TRIBUTE

By Kelly Williams

What if I told you that my mom drinks orange soda pop in bed, after she’s brushed her teeth for the night? Or that she believes SPF 4 provides real protection from the harmful rays of the sun and attempts to justify the sunburn she always gets when we are on vacation by arguing, “This is how I tan – I red tan.” My favorite line of my mom’s is when we are in the car together driving some place and I notice that her seat belt isn’t on, so I prod her to buckle up and she replies, “I always wear my seat belt when you’re not here.” I bet you can just imagine me shaking my head, laughing and muttering “right.” I mean really, does that make any sense?

This is just one part of my mother. At age 61, she is one of the most energetic, lovable, kind and amazing women I know. She is also my best friend. At some point over the years, a shift occurred in our relationship. Maybe it was after my dad was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Or maybe it was when he died. I don’t remember exactly when, but at some point, I became more like the mother in our relationship, and she the daughter.

With only twenty years between us, my mom and I have always been close. The kind of relationship that people seem to envy. The only kind of relationship I’ve ever known, and the only kind I ever want to have. Even with the shift, it is the most incredible loving relationship in my life. Which is why I continue to “bust” her for eating after she brushes her teeth. And why I literally beg her when we are on vacation together to sit in the shade with me during the hottest part of the day. That’s what you do for those you love, right?

I wonder if other daughters and mothers experience this kind of shift in their relationship. It’s not a bad shift, I don’t mean to imply that by any means, and I’m not turning into my mother, like so many other stories I hear. What is happening is that I am becoming my mother’s mother – all at the age of forty. It’s not a role I’ve prepared for, but it seems to suit me just the same. And, I’ve had a fabulous role model.

I don’t eat after I’ve brushed my teeth. I always wear my seatbelt when I drive. I never lay in the sun without sunscreen. I’ve learned a few things along the way. Not just the little stuff, but the really big stuff, too. Like the joy that comes from opening your heart and giving yourself over to others so generously. My mom does that. She has this amazing group of friends, from all different ages and backgrounds. She nurtures those relationships and there is not one of them who wouldn’t come running if my mom needed help. In truth, they’d come running if I needed help. They are remarkable. She is that amazing.

I’ve also learned from her to believe in myself. She always did. Not once did I hear “you can’t do that” and today, more than ever, I realize the incredible, powerful impact that has had on my life. Whenever I’ve questioned anything, she was there to listen. Whenever I wanted to give something a whirl, she said, “Go for it.” And whenever I’ve doubted myself, she never did. All I ever got from her was love.

With our roles shifting, I understand the importance of the gifts she’s given me more than ever. As she embarks on her new life adventures, like the dating world, it is my opportunity to support her unconditionally. “You want to do match.com? Great!” I tell her. “And yes, you will find someone wonderful to share your life with. He’s out there.” And as she does with me, I worry about her. “Make sure to meet him for dinner at a safe place; don’t invite him over until you really know him.”

I wonder what is next for our relationship. Will the next twenty years bring another shift? At age 78, will she return to the full and legitimate status of mother? Will she be re-married? Will our giggle-infected conversations about whether or not her “winker” is broken on the match.com site be replaced by conversations about what I should wear for my next speed dating adventure? Will she finally have retreated to the shade of the tiki hut with a good book, while I lay stubbornly in the pool soaking up the hot morning sun and drinking a cold pina colada just because it is noon somewhere? My guess….probably not. And in truth, I hope not. I hope we are fighting over the last remaining inner tube in the pool. Or at least, she is fighting for it, and I am oh so happy to sit in the shade watching her.

The truth is, I don’t mind the shift and I don’t really care if we shift ever again. I know from experience, that no matter what, our relationship is the most amazing relationship I have ever known. Even if that means that I might find a few M&M’s in her bed sheets.

I hope that one day the kind of relationship my mom and I shared is no longer envied by others and considered “rare, special or unique,” but rather the kind of relationship that everyone has an experience of – knowing that they are absolutely loved simply for who they are.

THE LAST SECOND

By Quin Frazer

(Recently we sent a “Mindful Moment” regarding the precious nature of each second of our lives. This is Quin’s response to that “Moment,” which follows his story.)

Last Sunday I parked my car near my office where I have done so for 5 years but when I came to get my car to drive to church (for the program on world hunger and unsafe water supplies) it was missing.

I found out through a series of phone calls it was towed for no reason except the City’s blood lust for money. So I walked the half mile to ransom my car from the impound lot which is located in the bowels of lower Wacker Drive, a dark, dreary and intimidating facility.

I walked in and got in line with the rest of the victims. Immediately, stuff is going on. The guy at the front of the line was very angry and taking it out on the cashier who clearly has heard it all before and didn’t give a s–t. He hurries out and slams the door, cursing going to find an ATM to get money for ransom. Almost as soon as the angry guy exits, a young woman walks in the door crying uncontrollably. Between sobs she tells everyone her grandfather recently died, she just came back from singing at church to drive to Wisconsin to visit her grandmother who is dying and waiting for her and her car was towed and she was not parked in a tow zone so how could this happen to her?

Finally, I was first in line and the new clerk who came in and heard the girl’s story asked me if it was all right for her to step in line in front of me and the other people. I promptly said yes and the people behind me did not protest even though they were not thrilled. So now, she was standing next to me but her crying had not abated one bit and she was an emotional wreck. I started talking to her about how she wasn’t going to make it to Wisconsin in the emotional shape she was in because she was going to get in an accident before she got out of the City and her grandmother would have to come to visit her in the hospital. She actually smiled at that irony and calmed down. While her paperwork was being filled out, we talked death and dying, the after life, about her and the serendipity of this towing thing happening. I actually went out and said goodbye to her as she drove out of the compound smiling.

Then I ransomed my car, but when I tried to start it, the battery was dead. At that point I was saying to myself what is going on. Why is this happening? I just missed the church service I really wanted to attend. A City tow truck driver couldn’t start me so then I called Triple A. A young guy from Triple A came out with a hand held device and immediately jump started my car. I offered him a ride out of the compound back to his truck, which he accepted. When we got to the gate with the car, the release form didn’t have the VIN number written correctly so the gatekeeper had to walk back into the facility and get it straightened out before he could release us and the car. I was thinking what else could go wrong. But while we sat there waiting for the gatekeeper to return we talked about me missing church and that got us into a lot deeper conversation about life and death and pretty soon he was telling how his 13 year old girl had recently dropped dead during a basketball game because of an unknown congenital heart condition and how he was coping with the loss.

At that point, it dawned on me that it probably wasn’t an accident that my car was towed that morning and that I was down in the bowels of the auto impound on that day at that time to talk to these people rather than attend church that day. At that point I felt really good that by me being open to the people interaction opportunities around me (rather than being angry and vituperative) I did myself a service ( I learned a lot) and did a service to others, I hope.

Well that’s my story!!!

Quin

Access

…the power within

Sharing a moment of mindfulness…

Blessings from Bill:

Unless there is breaking news I have not heard, death is inevitable.

Why would I want to do anything other than the most important thing I can see to

do in this the last moment of which I have any guarantee?

THE SUPERCOACHES, PART FOUR

(Editor’s note: Extracted from Michael Neill’s Weekly Coaching tip. To subscribe visit geniuscatalyst.com)

A quick note from Michael:

To coincide with the publication of Supercoach, I’ve decided to feature the work of some of the coaches I talk about in the book. In each case, I’ll share what I consider to be some of the most transformative elements of their work. I will also do my best to make clear what is their material and what is my interpretation and experience of that material. Any misrepresentation is mine and mine alone…

I first heard about Bill Cumming’s What One Person Can Do 12 week program about eight years ago. Although my coaching and training business was theoretically going well, I was suffering a personal crisis at the lack of long-term impact I felt I was making in the world. I began to consider doing something else with my time and with my life.

When someone told me there was a course I could do that would enable me to discover within me something that would enable me to have “the impact of a Mother Theresa or Nelson Mandela” while learning to “put an end to violence in the world,” I was profoundly skeptical. But at some level, I was also profoundly intrigued. When they told me the next course started in just a few days, I scrambled to get the last place available.

Each week, I would turn up for a phone call with 4 other people and Bill would listen to our stories and share wisdom and insights from his life and work, a career that has spanned four decades and involved work in the civil rights movement, health care, school systems, and prisons. And each week, despite Bill’s almost annoying humility, I felt less and less worthwhile as I compared my limited accomplishments to his (in my eyes) extraordinary ones. At one point I joked to a friend that for me, the course should be renamed “What One Person Hasn’t Done” and that perhaps I should redo my website with the slogan “helping middle-class white people live happy, healthy lives”.

And yet, something in me knew to keep showing up each week – that there was something being said that I wasn’t yet hearing and something present that I could sense but not yet see or articulate. When the twelve week course finished I came back to do an advanced course, then a trainer’s training, and finally when there were no courses left to do I hired Bill to be my personal coach and worked with him one on one for another couple of years.

There is no way I can express fully what I have learned from my time working with Bill, but here is the essence of what has really transformed my life as I have expressed it in my writing over the past few years:

Recognizing the inherent worthiness of every human being on the planet (including you and me).

I have long been fascinated by the life and work of Martin Luther King Jr., a man as instrumental in the success of the civil rights movement in the US as Mahatma Ghandi was in gaining the independence of India from the British Empire.

In studying the lives of these two men, there are two things which stand out for me as worthy of contemplation. The first is that both were decidedly human, imperfect, and fallible, (something which I personally find deeply comforting as it suggests perfection may not be a prerequisite for making a positive difference in the world :-). The second is that both demonstrated in their words and actions a deep and abiding respect for all people, regardless of color, creed, religion, or standing in life.

Now, “respect” is not a word I have given particular thought to over the years. In fact, if you asked me what associations I had with the word before studying the lives of these inspirational men, I would have said (in this order):

a. A song by Aretha Franklin

b. Something you’re supposed to give to people older than you (like your parents) and get from people younger than you (like your children) but often don’t!

Yet when I began to look into it, I discovered that there are essentially two schools of thought in our society when it comes to respect:

1. Respect is a Commodity to be Earned
In this ‘school’, any time you “do the right thing”, honor your word, and fulfill your promises, you earn respect; any time you do the “wrong” thing, break your word, or fail to follow through on your promises, you lose respect.

Despite the pervasiveness of this idea in our culture, we can easily feel its shortcomings when we consider how difficult it is to live up to its challenge. Have you ever failed to follow through on a promise? Ever told a lie? Ever done the “wrong” thing (even if it was unintentional)?

For many of us, trying to live up to the ideal of earned respect has the opposite of its intended effect. Rather than raising us up to the heights of virtue, self-love, and self-esteem, it often drives us to give up on self-improvement altogether and put our attention on simpler matters, like choosing what to wear and what to watch on TV this week.

2. Respect is a Basic Human Right
In the Jennifer Lopez movie Maid in Manhattan, she plays a maid who leads a double life as a society beauty. The very same people she serves as a maid fail to recognize her in her other guise because they’ve never really looked at her when she serves them.

But serving them is what she does, not who she is – as Bob Hoskins’ butler points out, “being of service is not the same as being subservient” – i.e. seeing yourself as less than the people you serve in any way, shape, or form.

In fact, seeing other people as ‘just like us’ acknowledges an inner knowing that we all share but rarely speak of – that black or white, rich or poor, positive or negative, we’re all going to die one day and there’s nothing any of us can do about it!

Therefore in this ‘school’, you are worthy of my respect because you too are alive and doing the best you can to make it through – no more and no less.

The dictionary definition of respect is as follows:

Main Entry: [1]re·spect
Pronunciation: ri-‘spekt
Function: noun
1: an act of giving particular attention
2 a: high or special regard

b: the quality or state of being esteemed

So to respect someone is to pay ‘particular’ attention to them, and/or to hold them in high or special regard. And if someone is worthy of my respect, it means they are worthy of both my attention and of my esteem.

This does not mean I have to like them (phew!), nor does it mean I have to want in any way to emulate them (double phew!). What it does mean is that I need to stop deleting them from my universe.

I can demonstrate my respect for you by noticing you – by acknowledging your existence. By learning your name. By looking you in the eye (or by knowing if in your culture that is deemed inappropriate). By taking the time (where possible) to get to know you, to learn about you – your history, your family, your loves, your pain.

What I’ve come to realize since I began studying it is that respect is actually a form of love. What makes it a particularly potent one is that it causes the love to be made tangible.

The week I really got that my life was valuable not because of what I had or hadn’t done with it but simply because ALL life is valuable I wrote this story, which I later included in You Can Have What You Want:

In her final year of school, a rabbit from the wrong side of the tracks got a new teacher who told her that he loved her no matter what and that he knew she had the power to choose whatever kind of life she wanted for herself. She challenged the teacher again and again, but no matter how ‘bad’ she tried to be, the teacher balanced appropriate discipline with genuine heartfelt loving kindness.

Whenever she was upset, he challenged her to look at her part in creating and nurturing the upset, and he encouraged her to take care of herself on a daily basis by doing those things that she loved, like hopping, running, and reading inspirational literature. (The Velveteen Rabbit was one of her favorites.)

Eventually, the rabbit learned to trust herself more and to worry less about what other people thought she should be doing with her life. But even though she was popular with the other animals (after all, her daily running and jumping had made her the star of the track team), there was a part of her that still knew she was horribly inadequate and she felt the loving teacher was wasting his time on a worthless ball of fluff like her. No matter how fast she ran, she still cringed inwardly when she saw the birds who flew with such grace and the fish who swam like, well, fish.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened. She stepped on a thistle and hurt her lucky foot; she could no longer run. What little value she felt she had in the world had been taken away by one tiny thorn. The rabbit cried and cried until she was empty, and it was then that she heard a new yet oddly familiar voice inside her mind – still, small and as clear as a bell. It whispered, ‘Your value is not in your speed.’

From that moment on, the voice stayed with her wherever she went. As she watched the birds fly high above the playing fields, the voice whispered, ‘Their value is not in their wings.’ When she saw the fish swimming laps in the pool, the voice said, ‘Their value is not in their ability to swim.’ When the rich old badger who helped to support the school came by, the voice said, ‘His value is not in his wealth.’

And the rabbit could see that it was true – the birds’ value was not in their flight, her teacher’s value was not in his teaching, and her value was not in her speed, or in her ability to hop, or even in the way she could twitch her nose and make everybody laugh. And that thought made her laugh and laugh until once again she was empty, and the voice spoke again inside her mind.

‘Now,’ the voice said, ‘we can begin …’

Have fun, learn heaps, and as Bill would say, “Make yourself a wonderful week!”

With love,