Uncharted… This moment in Change

The word of the day has changed. It was unprecedented for weeks, yet now… uncharted.

In witnessing the horrific murder of George Floyd, on the immediate heels of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks and too many others… humanity’s threshold for Black inequality and systemic injustice crossed its tipping point.

Philonise Floyd (George’s brother) said, in addressing congress, “If his death ends up changing the world for the better, and I think it will, I think it has… then he died as he lived.”

This many people spanning every state in the U.S. and countries around the world, speaking up and acting in unison, taking on their communities to demand and create racial equality... has never happened before in our history.

This many businesses and organizations of every kind/size, taking a stand to support BlackLivesMatter, publicly committing to being a force for change in structure, policy and influence… is a first.

This is a painful time, our social structures and contracts are being perturbated, and there’s nothing comfortable about it. Yet it’s also awe-inspiring; by every measure we are closer than we've ever been to being able to truly rebuild to equality … yet it's uncharted.

There isn’t a map for us here. Whether you’ve thought of it this way or not, this is a critical moment for you. Whether you intend to or not, you’re playing a role in it. Speaking up is a role. Not speaking up is a role. Listening to understand and find new empathy is a role. Getting defensive is a role. Sharing your raw process is a role. Hiding it is a role. We are outside our comfort zones in a new way, yet again. Now, in these last few weeks, the comfort zones of our worldview and role in humanity have been busted, and it’s pushing us to self-examine in a way we didn’t choose.

There are so many emotions and layers to the shift that's begun, the work there is to do, and the natural confront-or-avoid response it's stirring in us all, publicly and personally. And we don’t get to compartmentalize it.

The natural and physical boundaries we normally heed (and our brains actually count on) between work life and home life, personal self vs. professional self, issues of the world vs. work were already quashed a few weeks into the pandemic (which, among other things-Corona, pushed us to the edges of our coping strategies). And now, being confronted with our humanity, unconscious biases and identity... is appropriately everywhere. Where we once could expertly compartmentalize, we can’t now, and expectations of us even doing so have changed, too; wherever you are in your own process with what’s happening in the world and the shift to dismantle racism and systemic inequality, it matters to people around you, because it informs their process and existence, too. Whether you were ready or not for a forced reflection to really own your self-awareness and possible role in it all, here you are, anyhow, uncharted.

That’s Comfort Zone, busted in yet another way. It's also how we will grow through this. And you will…

We want to do something, so we can feel better as fast as possible. Yet, while individual shift and the process can begin faster than we think, healing and true systemic change will take a while. Especially here in the US, there's so much dismantling, listening in layers and owning-it for White Americans to do... so healing can even begin for Black Americans, and rebuilding a society from equality can happen from a place of integrity for everyone. 

For Black Lives Matter to be a commitment vs. a phase, it requires process, vulnerability, trust, empathy and stamina from every single one of us. You, your teammates, your neighbors and your family, might each be in a different place. It’s more to process (atop pandemic stress and lengthening of life/work from home) than any of us are used to, or have tools to navigate, uncharted. So while there isn’t a map, this is where we each lean in to listen, to learn, to challenge ourselves, to find the words, and to understand in layers.

So… as a leader, where are you in it? What will it mean for you in growth? 

For me as an individual, I’m looking at my own role and process. Out of college I chose to become a public high school teacher on the south side of Chicago, because I wanted to make a difference where it was needed most. Inspired and forever changed by the book Savage Inequalities, (and its author, Jonathan Kozol, who quickly became my idol), I was committed to change the system for the better, and bring a different way of teaching to kids (and communities) who had been written off by economic, educational and racial inequality, separation and segregation. While we didn’t use the phrase Black Lives Matter at the time, its essence is what took me to Chicago, and fueled me and my work every day there for a decade. I worked to understand, to change things for kids (then ultimately teachers, and the education system) there, and open possibility in mindset and opportunity. In that pocket of the world, it changed things in many ways. To date, it’s the work I’m most proud of, and has most shaped who I am and what I believe about what’s possible.  

Yet here I am now, years later, looking at myself. That work on the south side elevated and made the experience and process of education better inside that redlined area, but it didn’t change the “red lines” from existing. Hmm. In my present life, what am I actively doing to intentionally take on or change systemic inequality right here, right now? Have I worked to dismantle institutional bias and inequality around me here, where I know it exists? While I'm vocal when I see racial injustice or intolerance, have I gone after its systemic roots? Have I asked my Black family and friends what it feels like for them every day in this White-biased society, or listened to really understand, let alone listen in the layers and layers it’ll actually take for me to even begin to understand? Have I really considered that, despite my conscious intention, I have biases I can’t even see, and contribute to racism? And the biggest question that weighs on me right now… why did it take this horrific perfect storm we’ve seen in these last weeks for me to be asking those questions of myself and see this gap? There’s no good answer. So…

The 2nd circle of reality I’m creating is this: I am taking this all as a wake-up call for myself. I have an important role as a human to help fix racial injustice and inequality, and as a leader, coach + educator, that role is even more important, right now and right here. I’m in. So right now, I’m reading, I’m watching with new eyes, I’m asking and listening in a way I haven’t before (to understand first, not to fix yet, which is hard), and beginning to start those layers of understanding as an ally. I’m seeing and owning a new facet every day of the bias woven into the structure of my own privileged life, of the lives that others are living right beside me which are not the same, of what I’ve missed. 

This is step one. It’s sobering. And what will lead to being able to be part of the actual change in areas that will best be able to use my help.

How about you? Call it, own it, and let’s do the work.

Meanwhile, the specific tools I share with you in TapIntoGreatness (every chapter is a tool), my TTG Programs and coaching... all apply to your world every day , and absolutely apply right now, too, as you and the people you touch navigate this growth zone and choose how you want to make impact.

Through it all, you have important options and power in the way you can manage and choose your energy, perspective and connection with others, which will shape everything else that happens. The way you can call out what’s actually happening, the way you choose who you’re BE-ing in the process will set both the tone and the bar for everyone around you. The way you can tap into honest, human greatness for your team will influence their experience and their reality… in your work, your team, and your community… yet absolutely in the history we’re making right now.  Although it’s uncharted, change for/to equality is possible. You have more influence than you think, more possibility than you know in it.

I’m with you, I’m committed to your success, and I’m here to help you work through your process as a leader and as a human. Just say the word. 

In my religion, when someone dies we say, “May their memory be for a blessing.” May it be so for George Floyd, and for each of the sacred Black lives needlessly taken. And also… may their memory be for a change.

Where To Look

THIS IS one of 2 POSTS FROM MY CLIMB UP MT. KILIMANJARO, AND the TRANSFORMATIVE PERSPECTIVE THAT CAME IN THOSE DAYS ABOVE THE CLOUDLINE. A BIT DIFFERENT THAN MY TYPICAL POSTS, THESE LESSONS FROM UP THERE ILLUMINATE AN ELEVATED LIFE DOWN HERE. 

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Mt. Kilimanjaro, from 4 different views

Check out these ^ four photos I took of Mt. Kilimanjaro. These different views of that mountain represent both the biggest challenge and the biggest revelations I got while climbing it. They also illustrate a few of the most profound shifts high achievers might need to make, to realize true impact every day.

Set to conquer a mountain(?)

As someone who runs best with a focal point on the horizon, likes being physically pushed to my limit, and is most motivated when I have a significant challenge to overcome… I knew I had the right mental ingredients for climbing one of the 7 summits like Mt. Kilimanjaro, right? Yes, partly. 

Yes, because the few people on the planet who actually climb Kili (the tallest freestanding mountain in the world), are people wired to conquer things. Like me, they venture to Kili to accomplish it, to crush it– not just go on a hiking trip. The months of training, the challenge of strength over elements, the mindgame of staying motivated through the long, slow trek… is all fueled by a goal:  to say afterward, “I climbed that mountain.” 

In that way, I was mentally set. 

The majestic Kili, from a hour's drive away.

I took this ^ photo of Kili the day before the climb from an hour’s drive away, her summit clear and inspiring. It matched part of the imagined picture I’d had for years of climbing a mountain: tiny little me, looking up to that gleaming, snowcapped summit, pushing myself, digging deep, motivated by the focal point of the ultimate peak. I just needed to get myself onto that edge between mountain and sky, scaling right up. 

Yeah, no. Within the first five minutes of the 6-day climb, that simplistic image I’d carried for so long was quashed. There was no focal point. Once we were actually on Kili, that view of the top disappeared; the trail up the mountain actually weaves around it as it snakes up, and the first glimpse of the summit doesn’t even appear until you’re almost finished, five days into it, 17,000 vertical feet up. My operating view and mental plan for how I conquer anything was busted, five minutes in.

Yet, it still took climbing that whole mountain for me to literally turn my perspective around. Here’s how… 

Phase One shift: Right here.

Surrounded by rainforest at the start, we reoriented to the immediate path ahead vs. the destination. Without a visible goal (or even horizon) for 90% of the ascent, our leaders redirected us continuously to stay present; our daily briefings and constant team huddles focused on that day only, never how much more there was to go. The journey was segmented into one and two-hour pushes on our way to each night’s new camp, every one a separate feat in itself as our self-monitoring shifted into high gear to adapt to the changing microclimates, diminishing oxygen, altitude reactions in our bodies, and steepening terrain.

One of many types of terrain as the trail weaves up Kili.

From dense rainforest to moon-like, rocky terrain of that ancient volcano crater, plus 70 degree temperature swings within hours, plus elevation increasing continually… success meant we had to pay attention to small details in our bodies; breathing patterns, water intake, pulse ox levels, body temperature, hot spots on our feet which could turn into blisters… any of which could be gamechangers without vigilant attention and constant adjustment. We took in that giant, ever-changing mountain in micro-decisions, yards, and inches at a time, our only consistent focal point being one another.  Our attention was moving, from future to present. Internally, while we each started up that mountain with our own purpose, new realizations and reflections surfaced daily as we climbed with new self-awareness. Nightly team debriefs were rich and with layers of those emerging insights, as we shared what each day’s journey sparked.   

Each day, by reflex, I often went to the front of our line in the team, fired up to help lead the pace, a familiar and energizing spot for me. Yet after hours and hours of that forward-focus, I sensed that I was somehow missing something. I tried other spots in our line, and a cool thing happened…  I started paying more attention to everything around me instead of ahead of me. Moment by moment, fully absorbing, I became blown away by every detail I would’ve normally powered right past. I called things out to my team, like, “Guys- do you smell that- the air just changed!” and “Do you see this flower? It doesn’t exist down at ground level!” I started connecting differently, too– with myself and with teammates; deeply personal conversations unfolded even with oxygen depleting, mixed with intensely self-reflective quiet stretches as we climbed in rhythm, pushed ourselves from the inside out, removed from the rest of the world, our presence in the moment. Time seemed suspended, about being in it, rather than getting through it to get to the next thing. Our focus had completely shifted– from out there to right here.

Phase Two: Look Down. (the reality of climbing a mountain) 

Even if it were possible, my naive image of visually focusing up and out isn’t even safe on a climb like Kili’s. The path changes all the time– usually steep and rocky, then tricky, then slippery, and physically challenging (sometimes walking, sometimes rock climbing)… so the higher we got, the more we needed to look down to accurately choose each step.

Choosing the next step when every option is a loose rock, on a steep incline

One bad foot placement could mean an injury that slows the whole team down (and changes the whole trip for you), and extraneous steps wasted precious, limited energy, needed as each effort became more difficult as altitude increased. As the trail intensified and the exertion required of every step increased, that image I’d carried for months of looking up to the peak was replaced with intent micro-focus down on what I was doing inch by inch, step by step; scanning for the next solid rock, watching my teammate’s boots in front of me, following their lead. For hours. And days… Conquering this mountain had taken another shift; focus from up to down, on every next step. 

Phase Three: Looking back. 

Our brains need to see progress to register accomplishment. We’re conditioned to measure it physically in distance, miles or steps with our fitness tracking watches and devices, yet normal metrics didn’t really apply up there. Every step we took was uphill, even though our motion was mostly “walking.” Walking seems like a linear activity, yet our progress was not. Think of climbing a giant staircase, but measuring the accomplishment of it only in the distance of the few feet it would take if you laid the staircase out flat. That’s what our brains were trying to do as we walked (climbed) and walked (climbed). It felt like barely any advancement as we trekked, our brains so focused on forward vs vertical progress. Yet our linear feet and steps were actually irrelevant. The vertical feet we climbed each day, however were staggering. We were actually rising quickly, yet with focus down on the path itself and choosing individual steps, it was imperceptible, and could’ve been really easy to miss. At breaks we’d pause, and see our progress in the height we were gaining above the clouds behind us. I was surprised every time. 

So, I started turning around, to look back over my shoulder...

Turning AROUND to see how far we've come, above the clouds...

I was blown away. That simple pivot from looking forward to looking back changed it all; like Powers of 10, the vantage point from the rest of Earth that we were embodying was expanding, seemingly exponentially. Every view back over my shoulder clarified our progress and accomplishment instantly, capturing how high we’d ascended even in an hour.

So, yet again, my entire orientation for motivation was altered… watching our  progression grow exponentially as we climbed, my focus of inspiration behind us.

I kept yelling, “Guys!!! Look behind us- check out what we just did!!!”…and we’d revel in awe of what we were accomplishing with each push. I started placing myself intentionally in the back of the line more often, eager to look over my shoulder at our quickly-changing progress. 

This was an epiphany for me… leaning into the climb, progress felt incremental, yet in turning around it seemed accelerated. Those pauses to get mental snapshots of everchanging perspective of the world we’d climbed, increasingly spread out below us, were moments of exhilarating pride and true wonderment I’ll carry with me forever. 

By 17,500 feet on day 6, just 2 hours before reaching the summit, the altitude sickness I’d been battling worsened, making it dangerous for me to go any further (punctuated by a guy dying on that same trail a week earlier with the same symptoms I had). Yet, because my perspective had shifted so radically, when my leaders turned me back so close to summiting, I was weirdly okay with it. With six days and 17,500 vertical feet of epiphanic pinnacles above the world at that point, to somehow define the success of the whole journey by a single 2 hour, 1500 ft segment of it to a sign planted at the top, seemed that it would be missing the point. I’d already gotten what mattered. Climbing to that otherworld reality, truly perched above the world on my own power, fully absorbing every step and nuance of living in that sky more vast than anything I’d experienced on the planet before… I got it. I climbed Kili, I got her epic gift of perspective. I was transformed, and I was complete.  

Kili Lesson #3: (lessons 1 & 2 here): Progress is only visible with a shift in perspective.

I never would’ve believed that I, the most forward-looking person I know, would come away from Mt. Kilimanjaro with wins defined by shifting my perspective from future to present, up to down, forward to back.

I coach leaders to expand their ability to influence by tapping into their team’s core motivation as they lead. Research shows us that our #1  motivator is mastery, our internal sense of “I’m making progress forward.” We crave and revel in the mastery of accomplishment or expertise, yet the more we achieve, the less time it takes for the satisfaction of accomplishment to give way to restlessness, then a resetting of focus forward on the next “mountain” to conquer. One of the biggest challenges for driven achievers (as it was for me on Kili) is becoming so focused on what has yet to be conquered that they miss (or dismiss) the progress of impact they and their teams are actually making on the way. Turning around to see it feels like losing momentum, yet it’s the only thing that gets our human brains to actually register the vertical distance we’ve come, the progress the team has made. 

Down Here: Many of the “climbs” that you and your team are on every day are actually more like Kili than they aren’t– the destination is far and often not visible from where you are, the trek can feel slow and laborious. And we’re often thinking about linear distance instead of vertical. For high achievers like us, you know that your instinct (like mine) might always be to look ahead to the horizon and goal. That’s awesome, and part of what makes us great trailblazers and leaders. Yet it also means that this vital practice of pausing, turning around to see and call out your progress is less intuitive, and needs prompting. 

So, try this: 

• Huddle the team together regularly to call out wins, steps forward, and progress. (“what we can say/do/activate now which we couldn’t do a month ago?” “What/who have we impacted in the last week/month? What are the signs?”) Bonus: have each person capture their callout on a post-it note. Those notes can be kept in their space as boosts of motivation, or…

• Get a progress wall up in your shared space, and chart those ^ callouts of progress regularly (weekly, monthly, quarterly).

• Meet with your team individually and often, and have them finish prompts like these:

  • 1 moment that’s occurred recently, which tells me we’re making impact…

  • Since we’ve started, we now have the ability to…

  • We’ve made progress by…

Every single time I push a leader to counterintuitively do this pausing-to-turn-around-and-see-progress for themselves or with their team, they report significant results; people become inspired, proud, and usually surprised by how far they’ve come in progress from where they began, ultimately re-energized, refocused and motivated anew to take on the climb from there. 

Kili Lesson #4:  With total focus on the final destination, we can miss the best, most meaningful parts.

It turns out that “It’s the journey, not the destination.” isn’t just a cliche. Looking forward accelerates us, yet we can easily miss both the progress and the full, layered experience on the way by doing so. 

We focus on the summit as it, because it’s the benchmark that’s most obvious, visible and measurable. Research now shows us that in many cases, this very finish-line focus actually helps us to outperform others who are less focused on the goal. There’s a cost, however.  If I’d have kept that summit-only focus, I’d have not only been crushed by having to turn around, but even worse- I’d have missed the awe of the singular moments, challenges, feats and meaning only possible in looking around, and being fully present throughout the journey. Those moments are vivid to me even now, 18 months later, and what created the most profound impressions of the whole journey– in my thinking, my connection, my self-concept, and my orientation to the world.

This happens all the time- we are so busy focusing on one aspect, that we miss something which could’ve changed everything, if only we’d have shifted our gaze a bit. This It’s a key to what makes most high-achieving leaders so successful, but there’s a cost. Left to those instincts alone, they and their teams miss a lot: insights of growth, the small wins that make all the difference in the team’s momentum and confidence, key learnings that could shift everything for bigger impact, moments of meaning which bring teams together or make it all worth it in the end.

Down Here: What if, in your intently high-achieving, visionary focus, you’re actually looking at the wrong thing in a key moment for your team and for you?  Check yourself as a leader. What are you defining as the summit, and how singularly focused on it are you? What would happen if your focus shifted from out there to right here, from up to down to the next step’s footing a bit more… and stayed there long enough to get the insights available only from that shift perspective?  

As counterintuitive as this may feel, I guarantee you’ll catch a detail, a view, an insight, a moment that’s critical and maybe even gamechanging to the success of your journey, which you’d have missed otherwise.

While few of us ever focus only in one place permanently, we know that effectiveness means being able to accurately assess the whole picture, toggling between long-range goal, in-the-moment experience, and so-far progress. Kili clearly exaggerates this point. This isn’t about changing who you are. Keep that eye-on-the-prize focus; it’s what makes you a gamechanger, yet… expand your range. It took a mountain to truly expand mine, yet you can create intentional moments to purposefully shift your gaze and awareness to here, the next step, and the nuances of meaning… right now. 

©SarahSinger&Co. 2017

Moments of Truth

This is the one of a series of posts from my climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro, and some transformative perspective that came in those days above the cloudline. The lessons absolutely translate to an elevated life down here. These posts will be a bit more sharing and a bit less instructional than my typical posts, yet hopefully just as useful. 

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The morning of June 11th was a pivotal few hours I'll never forget.

Physically, I was up 17,500 feet on Mt. Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, on the last morning of an already-transformative 5-day + months-of-preparation climb up that mountain, and less than 2 hours away from the summit. While an all-in, energy leader of my team, I had been getting a strange-feeling kind of altitude sickness, which just felt like dizzy spells (didn’t faze me) and needing to push myself harder (again, ALL-in), yet meant that the level of oxygen in my blood wan't saturating (pulse ox level) as it should. Our wise and experienced leaders were monitoring us all, and while they had warned us of the potential dangers of the mountain and altitude sickness (which can hit anyone), someone just the week before died on the mountain with similar symptoms to mine… so the gravity of it felt very real. At 4:00 that morning, before we set out on the trail for the summit, I was excited, feeling strong, and fired up to go, yet my pulse-ox numbers were pushing the envelope. Our guides placed me at the front of the line, right behind one of them as we set out in the dark that morning, with the stern directive to tap her on the shoulder if I got any dizziness, and the warning that if my numbers dropped further, they’d turn me around. I was feeling good, powered by adrenaline, will, and focus on my state, yet... 3.5 hours into that summit day’s climb at 17,500 feet up, I got another dizzy burst, and tapped her on the shoulder. Our leaders stopped the whole team for a break, checked my pulse-ox, and while I knew it before they said it, all three of my leaders stood there with me, love and commitment to me and my safety in their faces… “Sarah. Your lips are purple, nose is turning purple, and your pulse ox is too low. Going on is not safe… We have to turn you around.” There were the words, piercing the flurry of thoughts and emotions coursing through me with those exact words every climber on any mountain fears hearing from their guides.

The mix of emotions in that instant was disorienting and vivid. I felt all of these at once:

Disappointment: I can’t believe I’ve come this far and can’t finish this with my team. I have to leave them right here, right now?

Fear: Holy #@%. I could actually die. 

Gratitude: I’m so glad they know what they’re doing, can see what I can’t about what’s happening to me, and are able to make the right decision for what will save my life. 

Pride: I climbed, conquered and got the lessons of this mountain, higher than 7.5billion of the world who will never even attempt it.

Surprisingly at peace: Weird that don’t really care about the summit in this moment. I’ve been so fully blown away every single time I turned around along the way to see how far we’d come/ascended, that this last 1500 feet doesn’t matter nearly as much as I thought it would. 

At that point, I’d already gotten a myriad of a-ha life insight moments from that mountain, which the next few posts will illuminate. We’ll start with the most dramatic, last lesson, which is what’s taken this whole year to unpack for me… 

In that moment of truth, realizing that my turnaround could interrupt the team’s momentum and intense focus in their home stretch, I quickly focused on them. I assured them I was fine, declared that spot my summit, cheered, hugged and high 5-ed them before they continued up the trail the last 1500 feet, then turned away, to head back down the trail toward our last camp. Taking the photo above in that moment was heartbreaking. With a kind, helpful porter carrying my pack and keeping me moving as quickly as possible (the cure to altitude sickness is to get to lower elevation as fast as possible), tears streamed down my face all the way back to our last high camp. 

I was struck with how completely different that same path we had just ascented seemed now, moments later, descending it alone. During the 5am-8am hours of climbing 2,000 vertical feet that morning, we completed it inch by inch, from pitch black with headlamps, to the sun rising with us above the clouds, that trail was narrow, filled with our team intensely focused on every step, breathing together, encouraging one another, letting out the occasional howl of adrenaline and “Rest steps and pressure breaths!” We were tightly packed inches from one another in the line, intentional, connected… THIS was Summit Day… IT… what we’d trained and prepared for over weeks and months. There was a rhythm of energy we could all feel, as we focused our headlamps on our teammates feet in front of us, placing each step in the spot their boots had just left, breathing in unison, connected. Throughout the whole ascent over 5 days, there were moments when we’d feel the energy of the person in front of you and behind you, their energy pulling or pushing our steps through rough parts where we’d otherwise stop if left to our own determination. That morning we all felt it, even more intense than the 5 days prior.  

Yet, as I began descent back down that same trail (almost running down), the silence was deafening, the aloneness unsettling, although I couldn’t quite focus my thoughts to make sense of the contrast I was experiencing. I stopped, took a few breaths, and got my head together enough to take this photo (below), knowing it could bring me mentally back to that exact moment later to try to figure it out.

I stopped, took a few breaths, and focused to take this photo, knowing it could bring me mentally back to that exact moment later to try to figure it out.

A strange sensation continued all the way back to camp and the rest of the day, part fear of was could be happening inside my body, part shift in my psyche, which I’d spend months afterward, processing all the way through.

Physically, I didn’t realize that I was in the beginning stages of cerebral edema- a kind of altitude sickness. During that quick descent back to our last camp a splitting headache, disorientation and fever kicked in. I convinced myself and my porter that I’d be okay after he got me to my tent and left me alone to rest it off, and that I’d just find a place for a pitstop, then lay down in my tent to let my body reset, since they’d all be back down in a few hours. Yet I soon realized (sort of– I was foggy) that I was losing my balance, wasn't walking straight, was taking a long, long time to do simple motor tasks, and was absolutely burning up, despite the 35-40 degree air temp and wind. I was scared. I stripped down to almost nothing, sweating, laid down outside my tent in the wind, iced my body down (water bottle still frozen from the night outside) to try to cool my feverish heat, kept repeating meditations and visualizations to calm myself, and let myself pass out. When I woke up, freezing and able to think more clearly, I knew my body was resetting, crisis averted. 

By the time the team returned from the summit, I was functioning somewhat normally, and able to focus on them, so asked lots of questions about the rest of the experience, genuinely happy for them. Yet tears kept leaking from my eyes as I talked, although I wasn’t fully processing why.

In my moment of truth at 17,600 feet, something did shift, much bigger than my expectation to summit. I had separated, and for the first time during the whole journey, I was in a completely different experience than the rest of my team. I went from being connected so completely that we were breathing in unison, to being out of sync and alone. That separation was a giant rip in my reality of the experience thus far, and it felt bigger to me than the summit. While we celebrated that last night on the mountain, descended the rest of Kili together, then celebrated more, I was different than I’d been. Every night of the trip we’d come together in our team tent after the day’s climb, sharing the lessons and connections of the mountain that day, each of us having our own insights, collectively having many. While I was normally eager to share, after summit morning I withdrew, a little quieter, fixated inward trying to sort it all out. I turned my outward focus to all the other amazing parts of the Kili journey, yet that rip was definitely still working in the background of my my mind. 

Since then (a year ago at this writing), I’ve reflected, processed, and dug into the layers of what happened for me on that mountain- physically, mentally and emotionally. I brought so many epiphanies and insights back from Kili which inspire me daily, distinct from those few hours on summit morning, that loss of sync with my team, was a lesson all its own.

Poignant right now, yet always…

Kili Lesson #1: Trust your team's expertise, and surround yourself with people who can call it when you can’t.

We all think we have more self-awareness than we do. When I’m pushing myself, I’m unstoppable, convinced that I can do whatever I set out to do. That usually proves true, yet in this moment, it didn’t help me at all. I was powering through, doggedly strong, yet I had no idea of what was happening in my body, its stakes, or what was best for me. My guides did. They had perspective on me which I didn’t, expertise I counted on them for, clarity from day 1 that safety drives every decision, and I trusted them implicitly. Because of that combination, their decision which possibly saved my life, and the immediate next steps were quick and efficient, not a debate. My gratitude for them far outweighed my disappointment, underscored by the shock that something so drastic could be happening inside my own body while I had no idea, and wouldn’t have ever known without them until it was a full-on emergency.

Down here: The more committed to a cause or direction we become, the bigger our blindspots can be, and we can miss something critical or off (especially about ourselves), which could make or break the whole thing as we power on with determination. Who do you surround yourself with who you can absolutely trust to keep perspective on you when you can’t, who’s got critical expertise you need and can count on, and who will be completely honest with you to "call it" even when it's hard? Find them, empower them, and listen to them, especially in those key moments. 

Kili Lesson #2: Moments of truth have layers, worth peeling back. 

While the moment of being turned around on that mountain was hard, it was also somewhat obvious in many ways (because of lesson #1). What wasn’t so clear was the most formative part of the whole Kili experience for me, which didn’t consciously surface until much later; that the connection to that team was far bigger for me than summiting Kili. The truth underneath my turnaround that morning: I tend to fly solo in much of what I do, and being part of that team completed me in ways I didn’t even know I needed until it was gone in an instant. I know I’ll climb that mountain again, conquer its summit and other peaks too, but I won’t ever complete that physical experience with my team. While the layers of that moment had been working their way up through my consciousness over the last year, somehow, a simple 4 words in an email this morning (“Wish you were here,” from some of my team, back on Kili right now), both exposed and completed it all for me in an instant. Those relationships, and that connection to that team were clear, rare, and irreplaceably permanent.

Down here: What might be beneath your moments of truth? It's always possible to find the most obvious, outer layers of “what is" or "what I’ll do differently next time." Yet what truths are layered under that? Beneath, often is a somewhat-conscious truth… maybe a pattern you can spot of something like this happening elsewhere (or repeatedly) in your life? Beneath that, may be more layers of unconscious truth- the ones you don’t see, but work in the background of your mind to cause those patterns. Example: a recent client had trouble confronting others, and layers beneath we discovered a time in childhood she'd stepped out to confront, and was unjustifiably retaliated against and hurt in the process. Once we revealed the base of those layers, the pattern released, and changed. For her, for me, and for most, while the reflection and processing can seem long, the release happens in unlocking it can actually occur in a single interaction, realization, or instant. 

Reflect, process, and do the work of self-actualization to get to that clarity. Even when it takes a year, it’s liberating, energizing, ultimately instant... and completely worth it.

©SarahSinger&Co. 2017

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The Secret Perk About Gratitude

I never really got gratitude, until I realized that I’d gotten it all along. I would hear people talk about how practicing gratitude made a huge difference in their lives - they were happier and more fulfilled - but I never truly understood how that came about. 

I always thought I was grateful. I give real thank yous, I am [usually] polite, and I mean it. I genuinely appreciate and acknowledge other people and the things I have in life. But I didn’t see how expressing gratitude could be as transformational as people referenced; I didn’t see what was in it for me.

Then, suddenly and by degrees, I experienced a shift, and realized that what I had been calling gratitude was really appreciation (not quite the same thing) - of external things, of situational experiences, of other people. Appreciation expressed as acknowledgment is definitely good (and important), but not exactly true gratitude.  

Acknowledgment is an act, but gratitude is a shift.

And once I learned how to access the shift of gratitude, that thing I never really named became a game-changer in my life.

I thought that those people who spoke so highly of the happiness and fulfillment that comes from gratitude had some sort of special ingredients that I was missing. But it turns out, they don’t. I had all the ingredients in my life for gratitude and you probably do to. The key to gratitude is a matter of shifting your perspective and feeling that important distinction between gratitude and appreciation. 

Here’s what happens…

1. Getting Stopped in Your Tracks Happens

If you’re future-oriented like me, this is huge. In focusing forward on the horizon/goal/next steps there’s momentum and progress, yet what’s what’s right here right now gets missed completely sometimes. For some of us, it takes a forced pause to get present. Sometimes it’s an occurrence- like a near-miss of a giant tree getting blown to the ground but missing you by seconds (actually happened to me the other day). Or losing someone. Or the color of the sky (which caused me to stop midrun to take the photo above). Or an inspiring act of kindness from someone. Sometimes it’s learning something we can’t ignore- like a sobering medical diagnosis. Or a private truth someone confides. Sometimes it’s a relationship- like a friend or loved one in need. Or a bolt of connection you feel with someone you didn’t see coming. These moments force us to pause, get present and pay full attention.

2. Sudden Perspective Happens 

Hearing a story of someone who’s overcome bigger challenges than we have or has found utter joy and success with far less than we have, suddenly we see the things we easily have/do with a new appreciation, right? Feeling human connection, new ease, happiness or love after we once felt struggle, sadness, or loneliness– we get the stark difference in comparison. These moments spotlight the contrast between what is and what could otherwise be.

3. Feeling Significance Happens 

In those moments of connection, pause and contrast, we can be moved, touched or inspired by what is. This takes some mental/emotional openness, and is the game-changer. We can experience a profound moment of a-ha appreciation that fills what normally feels insatiable in a unique way, clearing the lens through which we expect things from the world, allowing us to feel joy. 

Or we can just keep plowing forward, missing or dismissing it. 

This is a choice.

Every Day Happens...

Many days I do get it now- it’s not lost on me, because I've created space for those three things to occur, because I’ve created the practice to give myself a lens through which I am struck by the generosity or beauty or uniqueness or wonder of something or someone. Or the inextricable connection between people, moments and seemingly unrelated occurrences right along with the individuation of them all. These things hit me like a smack in the head (or gut or heart). Wow. Awe. Joy. ..not lost on me.

I could’ve been easily hit by that giant, falling tree the other day, but I wasn’t… not lost on me. I get the lucky, maybe miraculously precise timing of that.

The color of the clouds against the sky as the light changes is beautiful in a way humans can’t replicate… not lost on me. I get the brilliance and utter beauty that inspires me to the core every time.

I was diagnosed with cancer, then 10 weeks of process and a surgery later, I didn’t have cancer…not lost on me. I get the rare opportunity and restart in that.

I have a family of amazing people who communicate, support and are truthful with one another unconditionally... not lost on me. I get the invaluable gift of that.

I have the ability to make a huge difference in people’s lives in a powerful and unique way… not lost on me. I get the bigness and responsibility of that.

So now I get this elusive word, and its secret perk I never understood in those three things happening together...

Being Present + getting Perspective + feeling Significance = [not-lost-on-me] FULFILLMENT....as in filled up in a unique way that brings an unparalleled internal clarity and peace. 

Many days I don’t get it. I get caught up in my head just like you might. I move too fast, focus forward or back too much, and I miss it. Great things might be all around me, and it IS lost on me. I always try to show my appreciation - but gratitude is something I've built practice for so that it doesn’t get lost, and keeps my brain scanning for the good, rather than missing it.

Check out the four steps I use daily, and see what you think. My experience? 10 days of this, and you're looking at life through a different, clarified, beautiful lens...

The Four Steps to Real Gratitude

Meanwhile, take a breath, look around, and get the amazingness in and around you right this second- it's right there. 

©SarahSinger&Co. 2015

Impact Everywhere

Scenario #1:                                     

I got 20 minutes with a group of bright, talented new hires last week in a new company I’m working with. It was a spontaneous decision to have them spend a few minutes with me as the expert coach since I happened to be in the building during their onboarding. I knew that this might be my only window to make impact with them (never met them before, might never see them again), so I went for it. I dove in, assessed where I could focus for the most impact, coached them individually and as a group pretty intensely, watched their thinking shift, then I was out. I intentionally made positive impact that would change some things about how they see themselves going forward.

That’s a really good twenty minutes to me. I measure my work’s accomplishment in level of  impact I have on people. In this case, I actually heard feedback today from that group last week who reported my twenty minutes with them as the most powerful in their ten day onboarding process. “She pushed hard, but not in a confrontational way, and pulled stuff out of me I didn’t know I had.” Awesome.

Overt acknowledgments are pretty nice. Yet most of the time I have to go on the cues I get in the moment (you, too, can develop the sensitivity to see the moment of shift for another person if you’re looking for it).  I maximize the moment to create a shift and then trust that it’s going to have marinating, multiplying impact as that shift takes root in their thinking after I’ve gone.

 Scenario #2:                                                                                      

A crew of city engineers were doing the final reseeding and strawing next to the street they’d been working on yesterday, as I jogged through them on my regular path .

“Thanks for doing this- it makes a big difference, and it’s going to look really good when you’re done!” 

That shoutout takes 5 seconds to say, doesn’t slow down my run at all, and can actually be the one nice acknowledgment those guys get that day for their work making a positive difference in other people’s lives.

...Which brings more meaning and satisfaction to what they do. And maybe causes them to feel more pride in their work and the positive effect it has in the world. Which makes them happy. And maybe sparks them to think about and acknowledge other people in the same way. Which carries it on…

Except I didn’t say it. 

Instead I just smiled and said “Hi,” as I continued to run past. I thought it, but it didn’t fully occur to me to verbally acknowledge them and my appreciation of their work until I was already too far down the road, out of earshot.

Missed moment. 

As soon as I ran past, I knew I’d missed it. I could’ve said something right there and made positive impact for that whole crew. I actually spent several of the next minutes of my run regretting that moment and thinking about this very idea of how easy it actually is to make more positive impact by just becoming more aware in those moments of opportunity.

So, I ran a little harder and faster, hoping I’d get back to those guys while they were still there, and make it right. When I did, many of them had gone, but a few remained. I ran up to them and delivered that simple little acknowledgment. A ten second exchange, I watched their thinking shift, then I was out. In that quick ten seconds, a little caught off guard, they went from surprise, to really getting what I said, to big-grin, standing up-a-little-straighter satisfaction of being newly proud of their work and acknowledged for it by someone in the world. They played it off casually, but I knew I’d struck a chord. I intentionally made a positive impact that would change some things a little about how they see themselves going forward that day. And I didn’t even lose time off my run.

That’s a really good ten seconds to me. Not as good as if the whole crew had been there to feel it, but a difference made for those few guys. Think starfish story,“I made a difference for that one.” Not as big and dramatic as Scenario #1, but who’s to say?

It’s right there.... 

Okay… so maybe this idea of making impact is one that I think about more than other people, yet I’m clear that this is way bigger than what I do for a living. We could consciously be making positive impact 100 times a day if we actually paid attention to the moments of opportunity we’re passing by all the time.

I can drop a pebble in a pond, and watch it as it disappears to the bottom of the pond. I may notice the ripples my pebble causes, but how often do I follow them, making impact somewhere else, 90 degrees and a good distance away from where I focused my pebble in the water?  Bucky Fuller coined the term Precession, the idea that there’s impact happening at 90 degree angles from our focus all the time, like those ripples reaching out to the edges you can’t even see in a pond. I choose to turn an otherwise disconnected moment near someone else (think standing in line at the grocery store) into one of connection and positive impact, and who knows what that might ripple into for that person?

I’m convinced of the truth that every single interaction we have in the civilized world has an impact on someone else. 

If you can think of an exception, please let me know, as I haven’t found one yet.

Sometimes it’s direct, sometimes it’s delayed, and sometimes it’s in that ripple effect that happens in the pebble-tossing of our actions/words into the shared pond of our collective awareness. Just in the range of what we intentionally do and say to make impact and the ripples that causes without our even noticing... it’s staggering, and everywhere.

Kaizen is a Japanese concept referring to small, seemingly imperceptible changes over time which yield a big difference in the end. The impact we have in the course of an hour, day and so on can be much like this. Lots of little choices and interactions, over time...

Let’s first establish that a moment of interaction can fall within a huge range from me jogging past you and just making eye contact briefly, to stopping to say something that really touches you, makes a positive difference and sticks with you. There’s a pretty big range in-between. And- there’s the negative version of this range… I could jog right by, not noticing you, or stop to say something that really offends or hurts you, which then makes a negative impact, and sticks with you.

We have so many kinds of interactions in just the course of one day. See if you can count the number of possible moments of interaction you’ve had in the last few hours. Not just the moments you interacted with someone, but all the openings when you could’ve. Just this morning in the hour before my three kids left for school, I lost count of the moments with them where I actually was or could be making impact on their state, thinking, beliefs or course of their day. Every look exchanged (smile or scowl?), every word choice, every topic chosen influences. Just in the course of writing these few paragraphs, I’ve had eight emails, two calls and one live conversation come in (I let them all go until later), all representing potential moments of impact (on me as I read them, on another, as I reply). I also posted a few times on Facebook and Twitter today, each post an opportunity to impact lots of people with a few simple keystrokes.

This is one of those concepts that worms its way into your thinking, and then you start noticing it everywhere. So- we’ve got an opening here to gain new awareness going forward. What if we started considering our impact everywhere in all of those moments, and consciously chose to make them count meaningfully with positive impact?

Here’s a start:

•  Reflect on the last few interactions or opportunities for interaction you’ve had (even with strangers). What impact did you have? Even if you ignored them, you had impact of some kind, so own it.
• Think about how you could’ve used those moments to make positive impact somehow.
• Going into your next interactions, consciously choose to connect with or contribute to someone. Notice something positive (even the most cynical can see it), then actually acknowledge it out loud to that person.
• Notice the moments you encounter everywhere, where you actually have a choice, but never even considered.
• Notice the moments you make negative impact. Maybe intentionally, maybe not, pay attention to how your inattention or sour state get on other people. (We’ve all been there)
• Be willing to give with impact in the 5-minute Favor, as Adam Grant shows us. You can create big movement for someone in very little effort.

It all counts. I assess the maximum impact for the moment, and dive in as the work I do every day. You could too. Yet the small, little moments not only make impact, but ripple and multiply into impact we can’t even measure.

Go.

What it Stirs in Us…

While crisis stirs fear and all that goes with that, it can also bring out some important things in people.  We suddenly look at our lives and see what really matters- what we’ve got which really counts and what we can give to help others who really need it.

Gratitude…

Tragedy can bring out amazing Gratitude in us. We suddenly take stock, and get how lucky we really are in the great scheme of things. For the last couple of months I’ve been doing a gratitude exercise, in which I reflect and take a minute to capture all that I value and am grateful for… every day. It’s one thing to do this as an isolated reflection or in the wake of a tragedy as many are doing right now – but doing this every day really shifts something about how one sees the world. I highly recommend it. As part of the process, I make a list of ten things I value and am grateful for right now. Two of the things I wrote today were “waking up this morning in health and strength” and “the opportunity to make a difference in the world.” These seem especially poignant today.

Try completing this every day for the next 10 days, and your view of the world will shift, guaranteed. From Alan Walter:

• Goal for today…

• What am I willing to give to others today?

• What 10 things do I value that I am grateful for right now?

• What do I value that another does for me that I am grateful for right now?

• What am I happy about right now?

Empathy…

Yesterday shook up our world again, as Boston went from a scene of celebration to tragedy in a second. The fear of that struck me hard.  In looking at the footage (like other similar events) we see people flee in fear. Yet we also see people who run IN to help, which is inspiring, and something I spend a lot of time thinking about how to tap. People responding with empathy, care and support for one another in complete humanity. Maybe I’m just seeing it more because that’s my filter, yet it seems to me that the more we get pushed and tested, the more we’re supporting and stepping up rather than retreating or just protecting ourselves. For the first time it seems that the stories of people helping in this crisis are overshadowing the stories of shock. We’re becoming more resilient and more united in spirit.  There’s much work to do for this to translate into everyday empathy for one another in normal times, but let’s start here.

Impact…

Even though these incidents of crisis are happening more and more, I believe that the world can change with the choices we make and the ripples we cause toward good. A week ago, a very special project I’ve been involved with for the last two years about the possibility and coming together toward a world without hate, delivered its message to 10,0000 people at once at a ceremony in Birkenau, the biggest extermination camp of the Holocaust. It’s a project of light, hope and creating the world we want rather than staying stuck in the pattern of darkness we’ve had. As my partners and I watched it livestreamed from the other side of the world, it was an amazing moment which blew me away in significance, connection, pride and hope. We can create the world we believe is possible.

Significance…

In a few days, my oldest daughter will become a Bat Mitzvah.  This is a big deal, and signifies the end of a long, intense process for her and for our family. I’ve been immersed in big conversations daily with her about the meaning of life, her purpose and how we choose our paths… a lot for anyone to wrap their head around, let alone a thirteen year old with a coach like me for a mom. Yesterday’s events put a particularly focused point on our discussion about people and how every choice impacts so much more than we think.

Inspiration…

Finally, there’s this candle you see on the page. It’s a memorial candle sitting here next to me, and it’s lit because it’s the third anniversary of my dad’s death- his Yartzeit, as it’s called in my religion. People light these candles when someone dies, but also every year on a person’s Yartzeit-so today in the wake of Boston’s tragedy, it has even more meaning.  One of the ways I process, reflect and summon my energy is through running. Even before yesterday’s events, I knew that today’s run would be significant, with my dad fueling it. He was an avid runner who protected that time as his solo space to connect with himself and sort out the world. While I didn’t really get that or get into it until a few years ago, I now I hold that time as sacred much like he did, and he’s my inspiration for every run.  He used to say that running was his time to pray. Personally, I’ve never really been a big pray-er. I reflect, I think deeply about things, I have frequent moments of true spiritual connection, but not in the form of direct praying to God. And yet, without intending it, all week a little tune from my childhood has been playing in my head… It’s the Modeh Ani prayer, which we used to sing as kids and my dad loved. He sang it while he ran each morning. The translation: “I am thankful to God for allowing me to awaken to another day…” In the wake of this week, yesterday and what we’re all causing in the world with each choice, this couldn’t be any more meaningful.

Forward…

So today I started my run with tears.  I believe that tears are the literal overflow of emotions (any kind) that have hit or filled us so much that they need a spillway, so no surprise today, as gratitude, empathy, loss, inspiration and my dad both filled and fueled me.

My dad, who taught me to question everything, think and feel deeply about things, make impact in the world every day, come together with support when someone needs it and share what you’ve got to make a difference in the world…is present. If he were physically here, this week he’d pull us together into the kitchen for a family meeting in which he’d remind us about sticking together, supporting one another, reaching out to those who need it and being proud of what we’re able to impact, despite the circumstances.

And so we are…

©SarahSinger&Co. 2013

Building Ourselves Out

It's all relative, right?

I sit here on my deck typing, enjoying the view and the space, and can barely remember what it was like a few years ago before we built this deck out, almost doubling its size.  It seems to me now that it used to be soooo small- how did we even fit on it?  Yet at the time, we'd moved from a Chicago city apartment with no outside space- the little deck this once was seemed huge, relatively speaking.  How quickly we forget as we build out...

As a 6-year old, my son’s mad and crying about having to pick up his legos after he plays with them.  There are too many of them, how will I ever do it, it’s too hard…

Ridiculous to an 8-year old.

As an 8-year old girl, my daughter throws a fit over the idea of having to put all her things away when she’s done with them every time.  How can I do all of that all the time, it’s too much, it’s not fair…

Annoying to an 11-year old.

As an 11-year old, my other daughter gets overwhelmed by a book report she has to write.  Will it be good enough, can I do it, it’s so big, 2 pages is so long, it’s too hard…

Laughable to a teenager.

As a teenager, I was confronted by all of my homework, being prepared for testing and school, doing (or choosing not do do) all that my parents asked me to do, keeping track of my friends and relationships, meeting obligations to teams and extra-curricular organizations. How can I manage it all, be good at it all, be liked and hold it together, it’s too hard…

Piece of cake to a college student.

As a college student mostly supported by my parents, pulling all-nighters to get projects done, balancing my social life with studying, budgeting to make spending money last a little longer, completely stressed about a big test, paper or project due.  It’s hard, will I be able to pull it all off, this is so huge and all on me…

Enviable to a professional.

When I started out as a professional, it was a new list: hitting deadlines, managing someone else’s expectations, taking on my own growth path to advance, having to initiate, find a partner, have a life outside of work, pay my bills, create a voice in the world.  So big, so much to manage, how can I do it all well and maintain any balance…

Easy to a parent.

We can keep going with these ever-expanding layers.  We could just follow the professional layers. Or the personal layers.  Or the relationship layers.  Or the multiple-roles-in-multiple-circles-of-our-lives-layers that build as we progress in life (professional, personal, family, community, world).  The point is that we’re always building ourselves out further.  With each addition, it’s hard for us to remember how big that former version of our lives felt even though we see clearly with hindsight how much simpler it was!  As we break through to each level, we learn through the challenges of it, expand into it and ultimately end up able to handle more, gaining a wider perspective and ready to move on again.

Is this about Comfort Zone, and expanding it?  Yes.

Is it about Perturbation, and learning through it?  Yes.

Is it all about perspective?  Always.

©SarahSinger&Co. 2011

Airways

It’s all about getting perspective.

This is most obvious to me in looking at the world through airplane windows for many continuous minutes on end, like the one in this picture, somewhere above the clouds between Ohio and California.

Sometimes the rhythm of a day or week or couple of months feels labored, like a sprint within a marathon… and at the same time fleeting- like “where did that month go?”  It’s a strange sensation in time, and unsettling.

I’ve found myself more and more saying things like, “How did it get to be July- wasn’t it just fall?” or (to one of my three quickly growing kids) “How did you get to be so big all of the sudden?”  These are the kinds of statements I used to hear adults say when I was little, and thought to myself how old and out of touch with reality they were.

I don’t think I’m that old or out of touch with reality- even proud that I’m not, yet…

Yet, one of the challenges for me is the balance of being completely present in the moment- with my work, my family or in those rare moments by myself- and keeping perspective on where it all fits (strategically or organically) in time and space and reality, then negotiating those tensions.

The #1 reason I’ve had for a long time for not doing most of the things I know I should in my life (from sleeping as much as I should to putting laundry away to creating baby photo albums for my now-big kids) and in my business (from getting an assistant to handling expense reports to training someone to teach my programs) has been that “I don’t have time.”

From clients, friends and family, I hear this reason of not enough time for not doing things, taking action or just taking a breath from people all the time, and I get it.  I do. 

Yet…

I’m realizing that it’s less about making time for things, and more about creating AIRWAYS.

I was in a coaching conversation recently with someone who was going that direction… “I don’t have time to…”  The description was one I understood well- feeling like it’s getting harder and harder to breathe because there’s no space in this current self-created reality to even do that- and I found myself coaching, “…exactly why you need to do it anyway- youneed to create an airway!”  It was one of those coaching moments I was proud of, because it connected… it was true for this person, and is true for me a lot of the time, too.  It opened up some possibility all the way around. Maybe for you, too?

In that sprint-within-the-marathon cadence of my life sometimes, the only way to get more air into my lungs is to go find it. Like someone crashing on an ER cart who can’t ask for the air because they can’t get enough of it to speak the words, I too often go into autopilot of shallow breathing stress without reaching out for an airway, and these are the very days and weeks I find myself missing in my perspective of time- hence, “How did it get to be July?”

So I’ve been on a personal campaign of finding my airways and using them consciously.  It’s interesting to note, that the more I seek them out and choose them, the more I use them unconsciously, too.

Some of my current airways:

Jumping on the trampoline, listening to a great song, singing in the band I don’t have time to be in, calling and talking to a loved long-distance friend for even five minutes, working out to that point when my brain shifts from physical work to release, writing like this, looking up at the sky or trees for several minutes, holding hands with my son, reading books with my girls, saying the words, “energy, easy,” making my husband or one of my kids laugh really hard, looking out an airplane window down at the Earth, working with teenagers despite any other work I'm doing, sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to play the piano while everyone's sleeping, getting regular coaching myself, going on real dates with my husband, photographing nature, watching a TED talk, doing or creating or learning anything new.

I now understand that these things are not just bonus “nice-to-have-if-I-have-time-after-what-I really-need-to-get-done”, which is how I’ve always looked at them.  They’re actually essential for me to be complete, vital and the person I want to be. If I don’t have a good dose of them mixed into my daily life, everything else I do gets compromised- including my work, my impact, my patience, my ability to be present, my relationships and absolutely my perspective on it all.

So... what are your airways?

Hint: they're those things that fill you up every time, change your State in a great way, and leave your overall capacity for everything else you do better and bigger, breathing more fully (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually).

Find those airways, note them, then wedge them in. Especially when you don't have time. That's when they bring the most oxygen.

©SarahSinger&Co. 2010

Big Deep Breaths

I actually closed my eyes for a few seconds during my run this morning.  Not to be a daredevil, but actually to become more present and really absorb the sounds and environment around me fully, with big deep breaths.

My family has a cottage on a lake near my hometown where we spent the summers sailing, waterskiing, hiking in the woods and creating lifetime memories with our siblings, cousins and extended family.  It’s a little cottage built for a family of 4 or 5, which we usually pack with way too many people and lots of activity.  Over the years I’ve grown, gone far, far away, had my own adventures, grown up, made my own family, and created a whole life of my own. As everything around me has changed over time and I’ve evolved,  the cottage and the lake remain the same.  It’s where I got my first poison ivy, had my first kiss, learned to master water skiing, sailing and rowing, got in my biggest family fights, had my first high school party, bonded with my dad over boat rigging, bonded with my mom over peach canning, once saw 18 shooting stars on my 18th birthday with my best friends, experimented with my first home improvements (the bathroom paint and wallpaper still crooked to show for it) introduced my own kids to nature and true imaginative play, and through it all, found my center.

The crunch of the gravel under my feet on the driveway never changes, nor does the quality of the air, the majesty of the trees, the buzz of the distant boats or the color of the leaves and flowers that seem to grow only here.  For more than all of my life, these things are constant, unlike most things.  When I’m far away, I imagine this place to find calm.  When I’m here, I soak it up and store it for later.

I think we all need a place like the lake and the cottage either in reality or in our imagination.  A place to get centered, find our peace, and count on to remain steadfast. There’s something about looking at the same tree I’ve looked at since I could open my eyes, and knowing that no matter where I am, or what I’m doing in the world it’s still here, growing, getting stronger, roots reaching deeper through it all.  As I ran the path just now on which my dad first coached me on how to run years ago, I closed my eyes to let myself go, record the sounds, capture the taste of the air, and fill up.

I’ll keep creating change and working to open possibility in the world every day.  Meanwhile, I’ll keep tapping back to my roots and this place for strength, inspiration and perspective.  The strength of the lake and awe of the trees make me stronger.

Big deep breaths- I’m off to make it a great day with my family, and create more memories to build on.

©SarahSinger&Co. 2009