the more disconnected I feel. Relationships held together by 240 character snippets seem shallow and insignificant. Can I really know a person by their daily posts and comments?

But then I see the opposite side as well. After just returning from a truly inspiring Leap of Faith climb up Mount Kilimanjaro,I see how these social tools can help us connect and share at an even deeper level. After returning we’ve been able to share our photos,videos and experiences much more easily with each other despite the fact that we live all over the place. We’ve been able to continue to share ourselves with each other and learn more about what matters in each of our lives. Its really puzzling to me how something that seems so superficial can really enable the deepening of relationship.

On the negative side again, is the the competition for my attention that all these electronic tools present. I sit in front of my computer clicking away, skimming on the surface rather than reading a good novel or story. I tap away at my iPhone while one of my children is trying to talk to me, paying only half attention to both. How is this enriching my life? How would my life be without these tools? Would I write letters and send pictures telling my new found Kili friends more about myself and asking them more about themselves? I like to think I would, but I know that I wouldn’t. Would I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from childhood who was all but lost to me until I searched for her name on the internet? I don’t know if I would have been able to find her again. How tragic that would have been. But would I have even known how tragic? Is my awareness increasing with these new tools?

What about my ability to respond to the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds? There are so many causes that call out to me –hunger and famine,tragic fires and earthquakes,food safety and security,diseases that have touched people I love,inspirational people and stories. How can my heart respond to them all? How can I as a single person make a difference? Maybe before,in the time of 1955,that was very,very difficult but now these tools make it possible for ME a solitary person to have a much larger impact on the world and those to whom my heart responds. With the click of a mouse I can make hundreds of friends and followers “aware”of something that touches my heart. Maybe they don’t all read what I send or what I write but even if one or two do then I have made more of a difference than I could alone. At first,I thought social media was just a time waster and it certainly can be,but now I see that through social media ONE person can have a significant impact on others and on the world just by passing on the word,the story,the cause,the message…….

So pass it on and make a difference in the things that touch your heart and let me know what you think.

Unlocking the Cage

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"The Life of Every Man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. His humblest hour is when he compares the volume as is with what he vowed to make it." - James Berry

This quote was in a newsletter sent to me by a friend over the weekend. It really struck me to my core thinking about what it says. It was especially poignant since I spent the weekend with some of my climbing team from Kilimanjaro. We participated in a presentation to people with people with Parkinson's about how important it is to have a positive outlook, to set goals and keep moving. Over the weekend we spent a lot of time together reliving and processing our experiences on Kilimanjaro. One of the themes I heard over and over again from the people who climbed with us that have MS or PD is that they wouldn't change a thing. That their lives now having more meaning and purpose because of their disease. This really touched me after reading the quote above because these people started out thinking they were going to write a very different story before they were diagnosed and now they are writing something different. They have chosen to use it to build strength and character and to impact and inspire others with the disease. What story am I choosing to write?

I've been really trying to think about the story that I meant to write long ago when I started out in the world and the one that I am writing now. I think most people don't really reflect on this sort of thing until they come closer to their end in life or to some life or death circumstance. But I want to make sure that I am writing the story I will be happy to measure myself against at the end of my days. But first I have to consider what keeps me from writing that story.

When I was in high school and college I loved the creative arts - painting, drawing, drama, photography, writing. All these things gave me great joy but I saw no economic way to make a living at them that was "safe". Growing up my father was a real estate developer. So sometimes we had lots of money and other times not very much. This created a sense of fear in me around money and wanting to have a secure source of money . so despite the fact that I wanted to study theatre or something in the arts, I chose a career in accounting. I was good at and it came easily. I graduated with honors and went out in the to world to make my mark. I had taken my first step away from the story I had originally wanted to "write" for myself. My career moved along nicely and I continued to get promotions or new jobs with more responsibility and more money. But I wasn't any more secure. I always felt like I didn't have enough to be secure. This kept me locked in a cage of fear for more than 20 years chasing the goal of enough. Over those years I sacrificed and sold my time - time away from the things and the people that I loved - but I was never secure. I was still locked in the cage. The biggest lock to my cage is my fear around money. In 2007, I finally got a little courage and I quit but I was still locked in the cage, writing the same story that was off course - going back to my comfort zone looking at "jobs" that were in my field of experience. But my field of experience wasn't my passion. Each time I would allow myself to get off course of exploring my passions it was because I was being gripped by fear - fear of not enough money, fear that people would think I was nuts, fear that I would lose everything I had worked so hard for, fear of really speaking my truth. As I started to examine myself and understand that I was locked in this cage of fear, I began to notice how many times I heard other people mention the words "fear" or "afraid". If you stop and really listen in your daily life to the people around you I think you will be amazed at how many times you will hear those words.

So it occurred to me that as a society we are overwhelmingly locked in a cage of fear from obtaining our full potential. Fear prevents us from even trying in so many cases. Here are just a few examples I have observed in the last month:

a friend of my daughter's didn't try out for the play because she was afraid she wouldn't get a part
another friend of hers didn't try out for volleyball because she was afraid she would get cut
a friend of mine didn't send a resume in for a job opening because they were afraid they didn't have enough experience
another friend didn't call a potential client because she was afraid her bid would be too high and she wouldn't get it
one of my MS friends from the climb said she was afraid her life was over when she was diagnosed and she just sat down and stopped living for a while
one of our fellow climbers quit at the very beginning because she was terrified she wouldn't make it and would be a burden to others
my daughter wants to be a sculptor but she doesn't because she's afraid she can't make a living at it
I'm not finishing my novel because I'm afraid that "I'm not a writer and I won't be able to get it published"
Some people didn't fly on Sunday because they were afraid they might be on a plane that would blow up
The stock market keeps gyrating because people are afraid and their fear makes the market more unstable
See how these fears prevent each of us from doing something or reaching for something that we really want. It really is a cage that holds us back from fully experiencing our lives as they should be. So what if we don't get the part or nobody buys the book or we don't reach the top of the climb - isn't it better to have tried and failed than not to try at all? Can't we dust ourselves off and try again and again. Its hard but it can be done.
I am working hard every day now to unlock my own cage of fear and step out to write the story of my life that I really want it to be - not the safe, easy version - the full out, sailing through the air, adventure of a life that I know my life can be if I am not afraid to live it. That doesn't mean I won't have fears from time to time. What it means is that each time I am faced with a fear that could lead me down a path to a mediocre life, I will cast it aside and step forward with courage.
What about you? Will you step forward today with courage and overcome the fears that haunt you and keep you from living your full life?
A few famous quotes about fear to close:
"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." ~Mary Manin Morrissey
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." ~ German Proverb




"What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!"
~ Wordsworth


"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~ Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear

"What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope."
~ Publilius Syrus - Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)

Remembering the Falling Man

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Today there were many memorial shows about 9-11 on television but none really showed much of the real impact of what happened that day. Most just had a short clip or two of the buildings burning. I was looking for the coverage that showed the buildings as the second tower was attacked and they both fell. I was looking for coverage of the Pentagon burning to remind myself of that day when I drove across the 14th Street Bridge leaving DC and looked over to see the building in flames. I think it is important to remember and reflect. While I was searching and watching videos on youTube I came across this documentary on the falling man. It tells the story of the controversy over the photograph of the falling man and one man’s journey to try to understand why WE didn’t want to see or talk about the people who jumped from the buildings that day and to find and tell the story of the person from the photograph.

Included here is the documentary. It is just over an hour long. I would encourage you to watch when you have the time to look at it and reflect. Ultimately he was never able to confirm definitively who the falling man was. But the falling man,for me,defines the tragedy of that day in a way no other photograph of the day can. It captures the human toll,the fear,the desperation and the lack of choices these people had. I watched the video with my son Jack,one was not even two years old on 9-11. He cringed as he watched it and we cried. He asked some questions but mostly just soaked in the horror of what happened. I wanted him to know,to try to understand what happened. In the closing of the documentary the narrator talks about this man as the “unknown soldier of 9-11″. So my tribute to him and to all those lost on that day was to watch the documentary and to remember fully this man and the others who chose a different fate than choking or burning in the inferno.

He is somewhere in the list of names on the memorial but we will never know which name is his. http://bit.ly/qSqy5T

falling man 9-11 documentary http://bit.ly/rtGHQs

Remembering My 9-11 Journey 10 years ago

Ten years ago today I was in Washington,DC at a conference at the Willard Hotel. The night before I had been out for drinks with an Australian news crew who was in town with their Prime Minister. They had been talking about what a boring trip it had been. I often think back on that comment when one of my children says that the day is “boring”. Boring and ordinary is not so bad when you consider what the opposite might be.

On the morning of September 11th I had breakfast with my boss,Tom,who had flown in from New York that morning. He had been at the World Trade Center the day before for a meeting with investors. The conference had just started when it was interrupted to tell us that a plane had hit the first tower. Many of the attendees were from New York so they suggested people who were step out and let people know they were okay or check on those back in New York. Tom stepped out to the call the office and let them know he was in DC and not New York. The conference continued for a few minutes more. A few minutes until they came and told us that another plane had hit the second tower. We were dumbfounded as we left the room. I found Tom and we went up to my room to look at the television. Just as we arrived we saw that the Pentagon had also been hit. That wasn’t far from where we were. We were scared. Tom said to finish packing that we were going to leave and go to our offices in Richmond. But we didn’t have a car. I quickly packed as we watched the coverage of the towers falling to the ground. It didn’t seem real. As we made our way through the lobby of the Willard we saw people huddled in groups trying to figure out what they were going to do. Most at the conference did not have cars so an escape was going to be a challenge.

We walked out the front of the building to chaos. All of the Federal Buildings were being evacuated. The roads were clogged with cars and the streets with people coming out of the buildings. We turned to our left and there sat an empty cab. Tom opened the back door and asked if he would take us to Richmond.

He said,“Sure. I want to get the hell out of here.”

We merged in to the heavy traffic and made our way toward the 14th street bridge –the route to I95 South to Richmond. We weren’t initially thinking how this would take us past the Pentagon. Within minutes we were driving across the bridge with very little traffic. There were cars pulled to the side all along the bridge,their occupants standing outside,mouths wide open,staring in the direction of the Pentagon. There was black flume of smoke rising from the building. It was surreal.

Our cab driver had no radio and we were getting agitated not knowing if anything else had happened. Tom asked the cab driver to pull off the highway in to Pentagon City so we could go in to a store and get a radio. We could not get our cell phones to work –there was too much volume for the system. The driver pulled off and we immediately realized we had made a mistake. People were pouring out of the metro stations like rats from a sewer. The roads were packed with people wandering around in a daze. There were people in military uniforms with clip boards on several corners. There would be no stopping for a radio. This detour took us well over an hour. It is extremely difficult to get out of the Pentagon area and back on I95. By the time we got back on to the interstate,we were the only car on either side of the road. I95 is an extremely busy artery into to DC. Being the only car on the road was unnerving,especially with no radio to indicate if there was further danger.

I remember driving down the highway in silence. All along the drive I saw raptors circling in the sky. At the time I thought they were hawks. I later figured out they were turkey vultures. We were finally able to reach one of our co-workers in Richmond on the cell phone. He started driving our way and we met a the Quantico exit. There was a long line of cars waiting to get in to Quantico –the marines were already headed to our defense.

Most of the next two days were a blur. I missed most of the news coverage for those days and the two days it took us to drive and fly back to Denver. We looked at every option to get home but there were none. We were finally able to get a rental car from Hertz on Thursday. We left at 8pm and started driving west through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. There was a terrible accident on the highway and the road was shut down for several hours. Everyone turned their cars off and sat parked on I64. Tom and got out and walked up and down the shoulder of the road,while Joseph,our other co-worker sat with the car. We were finally able to go again sometime after midnight. We drove through my hometown around 4am and stopped for a few minutes to say hello to my parents and get a few pillows so we could sleep in the van. We drove on through the day,stopping for breakfast in St. Louis. Sometime after 1 Tom’s assistant Alix called us to say she had a plane for us if we could make it to Kansas City by 3. We stopped to get a radar detector and got on the road driving as fast as we thought was safe but would get us there in time. The window to fly was going to be small,if we missed it we would have to continue driving. We were exhausted and probably should not have been driving but we made it to the airport and boarded our plane. We arrived in Denver around 4:30pm that Friday after the attack. Joseph’s friend picked us up and dropped me off at home.

I just wanted to sit and hold my family. We hugged,then I fell exhausted in to the bed and slept for several hours. My daughter Lindsay was 12,Mary Mac 3 and Jack was 1 1/2. Lindsay was old enough to understand that something terrible had happened. My younger children were not. They have no real recollection of it. The images of those days and weeks are not imprinted in their minds forever.

In the weeks following the attack what I remember most is the silence in the skies –no noise pollution from airplanes constantly overhead. It was soothing,yet erie. I also remember the kindness of strangers –people reaching out to each other,talking to strangers,smiling,helping each other. That’s the one thing that sticks out to me ten years later –how far we have moved away from that sense of oneness that produce kindness and consideration. The vitriolic discourse and inflaming news coverage drives a wedge that puts civility out of reach.

Just for today,reflecting on that,I ask if we can’t remember our oneness ten years ago. Can we reach back to that feeling,that understand and comprehend that we are many but we are also one. Can we try to find that civility again? Appreciating our differences and finding common ground to move forward?

I did not realize until recently the impact 9/11 had in changing me and my path in life. It was from that point that I began to question everything that I had worked for up to that point. It has taken ten years but my path has changed dramatically in that time. Has yours?