Perhaps self evident:  When people are hurt or scared, we often protect ourselves by becoming spiky or hard – creating a shell or a wall.  As we shut down our feelings to prevent more distress, we shut down not just the painful feelings but all feelings.  As the spikes get sharper, the walls higher, we shut out not just the source of threat but everyone else.

In those times we have a choice — to be protected, isolated, and numb vs vulnerable, open, and vibrant.  While the latter sounds more obviously rich, it’s not a trivial risk.  When we “know” that the world is dangerous and people are “going to” hurt us, vulnerability isn’t an easy choice.

The paradox is that no matter how sharp the spikes nor high the walls, we’ll never be safe that way.  And, even more surprising – even miraculous – is that softening, opening, accepting… walking into the fires of vulnerability we actually find the deeper safety that we crave.

What’s the first step?

Tidbit from my physical therapist:  When you’ve experienced a lot of pain, for example from a ruptured tendon, when you go to try to use that muscle again your brain says, “NO!”  Not because it hurts now, but because your brain “knows” that activity will be painful.

I’ve certainly experienced this in physical therapy with my knees… but also elsewhere in my life.  Before my dad died, for example, there were things I wanted to tell him, but I way afraid — not because it would hurt now, I suspect, but because by brain “knew” that activity would be painful.

So often we “protect” against the old and imagined hurts, and we don’t experience that we’ve grown past the memory of pain.

To get past it in physical injury, I have to risk, trust, hope, have an ally — and commit.  I suspect the same is true with the emotional injuries.

Found this to be a powerful example of a family Knowing, Choosing, and Giving Themselves…

T.R.E. Frankel’s from B-Rilla on Vimeo.

Due to the foibles of flight schedules, I had some unexpected downtime in DC, and found myself wandering the Mall. I don’t think I’ve been here since I was in eighth grade, and it made a very different impression on me now. I suspect that the first time, I was much more concerned about the pressing matters of who I’d sit with on the bus, and what those girls were whispering, and when we’d be able to shop for trinkets that made us feel somehow more complete.

Now walking through these monuments I thought about the sweep of history. About the times of great challenge when exceptional women and men stand up and stand out, not for themselves but in service of hope. About Martin Luther King Jr standing on this very place, his magnificent voice booming over this wide arcade and around the globe. Giving himself utterly to a higher purpose, his message echoing through the hearts of those for, neutral, and even opposed, calling something deeper in them.

And in that same park, stones with golden signatures from the Declaration of Independence. People standing up for something “impossible,” something bigger than their own gain — and in so doing galvanizing hope and reverence and the power of human spirit. Again, in giving to a larger vision, these leaders opened a door wide enough for allies and enemies alike.

Sprinkled though this garden are monuments to wisdom and to sacrifice. It’s so difficult to tell in the moment-to-moment of our daily lives, but in the sweep of history it becomes clear. Great purpose requires the most exceptional commitment, but there’s a razor-edge between sacrifice for pride and sacrifice for promise.

On a more personal scale, I finally saw the Vietnam Wall — it wasn’t here when I was a boy-hoping-to-be-a-man. I thought of Hank, my father, and how many of these shipmate’s names were carved into his heart as indelibly as they are carved into the granite. I thought of all these other men who’s names are carved in the granite, who now might be grandfathers too.

In the brilliance of this monument I couldn’t help but see generations reflected in the stone. The passing crowds of all ages, bright colors dancing on the wall. Some faces closed in loss, some somber in reflection, others chatting about the pressing matters like who they’d sit next to on the bus… Then finally I willed myself to look at my own reflection in the stone, and thought of the legacy of war and how it’s a part of my own story. I could see myself through the names of those who died so far away fighting for a myth of pride and arrogance and fear.

I wondered what kind of monument we will make for the women and men fighting today. I wondered if those who toil in the marble corridors of power take time out to look over at this somber granite and consider the way their choices will reflect outward in the lives of ordinary people, into the faces of future generations who walk by remembering. It’s so easy to point a finger at “them,” but if I’m going to learn something here I recognize I also need to look at myself in this wall.

Here we are in an era of upheaval, with fear and uncertainty rampant, with nearly desperate problems on every side. Perhaps the most profound challenges humanity has ever faced. What can I do, one ordinary man, amidst all the difficulties we face? Isn’t there a new hero who can save us?

Perhaps in times of greatest challenge it takes both the most ordinary and the most exceptional women and men stand up and stand out, not for themselves but in service of hope.

In the past, we’ve needed someone stand on the marble steps and call forth our commitment. Perhaps today’s challenges will also require us each to do so. There is a quiet voice of wisdom that dwells in every one of us, but it is easily shouted down by the clamor of what we each want now. That quiet voice of wisdom speaks quietly through a feeling of what’s truly precious — we know when we are in integrity because we feel it.

So where do we find the wisdom to step out from those compelling immediate concerns of daily life and to commit to something larger? This commitment is not comfortable, it’s much easier, and perhaps even more in our nature, to attend to the “seat on the bus matters” rather than the “sweep of history matters.” In either case it’s emotion driving us, but perhaps there are multiple voices of those feelings. For example, fear can sweep us unconsciously into matters of unimportant urgency, into a bid for comfort. But if we use emotional intelligence and look deeper, that same fear can tell us something truly vital is at stake.

When we do get that deeper insight, we also get an important benefit. Emotion is information, and it is power. When we tune up our awareness and attend to what’s truly important, we liberate the energy of those strongest of convictions. Then we can use the power of our feelings to commit, to sacrifice for what matters.

Perhaps in a hundred years there will be a new monument here, not commemorating a great woman or man, and neither honoring lives cut short, but reminding future generations of how people like you and I did what was right. About how we shifted our attention away from comfort and convenience and toward the survival of our communities. Away from being right over others and toward caring-in-action. Away from taking and toward healing our shared home.

Are you ready?

It has frequently been the practice of many teachers and administrators to “prepare” teachers for the students they will be having in their classes the next year. That preparation may entail learning about  students’ behaviors, learning styles, strengths, and areas needing improvement in their academics. This information can be very helpful so that teachers can plan to modify and enhance their lessons for their new students. I would submit that this is not enough.

Yes, I would agree it is important to learn about students before you teach them. It can help with the preparation of your “toolkit” of strategies. But too many times we remember those comments about a student, especially those comments from their former teachers that list their  weaknesses in academics and behaviors and we lose sight of the enormous power that our own optimism about each student can play in how they will live within our classrooms. I would suggest that when meeting new students it is extremely important to be prepared with a keen eye and ear to see and hear when students are working diligently, cooperating with others, using their optimistic messages with themselves and others, and exercising their citizenship skills in the classroom. Yes, it is a balancing act. We want to be prepared with information from the previous year. But we do not want students to feel that they are burdened with their history from the previous year in school.

 I know I hope to try to continue to use the opportunity with each new student as a time to practice my emotional intelligence skills. We know how emotions are contagious! We know that modeling those EQ competencies can be powerful! We know that students can change those patterns that have not worked with them in the past. Giving them a chance will help the balance move toward the positive.

I found this article intriguing, both in the framing and the advice. The setup is that while we talk a lot about things being different in our organizations (and lives), most of us won’t actually do much about it. Is that ok with you?

… the truth is we will all still be at the same spot next year, fussing about the way we are organizing, prioritizing and delegating.

But what would happen if we were determined to make a real change in the way we lead our organizations this year? Perhaps we should ask ourselves the more compelling question…what will happen in our organization this year if nothing changes in the way we lead?

In considering my own challenges as a leader, there are some results I want this year – this question is leading me to wonder: Am I really willing to work for it? I’m pretty comfortable with the way things are right now – it’s not all it could be, but is pretty great. Hard work to change – worth it? Will think!

Sometimes I wish I could just “press the button” and have change done.

But change takes persistent effort. I don’t mind working HARD – its keeping it in focus day after day that’s so difficult.

The article then provides seven ideas of things to do differently – hard things like building better relationships, holding onto vision, and being authentic. These take a lot of courage and risk – I’d have to be a bit less comfortable, and I’d have to be willing to risk making others uncomfortable. Takes a lot of emotional intelligence to manage that. Where’s an good EQ consultant when you need one??

Like so many of my clients, I know this – but doing it is harder than knowing it.

Hm. So what’s it gonna be? Comfort or learning? I’ll let you know next year.

Check out the article – Gregg Thompson — WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF NOTHING CHANGES? (The Point, Jan 08)

When I shared this thought, Caleb looked at me, raised one blond eyebrow, and said, “Mom, you have got to be kidding!” I was really stumped. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to identify. I knew it wouldn’t be this year’s presents; they were all practical and geared to his senior year at the University of Oregon and included clothes, art supplies, books, etc.

Caleb continued, “You know, Mom, it is interesting that you would bring this up. I’ve been thinking about this subject myself. Give me a minute to collect my thoughts and then I would like to share them with you.”

So after two or three minutes with the fire crackling and popping, Caleb shared approximately the following words. I wish now that I could have had a tiny tape recorder taking down every word, but here’s what I remember. “The most important gift, Mom, was your unconditional love. I don’t mean willy-nilly acceptance, because that’s not what our relationship has been about. I mean that even though you sometimes, maybe even often, didn’t approve of my choices, you were always there for me — a steady and available listener. And when I was through talking, you would provide constructive criticism, your own learned lessons, and always encouragement. It was from this support that I built a backbone that would allow me to be a risk taker and demonstrate my own courage.”

“Second, Caleb continued, “and this may be even more vital than the love because I think most mothers love their kids, somehow you always managed to build or remind me to build a chain of optimism, even when I was leaning toward negativity or pessimism. You taught me positive self-talk and hope for the future. I want to build my life on this point of view and make it my legacy for future generations.”

Of course just telling this story brings tears of joy to my eyes, partly because these are among the gifts I most want my son to treasure. And also because I know they have kept him going through many challenging adversities.

The first of Caleb’s adversities that I can remember were his “night shoes.” When he was seven or eight months old, Dr. Cook, his pediatrician, said his legs were too straight; they needed to bend more at the knees. We went to an orthopedic specialist who prescribed special high-top leather shoes screwed onto a metal bar which would keep his legs apart and help the bones grow and develop in the proper way. Caleb was to wear them every night. Obviously, he didn’t like them, crying when I put them on, waking up in the middle of the night and bellowing, and being so joyful in the morning when they came off.

I remember saying to him frequently, “Caleb, this won’t be forever — only six, five, or four more months.” Or “Caleb, aren’t you glad it’s only your feet; just think if you had to have ‘night gloves’ as well.” And, “Caleb, you can make a difference by doing this every night and not taking a ‘night shoe’ vacation and by being consistent about this opportunity.”

We weathered the night shoes, but it did not prepare us for the adversities Caleb faced when he was ten. His father, whom Caleb adored, became heavily involved and addicted to cocaine, probably because of some inappropriate moral decisions and inadequate consequential thinking. These choices also led Caleb’s father to contract a terrible disease: he was diagnosed as HIV positive.

This adversity was a major one, and I was not sure how to move forward. But I found myself repeating the lessons learned from the “night shoes.” “Caleb, this crisis is isolated. Yes, your immediate family is dramatically affected, but we still have Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Pat, and Aunt Tamie. And Caleb you have so many loyal and supportive friends.”

“Caleb, this will not last forever; time will ease the disillusionment and the pain.”

“Caleb, we can grow and become stronger if we look at this as an opportunity rather than a total disaster. And Caleb I know you can find the courage to face this problem.”

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered the steps defined by Martin Seligman for teaching optimism. He outlines them in the book, Learned Optimism (Pocket Books, 1990). His data shows clearly that optimists are more motivated, more successful, have higher levels of achievement, plus significantly better physical and mental health. Aren’t these attributes and achievements we want for all of our children?

Unfortunately, current data from the National Institutes of Health also shows that American fathers spend approximately five minutes daily with their children — and mothers are only slightly better with 15 to 20 minutes daily. Moreover, the bulk of this time is spent in conversations that sound like the following:

• Have you finished your homework? Why not?

• Did you put the dishes in the dishwasher and remember to feed the dog?

• Have you called Grandma to thank her for the Valentine card and check?

• What do you mean you haven’t practiced the flute yet! When are you going to do that?

And the list goes on indefinitely. Wouldn’t a written list be a better way to communicate this information? Instead, spend those precious face-to-face moments on the bigger and more significant matters: What happened today which needs to be celebrated? Or what discouragement did your child feel today? Was it striking out with the bases loaded? Was it a C- on the Spanish test? Was it someone who poked fun at his/her braces?

If so, help your child build an immunity to his/her setbacks and put-downs. Inoculate him/her with the skills of optimism.

Several years ago I remember having a conversation with my niece, who, because of a D+ on an algebra test, assured me she would never graduate from high school; therefore, she would never get into college. As a result, she would never have any boyfriends, never get married, and never have any children. “I’ll just end up an old maid,” she emphatically cried.

“Let’s look at it this way,” I suggested. “This failure does not have to be permanent, pervasive, and personal. You can make it temporary, isolated, and change the end result with some work and effort on your part.”

I elaborated: “Have you always gotten D+ on your math grades?”

“Well, no!” she retorts.

“Is your report card just one D after another?”?

“Well, no! Of course not!”

“Is it possible that there are some ways you could change the outcome with some personal effort on your part?”

“Well, I didn’t study very hard. I could put in 15-30 minutes every day instead of just cramming just before the test.”

“And?”

” I could ask the teacher for some additional help.”

Research indicates that more girls grow up with a more pessimistic explanatory style than do boys (Howard, 1994). Some psychologists suggest that this happens because parents and teachers tend to lavish praise on boys and neglect the girls. Please be sure that your daughters learn to attribute their successes to their abilities and that their failures can be reversed.

Each day life brings forth adversities. Most of them are tiny but still stressful. They include such things as preparing a presentation for a community group; enduring someone who wonders “have your put on weight?”; being pushed aside in the grocery store line by someone who believes they are more important; or being let down by someone who was suppose to come and volunteer at the homeless shelter. And sometimes the adversities are more dramatic — such as hearing that your niece at 21 year has pre cancerous uterine cells; or that someone you admire has criticized your most recent book; or that someone you inadvertently hurt has refused to accept your apology.

Whether big or small the adversities of life will continue to plague us. However, withstanding and overcoming them will allow us to build walls of personal hope and peace.

So if I could only teach my child one lesson, this would be it. I would teach him/her this is the skill he/she will need to overcome disappointment, hurt, and despair. I would model for him/her with my words and actions that adversity can be gilded with hope; I would demonstrate that adversity brings gifts of growth (i.e., self-esteem, courage, self-reliance, etc.) which will be his/her parachute/safety net for the future.

Isn’t this a legacy that is more important that money or silver plate or stock and bonds? Perhaps twenty-plus years into the future Caleb, the father, will have a similar post-Christmas chat with a son and daughter of his own who share that the best gift they ever received from him was his gift of optimism to them.

Update On Anabel: Anabel is President of Six Seconds — a non-profit organization committed to providing resources, materials, and training to teach social and emotional skills to adults and children. Above all, she wishes to ground individuals in hope and resiliency.