I live in Houston, and I grew up in Chicago, so the snow-scape called Bozeman, Montana was a delightful surprise for me.  I was greeted by one of the prominent lights in the community, Lei Anna Bertelsen, and I knew by her receptive warmth that Bozeman was welcoming me to a special four days.

I was there to co-train the More To Life Weekend with Jan Matney, and I would be staying at her house, which is part of the university campus—a home full of old world charm and graciousness.

We had a team leadership pot-luck dinner meeting Thursday night, and being a picky eater, I was amazed at how I enjoyed it all.  And of the delicious desserts, the best part of the evening was the gathering in the living room where Jan inspired us with her ability to connect and share her love and support of community.  I was impressed that all participated and said their piece.  We even had some delicious creative tension to spice up the feast for the palate and the soul.  Our partnership started that night in a natural flow that would continue throughout the next three days.

The snow continued into the weekend as a beautiful metaphor for Life purifying us through our engagement with reality.  I had a full sensory vision of my partnership with Jan and an anxious excitement stirring inside me as we walked forward on Friday night to facilitate the More To Life Weekend.  What flowed forth over the next two and half days was an engaging, compelling, raw-feeling, beautiful, challenging, learning, creative weave of Truth versus illusion.   (Prepare for a weekend long sentence.) The participants were courageous adventurers, reclaiming their personal authority, gaining a more refined ability to own the truth, encountering their worst accusations, “righting” their relationships with others “sans resentment”, and engaging with themselves (seeing the person in the mirror without masks, without shields and with acceptance–with their authentic self), forgiving all, living life anew—“Welcoming to All.” I have been blessed to be a part of that crew—with those passengers, co-steering their helm to fill their sails with the wind of reality and bring us all home to the place we started, knowing it for the first time, in this new here and now.

Even though several weeks have passed now, the memories are vivid and fresh in my mind.  Thank you to Life and to my path-mates, Jan and her husband, Claud.  Set sail again soon “me hearties” to keep the wind fresh and your skills polished and your self well loved.  All is well.

“Tell us a heartwarming story about someone you love, who has passed.”

This is the one I remembered and wrote, and I want to share it with all of you, especially those of you who never had an opportunity to meet Brad.

The first time Brad met my youngest son, Robert was only two.   Robert was painfully shy and did not talk to strangers.

He frequently hid behind me if someone came up to him that was unfamiliar.

I was surprised that he left my side and sat down on some steps in front of the building where we were, but we were in the Redwoods and it was peaceful and beautiful.

Like many other two-year olds, Robert was somewhat inarticulate and difficult to understand.  As he sat on the steps, Brad came and sat down next to him.

Robert began showing Brad his sneaker.  There was a little piece of rubber on one side that had a tear in it and apparently, this was upsetting Robert but he hadn’t told anyone about it, probably because it was so difficult for  him to speak clearly.

Brad was soft and connecting and listened so intently that Robert just began talking to him – and he just kept on talking and talking.  And Brad would murmur something back quietly, and Robert would talk some more.

I watched this amazingly deep connection.  I was awed at how open Robert was, how he trusted Brad and shared with him.

He held up his tiny foot, and they both examined the torn piece of rubber on the edge of his sneaker.  Brad’s eyes and voice were earnest and concerned.  In a way,  it was like watching two children talking.  Robert kept saying “Broken” and Brad nodded and looked intently at the sneaker – and repeated “Broken”.

Brad Brown was a great teacher, and I loved him.  For those of you who don’t know him – he was one  of the original creators of the More To Life Weekend and the body of work that some of us practice.

He dedicated  his life to awakening other people and  helping them to become their most authentic selves.

He had a way of taking people in and SEEING them.

When Brad saw me…I FELT Seen.  I have no other words to explain this.  It’s just what is so for me.

Something about that moment Brad shared with my son impressed me as the epitome of love.  It was unforgettable.  I wonder what would happen to our children if they were all so THOROUGHLY SEEN by the adults in their lives.

Robert still remembers that meeting.

Thank You for letting me share this with you all.

Although I know our great teachers live on in the work that they created and in their students, I miss Brad.  I miss his physical presence, and I really miss being SEEN  that way.

Cindy LeBow, More To Life student, www.moretolife.org

Brene Brown, University of Houston, research professor in the Graduate School of Social Work  says it’s our belief that we aren’t enough that keeps us from revealing ourselves.  She inspires vulnerability—not always the easy road.

For example, one of our adult children recently recounted the ways in which I’ve been distant, mean spirited, making remarks that I wish had never come out of my mouth.  I could hear my adult child’s surprise and relief and still some frustration recently as I owned what I had done in response to the complaints.  I was vulnerable.

Of course I can’t fix our relationship, but I can be grateful for the honesty.  I can feel my feelings instead of numbing out, and I can resist the urge to blame.  I can even live sans the shame every parent must feel at times about what they did or didn’t do with their kids.

I love  Brene Brown’s TED talk and her view that vulnerability is a key to connecting.  She says that if we can accept ourselves and others as imperfect all the while believing we are enough, we no longer have to hide ourselves!  We can create a state of other and self-acceptance and no longer be held in the grip of shame.

I don’t believe that hearing a child’s complaint is everyone’s answer to every situation.  It’s not a panacea.  It’s simply one time I was vulnerable, and in that,  it was easier for the other person to see me and for me to see and accept myself—for me, a true connection.

The words from the mutual friend that you refer to in Jan’s post (below) also struck me: “I’m not sure what Life is calling for at this point.”

Jessica, know that I am thinking of you. Sometimes the challenges are coming to us so fast, full of upheaval. When you wrote to Being Seen of your recent cancer diagnosis, I decided to add here, in part, my response to our friend:

…I can hear the disillusionment about what it seemed the move across the country had promised, versus the disappointing Reality… This humanity thing! I am sorry it has landed where it has because of the pain attached. At the same time I am extremely curious about what Life is up to.

As I write this, I am acutely aware that I have been in my own struggles with something Brad wrote to the More To Life trainers shortly after a huge loss in my life….“even in this, G-o-d will not be mocked.”No wasted energy in the Universe, I think is what he meant. It’s bigger than we are.

I’ve been living with a similar kind of low grade depression off and on the last couple of months, too, trying to get “where is my life going?” Last night I realized that I had fallen into finding my answers ‘out there’ once more. That my ‘ok-ness/ happiness’ was defined by what I do or don’t do and the state of my relationships with other people.  I am reading the January issue of Shambala Sun which contains this reminder in spades.

I can also read my resistance between the lines — resistance to letting myself know that this time in my life is simply a ‘one more time’ –rather than a “good god why do I have to be in this place right now??”  I have been believing the really challenging life events should back off and I should have equilibrium in my life after all I’ve done and experienced!

So, the unfairness of life, that’s my victim stuff coming through one more time. This I can do something about. It became ever more clear when I worked out last night in the gym, getting my foothold above the line…

What IS Life calling for? For me, what I continue to see is that we can take time to remember what is true and real about our circumstances. We can set straight the catastrophic thinking of the mind, even in the most challenging of situations.

There is a simple and powerful breathing meditation called Tonglen, taught for years by Pema Chodron, author of When Things Fall Apart. Do you know it? We can use it for particularly painful times–for any form of dissatisfaction. For example, in my current circumstances living with a sizable dose of teenage drama in the house,  I take a deep breath with eyes closed, saying internally, “I breathe in for all mothers everywhere, who are also grappling with their teenage boys, just like me”…and then, breathing out….“I send you love and compassion…”

Several healing breaths later and I know, “Other people feel this too. We are in this together.”

“The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren’t able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It’s called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful.“  Elizabeth Edwards

At 62, I am aware that my days are numbered, and I am inspired by Ms. Edward to live my life, not as a victim of circumstances, but instead willing to delve into the mystery of Life and choose It as it is.

A few days ago my daughter and I had a difficult conversation, and she reached out to me to resolve what could have been an unspoken conflict—the kind that builds a residue of discomfort between us.  It was a seemingly small act on her part, and it was an act of faith.  She was not the victim of circumstances and misunderstandings, but a proactive part of healing and in it all, an inspiration to me.

I was recently witness to another act of faith in which a mutual friend of Elaine’s and mine courageously shared her disappointments with a recent move.  We all expected the move to be fruitful—yielding excitement and satisfying, fulfilling experiences.  But it hasn’t been that way and with bewilderment she said, “I’m not sure what Life is calling for at this point.”

She could have blamed and cursed her circumstances, but in that question she suggested that it is NOT hopeless.  There is something Life is inviting us into that is bigger and bolder than all our dreams of a better life.  

I was caught red-handed “not seeing” as I sat before my first group of Power of Connection participants ever.  There I was presiding at the helm of my impeccably prepared space with flipcharts framing me in my chair and music stand carefully embracing my Power of Connection manual sacred-like with its words of guidance, suggestion and direction.  Meanwhile, 12 sets eyes rested on me as I embarked on an introduction of all of us in the room.

First stop, description of life shocks.  For those of you not yet familiar with Power of Connection, it is yet another well-tooled course created to both ignite people’s intrigue for taking More to Life courses as well as offer a way for participants to experience transformation in themselves and in other key relationships in their lives. Exploration of mind talk, life shocks and the impact of judgments and demands lays the groundwork and spurs curiosity for more.

My course started at 6:30 in the evening, about  the time the sun  shines brightly through a window lighting up the room.  This is important because at the age of 45, seeing words on a page is very dependent on having bright light to read by.  As I grow older, I struggle to read words on a page without reading glasses.  I notice how resistant I am being about losing my sight.  The sun set, the room darkened ever so slightly.  I had not planned for the consequences of my inability to see in a darkening room.

You see,  I have an insistent belief and tenacious mindtalk that I might forget or not know what to say at any given point in front of and leading a group without notes to look at.   Furthermore, my mind talk is that I “should”  not have to look at a manual because I should be so prepared that I don’t need to see what it says, and that behavior would show that I am capable and smart. False! I  recognize and name this stream of mindtalk as a lie.  And besides, in the case of mentoring a Power of Connection course, I have the manual right there to follow.  There it is.  I turn my eyes to the manual to know what comes next and I see no wise and supporting words there directing me.  All I see is blur.  No variation of squint helps.  I panic.  I need reading glasses.  What comes next is panic that I can’t go on without knowing exactly what the manual says.

And then, I get it!  It is finally time to trust myself. I take a breath, look into the faces around the room waiting for my next words…and I make choice and take a stand for myself just as I am and relax into the moment.  Looking at the group, I chose to let what I saw in their eyes guide me.  And then glancing into my blurry manual, I picked out a few words in bolder print to remind me of what direction to go.

Mentoring is a new way for me to be seen and I am grateful.

Laura and I are about to participate on team and as trainer in a Cape town More To Life Weekend.  Even though we’ve each participated before in More To Life Weekends, it occurs to me that we will never see another like the one we about to witness.

And when we are awake, we know that all of life is similar to seeing a blue crab for the first time—new, fresh, different than anything experienced at any other time.  We’ve only to truly open our eyes.  Just like today, when we first saw a tiny miracle—a blue crab.

Recently I got pretty steamed up, and I had trouble shaking my anger even after the argument was over and done.  But then I asked myself, “What is it I’m grateful for anyway?”

I’m grateful to have recently visited our daughter in Cortez, Colorado and our son in Phoenix, Arizona. I’m grateful we spent our birthdays camping, and I saw the sunlight in the evening, shining down a canyon, and I wondered if anything in my life had ever been so beautiful.  I’m grateful that this morning I saw a in our yard.  (That’s right.  )  And I’m grateful I was on our second floor balcony looking down on this beautiful black bear.  I’m grateful to be traveling to South Africa to meet wonderful More To Life students in less than two weeks.

As I felt gratitude, my whole state shifted, and suddenly the list seemed endless.  I am clearer, happier, more content.  With just a few thank yous shared the world seemed filled with hallelujahs.  And the question always is….will I choose gratitude.  Even if I’m not on the balcony when the bear comes.     Jan