Honoring Those Mountains You’ve Climbed

Perhaps you’ve forgotten how resilient you actually are?

There they were, relics from a different time in my life. Two good sized pieces of crystal with my name engraved in both. I forgot I even had them. These were given to me in recognition of exceeding sales performance expectations from earlier in my professional career. Actually, these weren’t given to me.

I earned them.

While results get the recognition, they never really tell the entire story of what it took to get those results, of what was endured in the process, of what you had to grow through and who you needed to grow into to earn a symbolic piece of crystal with your name on it.

As I unpacked these towel-wrapped pieces from the unmarked cardboard box which had been in the attic for more than 25 years, this older version of me was reminded of who this younger version of me was when I was received these trophies. I remember the challenges of this sales position and the difficult task I had willingly agreed to take on. My focus then shifted toward remembering the challenges I was facing simply being me at that time. The doubts, the fears, the anxiety, the pressure. Yet, somehow that version of me was able to stand at the base of this daunting mountain of a challenge and reach a summit which had never once felt remotely possible for me. It was a brutal climb, bruised and bloodied, but I guess I just kept climbing.

This older version of me cracked a little bit of a smile. I was proud of that younger version of me.

I try not to look back in life. There’s a lot in the rear view mirror that I really don’t wish to re-experience. The losses, the pains, the regrets, the mountains I wasn’t able to climb. Sometimes, though, looking Continue reading “Honoring Those Mountains You’ve Climbed” →

Re-learning How To Love Yourself

The white van wrapped around a tree just off the highway was a stark reminder.

Mid-week we were greeted by our first significant snow storm of the season. The timing of the storm kept many off the roads, but those of us who decided to head into the office were met with some significant commuting challenges. Just ask the driver of the white van.

Snow still brings out the kid in me. But with the first major snowfall of the year, the kid in me took a back seat to the adult driver in me as I navigated the yet unplowed interstate.

Driving in snow demands a fully present version of me, especially when it’s been quite some time since the last time I needed to. The infrequency of driving in these elements requires me to essentially re-learn how to actually do so. With my hyper attentiveness I notice everything. I notice the distance between the car in front of me and the one behind me. I notice any visible lane markings. I notice the level of traction the tires have with the road. I notice the responsiveness of the steering. I notice my mind planning for unforeseen contingencies.

I notice everything.

Most of the time driving is simply instinctive. We get in the car and obliviously go, often ending up at our destination seemingly unconsciously, distracted by music, podcasts, and phone calls along the way. Driving in less than ideal conditions is far more intentional and deliberate, with our awareness keeping us fully present in the process. It’s a process I need to re-learn every winter with every first snow.

Life can often feel instinctive. We get up each day and just obliviously go, going through our days seemingly unconsciously, distracted by the same things which distracted us yesterday and the day before. Sometimes life creates some less than ideal conditions for us to experience, internally or externally, and our unconscious almost automatic life now requires our full attention. Life becomes far more intentional and deliberate, we become more fully present in the process.

If we choose to.

Living a more intentional and deliberate life is a decision we get to make. In any moment. We need not wait for life’s storms of illness, heartbreak, and disillusion to push us to our breaking point in order to do Continue reading “Re-learning How To Love Yourself” →

Creating The Space To Receive

I have to admit it was a bit unnerving.

I’d never seen a message like it before. It was from my email provider telling me that my email account was full. I’d need to delete some emails in order to create space to receive any new emails. The message was all text, it’s lack of any visible corporate identity greatly added to my overall sense of skepticism about the authenticity of the message. But when I realized I could no longer download any new messages I knew something had actually happened. Maybe my account was hacked?

Nope.

I had, in fact, reached the maximum capacity of emails in my inbox.

I’ve never been good at managing my email accounts. I get lots of emails from sources both known and unknown, and it’s always been easier to simply ignore these intrusive emails instead of taking the time to delete them and unsubscribe from distribution lists I never even knew I was a part of. I guess my “ignore them” strategy wasn’t perfect. Over the years, this particular account had accumulated over 92,000 unread messages, which, apparently, leaves no room to download anything new.

After spending quite some time deleting several thousand unread messages, I was able to create enough space for new messages to be received.

Being disconnected from my email was quite uncomfortable. What if there were important messages I needed to receive? My discomfort was directly related to my habitually holding on to what didn’t serve me, which, in this case, created no room to receive.

Once I resolved my email issues, I began to wonder. Are there other areas in my life where holding on was inhibiting my ability to receive?

Perhaps the greatest inhibitor to our ability to receive life’s greatest blessings is embracing a mindset Continue reading “Creating The Space To Receive” →

What Is Forced In Life Will Ultimately Fail

I remember my brother’s reaction to my work.

He took my hammer and threw it as far as he could into the distance. His way of making sure I wouldn’t inflict any more damage to the wood I was working with.

Who knew there’d be a life lesson in that?

My brother Steve was one of several extremely talented woodworkers we had in the family, and on this day his patience for my lack of such talent had finally worn to the point where removing the hammer from my hand and throwing it was, in his mind, the best course of action.

No words were necessary nor exchanged.

Steve was like my Uncle Bob. A true craftsman who could build anything out of wood. Seemingly effortlessly, while my endless efforts and best intentions could never come close to replicating his results.

Despite my lack of talent, I’ve always been fascinated with woodworking. Especially when it comes to joinery. The ability to join two different pieces of wood together both structurally and aesthetically was an Uncle Bob specialty. Dovetails, mortise and tenons joints pinned with square pegs in round holes…whatever was needed for the application, his results were flawless.

One particular project I was able to observe (and not actively participate in) required the joining two boards of a table top. As their grains ran perpendicular to each other, the preferred method was to create a groove for the two pieces to interlock with, and to then pin the two pieces together at their intersection. As the round holes were drilled, the square pegs were being prepared. Once properly aligned, the square pegs were forcefully driven into the round holes to hold everything in place.

Forcing those square pegs into those round holes created the friction, resistance, and tension which held both boards together.

Friction, resistance, and tension are quite beneficial when it comes to holding wooden things together.

But is it any way to hold a life together?

I have had situations in my life when I’ve forced my square peg self into round holes that I knew really weren’t for me. In forcing myself in, it created a friction, resistance, and tension which painfully held things together, things which were never intended to be held together in the first place. And with that comes the tendency to try and rationalize and justify why forcing the wrong thing is better than waiting alone for the right thing. The mind will attempt to override the wisdom of our intuition, but ultimately what is forced in life will eventually fail under the pressures of the friction, resistance, and tension inherent with any misaligned creation. Continue reading “What Is Forced In Life Will Ultimately Fail” →

The Gift Which Never Feels Like A Gift

I was hoping I wouldn’t see her.

But there she was.

It’s Sunday grocery shopping and I’m standing in the deli line, ticket number 117 in my hand. I see Janet working the slicer and I’m hoping that she won’t be the one who calls number 117.

Janet and I have issues. Actually, Janet has no idea I have issues with her. Janet, actually, has no idea who I even am.

And then she speaks.

“Number 117?”

Seriously?

My instructions from those at home who eat the freshly sliced deli meat is that the deli meat is to be sliced extremely thin. It sounds like a simple request, but for some reason asking Janet to slice the olive loaf extremely thin doesn’t make her happy. My request is always met with an indignant damning glance, as if I’ve instructed her to violate some sacred law of slicing sandwich meat. After a pronounced pause she say “you know, if you slice olive loaf too thin, all the olives will fall out”, her eyes still tensely locked with mine. “That’s OK…that’s how they like it”, I defiantly reassure her. “That’s OK.” With that, she sets the slicer’s thickness dial as low as she can and begrudgingly slices the meat as I requested it, holding up the first slice awaiting my approval before she continues. I silently nod my head once and the standoff is finally over.

In that same head I hear my indignant lament. “Can’t a man simply have his sandwich meat sliced the way he wants it without his motives being questioned? Do I really have to deal with this on a Sunday morning?”

But this really isn’t about Janet. What this is really about is why would I let such a scenario annoy me as much as it does?

If we are willing to look closely we will notice that within all of us lie triggers, those external occurrences and unmet expectations which habitually set us off emotionally. And no matter how we may choose to Continue reading “The Gift Which Never Feels Like A Gift” →

I Found Your Broken Heart On The Beach

You’d think with all the miles I’ve walked on beaches over the years this would have happened sooner.

But there it was, at my feet.

A heart-shaped stone.

I’ve jealously seen a great many heart-shaped stones posted on social media, many from beaches I’ve actually walked on. Yet never had I seen one in real life. But there it was.

And it was broken.

The symmetrical shape of the symbol we equate with love wasn’t quite perfectly symmetrical. A small section on the upper left side had broken off, the roughness of the break contrasted against the weathered rounded and smoothed surface of the rest of the stone.

I found a broken heart on the beach.

This broken heart got me to thinking about the symbolism it may contain. Was there some significance in such a find? Was there a particular message or lesson behind me being in the right place at the right time to discover a fractured heart right in front of me?

A broken stone heart is easily seen. A human broken heart is much more difficult to see, the fractures and pain concealed within, with facades of smiles and laughter concealing the hurt even further.

Most of us with some years behind us carry within our own asymmetrical heart, a heart fractured and broken by the impact of simply being human, of simply being alive. Maybe finding this broken heart was to remind me that while broken hearts, specifically the human ones, can never be perfectly fixed, they can be cared for with love, kindness, patience, and understanding.

Hurt is universal.

So, too, is our capacity to respond with compassion.

Towards your heart.

And mine.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Popsicles And The Art Of Reclaiming Possibility

If there was a movie about that rather dark period of my life, the soundtrack would have to be filled with the music from the band Soul Asylum.

It’s the early 1990’s. I’m moving forward in life, fully transitioned into adulthood, taking a few small steps up a corporate ladder I felt compelled to try and climb. The facade of smiles and joviality, lubricated and enhanced with a steady supply of alcohol, diligently disguised the heaviness of doubt and uncertainty swirling within.

Cue Soul Asylum.

There was a relatable rawness in the lyrics of Soul Asylum’s music. Dave Pirner’s songs of emptiness, loss, longing, vulnerability, and frustration so perfectly captured exactly where I was at that time in my life. Eloquently composed, yet painfully accurate.

But it was his popsicles which always saved me.

Like the sun peeking through an ever gloomy and ominously cloudy sky, one lyrical reference always offered a faint source of light in the musical darkness. Each time I hear these words they always bring me back to a more innocent time in my life.

“Standing in the sun with a popsicle, everything is possible…”

I remembered back when life was a clean slate and everything felt possible. As a kid with the sun washing your youthful face and with a popsicle in your hand, life is a wide open highway ready to take you anywhere you want to go. Until life gradually shows up and experience and expectations turn that wide open highway into an unmarked and unpaved backroad endlessly circling back upon itself.

Life does have a way of ripping the popsicle out of your hand and wiping the smile off your now not-so-youthful face, doesn’t it?

Life does get busy. Life does get hard. Practicality often replacing possibility in the process.

Yet possibility always exists. In the light, in the darkness. In the flow, in the struggle. In the peace, and Continue reading “Popsicles And The Art Of Reclaiming Possibility” →

Maybe You Should Pick Yourself First?

It was a one-sided conversation, but sometimes that one side can tell you everything.

Standing in line at the grocery store is always longer around the holidays. It’s part of the tradition. Along with the obligatory crying baby, many in line kept themselves busy by scrolling through their phones waiting for the convoy of overstuffed shopping carts to eventually make their way to the cashier.

One woman in line was deeply engaged in what seemed to be a rather significant phone call. In this age of indifference, having personal conversations in public spaces has become rather ordinary. And this was a very personal conversation.

It was evident that this woman was having some sort of relationship issues. And the disdain and self-loathing radiating from her words indicated that this was not the first relationship she’s had issues with.

“I know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?”

You could feel her pain in those words, a pain I sensed she was very familiar with as history appeared to be repeating itself once again.

Maybe her problem wasn’t who she was picking. Maybe the problem is who she wasn’t picking.

Herself.

Relationships don’t come with instructions, do they? You kind of have to figure them out on your own. Ideally, though, you’d try and figure yourself out first. Traumas, those intentionally and unintentionally inflicted, can often instead send us down the path of looking outside of ourselves for what we can Continue reading “Maybe You Should Pick Yourself First?” →

Let Go Or Be Dragged

A well-timed Zen proverb appeared in my social feed.

“Let go or be dragged.”

We’ve all been dragged, haven’t we? Dragged by holding on to expectations of wanting What Is to be other than it actually is. Dragged by well-intentioned hopes which have always remained nothing more than hopes.

Yet we continue to hold on, ever so tightly, our emotional hands blistered and bloodied as we relentlessly and blindly tighten our grip further.

Let go or be dragged.

Releasing expectations is always easier on paper. It requires getting comfortable with the uncomfortable, but in doing so it also creates the space for peace.

Your peace.

My peace.

As we head into a new year, we get to decide what we are willing to take with us. As far as expectations, the only ones I intend to take with me are the only ones I can control.

The ones I have for myself.

I’m letting go of the others.

So my blistered and bloodied hands can heal.

So I can get a more solid grasp on fulfilling the promise of my own creation.

Continue reading “Let Go Or Be Dragged” →

Life Lessons From A Brick Oven Pizza

It was the best pizza I’ve ever had.

And I’ve eaten a lot of pizza.

Pizza has somehow become rather important to me. I’ve baked my fair share of pies and I’m always trying to improve my results, often reverse engineering each bite of my favorite pizzas to try and uncover the secrets hidden inside. Having done my best to befriend my server she eventually revealed the four ingredients used to make the dough which I hoped to replicate at home.

“Flour, water, salt, and yeast” is what she told me.

“And…time.”

Time. An often overlooked ingredient. Time is what’s needed for flour, water, salt, and yeast to come together and fully develop their flavor profile. While some may try to manipulate the process, like most things in life the best results usually can’t ever be rushed.

Ours is a world at odds with patience. It’s a world which rewards the immediate, even if the immediate is inferior to what could instead be more fully developed if given the time to do so.

As I’ve worked to more fully evolve in life, I’ve come to understand that my evolution is a process, a process which takes time. At times I, too, am at odds with patience, trying to force a process which Continue reading “Life Lessons From A Brick Oven Pizza” →

Peter Mis LivingHalfFull.com

Lessons From A Life Unfolding