“Um, let’s see if you can figure out how to work the scooter you got for Christmas first, honey.”

Seems logical, right? But in the moment of watching his mini-tirade about wanting to “go fast” and “sit up high” I was reminded of my own tirades against “paying my dues” in the various professions and industries I’ve served over the years.

With few exceptions (my husband being one of them – isn’t it funny how God seems to know just what He’s doing in moments like that?), people don’t like slow.

We love the results of slow – slow roasted barbecue, fine wine, beautiful artwork – but we don’t like the waiting around for it to become a masterpiece.

We just want the masterpiece right now, thankyouverymuch.

As I stood watching my son, I saw my thirty-something self reflected back. How I wanted to “have, do, be” things at breakneck speed so I could “arrive” at some destination that I thought was a foregone conclusion already.

In a flash, I thought about daVinci, and how he studied for years before he was seen as a true master of his craft. Then my brain flashes to the 10,000 hours concept from Malcom Gladwell. And it occurs to me that slow may suck, but it’s an important step in marinating the creative juices.

And even when I appear to be going fast to the onlooker, it feels painfully slow to me.

The learning, unlearning, and do-overs. The late nights of fixing something I thought was ready for public consumption.

I. Hate. Slow.

But there’s a beautiful power in slow, too.

Slow-Twitch Power

When I was working with a personal trainer back in the day, the one exercise I hated was designed to focus on my shoulders. My shoulders were so weak, I couldn’t lift a 5 pound dumbell up to shoulder height with my arm fully extended without complaining. After about three lifts, my shoulders were searing. I was calling him all kinds of names by the fifth lift. My form would start slipping, and I would go as fast as I could just to get the damn reps over with.

Finally, my personal Marquis de Sade would “congratulate” me for completing the reps. ”Just keep practicing.” he would say. “It gets easier as you keep lifting. Then, we’ll up the weight, and do this all over again.”

So when he wasn’t around, I would practice – without weights, flapping my arms like a bird – but in very slow motion. It’s easy to hold something out to your sides for a second or two, but try holding nothing for a minute. It’ll hurt like hell if you’ve never practiced it.

I started reading up on weight training, so I didn’t sound like a dolt whenI was working out. Apparently we have muscles designed for slow and fast movements (something my “trainer” never told me – which is why I fired him). Slow-twitch muscles are where your stamina is built. Slow-twitch is where your endurance is.

Slow-twitch is about power. Fast-twitch is about explosive movement.

Fast-twitch gets you running from the bear. Slow twitch keeps you running.

Fast-twitch muscles fatigue rapidly.

When I read that, I thought about the tortoise and the hare, and how the hare took a nap after sprinting away from the starting line.

Insert evil grin here.

So as I practiced very slowly, with virtually no weight, it became easier to lift my arms to shoulder height for ten or twelve repetitions.

Then, of course, my “trainer” wanted to add more weight, because to him, it looked like the workout was getting too easy.

And I guess, in a way, it was. I had learned the power of slow, and just like that tortoise, I could win the race if I stayed at it.

Slow and Steady

Flash back to my son, who is now done with his mini-tirade, and working on getting his balance on the scooter. He’s spending a lot more time pumping with his foot than I would, but I can’t do this for him. He’s spending maybe two seconds coasting, and 37 seconds with one foot on the ground, trying to create enough speed to coast in the first place.

And he’s loving it. Sure, he’d still rather be on the motorcycle, “up high” and “going fast”, but he has a clear goal to master. Pretty soon, he’s got both feet on the deck of the scooter, and he’s coasting around like a pro. Well, as much as a five year old can be a professional scooter-er.

Again, I’m reminded of my own struggle. Guys like Les McKeown talk about how it typically takes upwards of 3 years for a start-up to get out of what he calls “early struggle” - to get profitable and stay there – because they’re learning the mechanics of doing business in their industry. Sure, many companies get there sooner, and many take much longer (or never get there), but the average seems to be about 3 years, according to Les.

No one wants it to take three (or more) years, but if we normalized that, perhaps we wouldn’t be so cavalier about mortgaging our homes and maxing our credit cards to launch our businesses.

Lately, my path has crossed, Godly enough, with various articles on the topic of taking things slowly. Kelly Kingman offers a great post about slow blogging in conjunction with her latest project with Pace Smith for peaceful entrepreneurs. Mitch Joel writes at length about how we have misinterpreted the habits of successful people as sacrifices we have to make in order to see success. The reality, says Joel, is that they’ve been honing their craft for years, have a natural proclivity for it, and thus, it appears much more effortless for them. He says those folks consider their work part of their habits – who they are - and not so much a sacrifice they had to make in order to become the successful people they are today.

What are you practicing?

So what about you? What comes naturally to you? What comes naturally because you’ve been practicing it for years? This includes not only the stuff you enjoy, but perhaps the stuff you “had to get good at” in order to do your work effectively. Can you see how those hours of “practice” have led you to where you are today.

This includes the mindset stuff you’ve been “practicing” for years. When I work with clients on raising their threshold of belief, we have to get a clear baseline. We have to know what they already believe in their core before we can start moving them toward a new goal, because a new goal often requires a shift in thinking, otherwise, you’d be there by now.

Practice makes habit, and if you’ve been practicing “being broke” for fifteen years, it’s going to take more than a day or two of positive thinking to shift that habit. You’re going to need to take teeny tiny steps away from “being broke” to build the slow-twitch “muscle” of having plenty. It’s why affirmations don’t work for many many people – myself included. If I can’t see the truth in the statement, it doesn’t pass my BS filter (or if it does, there’s so much self-talk thwarting it, that it won’t do much good)!

Instead, we have to look at what we do believe to be true, and “flex” that muscle slowly, to build our stamina, and our power in a way that builds us up and gives us the power to keep adding more weight to the stack – until that “thing” we’ve been working on becomes effortless.

This year, I’ve made a commitment to eliminate white flour from my diet for the next 90 days. It’s not easy, but it’s a LOT easier for me than giving up dairy, white flour, sugar, and “all the other stuff I love” all at one time in an effort to “eat healthier” in the new year. One thing. Slow and steady. And we’ll see what happens.

What one thing  - something doable, believable, achievable (even a little bit easy at first) – can you do today to help you move closer to where you want to be?

For as flawed as I acknowledge myself to be, I’ve always thought myself to be a tough ol’ bird.

Looking back, it appears I handle death pretty well: only a few tears at my brother’s funeral and nary a droplet at Grandpa’s.  I had a few snorting moments at Mom’s funeral, but you try handling back-to-back funerals. Add to that singing and delivering a eulogy at Mom’s funeral, and I came across as pretty strong and well received. My “emotional moments” were very justified, if a bit unprofessional.

The show must go on right?

Wrong.

The show can, indeed, come to a screeching halt. You can at any time throw your hand in the air, admit defeat, feel the pain, and call it quits.

You have the ability to change horses mid-stream, decide you want something different, and just up and leave.

You can walk out on your own life, if you choose.

But there’s a price you have to pay, one way or another.

Something happened the other day that reminded me that for the past 20 or so years I’ve only been living part of my life – part of my truth, as it were.

More on that in a minute.

Matthew West’s song, The Motions, is the “theme song” I selected to be my anthem for the year:

This might hurt, it’s not safe, but I know I’ve gotta make a change.

I don’t care if I break. At least I’ll be feeling something.

‘Cause “just okay” is not enough. Help me fight through the nothingness of life.

I searched for a word – a single word – that would encapsulate the idea of “going all in”, of living my life whole-heartedly, of burning my ships and living life the way God intended for me.

I don’t wanna go through the motions.

I don’t wanna go one more day without your all-consuming passion inside of me.

I don’t wanna spend my whole life asking “what if I had given everything instead of going through the motions?”

The word? Enthusiasm.

I wanted so much to fully live my life again. To really feel and enjoy and experience everything in the moment. I just knew that I had picked a perfect song and a perfect word.

Careful what you wish for. Because as I listened to that song one day, I became unhinged.

My new friend, Leesa Barnes, talked about the moment her hinge broke and what it meant for her. For me, the unhinging couldn’t have come at a worse time: my husband’s birthday.

On that day, it occurred to me that I have not been fully living my life for a good 20 years now. I’ve been “shoulding” on myself in ways that I didn’t think really mattered.

I walked out of my own life. I wish that the price was merely a pound of flesh. Try 100 pounds. And it ain’t flesh, baby. It’s pure blubber.

I’ve had an “emotional eating issue” since childhood. It didn’t really become apparent, though, until middle school. I’d say I’ve been struggling with it, or “dealing” with it for some time, but that would be a lie.

In fact, I’ve really not done much except enable it. I’ve kind of stood by, numb to most of the world, as anything remotely edible passed my lips in an effort to quell something that wasn’t happening like it was supposed to.

Mom yelled at me? Where’s the crackers?

Dad said I was putting on weight? Make a sandwich.

Date says I’m too fat to be seen in public? Have a can of soup.

Husband is non-communicative? Half a pizza should do it.

I was reading Marianne Williamson’s book as the unhinging began (yes, while listening to music.  I even distract myself in my distractions!).

I recognized how other people had encouraged my enabling. How other people tried to be nice when someone needed to slap my face. Not call me “fatty two tons” mind you, but wake me up to the reality that I was only symbolically insulating myself from whatever it was that was “hurting” me. Marianne was finally that person. Thank you!

When oysters get irritated, they use their body’s secretions to insulate themselves from the pain and create pearls.

When Lisa gets irritated, her body takes in more food than it can handle and creates blubber to insulate herself from the pain.

Which only causes more pain (can you see the vicious cycle herein?).

So I thought, in the sake of being “enthusiastic”, I’d be more mindful and really feel whatever it was that needed to be felt. To be clear, while I do eat for pain, I also eat for pleasure, so I’ve been avoiding BOTH for some reason.

Or should I say I WAS…

Because on that day, I made the choice to stare down the food, and figure out what it was I was REALLY feeling BEFORE I took a bite.

And that has made all the difference.

No regrets. Not THIS time. I’m gonna let my heart defeat my mind, let your love make me whole.

I think I’m finally feeling something.

‘Cause “just okay” is not enough. Help me fight through the nothingness of this life.

It hurt. A LOT. And I had to leave. I needed to get as far away from what I thought was causing the pain (and my refrigerator) as fast as possible. I also needed to find a way to resolve the pain. Not stuff it down or pretend it didn’t exist, but to feel it, and get over it. To grieve it and ultimately be a better person for it.

So I went to the movies.

And as I sat in the theater watching The Green Hornet (in IMAX 3-D so I couldn’t avoid seeing AND feeling it), I something I hadn’t felt in a good 20 years or so.

I felt IT.

Courtesy rdanderson.com

A feeling of youthful invincibility. That certain air of “Can’t touch this” that I used to get after watching heroes save the day when I was a kid. Like I was the hero, like I was imbued with their awesomeness just by watching the show. The last time I remember really feeling that feeling was when I was a kid, watching MacGyver on TV. I totally felt like I could fix anything after watching an episode of MacGyver (have you seen what I can do with duct tape and garbage bags?).

I realized how that part of me was subrogated for this funky, quasi-professional adult version of me that wasn’t anywhere near as exciting, fun, or talented as the “MacGyver me”. When that me started rearing her ugly head, the pounds started layering on. And yes, it started when I was still a kid – with all the “shoulds” that took me away from becoming my MacGyver me:

• what school I should go to?
• what I should major in?
• what kind of grades I should get?
• what kind of people I should hang around with?

It dawned on me how much I want that old life again – MY life. Not to be a teenager, but to have that youthful confidence about my own skills and abilities again. To stand strong in who I am and know that I’m serving God’s purpose for my life – regardless of naysayers and detractors. To stand on THAT promise, instead of the “shoulds” and “maybes” of some so-called “professional” existence.

So while I don’t plan to do any coffin jet skiing any time soon, I DO plan to spend more time living in my body. Living the life God has designed in his infinite wisdom, and being THAT person again.

Sometimes calling it quits is the right thing to do. If you need to quit something, Do it! I needed to QUIT quitting and start living.

So I am embracing my inner MacGyver, and getting back to being a badass.

You’ve been warned.

My ship docked on Wednesday, and what a whirlwind it’s been since then. All doused with kerosene, I lit the match, and stood on the shore for the last couple of days making SURE it was cinders and ashes.

I’ve been sort of dreading this post, and sort of looking forward to it, because so much has happened in the last 60 days, but I wasn’t really sure how to best articulate it. While this blog talks a lot about my personal journey, I also mean for it to be a tool that you can use to live and grow by.

Then this morning, my youngest climbed into our bed and promptly pulled the covers off me. I took it as a sign to get moving.

I did my morning PEACE System practice, and as I opened my laptop, my eyes fell on an email from my first coach, EPW, with an assignment for an upcoming class. She encouraged us to watch a video she created outlining a process to help us determine our four words.

Meh. I already have my theme for the year, and was planning on sharing it in an upcoming post. But since it was only 25 minutes, it was too early to really do anything else, and I figured the noise might get my husband out of bed, too, I acquiesced.

Now, I can frame this post in a way that’s meaningful to you.

This 60 day journey has been about trying to figure out what in the world I’m really supposed to be up to on this rock we call Earth. I know many of you resonate with the “jack of all trades, master of none” concept, and I’ve grappled with that identity myself for years. People still ask me “what do you do?” and I have a horrible time painting a complete picture.

Then there’s the marriage. What the French? How can you stay married to a person who shows little emotional presence, claims to love you, and feels like he’s bending over backwards to serve your needs because he did a load of laundry and changed a diaper? I was at an incredible crossroads in my marriage. Part of this 60 day journey was spent working through The Love Dare – and meeting with frustration after frustration. Ultimately, it wasn’t about “fixing” our marriage. It was about coming to terms with who I am, and how to make a marriage work in light of that revelation.

And, of course, there’s the family, the business, and a litany of other “stuff” that came up during the past two months.

One blog post seemed almost ineffective, until EPW’s email today.

See, I’ve done the “theme words” thing before: Pick a few words that lay the foundation for the year ahead, and build your life/business on those qualities. It works, but I figured I already had it down for the year.

This wasn’t that kind of exercise.

One of the questions in the exercise was this:

“If you were a fairy godmother and could bestow states of being on the people you love most in the world, what  qualities would you grant them?”

Then, as the exercise ended, she asked us to prioritize everything and select only 4 words from the list of qualities we had created.

That wasn’t too hard.

Then the revelation: You ARE those four words. These are not aspirations, but you actually live and breathe them. They are your being. Not core values, mind you, but the very essence of you. Your birthright.

And suddenly, I knew how to translate this 60 day experience to you.

I am Faith. It paves the way to everything. I’m not talking about thumping a bible in someone’s face. I’m not necessarily even talking about God, although that’s my personal faith vehicle. I’m talking about the willingness in your spirit to take the next step on your own journey – without knowing the end game. Cheryl Richardson once said that “faith is doing without knowing the outcome first.”

I’ve struggled with wanting to know the end game from time to time, and yet I do a LOT of stuff without knowing for sure where it will take me, just trusting that everything will work out. On this journey, I’ve explored what faith really is – and what it’s not. I made some huge discoveries – well, huge to me – that I’ll be sharing in the coming weeks. The biggest is that faith pervades all I am.

It’s one of my 5 Key Areas of Success in The PEACE System. It’s one of the most populated categories on this blog. It underpins so much of who I am and what I do, that it never dawned on me that one of my reasons for being is to actually BRING faith to the world – or at least my part of it.

I am Enthusiasm. This was the theme I had selected for the year. It was a hard-won word. I wanted to find something that would encapsulate “going all in” and not “going through the motions” of my existence. It also resonates happiness, joy, mirth. And yes, there’s that whole “God inside” definition, and the zeal that goes with it.

For me, enthusiasm is about doing anything you do with vibrancy and commitment. Not being half-hearted, and being willing to burn the ships – with a smile, grit, determination, and a bit of duct tape for good measure. Just because something is difficult doesn’t mean you have to do it begrudgingly. Some of the sweetest rewards come from the most difficult harvest. To that end, my marriage is no longer a negotiable piece of my life. It IS. And I choose to be married with enthusiasm!

I am Clarity. Which sounds exceedingly antithetical to being Faith, I will confess. Yet, one of the things I am best known for is my ability to ask difficult questions and bring clarity to a situation that once seemed too foggy to navigate. I’ve been asking “why?” since I was a toddler, trying to get a grip on what the truth of a situation is. With my clients, I demand transparency and full disclosure so that I can make the best possible decisions for suggested courses of action. In as much as I know I can’t predict the future, I can get as clear as I possibly can, and step out in faith to see what comes next.

Asking questions has never been a big deal to me. I was taught to question and seek truth at a young age. Little did I know that seeking that kind of clarity was not only a part of who I am, but sharing and “bestowing” that kind of clarity for others is part of my mission in this world.

I am Passion. Believe it or not, this was the easiest for me to grasp. To me, passion and enthusiasm are not the same – nor are they mutually exclusive. They feed one another. Passion is a fuel, a fire, an intensity, a deep desire or love for something. It’s a modifier to life. It magnifies the moment. Sometimes we need a magnifier, sometimes not. Thus, it’s not my primary word, but it’s still a very necessary one.

When I was in high school, our swim team’s shirts read “Go Hard or Go Home!” That phrase has stuck with me ever since (even though I was NEVER on the swim team). To me, the idea of having an intense love or desire for the thing you’re about in the world makes it addictive – not just for you, but for the people around you. It becomes intoxicating. It starts movements. It incites people to action. This world would be far less interesting without the passionate people of the world. But if all you have is passion, you end up bumping into a lot of walls along the way.

So the last 60 days have been about connecting (or re-connecting) with who Lisa really is – at her core, as her birthright. I am what I am, and now, I have a better understanding of what that means. I also have a clearer view of what I do for my clients, and how I’m meant to bring that vision to a larger audience. I’m hard at work on a new business project that will serve that audience. More details to follow.

What say you? What are you about in this world? Where do you find yourself being called to serve? I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments!