The Field

Here is a favorite joke.

A synagogue decides to start a rowing team, and after 14 races, not only doesn't win, but places last in every, single race. They decide to send a representative to Harvard to watch their team and see what they can learn. Upon his return the team asks, "Did you see anything that can help us?"

"A lot", he says. "First off, they've got eight guys rowing and one guy screaming!"

This is a funny but increasingly depressing metaphor reflecting our inability to talk with one another. The poet Rumi wrote, "Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a field. I will meet you there." The question, of course, in this time of separation and anxiety is how do we make our way to the field of agreement that Rumi spoke so eloquently about? Lately this "field" has felt a world away...separated by differences of religion, politics, rhetoric and violence.

A clue rests in the struggles we have in an unusual arena; the manner in which we frequently discuss the nature of God. In most religions there typically exists three different and clearly defined branches of thought (and here I am being quite broad). First you have a branch of "fundamentalists", which loosely we can define as those who take their dogma and scripture literally. To their opposite pole every religion has "mystics", who profess to have a direct relationship with God and sacrifice literalism for internal experience. Finally there is the rest of what's left over, i.e. your garden variety middle of the roaders.

Sadly, many religious leaders tend to be keepers of the faith, i.e. traditionalists and even fundamentally oriented. Thus, (as many religious councils have encountered), if you put them together in a room a reversion to differences of dogma usually occurs. They often struggle to find the common ground in their view of the Divine and/or the right way to live. Imagine a conversation between an Evangelical minister, a fundamentalist mullah and an Orthodox Rabbi. Though they basically represent different branches off the same religious tree it's not hard to create a picture of argument and attempted persuasion. Now put a different group together in the same room. This time bring together representatives of the mystical branches. Around your table sit Sufis, mystical Christians and Hassids. Within minutes of their discussion (as I have witnessed numerous times) shouts of "Brother! Sister! We are all the same! What's the big deal?"

What then can be learned from this difference?

In my own life I have found that in religious discussion whenever I ask the question, "What is your definition of God?" I am taken to a place of divergence and a fundamentalist energy. But when I ask the question, "What is your experience of God?" what emerges is often common ground and a more "mystical" connection. For example, I cannot imagine someone more different in my point of view than Jerry Falwell, but the later question of "experience of God" would likely draw the same joint conclusions..."Joy", "Love", "Compassion".

This is a great lesson in the seeking of Rumi's field. For if we move to the experience rather than a concept we are more likely to find the overlaps we so desperately need in this time of great divide. The next time, regardless of content, you find yourself concerned about a conversation, start with an exploration of your shared emotional experience. You may be surprised where it takes you.

Look for the View Behind You

Photographer Lisa Robinson once said, "When you take a photograph, turn around and look directly behind you...look for that which you didn't see."

I love this, for it teaches us to examine the possibilities we never allow--those contrary considerations from our supposed "answers". Among the Lakota peoples there is a tradition that a minimum of SEVEN creative solutions is always offered to any problem. Seven! How do we start to build that kind of creative capacity when we are continuously taught from a young age that there is only one right answer?

I think the secret is to do what Lisa advises. As a practice, try the following. For one month, every time you are moved by a view or something you see, turn on your heels 180 degrees and look behind you. See what else you can find, what beauty or surprise awaits. What is true is that every sunrise illuminates something that sits to your back. Simply put, it is your job to take a few extra moments to find it.

Take this practice into your problem solving. When coming up with solutions ask, "What is the opposite of what I think I should do?" Give it real weight and consideration. Sometimes the best creative solution is to do nothing. For many leaders, addicted to knee-jerk, "time is money" thinking, the 180 degree response of "no action" is often times the best, unseen consideration.

Among seven solutions, "to do nothing" is always an option.

Say "Yes" Rather Than "No"

Recently I spent some time with an old friend, playwright and actor, Arlene Hutton ("Last Train to Nibroc" among others). It was a rich conversation about the creative process and what artists have to teach us about dealing with change more effectively. Here is what she said.

"In improvisation, the key is to say 'yes' rather than 'no'. When we say 'yes' we open the door to possibility and creativity. I was doing an improvisation exercise called "The Yes Game" where no matter what is said to you, you must respond, 'Yes, and...' The goal is to follow the thread and see where the conversation goes. I started the game. "

"Time to leave work", I began.

My partner said, "Yes, and it's getting late."

I responded, "Yes, and I must be getting home."

And he said, "Yes, and so must I."

Then I paused and said, "Yes, and I love you."

And he responded, "Yes, and you're married!"

Hmmm, I thought. Good one. Where does Arlene go from here? This was an interesting and tense moment. How could she resolve it without getting stuck or using cliche? But in theater, unlike in life, it is the moments of tension that are highly sought--where breakthrough often occurs.

Arlene continued our conversation. "When stuck in improve, the skill is to look for that which is right below your nose, the obvious." So I said, "Yes, and you have blue eyes."

And he said, "Yes, and so do you."

And I concluded by saying, "Yes, and let's Xerox them!" and we ended the scene creatively "copying" our eyes as gifts to the other--taking away a remembrance of our love but not acting upon it."

This is a great lesson in what to do when all else fails. Improvisation teaches us to start with that which sits right below our nose. Take an action, make a statement, try something--because any obvious action will often reveal the undiscovered jewel. The key is that you must stay with what is true, real, and honest. "...you have blue eyes" is all of those, and it took the actors to a new and creative solution, resolving the tension of possible infidelity. Delusion rarely works to create breakthrough.

The next time you are stuck, or in a place of uncreative tension, ask yourself, "What is the obvious that I am missing?" Once found consider, "How then do I take action on that which sits right below my nose?" When we do, we shift the landscape, revealing previously undiscovered solutions.

Unlived Dreams

The dreams of our life are a precious commodity, and we pay a huge price if they stay unlived or in our fantasies. Such was the case I witnessed once at the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon is extraordinary and a sight I wish for everyone. It is so large that I struggle every time I am there to comprehend it. Whenever I am within a hundred miles of the Canyon, I try to visit and it was on such a trip that the following occurred. It’s April. The day was unusually warm and misty, but there’s plenty of snow on the ground and as a result I found myself walking through dense fog. It was so thick I couldn't see fifteen feet in front of me and though the canyon immediately dropped away thousands of feet, there was nothing but a gray cloud. I walked back and forth on the rim, staring, peering into the middle of the fog. No view, no real reason to be at the Canyon, because let's face it the Canyon is all about the view. So after a fruitless hour I do what everyone does when there’s no view at the Grand Canyon. I head straight for the gift shop!

I am poking around when in walks this guy. He is beside himself with anger and frustration. His veins are popping out the side of his neck and his thick shirt collar seems to be emitting steam. Talking to no one in particular, but directing his attention to a small Navaho woman behind the counter, he starts right in.

I can’t believe this," he screams. "I’ve waited over forty Goddamn years to see the Grand Canyon. It’s been my dream for my entire Goddamn life. My dream! I finally get the time, take a bus trip here from Florida and it’s fogged in. The Goddamn thing’s fogged in! I’ve been here for six Goddamned fogged-in hours. The bus is leaving in fifteen minutes, and I haven’t seen a thing! Not one Goddamn thing!"

I can feel his rage on my spine. He is clearly a crazy man. Everyone is backing away--except for the very calm Navaho woman who stands behind the counter. Almost counter-intuitively, she moves closer. She looks into his eyes with such kindness and with this kindness holds his gaze. Then she leans forward and gently takes his hand.

"I can understand your disappointment", she quietly says. "Because sometimes the Grand Canyon gets fogged in. But what I can’t understand is why you would devote only six hours of your life to your life’s dream?"

He is stunned and immediately deflates. After a very long minute of silence he looks away and quietly leaves to get on his bus. There is no response from him other than this--he is crying. I have no idea what he is thinking but it has left it's mark.

His powerful lesson is one for all of us--one we often choose not to ask. We must remember to continually query of ourselves in real and honest ways:

1. How do I manifest my dreams in the world? How does that show itself?
2. Where do I abandon my dreams? What is the price that I pay?

Of course, just asking is not enough; words that are not turned into action “bring the pest”, as William Blake once said. In the final analysis, ultimately our dreams don't care if we are happy—our dreams only care that they are lived.