Taking the first step (even when it's teeny)

Lao Tzu said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.


He did not say the journey begins by running the first mile. He did not say one needs to consult all of the thousand-mile journey experts before starting. He did not scoff at the smallness of one step on a journey of what will be many, many steps or tell others to ruminate on the magnitude of the journey ahead. He said simply take one step.

For those of us who were brought up to be overachievers (ahem) the concept of starting small can seem like, well, underachieving. It can seem too easy and naive. It can seem like nothing will get accomplished if we set such a little goal.

I get that, I really do. Each time I set a goal I feel the need to get started in a big way. I decided I wanted to have a daily yoga practice so I've convinced myself I need to find 90 minutes in my day for asanas. I decided I wanted to start waking up earlier and I reset my morning alarm from 8am to 5 am. I decided I wanted to run again so I looked up marathon training programs.

At least now I know how to recognize my ego when it rears its big head. I also know, from years of experience, what will happen if I listen to it and take this approach. I will either be too intimidated by the goal to even get started or I will try to do too much at once and fall flat on my face. Lao Tzu knew what he was talking about. One step is a good place to start.

One step is also the place of humility. The ego hates taking just one step. It's not big enough, it's not good enough. It certainly is not impressive enough. It will never get the accolades that taking a bigger step would receive. To take one step, to start small, really means to learn how to silence the ego.

I like personifying thoughts or beliefs that do not serve me. When I do this, they lose their power and become funny. I've shared with you in past posts my lizard, Blanche (the self-critical monologue inside my head). I would now like to introduce you to my ego.

Interestingly enough, my ego looks just like a kind of guy I've seen at every gym I've ever belonged to. You know the guy I'm talking about. The guy who is not really that muscular but feels the need to hold his arms really far away from his body to give the impression his biceps are too huge to allow him to place them normally at his sides. That guy. That guy always cracks me up. He is just trying extremely hard to be impressive and it's so obvious. Sounds just like my ego.

For the record, since I decided I wanted to really start deepening my yoga practice several months ago, I haven't done a damn pose at home. I sleep through my 5am alarm every morning and have yet to buy a new pair of running shoes.

One step, one step, one step.

This morning, I decided to take one step. I did one pigeon pose. It felt great. My lizard, Blanche, started in with "How do you ever expect to get anything accomplished in your life if you just do these insignificant tiny things?" For a moment, I started to feel like a naive child. How was I going to develop a full yoga practice by just doing less than five minutes of yoga?

Then I remembered that today was the first day I had actually done yoga in quite awhile. When I listened to Blanche and my ego, nothing got accomplished. Or things seemingly got accomplished and then fell apart because I didn't build them with a solid foundation that a gradual approach would have sustained.

I know that Blanche and my ego aren't going away (at least not any time soon) no matter how much I may want them to leave. But I do have Lao Tzu. He seems a lot more wise and honest and realistic.

At the center of your being you have the answer. You know who you are and you know what you want.
-Lao Tzu

*Next time you decide to make a goal, watch how the ego will enter and tell you that you need to do things in a big way. Resist this temptation and take one small step in the direction of what you'd like to create. Be prepared for your lizard to come in and berate the insignificance of your small actions. Proceed anyway and see what happens.

a life, borrowed

A long, long time ago I was a girl scout. I actually don't remember much about being a girl scout except for two things. The first was the little round badges I wanted to accumulate because those things were like status symbols.


The second was something I learned about borrowing. Our troop leader told us that when you borrowed something, you should not just return it to its lender in its original condition, but in even better condition. This, she said, would be a great way to show your appreciation to the person who lent you something. Say, for example, a classmate lent you her half-dull pencil because you forgot yours. You wouldn't just return the pencil to her sans bite marks, but would return it completely sharpened.

This really stuck with me for years. I borrowed stuff from people all the time and always tried to return things in better condition than which they were lent to me. Then once day, not too long ago, I realized that nothing I thought I owned was really mine. I realized that I was, in fact, borrowing everything.

This shift in perception started when I wrote an article on Vipassana meditation for a local periodical. In the article, I explained to readers that it is against the practice of Vipassana for a meditator to contribute anything to a dhamma center (even though they provide 10 days of lodging, food and instruction) until the meditator completes a course. After a meditator completes a 10-day course, they can give a donation if they feel the meditation was beneficial. That donation will be used to provide food and lodging and instruction for a future meditator. I find this to be a beautiful way to run a dhamma center. It's really like living a monk's or a nun's life when you take a Vipassana course. Everything given to you during a course is because of the charity of someone else.

It also makes sense to run things like this when you are teaching people to dissolve their egos. When we get attached to the idea of something being "ours" or belonging to the self, a whole bunch of ego subconsciously gets wrapped up in our actions. Suddenly, we have to defend what is "ours." We have to fight for it or demand something on its behalf. Or we start to believe that we can do what we'd like with it, because it belongs to us.

I became absolutely intrigued by this idea of life as charity so I spent one entire day pretending as if nothing was mine and I was borrowing everything. The bed I slept in? Not mine, so I was grateful I had it when I woke up. The food in the fridge? Not mine, so I really enjoyed eating it and made sure to clean up the kitchen I was "borrowing" better than I normally would have.

The man I live with and usually call "my husband?" On that day I pretended he was not mine. It was like the first day we met-fresh and new and I fell in love with him all over again. I didn't expect him to do anything for me. When he did, I was surprised and delighted. The clients I coached? Not mine and I no longer concerned myself with their progress or lack thereof. In fact, a sacred reverence came into each session. Even this body was not mine. I noticed with this paradigm shift an absence of a self-critical monologue. There was just no need to say anything bad about a vehicle I was borrowing to have the experience of a human existence.

The day when I realized nothing was mine was the beginning of a new life.

Not only was there an increased sense of gratitude and reverence, there was also the responsibility to leave things I was borrowing better than I found them. Every person I interacted with became someone I was borrowing for that moment in time. If they seemed sad, I tried to cheer them up. If they seemed stressed, I tried to make them laugh. If they needed to talk, I listened. I tried to leave them better than I found them. Everything in my life was something I was borrowing while I was alive.

The public bathroom? I made sure to clean off the borrowed sink. The trash in the parking lot? I picked it up. The mother with four kids and a cart full of groceries? I helped her get to her car. All of this happened naturally when I realized everything was borrowed. It didn't have the weight of something "I should do" to be a good Samaritan. It just flowed naturally.

Perhaps at some time in the future, I will get to a place where I can let go of the concept of anything being "mine" for longer than one day. The ego seems like nothing more than a prison. The more I grow as a person, the more obvious it becomes that to live in a world where so much is "mine" feels like carrying a heavy, iron burden. I will try to consistently remind myself that everything I have is actually borrowed. It really does feel a lot more free.

The Power of No

Just when I thought I was over my people-pleasing habits forever, I am humbled by the constant vigilance it requires for me to learn the power of the word no.

The other day a client asked me if she could schedule a 5:30 appointment. Granted, my hours are 9-5 and I generally reserve the latter part of my work day for behind-the-scenes coaching work (such as writing my blog and writing workbooks) because I do my best one-on-one work in the morning. By the time 3 rolls around I'm ready for the kind of silent solitary time that writing requires. Yet when this client asked for 5:30 I said Sure! as if I couldn't imagine anything else I'd rather be doing.

Why do I do this? Why, in fact, do WE women constantly agree to things we don't want to do? I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with social conditioning (just watching the amazingly different way my partner G. responds to requests baffles me) but let's put the psychoanalytical theories to the side for now and focus on a solution. How can we say no, especially when the request is from a dear friend or family member whom we hate to disappoint?

I don't think it was just a coincidence that led me to find an interesting book yesterday entitled The Book of No: 250 Ways to Say It and Mean It. Susan Newman, a social psychologist, gives the reader many different examples (250 to be exact) of how one can say no in different social situations. I love how she gives a script of saying "no" in such a matter-of-fact way for so many different scenarios. Even if you're tempted to say yes because the request is from a close family member or your best friend or your boss, this book shows you how to approach the person with diplomacy and tact and yet still uphold your personal boundaries.

This book could not have come into my life at a better time. G and I are planning a small wedding for our friends and family this October. Many people cannot travel to India for our August wedding and we wanted to share our marriage with the people who mean the most to us. We're footing the bill and we're having the wedding in the same city where we live. And yet my dear mother cannot help but remind me that I've left some important people off of the guest list. (Cousins and aunts whom I've met once, or not at all, or whom I really don't like, and who certainly don't fit into the category of "our closest friends and family.")

When I stood my ground and said "no" she again tried to manipulate me into saying "yes" by saying that a lot of people whom we've invited probably won't come because of the travel involved. "At least these people live closer and might show up" was her argument.

First, I found myself beginning to panic. What if no one shows up to this wedding that we've worked so hard to plan? What if I have to walk down the aisle and say my vows to an empty-chaired audience?

But then my trusty body compass came back into the picture. I realized that the fearful voice flashing images of me alone with my husband on my wedding day was just my lizard, Blanche. I also realized when I checked in with my body compass, inviting the people my mother suggested just felt icky. And I wanted to feel good about every single person we sent invitations to. "You know, if very few people show up, that will be okay," I heard a calm me saying into the phone. "What's most important is that we only include the people we feel really know us well and will truly support our marriage."

Suddenly it seemed as if the word "no" wasn't so hard after all. In fact, it felt as if it was my own personal guard of my boundaries. Being able to say it, even when I was challenged, felt like I was really respecting myself. Here are some gems from this book I wanted to share with you:

-If you don't immediately feel like saying "yes" then this request probably deserves a "no."

-Train yourself to immediately think "no" before you respond to any type of request. Even if you initally say "no" to something you don't mind doing for someone else, you can always change your answer.

-Pause before you ever answer a request. Even just having a few seconds of time will give your brain and body time to process whether or not you want to do what is being asked of you.

Some scenarios I love: (I've modified them from the book; the book actually provides a lot of details for each scenario possible)

1.

Request: "You have such a great eye, mathematical finesse, writing ability, etc. Can you help me with this project?"

Response: "Wish I could, but I can't."

2.

Request: "I have two tickets for the opening of the new play at the Graham-Bell Theatre." (and you happen to hate plays)

Response: "Thank you. It was so thoughtful of you to invite me. I really prefer movies. Maybe

Ali or Seth would like to go."

3.

Request: "I know it's short notice but will you babysit for us over the weekend?"

Response: "I can't this weekend. I'm always delighted to take the children but I need to have a bit of advanced notice."

4.

Request (from a child): "It's not fair. I want to go to bed when Katie does. It doesn't matter if she's older than me!"

Response: "No. You need the extra sleep to help you grow. When you are Katie's age, you can stay up later."

5.

Request: "Mom and Dad, will you give me money for the down payment on a house?"

Response: "No, we aren't paying your down payment."

6.

Request (from your boss): "This mailing is huge and has to go out by the end of the day. Will you stuff envelopes during lunch?"

Response: "No, I can't do that today."

7.

Request: "I'm thinking about starting a sign-in and sign-out system for middle managers and support staff. You'll have to tell your group."

Response: "The people who work for me don't need to be monitored. They're professionals; they don't need a mother."

Learning to say "no" is an important step on the path to maturity and self-respect. However, it takes some practice, especially if you're like most women and have been trained to please others and put them before yourself. When you learn to say "no" you learn how to take your time (and essentially your life) back. Be prepared to be challenged and to be guilt-tripped when you learn to used the sacred word "no". Be prepared (especially if you're the people-pleasing type) for others to be shocked and initially upset when you turn down requests. Remember, however, that they'll get over it. And at the end of the day, you'll be liberated.