Michele’s Feast

I’ve decided that there are no coincidences – only opportunities for me to open up and learn.

Last night I found myself with unexpected time to myself. I’m sure all you single parents of teenagers understand exactly what I’m talking about. I had no plans but was utterly delighted with having no plans. My blog post was written, my to-dos all done, my day complete. I happily whipped up an egg salad sandwich and paired it with a cold glass of pinot grigio (an odd but inspired summer combo, if I do say so myself) and parked myself on the couch, remote in hand, intent on finding a movie to watch.

A movie that I picked. Me. For me. No compromising on comedy when I wanted drama.  No action when I wanted love.  It could be anything I wanted. Anything.

Ah, the delicious freedom.

There were hundreds of free options. Feeling all giddy, I only perused high definition films. Ha! Still hundreds to choose from. Then I stopped. “Babette’s Feast.” I had seen it.  Hadn’t I liked it?  It was free, so I thought, “Oh, I’ll just watch a little and if it’s awful I’ll watch something else!” [imagine the power!]

Darlings, in just a few moments, Babette’s Feast became Michele’s Feast. I was utterly drawn in.

Do you know the movie? Based on a story by Karen Blixen, the Danish writer also known as Isak Dinesen, the film follows the two daughters of an austere pastor as they deny themselves joy, love, pleasure and opportunity in order to support the work of their father. Over time, they quietly become old women, living together in rigid self-denial, keeping the memory of their father alive.

Into their lives blows Babette, a refuge from political upheaval in France. For fourteen years, Babette lives with the sisters, caring for them and for their small fishing community, mirroring their simple, unadorned life, until one day she wins the French lottery – 10,000 francs – and asks if she can prepare a real French dinner in honor of the deceased pastor’s 100th birthday.

Here’s where it gets really good.

After fourteen years of cautious living, Babette pours her heart and soul into the meal. She carefully obtains fresh fruits, exotic meats, fine wines, exquisite cheeses. She prepares the feast with care, with joy, with creativity, with expertise.

And when the meal is served, the reserved, anti-sensual, closed up, bitter, sniping guests become transformed – they actually taste their food. They enlarge their senses. They are drawn together.  They find that they love one another, and themselves.

The meal is a triumph.

And Babette is broke, having spent her entire lottery winnings on the meal.

When one of the sisters laments that Babette will now spend the rest of her life poor, Babette replies, “An artist is never poor.”

Got me right there.  An artist is never, never poor.

Then, Babette reveals that she had been head chef at a remarkable Paris restaurant, shrugs and says, “I was able to make them happy when I gave of my very best.”

Not only did Babette make others happy – she made herself happy when she gave of her amazing gifts. But wait – Babette’s final words in the film: “Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist – ‘Give me the chance to do my very best.’”

It’s no coincidence that I watched this film last night, because I needed a reminder that my best is all I want to do. My very best. As a woman, as a mother, as a coach, as a creator, and, yes, as an artist.

You, too, are an artist like Babette – even if you aren’t conscious of your creative power. Every day you have the chance to do your very best. Every day you have the power to live via your senses.  Every day you have the opportunity to create something new. Every day you can serve others with your creativity.   Every day. Remember that.

And, you artist, you – remember that the true richness in life is truly and utterly your own creation.

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The Art of Being Lazy

All art requires practice, and patience. Art requires the proper setting, too. And there is no better setting to perfect the art of being lazy than summer.

Being truly lazy seems a lost art in our time of instant messaging, instant gratification — instant everything. We enjoy so many luxuries, except the luxury of time, which is precisely what the lazy state of being requires.

Summer beckons us away from the hustle and bustle and toward laziness. To laze about on a summer Sunday means to recharge batteries. To reconnect with other lazy souls. To rest. To think. To meander. To lollygag. To accomplish much, while accomplishing nothing of any great purpose.

And that’s the point — to have no apparent point. We spend so much of our working days striving. Summer laziness allows us to deposit that baggage at the door and really relax.

What’s funny to me is the number of people who chastise themselves for being “lazy”, yet when asked what they’ve accomplished today, they can tick off ten or twenty things. They don’t see lazy as an art, but as a notion anathema to productive living.

But here’s the deal: the art of being lazy is just as creative as any other art. While you’re being “lazy”, you are allowing your fertile mind to grow and bloom. You are creating something new. A new you.

Lazy is taking a walk — not to get the aerobic workout, but to look at the flowers. Lazy is taking the time to read a book the whole way through — in one sitting. Lazy is a catnap — without giving a hoot about the chores waiting. Lazy is a two hour talk with your teenager about nothing at all, and everything in the world.

Lazy is loving yourself enough to let go of the need to impress and achieve long enough to really and truly relax and recharge.

Being lazy is an art and I mean to be an accomplished practitioner this summer. Will you join me?

Mistakes Were Made

Can you imagine a world without Post-It Notes? Well, you almost didn’t have them… the adhesive used to make sticky notes sticky was a total mistake. In 1968, inventor Spence Silver was tinkering with adhesives and developed something quite unusual. According to the 3M website, Dr. Silver tried to get 3M brass to champion the new glue for five years. But it took Art Fry, a visionary at the company, to see the practical use — he made a bookmark for his choir hymnal, and the purpose of the adhesive became clear. Post-It Notes were rolled out in 1980 and have become a great American product.

If our scientist-hero had been a perfectionist, he might have thrown out that batch of adhesive because he’d made a “mistake”. Fortunately, Dr. Silver took the time to learn from his mistake — and to see if he could do something with it.

Learning from mistakes. Something we’ve been taught all our lives, huh? But how many of us really do it? Seems like what we actually do is orient our lives so we don’t make mistakes. We so control and prepare and plan that we allow no room for mistakes. No room for the creativity mistakes inspire. No room, then, for serendipity.

I love serendipity. Serendipity can only happen when you allow yourself room for it — by first saying, “oops”. Think of the guy who first thought: “What if I put peaches in…salsa?” Or the guy who missed his flight and met his future spouse? Or the woman who took a wrong turn… and avoided an accident. Or the scientist who screwed up a batch of glue, and became a millionaire?

Tightly controlling all aspects of our lives may help us feel safe, and unchallenged… but at what cost? We set up an impossible standard to live by — perfection — and then deal with the stress of not being able to meet “perfect” very often.

I’m face-to-face with my shortcomings everytime I’m on a golf course. Did you know that less that one half of one percent of all amateur golfers actually make par on every hole in a single round of golf? Yet, every golf course in the world is set up for the perfect player. The vast majority of golfers are far from perfect, and they keep on playing. How do they do it? Many golf instructors suggest golfers establish their own par for a hole: “I usually score six here, so if I do better than that, great!”

If you struggle with being perfect, think about setting your own “par”. How do you usually do this task? What’s good enough for you? Don’t worry about the guy in the next cubicle, or the gal next to you in line, or those insistent voice of your mother in your head… what’s your “par”? Shoot for your own par, make mistakes and leave room for serendipity. What will you create?

On Being Perfect

I’m working on a book about overcoming perfectionism. It’s going to be perfect.

Just kidding.

Frankly, I see so many people in my coaching practice whose major sticking point is their drive/need/desire/compulsion to be perfect. They can’t act unless they can be assured that the outcome will be perfection.

This search for perfect has a partner – procrastination. Perfection seekers postpone action until the all the pieces are in place to hypothetically insure success. However, when all the perfect pieces inevitably fail to fall into place, nothing happens. Ever.

That’s certainly one way to be safe: don’t do anything, then you can’t possibly do anything wrong. Oh, boy, do perfectionists hate being wrong. Why? Our psychologist friends say it’s rooted in self-esteem, anxiety and control issues. I’ve heard more than one perfectionist say that if they are imperfect then people will know they are a fraud.

Well, all I know is that many perfectionists I see are stuck, unable to act and unable to feel fulfillment.

And they confuse excellence with perfection.

I got a call this week from a loving, devoted mother whose 12 year old daughter is on a select volleyball team. The team is so good, in fact, that they’ve been to nationals. The athletic daughter, let’s call her Carly, announced that she needed to quit volleyball because she wasn’t “perfect” at it. The mother asked me, “What should I do? She’s really talented, and enjoys the game, and her teammates elected her captain. She’ll be miserable if she quits.”

OK, blurting happens. In coaching, blurting happens more often than I ever expected. I blurted to the mom, “Who wants to be a Soviet gymnast? Who wants to be an athletic automaton who executes every move with textbook perfection? Where’s the thrill in that?”

I was on a roll. “Look at Tiger Woods. He’s probably the greatest golfer the game has produced. But he’s not perfect. I’ve seen him hook the ball far to the left, or slice to the right. He’s in the rough plenty of times. I’ve seen him double bogey.

“But what Tiger has – what makes him great – is his ability to improvise. He famously used his driver to make a difficult putt from the fringe. He’ll turn his club backwards to hit a shot. He knows his game, he knows his skills and has the confidence to use anything he’s got to play the game.”

Improvisation takes heart. It takes soul. But most importantly, improvisation takes an awareness of who you are and an understanding of what you bring to the situation.

I talked with Carly’s mom about how to reframe the girl’s drive to excel from “having to be perfect” to “getting to be creative”. If the planned play is Dig, Set, Spike, but the setter is out of position, it takes creativity for the spiker to still make the point. And when a player makes an unbelievable point, what happens? The crowd goes wild.

That’s not perfection, that’s excellence.

Ironically, improvisation can have perfect results. What you say? Without planning, without plotting, without a safety net – you can be perfect?

Yes. You can be. To prove my point, I’ll ask you one question:

Have you ever heard Ella Fitzgerald scat?

Go to this web address http://www.smithsonianjazz.org/class/fitzgerald/ef_class_1.asp and listen to any of the audio clips.

Ella’s in the moment, using her magnificent voice, tremendous range and keen understanding of jazz to create one-of-a-kind, indelible perfection.

Letting go, trusting your talents, trusting your instincts, trusting your training… and improvising – that’s how to productively channel your pursuit of excellence. That’s how to live a full and fulfilling life.

I am working on a book about perfectionism, and it’s not going to be perfect. It’s going to be whatever it’s going to be. What I’m bringing to it is awareness of my experience and an understanding of how to overcome the limits of perfectionism.

Won’t that be perfect?