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Tag: Analogies

Don’t Force The Drip; Drip Naturally

Information comes into our brains one word at a time, one sound at a time, one touch at a time, one image at a time, one frame at a time—one drip at a time.

And our brains are filled with sponges that capture those drips. What’s cool about the sponges of our mind is that they grow or shrink based on demand.

For example, the sponge that holds self-improvement information in my mind is simply gigantic because I’m constantly dripping information into it. My obsession loads the sponge to maximum capacity and so it grows to account for that demand.

But, the sponge that holds calculus information, however, is teeny-tiny because I never drip anything into it. The sponge is dry and continues to shrivel up each day because I don’t drop anything into it—and I’m okay with that.

Here’s why this is important: (1) The sponges you drip information into will grow; (2) the sponges you don’t drip anything into will shrink; (3) you can only wring information out of a sponge that has had enough dripped into it.

Are the drops of information that you’re soaking in every day getting added to sponges that you actually want to grow or sponges that you’d actually prefer shriveled up? How much information do you have packed in your brain from Keeping Up With The Jones’? What drip adjustments do you think you could make?

Finally, are you trying to wring out a dry sponge or is your sponge soaked with information?

Keep in mind that once your sponge hits capacity, it will start to leak information in that domain naturally—as it grows and in real-time. People can sense when you’re forcing/wringing/squeezing information from a dry sponge. And they can also tell when it’s legitimately soaked, dense, and overflowing.

Soak the right sponges. Soak more than you wring. Let the drip come naturally.

The Unemotional Movie

Imagine watching a movie where the main character is born into a nice family, grows up in a nice neighborhood, enjoys nice experiences, goes to a nice school, gets a nice job, settles down with a nice family—THE END.

No drama. No problems. No conflict.

No creative thinking. No problem solving. No hero journey.

Just one nice scene after the next. One easy step forward after the next. Only happiness, smiles, and victories—and no sadness, depth, or challenge.

Can you think of any such movie? I can’t. And here’s why: they don’t get produced. Why? Because they’re bland. But, also because movies like this are further from the human experience than even the most fantastical sci-fi movies.

If there’s one common goal that all movies share, it’s to evoke an emotional response. And the best way to remove that response is to make everything drama/problem/conflict-free; by flatlining the ebbs and flows; by making everything, just, nice.

The drama is precisely what draws us in—because our lives are dramatic. The problems are what captivate our attention—because our lives are filled with problems. And sharing that experience of drama, problems, conflict—even with fictional characters—is what connects us to the greater experience of being human.

If I were to sit down and watch a playback movie of your life, would you want me to only see the highlight reel of your life? Or would you want me to see what you had to overcome in order to earn your highlight reel? Victory isn’t as sweet without loss. Accomplishment isn’t as meaningful without challenge. The “highs” aren’t as appreciated without the “lows.”

Remember this the next time you confront drama, problems, and conflict—it’s your chance to add some depth, contrast, and feeling to the movie of your life.

When’s The Last Time You Took A Mind Shower?

“Just as you take a shower or bath in the morning to get yesterday’s dirt off your body, you do your spiritual practice in the morning to get yesterday’s thinking off your mind and heart.”

Marianne Williamson, via MoveMe Quotes

If you never take the time to “clean” your mind, of course it’s going to get “dirty.” This shouldn’t come as a surprise. You aren’t surprised when your body gets dirty after not having showered or bathed in a few days, right? We must start to look at our minds the same.

If your thinking is “mudded,” or “stinky” with demeaning thoughts, or covered in negativity, etc., then you need a mind shower, my friend! Here’s what you do:

  1. Set the environment for cleaning. When you shower you turn the water on, take off your clothes, and leave your phone in the other room (hopefully). Likewise, for mind cleaning: turn a timer or background sounds on, “take off” your old thoughts, and leave your phone in the other room.
  2. Use soap, shampoo, and conditioner. For mind cleaning, like showering, just turning the water on and stepping in isn’t enough. You have to actively engage in the cleaning process. Let returning to your breath or a guided meditation be your soap. Let writing your extraneous thoughts down be your shampoo. Let mantra be your conditioner.
  3. Dry yourself off and put on fresh clothes. Come back into the reality of the world with a more clean and clear mind. Dry yourself off with a walk, a visit to nature, or some relaxing activity. And “dress” your mind with some positive reading, fresh conversation, or constructive listening (to podcasts or mentors).

Without regular mind cleaning, you’re going to start to stink—it’s as inevitable as starting to stink without bodily cleaning. Ideally, we should put into place a daily practice, like showering, to keep our minds consistently clean. You can try to cover it up with quick-fixes like deodorant or perfume, but eventually, your stinkiness will seep through. And nobody likes hanging around a smelly mind.

What Does Disciplined Look Like?

First of all, let’s make it clear that disciplined and motivated don’t look the same.

Motivated looks eager, enthusiastic, energized. Motivated looks like a full night of sleep; the first few steps of a long run; the kid that just found out they’re going to Disney Land.

This is not what disciplined looks like.

More often than not, disciplined looks plain faced, crusty-eyed, and heavy-legged. Disciplined looks like a half night of sleep; the most painful part of the run; the kid who just left their fifth Disney ride who is sunburnt, cranky, and thirsty.

Sure, there may be times when disciplined might look like motivated. But, it isn’t often that motivated looks like disciplined. Because when the motivated person hits inevitable walls, gets confronted with tough barriers, faces painstaking challenges—they lose their motivation. And, without discipline, there’s nothing left to carry them through. So they don’t.

Remember this the next time you’re feeling tired, unenthusiastic, and like a worn-out kid at Disney World. Disciplined, more often than not, doesn’t look pretty. If you want your journey to always look pretty, you’ll quickly lose motivation when things get ugly (which they will). It’s only those who are willing to push through the ugly that get the long-term, sustainable pretty rewards.

So, saddle up buttercup and get back to work.

Playing Versus Playing It Safe

What’s more important, watching your back or watching your step?

If your goal is to avoid pain, then watching your back would be the priority. You’d pay close attention to your vulnerabilities. You’d caution yourself around people and take your time looking for their conniving sides. You wouldn’t give people anything they could later use to hurt you with. You’d constantly be looking for ways to build bigger and stronger walls. You’d play it safe.

If your goal is to keep moving forward, then you’d prioritize watching your step. You’d pay close attention to your strengths. You’d check the rooms you’re in for opportunities, paths, directions—and you’d take your time looking for the fun in people. You’d give people anything that might help them keep moving forward because it, in all likelihood, would help you keep moving forward, too. You’d play.

Here’s the thing: are you less likely to get hurt playing it safe? Of course. Playing it safe—watching your back—is like sitting on the bench while at the playground. It’s the place where you’re least likely to get hurt. You’re positioned ideally to keep everybody in front of you, your chances of accidental bumpings/ bruises/ or bangs are minimized, and you can focus your attention solely on safety. But, is that really your life goal? To sit on the bench while staring at a playground?

Here’s what I think: when there’s a playground in front of you—you go and play. Playing is exploration. It’s interaction. It’s experimentation. It’s conflict resolution. It’s problem solving. It’s getting bumped/ bruised/ and banged—and getting back up. It’s having fun. And so it is with life, too. The point isn’t to not get hurt; the point is to play. Not to play it safe looking backwards, but to play joyfully with eyes eagerly forward.

The Crux Of The Climb

The goal of rock climbing—whether indoors or out—is to reach the summit of a formation or the endpoint of a usually pre-defined route without falling. In most cases, there isn’t just one way to accomplish this. In fact, each climber usually tackles the problem in their own unique ways with various changes in grip, stance, position, weight distribution, technique, style, etc. But, what’s universal on every route is the presence of a crux.

The crux is a particular point of difficulty. It’s the “make-it-or-break-it” point on the route. It’s the point where most climbers fail. Sometimes the challenge is the technique that’s called for. Sometimes it’s the strength that’s required. Sometimes it’s the athleticism and coordination that’s needed. If one of those areas is lacking, the climber will fall—there is no skipping over the crux.

The same is true for our climbs in life. Along the various routes that we’re on—career/family/love—there are going to be crux points. Particular points of difficulty that will require more of us than the rest of the climb has and maybe will. This is where we need to particularly focus our attention, energy, and effort.

Those moments when you don’t feel like doing what you know needs to get done? Crux point. That time at the party when someone offers you a drink, but you’ve been sober for 90 days? Crux point. The days when you wake up feeling groggy and heavy and don’t want to workout even though you’ve got a streak going? Crux point.

These moments aren’t going to require an average, everyday effort. They’re going to require a person’s best effort. Some situations might call for more advanced techniques, others might ask for extra strength, and others might require more coordinated plans of attack and strategies. Those who don’t show up ready, will fall. Those who come prepared will cross and get to carry on towards their summit.

Thoughts On Handling “Heavy” Days

Do you ever get those days that just feel, heavy? That’s how the past few days have felt for me. I’m not quite sure why. Nothing obvious seems to be triggering it and I can’t seem to easily shake it. My instinct is to fight it or vilify it because it’s an undesired feeling, but maybe there’s a better way.

After thinking about it more deeply, it seems to me that vilifying an emotion is exactly what turns an emotion into a villain. After all, if it’s seen as a villain, called a villain, treated like a villain, and thrown aggressively into the darkness like a villain—how could it not become a villain? Maybe a better approach would be to allow it. To give it space. To let it move when it arrives. To give it the light of consciousness rather than the darkness of ignorance. To treat it with compassion.

Think about it. What happens when you choose to fight a passing by emotion? It’s precisely what causes it to stop in its tracks, put up its guard, and throw down against you and your will.

And it’s not like there are any “emotional police” who can come to break up the fight. It’s a battle to knockout or submission. And if one beats the other, then what? Hand shakesinner peace, and lightness? I’d argue that the more likely outcome is resentmentbegrudging, and spiraled darkness. And so the recurring battle against “heaviness” is born.

I believe that fighting an emotion—any emotion—will only negatively magnify it. Allowing an emotion to move is how it passes. Maybe this is why the “light” days seem to pass so quickly? You give them the space, path, light, and compassion to move comfortably forward and with ease—and so they do. Maybe that’s exactly what we need to do for our “heavy” days, too?