The Prairie Dog Life

The tunnel continues for miles linking buildings to other buildings.  People are walking through in a mixture of winter coats and boots and pajamas and shorts and normal casual business wear.

It's negative Celsius outside in Minnesota and my friend and I have a game that we play. A nightly walk from campus to campus through and around the hospital and back again.  It takes a little more than an hour.  How much time can we spend in the tunnels and avoid the bitter cold outside? Each time we try a different route to see if we can add more time indoors whether it's taking the elevator to a different floor or trying a different branch of the building.

In the Midwest I loved the sun.  I loved being outside whenever I could if the sun were out. The tunnels and skyways were built to protect from the bitter cold and you'd find them in downtown Minneapolis and St. Paul and throughout the U of MN campuses.

Now, in Southern California, I find myself thinking that the time in Minnesota made its mark. I have become a gopher or a prairie dog --  hopping between the downtown buildings and tunnels that link parking structures. The opposite of Minnesota, I find myself shying away from the sun. I'll walk indoors even if it's 25 more feet difference.

The sun is so intense I can barely keep my eyes open. I can feel it burning through my skin as I walk across the street. Looking around for an escape there is an escalator into an underground parking lot.  Starbucks in hand and heaving a sigh of relief, I head down an into the cool, dim lot and then through the tunnels into another lot. It's pleasant down here.  I prefer it down here.  My brain runs through all the sci-fi doomsday scenarios as I note this is a great hiding and escape place if so and so or such and such were to happen and I shelve it in the back corner of my brain.

Climbing the stairs to the exit leading to the sidewalk I open the door.  Heads turn, people look, and I look startled. It's as if I'm mimic-ing the prairie dogs peeping their heads out of the ground during the last visit to Devil's Tower in South Dakota.  Squinting into the light, I look back, scurry across the street, and retreat into the next building's nearest door while the dynamic world outside honks, whirrs, and moves and is then silenced as the heavy door clicks shut.

Adventure Awaits...

My legs are pumping hard and fast.  I lean to the right to make the curve, the wind is whipping past my face and through my hair and then I stand on the pedals to get up the hill.  I've taken these turns and circled around this road hundreds, possibly thousands of times.

 It's a time before helmets were even invented for bicycles.  Where a child could walk through the dirt trails several blocks away from home looking for tadpoles and adventure.  When children needed to go home the neighbor kids would ride in on their bikes to let a kid know that their mother was calling for them to come home to dinner.

Years later, the road crunches beneath my feet as I look up and see the milky way above my head and my breath vapors in front of my face.  I like running in the dark.  It's easier to focus on the few steps just in front of you rather than seeing for miles across the plains and fields of Wisconsin knowing you have so much further to go. It's winter and past 11 PM and dark, dark, dark even though we're in the city.  But it's perfectly safe.  Adventuring out after dark is not much of a risk.  Neighbors look out for you and there's a comfort in that.

Now away from the MidWest in modern times my niece and nephew learn to ride their bikes in the few feet between the garages of the complex they live in. They have helmets and are surrounded by adults.  No child ever wanders off on their own.  Adventure has a chaperone.  Children are strapped in, leashed either physically or digitally, and independence has a different definition.  I'm not saying safety is not important.  No.  It is absolutely.  We now have to worry about predators and drug pushers and dangerous elements of the human nature.  I do wonder what will happen to this generation of children who have never had the chance to adventure out on their own -- independent of adult eyes and ears.  To imagine and create and explore with a mind that didn't have to constantly worry about dodging this or that or the other -- but could be free to explore.

It's been a long time since I've ridden a bike. I think on it sometimes with yearning.  There is something about whipping through the world on your bicycle and daydreaming that sparks the creative mind.  I sold mine when I moved to a bigger city with a car culture. Where it's harder for a bike to share a road with a car without concern for getting hit. It's a freedom that I miss.  Something a stationary bike at a gym can never replace.

My adventures now tend to consist of traveling.  I've traveled the world as a single woman several times.  I've camped on my own.  Hiked on my own.  Gone to countries where I don't know the languages on my own and relied on the kindness of strangers so many memorable times.  Each re-igniting my hope and belief in human kind.  In the goodness innate in each of us.  Sometimes I travel with companions.  Family members or friends or acquaintances.

My sister called recently to let me know she'd been offered a trip to Iran with an archaeology group and asked me if I wanted to come along.  A once in a lifetime offer.  We'd go back to Turkey, a trip we've taken before, and then head into Iran.

As adults, limitations of money and time are what prevent these types of adventures.  Part of me so wants to go.  To see that part of the world from that point of view through the filter of that archaeological experience.  Part of me screams at myself telling me there is a balance between adventure and safety.  That I need to be responsible because I don't have that kind of money to spend -- I'd have to take out a loan.

With these types of trips you never know what you're going to get. Never expect fun, happy, easy. That is never guaranteed when you travel.  Never.What you can expect is learning, growing, exploring and challenge.  It's why we travel.  To see the world outside of our own from a different point of view.  To come home a different person from the start of our journey.

Will this new generation of protected and limited learn to adventure and face their fears?  I don't know.  But we can always help them along the way.  Take them on camping trips.  Give them opportunities to travel whether it's to different countries or on simple road trips.  Help them spread their wings.  We can teach them the balance between safety and adventure.  We can give them the skills to know what to do when they come upon adventure.  Adventure is an attitude and a journey.  Adventure is right in front of our faces waiting.

My fingers and toes are numb from the cold and I shed the layers of clothing and come in from the dark into the warmth of a fire burning in the fireplace.  After adventuring in the dark night it's always best to come back home.  Safe, warm, familiar home -- until the next trip out into the world.  After all, adventure awaits....

Chasing Life

"She's already at mile nine!  We've got to hurry up!"

It's the New York Marathon and I'm the support for my sister who's running.  I have her orange juice in my bag along with other goodies.

But from the beginning when we pulled off of 96th Street and Sepulveda in Los Angeles after the LAX shooting in our terminal,Terminal 3, and were stuck in the triangle of police caravans going in one direction, media trucks, and displaced passengers coming from LAX on foot in the other directions - this trip has thrown loops and challenges our way and things have not gone as planned.

Our plan, was to meet at mile 10 in Brooklyn.  My sister's mutual friend, and I drop her off in Staten Island and we're waiting to take the ferry back.  We're chatted up by a local from Staten Island who came out this morning to support the race.  She tells us that because it's a weekend and there's construction we can't take the subway to Brooklyn.  It's not running.

Uh-oh.

Well, there's this Grey Lines tour that goes into Brooklyn. If we stop at the last stop that'll put us a few blocks from where we need to be.

On the Grey Line tour we're told that due to the marathon there will only be one stop. When we get off we realize the stop is the  furthest possible we could possibly be from the marathon as possible.  Checking out our choices, we could walk -- it would take us 59 minutes. My sister just texted.  Approaching mile 9.  She runs a 9-12 minute mile. Hmmm.

Uh-oh.

We're whipping through Brooklyn on CitiBikes and I'm wheezing, trying to catch my breath while pedaling as fast as I can.The pedestrians on the sidewalk are laughing at me as they walk by because I sound like a dying moose.  But it's imperative to get the supplies to our runner so I push on with everything I have.

Why not a taxi?  Well, four taxis refused to drive us there.

By the time we get there my sister is already out of Brooklyn and on her way to Queens.  We're behind by a half hour.

Uh-oh.

How do we get back over to Manhattan?   Riding our Citibikes up and over the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm still dying and can't help but think this would actually be enjoyable if I could be in the moment and not worry about catching up. Not worry about being somewhere.  Not worry about keeping a promise and letting someone down. Looking back, I realize that the only one keeping me from enjoying the moment was me. My mentality.

(Photo from Twitter feed of @Fascinatingpics)

We spent the entire day pursuing her actively.  For over five hours.  But we missed her the whole way.  How does that happen?  I honestly can say I don't really know.  It doesn't sound logical.  All I can tell you is the day passed running, biking, subway training from one point to another and we'd miss her by 2 blocks or a some other patch of time/distance.  Even at the end, we met back at the hotel instead of the finish line.

It's been a week and I still rack my brain trying to figure out what happened. 

But then I stop and realize this is a metaphor for life.  When we have this desire to do or be something to get somewhere and we create this pressure on ourselves to get there so much so that we don't enjoy the actual living, the moments of our lives.  When we think, I only have so much time and this ticking clock adds pressure to where we want to go, or what we want to do or be.

I spent a weekend in NYC with beautiful weather and looking back I realize I wasn't in the mental space to enjoy the trip in moments.  All I needed was a mental adjust.

Because who wants to wake up years later in their old age and realize that they were so busy chasing life that they didn't live it?

The End of an Error

WHY!?!? Whyyyyy????  Whhhhhyyyyyyy? The scream echos throughout the cafe.  The person on stage, singing, stops for a moment and stares.  Patrons turn and look at us, the little, but the oh so smart, 10 year old boy sitting across from me is having a giggling fit.  And I, hands at my head pulling my hair at the root, scream in despair as literally 20 white pieces get surrounded and pulled off the board by this child.

I've lost this game of Go because of something I didn't see.  A simple error.  But the mistake cost me 3/4th the board and almost all of my pieces. There's a saying that we are all fine when we make a mistake.  It's when we realize we've made the mistake -- it's at that moment when we find out what we're made of.

Did you realize that our lives are made up of mistakes?  They are defining moments.  We can hang our head in shame, ears burning, embarrassed or we can get excited by them.  What did we learn?  How can I grow from this?  It's an opportunity to make myself, this project, this choice, this day, my next game -- better.  Yes, mistakes can be painful - how long we sit in the pain and how productive we choose to be afterwards is on us.

"I've never seen so many people, who after they're done working, beat themselves up so badly.  They're frozen.  If they make a mistake, it's the end of the world."

My friend, on his time away from his high level, high powered career job, is learning the craft of acting.  He originally started in a stand up class, moved to improv and sketch comedy, then to Meisner, Suzuki/Viewpoints training, and now onto a Stanislavsky based scene class.

"You never get that in improv or sketch.  Can you imagine?  If everyone on stage in improv or sketch stopped the show because they made a mistake? "  We laugh.  We laugh because we know in improv or sketch the mistake is golden, it's what we build the scene around.  It's what we heighten to build patterns and games and it's what often gets the laugh.  But how come, in life, it's so hard to laugh when we make mistakes?  How come, like the scene study class, we often beat ourselves up and treat it like it's the end of the world?

"How many of you, think that the Air Corp training, is the way to go?  That you should take the best of the best pilots and you weed them out, and then take the best of them and then send them off  on a course where other pilots have gotten killed in order to deliver the mail because you want to get government money to become the Air Force?  How many of you think that type of training sounds right to you?"

There's a pause as he looks around.  Almost everyone in the writing workshop has raised their hand.

"Well, you'd be wrong!  They almost all died!"

The writing instructor, Corey Mandell, goes on to explain the example given in the book The Talent Code by Daniel Coyle.  It turns out that a short guy who never even made it into the training program created this device to practice in.  It had a red light that would go off every time you made a mistake.  This device is what made the difference.  It's this device that was the key to success.  Not "talented" people who were the best of the best of the best.

"Mistakes are not an option for success.  Mistakes are REQUIRED and NECESSARY for success," Corey passionately shares with us.  The skills needed for success only happen when we make a mistake and start over again and try again and make a mistake and reassess and try again, and make a mistake....it's this cycle, painful as it might be, that causes us to learn, grow, and become successful.

In the book Mindset by Carol Dweck we learn about fixed mindsets and growth mindsets.  Fixed mindsets experience shame and fear and self abasement during failures.

Growth mindset people experience determination, and excitement, and see failures as a puzzle to be solved.  Their goal isn't often to become successful but they end up successful because of their desire to grow.

Fixed mindset people desire success but often aren't because their fear paralyzes them from moving on from growing and from learning so, ironically, they are stagnant. The "fail" at being successful.

Sound familiar?  We're all a little of both.  But we can choose how we approach mistakes.  Are we going to be improvisers and sketch players who build around it and take a mistake and make it into something else and see mistakes as incredible gifts?

Or, are we going to be "serious" actors who beat themselves up, and tear themselves down, and freeze in fear of making a move when they realize they've made a mistake or just fear making one?

Mistakes will come and go.  They're inevitable. To err or not to err. To miss take or not to miss take.  Those are not the questions.

I look at the actors and the improvisers playing.  As one who has a foot in each world, I can honestly say that it's the laughter that draws me, the joy, the sharing, and the celebration of mistakes that gives me coping mechanisms to push on. To see what's next.  To go and go and go because if we stop, we may stop just before the miracle.  And just like mistakes, miracles are inevitable too.  And sometimes, just sometimes...they're the same thing.

The Heart of the Young

The theatre's packed.  We're all watching as one of the actors on stage grabs the mike and says something.  We chuckle -- but then out of the back far corner of the theatre a high pitched euphoric giggle cuts through and fills the entire house.  And it keeps going.  The adults then laugh a belly laugh at the little child's laugh and the actor on stage laughs and we all laugh for a good minute or two...an eternity in stage time.

What happened to us in the in-between?  What happened between the euphoric giggle of childhood that encompasses us from the soul and takes over our entire bodies to the adult chuckle?  Have we been hurt that much?  Cynicism creeping in and fear of following social graces and doing what's acceptable?

We spend a lot of time trying to please people.  In fact, children have an innate need to please their parents.  But what happens when we try and fail?  When we hurt?  How do we cope?  We build callouses on our hands.  Do we have that "tough skin" added to our spirits?

Some of the youngest people I know are adults past their prime.  There is a natural curiosity they bring with them and an energy that time hasn't been able to dampen.  A flexibility of mind and the ability to make light of the darkest parts of their lives are other abilities that these people share.  When I ask them about it the response is often not one of a victim but one where they've used the dark part of their lives to gain something for their current life.

People who have dealt with cancer and are currently in remission use their experience to help others who are newly diagnosed or going through treatment. Death of loved ones causes them to value life and the simple things that much more.  And a history of abuse turns to a life of clear communication and kindness to those around them with a fierce protection over those who cannot protect themselves.

How do they do that?  How do they turn it around?  It's not like they've had easy lives or are well off or had a lot of support because some of them haven't.  They've just chosen to change the way they approach life -- to do as they choose instead of having life force them to do as it would like.

In auditions as an actor you find that when you go in trying to give people what you think they want, when you try to please them, no one gets pleased.  But when you go in doing what YOU want to do -- what seems fun and feels good to you -- you're pleased and they're pleased.

So is that the secret to a young life?  Is it living as you would desire, to keep the joy and the curiosity and the fun instead of living it as you think you should? To let go of what you think is appropriate and go forth with a giggle in your spirit?

There's immature and there's childlike.  There's aged and then there's old.  There's growing up and there's giving up.  I'd like to think that we can grow up without giving up.

Deep into the 70th minute of an action movie the dark theatre is filled with adults watching the screen.  A suspenseful, tension filled moment is happening and the protagonist is about to go into the antagonist's building.  Out of the front corner of the theatre a little voice yells, "NO!  DON'T GO THERE!" and it startles us into reality and we laugh -- because we realize that the child has voiced the same thing we were thinking to ourselves.  He just didn't filter it.  He went there --  to the place of deep involvement in life with passion, with spirit, and without a care of what was appropriate.

From Fear to Courage to Humanity

I am afraid.  I admit it.  Fear is what drives me.  The need to overcome it and not let it rule my life.  Much of what my life has become has been made based on choices to push against that fear or kowtow to it.  And so, stories of courage and people overcoming despite fear enthrall me, draw me in, and peak my curiosity.

How much does can the human condition take before it revolts? What is the critical point where the need to stand up overrides the fear of consequences? Do we choose to join in when one person stands up or does it have to be a handful that stands up at the same time?  These questions echo through my mind as I wrestle to overcome in my own life.

We saw the fall of the wall in East Berlin due to the change of group mind and now, we're seeing protests in Turkey.
 
The heartfelt message I received from my Turkish friend resonates deeply with the humanity within me.

"...it's been a harrowing 2 weeks. There is a constant knot in my stomach. I have experienced tear gas and water cannons. It's really unbelievable the terror we live in at the moment but you know what? Also all this was very good for Turkey. This uprising needed to happen. I can physically see higher consciousness and collective consciousness appear. It's amazing. Up until now, we were living in a state where I didn't believe that Turkish people could feel social responsibility as individuals. The uprising that I have experienced in the last 2 weeks has been overwhelming. It's beautiful and it makes me proud."

The response above speaks to the innate hope that resides in each of us that lies dormant or forgotten as we get wrapped up in our lives as individuals.  It is the greater group mind beyond the self that resonates and leaves waves of action in its wake.

Will I always have these questions?  Probably.  But I'm glad that the need for change and the resiliency of the human spirit to overcome fear will always  be at the heart of the answers.

To Survive or to Thrive? That is in the Answer.

Standing in line at the grocery store there's a difference between the cashiers. Most are waiting for the end of their shift. Looking at their faces you can see it's been a long day. They don't look at the patrons in the eye. You can see the automation. They're taking care of business. Surviving.

One person stands out. I watch as the young man charms the people around him. Charisma oozing. What is it? His humor? His looks? What makes a person magnetic? Positive attitude? He's living life and not just alive. He's present. He's thriving.

My mind goes back to this theory I've been cultivating. It takes me back to improvisation. To the idea of Yes, I Know, And. If someone says something outrageous there is an impulse to say "no" to what was said; to negate it.

What that does that do?  It closes down options. Shuts down a person's energy. We negate the gift that was given.

What happens when we say, "Yes!" or "I Know" and expound on it? -- A plethora of doorways open.  People stay more open to receive us because we've received them.  Even though the statement may have been outrageous.

Want an example?  A former co-worker was visiting and misheard something I said.  He then said to me, "I didn't you know ate cotton pills off your sweater."

In response, I could say, "What?  No.  I don't do that.  Who eats cotton pills off sweaters?  You can't even digest them."

Then there is an awkward silence. And we move on to a different topic of conversation with the former co-worker on the defensive because he didn't mean to offend but my response has caused him to think that he has offended me.

OR

I could say, with obvious humor, "Yes, actually, it's great fiber and I find that it's even better off of other people's sweaters.  People like me grooming them like a monkey.  It makes them feel comforted and taken care of."

And then he responds with humor, "Oh, yes.  Fiber is great for you.  Cotton must taste so much better than lice when grooming."  And we laugh and move on to the next topic of conversation.

Recognize both types of responses?  Which feels more comfortable to you as a listener?  Which do you respond to more?


The "no" response is a person who is closed and just surviving.  There's nothing wrong with that.  There are plenty of times where we choose to just survive.

The "yes" response is one of a person who is open and the "and" is a gift they give to the other person so that they can choose to run with it and expound or they can stop and just laugh.  It's a person who thrives and is open to bonding to other people -- to creating relationships -- to thriving.

In studying improvisation, I've noticed that people respond differently to me as a person when I say "Yes, I know, and..."  The openness of the "Yes, I know" and then expounding on it makes me appear quicker, funnier, more charismatic.  It allows me to be present and aware.  It prompts me to look people in the eye. And it's the combination of Open, Present, and Quick that changes a person’s energy then makes others take notice.  It draws people to you whether it's your intention to do so or not.

Doors open and you're there to notice them and walk through them if you so choose because you've already made the choice.  You chose to move beyond survival.  You chose to thrive.