Balcony people

Are there people in your life who encourage you and make you feel stronger and lifted up? Are there some who drag you down or take the wind out of your sails?  In her book, Balcony People, Joyce Landor Heatherley argues there are two types of people: the evaluators and the affirmers. She suggests:

I am sure, if there were a way to view a movie and see instant replays of all the strategic change points in our lives, that we’d instantly spot the people who either broke our spirits by their critical or judgmental evaluations, or who healed us by their loving, perceptive affirmations.

To be honest, I seem to be able to remember the negative comments of evaluators faster and more clearly than the positive remarks of the affirmers. I’m not alone in this ability to recall the negative….I suspect that not far from anyone’s conscious level of thinking lies the memory of an evaluator who pulled on his or her spiked boots and stomped deliberately over our bare soul and personhood.

Do you have any of these evaluators in your life? Maybe you can recognize the voice in your head that tells you that you can’t do something. In her book The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, Julia Cameron calls these the censors. Maybe you have many censors, a rogue’s gallery of them.

So what do we do with these evaluators and censors to keep them from stifling our blossoming with their negative talk or opinions? Heatherley suggests leaving them in the past, even if that past was five minutes ago:

We all have the choice to replay the harmful remarks from evaluators, or we can choose to let them pass on. We can even choose to make allowances for their discouraging, destructive words. But best of all is the choice to willingly focus our minds and hearts on today’s person who is affirming us.

So who are these affirmers in our lives? Think back…

Who by one small sentence or more, has changed and lifted your opinion of yourself? Who was the person early in your life who recognized the first sparks of originality in the labyrinths of your mind and soul and saw what no one else saw? And who is the special affirmer who catches quick glimpses of the flames from the fires of your potential and tells you so? Who, by his or her words, helps you to respect and believe in your own value as a person? And who is the affirmer who encourages you to stretch and dream beyond your self-imposed limits and capabilities?

These affirmers are your Balcony People, cheering you on to blossom and stretch. These are the people whose words you must cling to when working toward your goal. These affirmers see you “by a clearer, truer light. They [are] able to peel back the layers of pretense [you] wear like like costumes for a bad play. Most of the time they [see] through and past the masks [you] hide behind. Then, once having broken through to [you] they’d get on with the business of motivating [you] to be all [you] can be.”

Affirmation is vital to our health and progress:

When others discern the good, the noble, the honorable, and the just tenets of our character (no matter how minuscule they may be) and proceed to tell us how they admire those traits, we feel visible. We begin to ‘see’ ourselves and our worth. We feel nurtured and nourished, but mostly we feel loved.

The Basement People do just the opposite. With their words they cause you to doubt and shrink. They focus on your flaws or failings. They encourage you to not try, to stay where you are, to wallow in the “murky waters of failure and discouragement.” We don’t need to linger on their words.

Who is in your Balcony? Who cheers you on and sees your unique worth? Who do you admire in history for their accomplishments or moral victories?

When you struggle, picture these people, your Balcony People. Remember their words. Let their affirmations encourage and comfort you in defeat and to keep pressing onward in your goals.

You are meant to blossom not wither. You are meant to shine not lurk in the shadows.

You are meant to soar.

Giving up control.

We want to support the people we love as they go through difficult times, but how often does that support turn into telling them what to do or criticizing them for what they’ve done? How often does it make our loved one feel smaller or shamed or detached? What message does our trying to control them or the situation send them about our confidence in their abilities to handle the curve balls that life throws at us all?

In this powerful column on the concept of holding space, Heather Plett explains how we can show up for the people we care about without controlling them or the outcome, how our presence can be constructive rather than destructive, how we can offer support in a healthy way. She learned these lessons from Ann, a palliative care nurse who helped her deal with the challenges of her aging mother’s impending death. Here are Heather’s eight take-aways:

  1. Give people permission to trust their own intuition and wisdom. When we were supporting Mom in her final days, we had no experience to rely on, and yet, intuitively, we knew what was needed. We knew how to carry her shrinking body to the washroom, we knew how to sit and sing hymns to her, and we knew how to love her. We even knew when it was time to inject the medication that would help ease her pain. In a very gentle way, Ann let us know that we didn’t need to do things according to some arbitrary health care protocol – we simply needed to trust our intuition and accumulated wisdom from the many years we’d loved Mom.
  2. Give people only as much information as they can handle. Ann gave us some simple instructions and left us with a few handouts, but did not overwhelm us with far more than we could process in our tender time of grief. Too much information would have left us feeling incompetent and unworthy.
  3. Don’t take their power away. When we take decision-making power out of people’s hands, we leave them feeling useless and incompetent. There may be some times when we need to step in and make hard decisions for other people (ie. when they’re dealing with an addiction and an intervention feels like the only thing that will save them), but in almost every other case, people need the autonomy to make their own choices (even our children). Ann knew that we needed to feel empowered in making decisions on our Mom’s behalf, and so she offered support but never tried to direct or control us.
  4. Keep your own ego out of it. This is a big one. We all get caught in that trap now and then – when we begin to believe that someone else’s success is dependent on our intervention, or when we think that their failure reflects poorly on us, or when we’re convinced that whatever emotions they choose to unload on us are about us instead of them. It’s a trap I’ve occasionally found myself slipping into when I teach. I can become more concerned about my own success (Do the students like me? Do their marks reflect on my ability to teach? Etc.) than about the success of my students. But that doesn’t serve anyone – not even me. To truly support their growth, I need to keep my ego out of it and create the space where they have the opportunity to grow and learn.
  5. Make them feel safe enough to fail. When people are learning, growing, or going through grief or transition, they are bound to make some mistakes along the way. When we, as their space holders, withhold judgement and shame, we offer them the opportunity to reach inside themselves to find the courage to take risks and the resilience to keep going even when they fail. When we let them know that failure is simply a part of the journey and not the end of the world, they’ll spend less time beating themselves up for it and more time learning from their mistakes.
  6. Give guidance and help with humility and thoughtfulness. A wise space holder knows when to withhold guidance (ie. when it makes a person feel foolish and inadequate) and when to offer it gently (ie. when a person asks for it or is too lost to know what to ask for). Though Ann did not take our power or autonomy away, she did offer to come and give Mom baths and do some of the more challenging parts of caregiving. This was a relief to us, as we had no practice at it and didn’t want to place Mom in a position that might make her feel shame (ie. having her children see her naked). This is a careful dance that we all must do when we hold space for other people. Recognizing the areas in which they feel most vulnerable and incapable and offering the right kind of help without shaming them takes practice and humility.
  7. Create a container for complex emotions, fear, trauma, etc. When people feel that they are held in a deeper way than they are used to, they feel safe enough to allow complex emotions to surface that might normally remain hidden. Someone who is practiced at holding space knows that this can happen and will be prepared to hold it in a gentle, supportive, and nonjudgmental way. In The Circle Way, we talk about “holding the rim” for people. The circle becomes the space where people feel safe enough to fall apart without fearing that this will leave them permanently broken or that they will be shamed by others in the room. Someone is always there to offer strength and courage. This is not easy work, and it is work that I continue to learn about as I host increasingly more challenging conversations. We cannot do it if we are overly emotional ourselves, if we haven’t done the hard work of looking into our own shadow, or if we don’t trust the people we are holding space for. In Ann’s case, she did this by showing up with tenderness, compassion, and confidence. If she had shown up in a way that didn’t offer us assurance that she could handle difficult situations or that she was afraid of death, we wouldn’t have been able to trust her as we did.
  8. Allow them to make different decisions and to have different experiences than you would. Holding space is about respecting each person’s differences and recognizing that those differences may lead to them making choices that we would not make. Sometimes, for example, they make choices based on cultural norms that we can’t understand from within our own experience. When we hold space, we release control and we honour differences. This showed up, for example, in the way that Ann supported us in making decisions about what to do with Mom’s body after her spirit was no longer housed there. If there had been some ritual that we felt we needed to conduct before releasing her body, we were free to do that in the privacy of Mom’s home.

That #4 is a tough one, yes? We want to be important; we want to save the day; we think we know best. But giving others a safe place to find their own path forward empowers them to meet future challenges with resilience and courage. If they are dependent on us and our ‘wisdom’, they may not trust their own abilities. And, let’s be honest, do we really have all the answers anyway; isn’t life surprising and full of struggles that we don’t anticipate fully? Don’t we all need to develop the resilience and courage to respond to these challenges?

For more on Terry Crews and the background of the powerful quote above, including his conclusion that we can evolve and change and do things better, go here.

What we must save is love.

It’s okay to be heartbroken for more than one group of people at the same time. When it comes to showing compassion, we don’t have to pick sides. Sometimes, often really, maybe even always, there is hurt and anguish everywhere, and we can mourn the lot of it.

Beware people who tell you not to be concerned for this group or that group and the hurt they feel.

Beware those who try to dehumanize others.

Beware those who lump you in as the ‘enemy’ for working to assure people are treated humanely.

Beware people who draw lines between us and them.

Beware those who try to limit you to a label or single identity.

Our hearts are big enough to embrace it all. What we must save is love.

The art of receiving.

Are you good at receiving? Giving often comes naturally, but receiving can be challenging. The mom who wears the pasta necklace and hangs the cotton puff ornament on the tree is sending a powerful message that her child matters, that she loves their thoughtfulness, and that she is honored and grateful to receive their gifts.

The host who immediately opens a guest’s gift of wine and serves it is saying that they value their guests’ choices and are welcoming their contributions to the synergistic experience that is a social gathering.

Henri Nouwen offers this powerful insight:

When someone gives us a watch but we never wear it, that watch is not really received. When someone offers us an idea but we do not respond to it, that idea is not truly received. When someone introduces us to a friend but we ignore him or her, that friend does not feel well received.

Receiving is an art. It means allowing the other to become part of our lives. It means daring to become dependent on the other. It asks for the inner freedom to say, “Without you I wouldn’t be who I am.” Receiving with the heart is, therefore, a gesture of humility and love. So many people have been deeply hurt because their gifts were not well received. Let us be good receivers.

Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey

These words cause us to pause and consider. Are we good receivers? Do we value those gifts and those givers in a way that causes us to open up and expand our walls, and even, perhaps, our sense of self? Can we give up our need to be in control and let our defenses down enough that others around us can share in the very creation of our lives?

An apology that heals the hurt

“I’m sorry, but…” Some apologies make things better, and some just don’t. In fact, they might make things worse by blaming the person you hurt or showing that there is just no true awareness of what went wrong.

Generally, the apologies that have an excuse fall in the latter category. A good apology makes you feel seen and heard, that someone has looked at things from your point of view and understood the negative impact they have made. A good apology requires us to stand in the shoes of the person we’ve wronged and feel what they are feeling. Not what we would feel if we were in their shoes, but what they’re feeling.

Then, when we feel the harm we’ve caused, it should change us, make us not want to cause that harm again to that person or others, and make us want to make amends. It shouldn’t leave us where we were. If it does, if we repeat the same hurtful words or behavior, perhaps we haven’t yet done the work that goes into reconciliation.

Back into the other person’s shoes we go until we understand and grow. This is how progress is made, how relationships heal and grow stronger, how trust is restored. And, because we humans are very fallible creatures, it’s not a one and done thing, but a continuing process. Evaluating the effect we are having on people, making sure we are treading softly, taking responsibility and making amends when we don’t. Perhaps two steps forward, one step back, but staying in relationship, rebuilding trust, and moving forward together.

We are made for welcome

When we are being welcoming, the focus is outward not inward. We look to what would make the other person comfortable, not what would make us comfortable. We don’t invite vegetarians, and then serve meat. Or teetotalers and serve alcohol. We get out of our own perspective and walk in the guest’s shoes to consider what would make them comfortable.

Aesop illustrated this premise with the Tale of the Fox and the Stork:

A fox invites a stork to eat with him and provides soup in a bowl, which the fox can lap up easily; however, the stork cannot drink it with its beak. The stork then invites the fox to a meal, which is served in a narrow-necked vessel. It is easy for the stork to access but impossible for the fox. The moral drawn is that the trickster must expect trickery in return and that the golden rule of conduct is for one to do to others what one would wish for oneself.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fox_and_the_Stork

The same is true, presumably, when welcoming people to the Lord’s table. What would make others comfortable? How can you reach more people? What about the way you do things might be off putting? How can you step out of your own perspective to consider what would make others in the community feel welcomed and comfortable? Our job isn’t to be a bar to spreading the word but a conduit.

Desmond Tutu talks about the importance of a broad welcome:

We are made for goodness. We are made for love. We are made for friendliness. We are made for togetherness. We are made for all of the beautiful things that you and I know. We are made to tell the world that there are no outsiders. All are welcome: black, white, red, yellow, rich, poor, educated, not educated, male, female, gay, straight, all, all, all. We all belong to this family, this human family, God’s family.

Mistake police

In this world of constant scrutiny and omnipresent recordings, mistakes seem to have moved from a necessary part of learning to an instant cause for condemnation.

We can all think back to learning to walk and talk or play a sport where the mistakes were a part of learning. Fear of falling down would keep everyone from walking. In order to learn how to make a basket, lots of shots will bounce off the rim and backboard.

When we moved on to raising children, focusing on the mistakes could cripple a child emotionally. Instead, we celebrated the steps forward, the successes. Noted the progress. We don’t expect a toddler to write a dissertation. We celebrate the milestones as they come.

I wonder if that approach would help move our troubled world forward. Celebrating the progress. Looking for the successes. Embracing the common ground. Letting everyone feel that they can continue to learn from their mistakes, that that is part of being human. A world with a little bit of breathing room. We all will mess up. We can show each other grace when we do.

Finding your spirit

There are many seasons in life. Fall, winter, spring, summer. Childhood, middle age, old age. Caterpillar, pupa, butterfly. And so on. One of my favorite ‘seasons’ is graduation season. I love liminal, threshold spaces, moving from one stage to another. But most of all, I love graduation speeches. What do you say to this group of young adults ready to embark on that magical mystery tour of life? What will resonate as both inspiring and yet true? What will help them in the time travel way an older version of ourselves might come back with a warning or suggestion?

One of my favorites this graduation season is from Anne Lamott to the 2023 graduation class of U.C. Berkeley. In her characteristic way of blending depth, humor, and warmth, she begins:

So I thought it might help if I just went ahead and told you what I think is the truth of your spiritual identity …

Actually, I don’t have a clue.

I do know you are not what you look like, or how much you weigh, or how you did in school, and whether you get to start a job next Monday or not. Spirit isn’t what you do, it’s … well, again, I don’t actually know. 

And thus she begins from this deep place of not knowing and urges the graduates to not confuse their spiritual lives with their lived lives, to find a way to plug into that which awakens them, and to keep the faith:

It’s magic to see spirit largely because it’s so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you’re doing in the world’s eyes, or your family’s, or — worst of all — yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you — much better than you — or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You’re not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You’re not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love, and you are free. You’re here to love, and be loved, freely. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill — and we’re all terminally ill on this bus — all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent.

So how do we feed and nourish our spirit, and the spirit of others?

First, find a path, and a little light to see by. Every single spiritual tradition says the same three things: 1) Live in the now, as often as you can, a breath here, a moment there. 2) You reap exactly what you sow. 3) You must take care of the poor, or you are so doomed that we can’t help you.

Her whole speech is well-worth a read, but if you want one thing to hold onto right now, remember this: “You are spirit, you are love, and you are free.”

A sit-with-you kind of friend.

Not every problem can be solved. Not every complaint wants a ‘solution’. Sometimes the heart just craves company, someone to walk beside in trying times.

As Henri Nouwen says,

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

― Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life

Jobs of yore

Consider jobs. Today’s jobs may not be tomorrow’s jobs, just like yesterday’s jobs aren’t today’s.

Lamplighters

and knocker uppers

went the way of electric street lamps and alarm clocks. (Go here for a fascinating list of 51 jobs that don’t exist anymore.)

And yet the people who had these now obsolete jobs led as full and vibrant of lives as we do. We are not our jobs. Our worth has little to do with the job we have. Our jobs are external to our essence.

For proof, consider this paragraph written by AI:

Sure, I’d be happy to help with that! While our jobs can be an important part of our identity and sense of purpose, it’s important to remember that we are not defined solely by our careers. Our individual identities are made up of a wide range of experiences, values, and beliefs, many of which extend far beyond the workplace. It’s important to recognize and honor the many facets of our identities, including our personal passions, relationships, and hobbies, as well as our professional aspirations. While our jobs may provide structure and direction in our lives, they are just one piece of a larger puzzle that makes up who we are. By embracing the totality of our identities, we can find greater meaning, fulfillment, and happiness in all aspects of our lives.

Generated with Hello AI: https://apps.apple.com/app/id1157181090

We are at an inflection point when a bot can write copy like this in seconds. We’ve seen self check out lines in grocery stores and libraries. Automation in every aspect of manufacturing. We’ve seen artificial intelligence pass the bar exam and win photography contests. What are the arenas for only human hands and heart? What are the jobs of our future? What does artificial intelligence lack that only humans can provide?

First among these must be soul. And then heart. Compassion. Human to human contact. Empathy. If and when AI enters into these realms, the world will be a very complicated place.