Options

I am a teacher. I don’t just mean professionally, though I do in part make a living as a professor and teacher in many different contexts and settings. I am a teacher by my nature, and a learning space is my most natural habitat. And, as a teacher, I certainly work to share my knowledge and experience in a way that others hopefully find helpful and interesting.

Sharing knowledge and experience, though, are in the service of a deeper calling as a teacher — to make things that are difficult or mysterious understandable enough to stay on a path of learning, especially when the path is uncertain or just straight up scary. Teaching, in other words, is about seeing and generating options. In this I am inspired by two lines from the poem “The Laughing Heart” by Charles Bukowski:

be on the watch.
there are ways out.

Be on the watch. How? By asking questions. Questions create space and room to maneuver. They let you catch your breath so your thinking and judgment can hear the counsel of your emotions. Some questions are specific to a moment or arisen challenge. And some questions are just part of a basic toolkit, like a screwdriver, tape measure, and variable speed drill. Three of the best, no surprise, come from one of our greatest teachers, Ursula Le Guin:

Why are things as they are?
Must they be as they are?
What might they be like if they were otherwise?

What are your questions?

Aim High ... or at least a little higher than you think you can

Marc Chagall says that the world is transformed when we speak the word “love” without embarrassment. Whenever I’m working with someone to figure out what they are really about or really want to do in the world, I can usually tell we’re getting to the real answer when they get a sheepish grin on their face. It’s typically after they’ve gone through the answers they think they are supposed to have, or the answers dictated by their current role or expectations on and for themselves. And I think both the sheepishness and the grin are telling. The sheepishness is because somewhere we get the idea that we’re not supposed to stand out or make important things happen. The grin is because we get a glimpse of actually making something big and important happen. Whatever that thing is you’re after, that thing that makes you grin, however big or small, go ahead and try.

why i tell my sister to make paper ...

Because making paper is her truth, an anchor, a centering calm in whatever craziness she happens to be navigating.  It's what she's been about for as long as I can remember.  It's just what she does, not as an assignment, or because someone expects it, or because she's making a living at it.  She does it simply because it's who she is and what she's about and because it brings her joy -- an existential touchstone and talisman. The fact that she also does make a living at it is a blessing, but not the reason it's core. 

think about grass

Think about grass. Grass has to survive and thrive and it can't just pick up and move wholesale. It is literally rooted in place. So what's it's answer? To spread, sending out shoots and runners, and rooting itself wherever it is, in as many different directions as it can.  It is the ultimate stealth plant. I have worked at different times to "control" monkey grass and bamboo (bamboo is the ultimate bad-ass grass), and each time I've been left to admire how well grass improvises and works with what it has. By the time you realize it's shown up somewhere you don't necessarily want it, it is already established and rooted in a way that if you are going to dig it up, you pretty much have to dig everything else up with it. I always think about grass when I talk to people who are telling me all the reasons they are stuck and can't do something, even though they have resources and connections. And it's typically because they think they have to change wholesale and/or they don't want to make a big deal or draw attention to themselves.  Or they're looking for excuses not to change.  Whatever the reason, grass is a great teacher ... if you feel stuck, put out little shoots, relentlessly, in as many different directions as you can, when no one is looking.       

keep it simple and try it a lot ...

If you only ever read this one post, take this piece of advice -- keep it simple and try it a lot.  Whatever the "IT" is.  Doesn't matter how big or small the "IT" is.  So, let me "unpack" this little rule of thumb.  

First, keep it simple. The single hardest part of making something happen is taking the first step, and almost always that's because we make the first step way too complicated.  A simple first step has two aspects -- it moves in the right direction, and it is big enough that you can learn something.  Learning doesn't mean you have to fail, by the way.  It just means that you gain insight and understanding (and courage to keep going) that you didn't have before you took it.  

Second, try it a lot.  That doesn't mean beating your head against a wall or obsessing.  It means that as you learn, make small tweaks, and try it again. And again.  Everyday, with anything you care about and want to make happen.  The simplest way to try it is to come up with a version of your "IT" that you can share with someone else and get their thoughts.  Don't even have to draw it on a napkin, though stick figures are fine.

Eventually you realize that the things you care about and want to make happen are not ever finished per se -- like all living things, they grow and adapt and change.  Eventually you realize that anything big and important doesn't happen all at once.  It grows through countless simple versions that grow more sophisticated and beautiful as you try them, learn, try them again, etc.  And remember, "done" always means "done for now."  

None of this happens if you don't start.  

There is of course a lot more to say about this, how to do it, how to be resilient, and I'll say more in future posts.  For now, whatever that thing is that you would love to make happen, or are just curious about, go tell someone about it, listen to what they have to say, make any tweaks, and tell someone else ... 

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