A few months ago, I visited my friend Anni at her fabulous bed and breakfast in Barbados. Her inn is renowned for her sumptuous three-course gourmet breakfasts. During my visit, her right arm, the dominant one, was in a cast. Most mornings, her helpers, steeped in true island spirit (or maybe a little too much rum the night before), came late or didn’t show up at all.
I joined her in the kitchen at six every morning to help her prepare breakfast for her guests, but she wanted none of my help. She sat me at an open window with a cup of fresh coffee and some crackers to feed the birds who perched on the sill.
Mesmerized, I watched her literally single-handedly prepare an elegant feast for six or eight people, with care, with grace, and without rushing. While her cast iron pans warmed up, she set out her beautiful serving dishes, and chopped and sliced with precision. She stood quietly before her giant gas stove, in constant but deliberate motion. Soon, the counters overflowed with pancakes, eggs, fruits, breads, sauces, and puddings. She carefully arranged everything, garnished the plates with sprigs of herbs and fresh tropical flowers, and only then allowed me to assist her by carrying the steaming dishes of edible art to the dining room.
It was an inspiration to watch. I told her that watching her cook was like observing a moving mediation.
Since then, I’ve tried to savor food preparation and cooking. The old me flew into the kitchen and tried to get things done as quickly as possible. It wasn’t much fun. As I practice what I learned from Anni, my kitchen is a quieter, happier place. I play music, stay in the moment as much as I can, and even take a look outside as I work, allowing myself to enjoy the vibrant tropical foliage just inches from my fingertips. I think my cooking has improved, too. It tastes more like love.
And you? Is there a place in your life that could use less rushing and more savoring? Here are a few hints that might help:
1. Set an intention. Before you start, remind yourself that you intend to slow down and that you want the process to be as enjoyable as the destination.
2. Breathe. Some slow gentle breaths signal our nervous systems to re-regulate and to regain a natural pattern of speeding and slowing. When our physiology matches our intentions, we have a much better opportunity to enjoy the experience.
3. Align your thoughts with your actions. Let thoughts of other things go for now. You can come back to them later.
4. Feed your senses. Use your beautiful mixing bowls instead of the scratched up plastic ones. Put on your favorite music and then listen to it. Smell your surroundings, and if there isn’t a smell, add one you love.
5. Bring mindfulness into your task. Allow yourself to be aware of what you are doing, as you are doing it. Feel your knives in your hands, your fingertips on the keyboard, your hands in the garden gloves. Notice your feet in your shoes and how they contact the ground. Observe what you are doing. Watch the magic of the sharp knife as it shreds celery. Look at the water from your shower as it falls, and feel it touch your skin.
6. Allow yourself to play. Approach your project like a small child who is learning to put clothespins into a bucket. Don’t get hung up on judging your efforts or comparing yourself to others. Simply notice what you are doing, stay curious, and remain open to let things happen.
So give these tips a try. See which ones work best for you, and which tasks or projects you can try them with.
There’s a lot to be savored in our lives, wherever we are. Let’s not miss it by hurrying to get to the end.
This week our joy diet focuses on relationships, and encourages us to be truthful in them to maximize our joy. Although we’re encouraged to begin with small steps, I got a bigger opportunity, right away.
Last night I worked with a group of coaches-in-training and got caught up in my own “stuff.” Blindly. Unintentionally, to be sure. But to be honest, I steered the session they were coaching in a direction I wanted it to go. In other words, I got attached to the outcome.
This violates a fundamental rule of good coaching. I was there as their mentor, a Master Coach, doing the exact opposite of what I’m there to help them learn. And the joy diet principle of playing at work so that it becomes more like a game, where the outcome is less important than the process? Let’s just say I forgot about that too.
In the discussion that followed the coaching session, I was initially bewildered by what one of the participants said: “You wanted it to go in one direction and I had a different direction in mind.” Ouch. What made her statement painful was its truth. She was absolutely right.
As we talked further, I recalled an earlier moment in the session when a remark the coaching client made touched an old sore place within me–something I thought had healed and resolved long, long ago. I wasn’t even aware of it until we began de-briefing the coaching session. And there it was, open and oozing again, this time right in front of my students. And being recorded as well. I suddenly felt very defensive.
And then I got it. I woke up to what had been going on inside me. And I told my students the absolute truth—that I had a personal agenda. Because my old judgments and hurts had been triggered. We call this coaching in our blind spot.
Once I saw what had happened and opened up to my students, my confusion and defensiveness melted right on the spot. Immediately, I felt such a profound connection with these wonderful people. I felt such admiration for the woman who’d spoken up to me about my pushing. That took amazing courage.
The trainee who was getting coached by us had been discussing a very personal and painful topic in her life. She graciously emailed me after the class and I want to share her words because they demonstrate the awesome power of truth in our relationships:
“Thank you for your coaching tonight but most of all for being so TAO [transparent, authentic, and open] with us. I understood (intellectually) . . . how important it is but tonight I felt how important it is thanks to your sincerely being transparent, authentic and open with us. It will totally effect my coaching as well as my life.”
Tears welled up in my eyes when I read this. I felt so honored to have screwed up in a way that helped her. And helped the group. And helped me enormously. I’ve struggled mightily with my perfectionism. Last night, there was almost no struggle, as my perfectionism exposed its soft, pale belly to the light.
And you know what? I think even if I had a chance for a re-do, I wouldn’t change a thing. It was so much better this way.
My deepest thanks to all of you on the call last night. You are awesome coaches!
A few days ago, I listened to a recording of a class I taught. I lost count of the number of times I said “um.” The next day, I had dinner with a friend who told me that she is a Toastmasters member and at a recent meeting, her job was to count the number of times a speaker said “um.” This kind of coincidence happens so often that I’m not amazed by it any more.
I asked her if people could actually improve their “um” habit. She assured me they could. So, because I’m on the joy diet and taking risks, I’m joining her Toastmasters group. I’ll have my “ums” formally counted.
They say that public speaking is one of the most stressful things you can do. Public speaking without the crutch of “um” to regroup your thoughts seems more than stressful. It seems impossible.
But, I’m not going to dwell on how nervous this thought gets me. Nope. I’m going to approach this playfully. I intend to become completely absorbed in what I’m doing and to let go of the outcome. I’ll, uh, keep you posted.
Last April, the women on the Central Washington University softball team lost a game to Western Oregon University and forfeited their chance to go to the playoffs. They did it in a spectacularly unusual way.
An opposing player hit a home run over the center-field fence, but she injured her knee, and fell to the ground, unable to run the bases. The umpire ruled that she would forfeit her run, and that her own teammates couldn’t help her. So the Central Washington first baseman and shortstop picked her up, and carried her around the field. She scored, and their team lost.
“In the end, it is not about winning and losing so much,” the first baseman said. “It was about this girl. She hit it over the fence and was in pain, and she deserved a home run.” The three players laughed their way around the field, wondering what the spectators were thinking. You can read the whole story here.
By losing the softball game, these amazing young women won something so much richer. They’ve won a round in finding the real work of life—that of living it to our fullest, finest potential.
Today, I randomly opened the Tao te Ching to this:
“The best athlete wants his opponent at his best.
The best general enters the mind of his enemy.
The best businessman serves the communal good.
The best leader follows the will of the people.
All of them embody the virtue of non-competition.
Not that they don’t love to compete, but they do it in the spirit of play
In this they are like children and in harmony with the Tao.”
The task itself, the way it is approached and performed, is more important than the outcome. This is the spirit of play we bring to our work, our careers, as joy dieters. Living to our fullest potential is not an impossibly tall order when we let go of outcome and just do our best.
One of the most embarrassing memories of my childhood happened in second grade. Even then I loved to read, and could easily get lost in the exploits of Dick and Jane. One morning, the class had moved on from reading to arithmetic, without my noticing. When the teacher called on me for an answer to an arithmetic problem, I looked up from my reading book. Befuddled, I said something which invoked howling laughter from my classmates. I still remember my cheeks burning with humiliation.
To this day, I still get so absorbed in what I’m doing that I totally merge into it. This is Lao Tzu’s concept of non-action, where, as Stephen Mitchell explains in his introduction to the Tao te Ching, “The game plays the game, the poem writes the poem, we can’t tell the dancer from the dance.”
Less and less do you need to force things,
Until finally you arrive at non-action.
When nothing is done,
Nothing is left undone.
Here’s my personal challenge, however. When I’m so absorbed in the thing in front of me, I stay in the mouse’s close-up world, and lose the vision of the eagle, the ability to push back in my chair, stretch, and take a broad view of where I’m headed. Both are vital as we look at our work: that which is our destiny and inspires us.
So my commitment to myself is to shift to the eagle’s view more often, certainly at least once each day. As you’ve been playing this week, have you remembered to shift your focus large and small, eagle and mouse?
Did you ever celebrate the holidays like I used to? For example. I’d decorate a twelve-foot tree with thousands of lights and ornaments, and still be at it moments before 150 people arrived for a party. A party for which I had cooked and baked enough food for 350 people, and bought five new outfits, four of which I’d planned to return before the party. But I hadn’t done that because I was still trying to decide which one to wear while I was putting little blown glass icicles and wooden toy drums and Mexican tin stars in perfect position on the tree.
Of course, I’d was really ticked at my kids for not sharing my enthusiasm to get the tree finished before our guests arrived. If only they had helped, I could have gotten a lot more done before the party. I could have baked another batch of reindeer-shaped hazelnut spice cookies. (Have you ever tried to skin hazelnuts? It’s next to impossible. Takes hours.) I remember my ten-year-old son looking up from the television, shaking his wise little head in bemused detachment and saying, “It’s okay, Mom. No one cares if the tree isn’t finished.”
Susan Hyatt, a Martha Beck Master Coach, taught a teleclass today called “This Ain’t Yo Mama’s Christmas.” It’s about how to enjoy the holidays sanely, authentically, and stress-free by creating a personal and meaningful celebration. Part of the class deals with what she calls “your inner Martha Stewart.”
Where was Susan when I needed her?
Anyway, because I’m on the joy diet and required to play, I called her this morning and left a threatening message from Martha Stewart, instructing her not to make fun of me during her class, and suggesting we talk before I “get my lawyers involved.” Much more fun than an ordinary “please call me” business voicemail.
By the way, if you suffer from Martha Stewartitis, you can get the recording of her class here. It’s a must for joy dieters afflicted with any sort of holiday malady involving hazelnuts.
I love my work more than ever, now that I’m required to play. Stolen straight from Bridgette Boudreau, coach, blogger, and friend, is this cool idea from www.wordle.net. The concept is simple, fun, and even non-techies (you know who you are joy dieters, no excuses) can do this.
If you ever thought computer Solitare or Bejeweled was addicting, watch out!
Today, I’m putting together the new newsletter for Martha Beck Inc. The topic is Money and the Financial Crisis. So I simply had to watch this:
If you know of a funnier movie than Mamma Mia, I’d like to know what it is. Yeah, it’s cheesy, plotless, and the singing is terrible, and it is without parallel for invoking joy, in my humble opinion. The release date for the DVD is November 25. I plan to get my very own copy, so I can “fool around and have a ball” watching it. Whenever I want. No matter what.
By the way, if you’re not on Martha’s email list, you can subscribe here. The new issue, which is coming out really soon, contains a dynamite new tool for overcoming money fears. I’ve tried it and it works.
