Inner180

I recently spoke with Carolyn Gable about Fear and Finances on her radio show.  Carolyn Gable is a Chicago dynamo who went from high school grad and waitress to CEO of her own $30+ MILLION company.  How’s that for fearlessness?  She now has a weekly radio show dedicated to empowering single moms.  You can learn more about Carolyn here.

As a former single mom (with a 12 month old nursing baby and a high-energy, high-needs toddler), I know how scary it can be.  I’m honored and thrilled to have participated in this effort dedicated to helping single moms!

You can listen to our conversation on the button below.

There’s an ancient mango tree next to my cottage; it’s magnificent, with a thick, gnarled brown trunk and long glossy leaves.  How many hurricanes it’s withstood is anybody’s guess.  It’s been barren for at least 35 years, which is how long I’ve had this place.  This year, inexplicably, it flowered, and then, magically, massive clusters of fruit appeared.

A few weeks ago, its mangoes began falling.  I sampled one, but it was tasteless.  The fruit drops day and night, thudding on the roof and plopping to the ground, but I’ve ignored it, except to gather it up from time to time and bury it, to keep it from attracting insects.  I have two other trees providing fruit, so I gave it no further thought, except at midnight whenever a hard, green mango smacks onto the roof and rolls to the ground.

As I cleaned up the fruit this morning, I spotted a couple of really pretty, golden specimens.  Curious, I took them in to sample, and they were an extraordinary surprise–sweet, tender, and delicious.

I think the tree is telling me that we can always regenerate,  sweeten, and offer the best of ourselves to the world.  And that sometimes, our assumptions may not be true, even when we think we’ve investigated them.

Aren’t those messages we can always take to heart?  No matter how many times we’ve told ourselves we couldn’t do something, no matter how many times our creative mind seemed barren, no matter how many times we’ve failed to seize the opportunities that come to us, we can always regenerate and bloom and sweeten.  And even when we’ve told ourselves the same old story, over and over, we can look inside again, and find liberating new truth.

The mango tree is just outside my bedroom window, and late at night, as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear it out there, releasing it’s sweet golden offerings.  I hear them rustling through the palm fronds as they descend, then landing in the thick jungle of vines below.  Each time I hear it, I remember all of the regeneration and opportunity and sweetness and truth in the world.  And that whether I pay attention or not, they’re there–delicious surprises,  just waiting for me to notice.

Last week, the topic of mistakes and failures came up in many client sessions.  It was also a huge topic in several classes I taught.  “I’m afraid I’ll fail,”  “I’m afraid of making a mistake,” and “I can’t let go of my failure or a mistake I made in the past,” were the themes.

This morning a passage in Deepak Chopra’s little book, Creating Affluence, practically jumped off the page at me:  “In reality, there is no such thing as failure. What we call failure is just a mechanism through which we can learn to do things right. . . . This is the principle of feedback.”

There’s nothing really new in the concept that “there is no such thing as failure” or “there are no mistakes,” but I got really excited when I read this.  A huge light flashed on for me:  I have a whole new way to conceptualize setbacks, mistakes, and failures—it’s FEEDBACK.

I’ve spent plenty of time wrestling with being fearful about mistakes, and having utterly no tolerance for my own. When I was beginning my own deep inner work, I remembered that my dear mother (who passed away when I was in my early twenties, so I don’t think she’ll mind my sharing this now) had told me when I was about ten years old that I was “a mistake.”

This was intended to impress upon me the importance, in her view, of not having sex before marriage.  But that’s not what I got from it.  I think that I somehow internalized this message and was extremely intolerant and fearful of making mistakes.  I was dedicated to avoiding mistakes at all costs.

And, even though I’ve made light years of progress in my personal “mistake and failure acceptance,” I’ve never had much of a sense of humor about it until this morning.  It struck me for the first time that I wasn’t a mistake—I was FEEDBACK!

The more I thought about it the funnier it got.  I was notorious as a child for being into everything; incapable of walking, I only ran. Some handful of feedback, eh?  The facts of life being taught to a young, small-town Southern girl, courtesy of a curious toddler who would never be still.  Somehow, being of such great educational value to my mother made the sting of her words completely vanish.

So thanks, Mommy.  Thanks for the lessons we taught each other.  Perhaps our journey together can help someone else.

And now, how about you?

Can you find any more ease, lightness, or humor in your “mistakes” and “failures” if you see them as feedback?

Could you look forward to your new challenges and activities with more excitement, more enthusiasm, if the worst thing that could happen is that you got feedback?

Continuing with the laughter ingredient of our joy diets, we have Miami Herald columnist Dave Barry’s Holiday Gift Guide, featuring amazing finds such as a talking fly swatter, a baby restroom hanger (pictured above), and a gun shaped egg fryer.  As Dave says about these actual products, ”I would never have thought of that product in a million years without the aid of powerful narcotics.”  Click here for a head start on your gift list.  At least one of these gems is guaranteed to induce an out-loud laugh.

EXCERPTS FROM A DOG’S DIARY
Day 180
8:00 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am – OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm – OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 pm – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 pm – OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

Day 181
8:00 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am – OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm – OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 pm – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 pm – OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!
Day 182
8:00 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am – OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am – OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm – OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
1:30 pm – OOOOOOOH. BATH. BUMMER!
4:00 pm – OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 pm – OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 pm – OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT’S DIARY
DAY 183
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.
DAY 184
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair … must try this on their bed.
DAY 185
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was … Hmmm. Not working according to plan.
DAY 186
I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called “shampoo.” What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.
DAY 187
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call “beer”. More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of “allergies.” Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
DAY 188
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured._But I can wait, it is only a matter of time…

Okay, I’m going to fess up, right up front (Truth).  This is shameless nepotism (Truth, Desire). When you click this link, it takes you to two short films which are in hot competition (Risk) for broadcast on New York’s public television station.  The one that gets the most votes will be shown next week (Joy, for someone, at least.)

My daughter Amber was the production designer for The Greatest Gift, which means that she planned and executed the visual look (Creativity).  Watch it and notice the set, the colors, the clothing.  She chose the location, dressed the characters, and prepared the jello.

The film has many elements of our Joy Diet (Treats, Play, Creativity, Connection, Truth, oh such Truth), if you like horror movies.  And don’t worry, it’s not scary, really.  We’ve been laughing all afternoon, watching it and monitoring the vote tally.

Here’s my fantasy (Desire, Creativity, Play).  The Greatest Gift wins due to an overwhelming groundswell of support from joy dieters everywhere (mondo Desire, Creativity, Play).  The film gets aired on public television next weekend, and a famous Hollywood director sees it, and offers her a lucrative position on his next film (humongous Desire, Creativity).  She moves to California and launches a fabulous career (Joy).

From now on, I get to visit her in sunny California.  I’m here in New York with her this weekend, and it’s a bone-chilling 25 degrees and windy.  My eyeballs almost froze in my head this afternoon (Truth, I swear).

Ah, sunny California.  I can almost feel it!

So go vote, ASAP–the election ends this Tuesday.  Yes, we can.

David Sedaris talks about a unique accessory for men:

Sometimes I forget that I’m a joy dieter and have total responsibility for my thoughts and feelings. In fact, sometimes I hear stressful voices in my head, and I don’t go to Truth, I don’t become my own Compassionate Witness, I don’t find the painful story I am telling myself and substitute a story that allows me to feel better.  Nope, sometimes I have imaginary conversations, even entire debates, with people who aren’t there. And sucker myself into believing every scary, mean, outrageous, guilt-producing thing they tell me.  Oh, I do it way less than I used to, but sometimes, something will just creep right under my skin, lodge itself like a fat splinter, and I forget I’m on the joy diet.  And, I’ll justify, defend, argue, wheedle, hedge, barter, bandy, and split hairs with a figment of my imagination.  And feel awful.

It helps to realize I’m not the only one who does this.  In Bird by Bird, Ann Lamott outlines a method of quieting her mind when she converses with imaginary foes:

“Close your eyes and get quiet for a minute, until the chatter starts up.  Then isolate one of the voices and imagine the person speaking as a mouse.  Pick it up by the tail and drop into a mason jar.  Then isolate another voice, pick it up by the tail, drop it in the jar.   And so on.   Drop in any high-maintenance parental units, drop in any contractors, lawyers, colleagues, children, anyone who is whining in your head.  Then put the lid on, and watch all these mouse people clawing at the glass, jabbering away, trying to make you feel like shit because you won’t do what they want—won’t give them more money, won’t be more successful, won’t see them more often.  Then imagine that there is a volume-control button on the bottle.  Turn it all the way up for a minute, and listen to the stream of angry, neglected, guilt-mongering voices.  Then turn it all the way down and watch the frantic mice lunge at the glass, trying to get to you.  Leave it down, and get back to your [work].

A writer friend of mine suggests opening the jar and shooting them all in the head.  But I think he’s a little angry, and I’m sure nothing like this would ever occur to you.”

I suppose we should add this method to our stillness reportoire.

From Cam:

Suzanne sent these.  I laughed out loud at each of them.  I bet you will, too!

I’d forgotten how brilliant the young Robin Williams was: