From the Department of Cleaning Up Messes

I have long understood that one of my unique gifts, one of my superpowers if you will, is to clean up messes.

For most of my life, I saw this gift as a weakness: as a sign of my needy desire to be liked, to fit in, to get a gold star. I saw it as a product of shadow.

So even though I cleaned up a ton of messes, I also kind of resented it. I'd get mad at the maker of the mess; I'd think, why should I be the one to take care of this? What is WRONG with people??

But I couldn't help it.

If I saw a mess, be it spilled milk, scattered dog poop, the kitchen sink, or someone in need, I'd step in and take care of it.

Of course, this explains a lot about me: in my career as a Public Defender I clean up spectacular and tragic messes, and I am very good at it. In my co-leadership of bEEcHARGE!!!, our Burning Man camp, I am willing to be the last one on deck. In my family, I am willing to stay present and loving in the face of occasional conflict and disconnection. When a friend calls me with a problem, I am willing to help, and I get called a lot!

I persist in showing up and take care of business, no matter how onerous or difficult; and I absolutely love a dirty job!

Thanks to the work I have done in MKP men's circles with masculine archetypes, I have come to see that my penchant for cleaning things up is not just a case of mild inherited OCD, or an example of my inner rescuer running my show, but is indeed an essential power and responsibility of the King, of the Sovereign energy.

Sovereign energy shows up in holding space for conflict and facilitating justice; in taking responsibility for the realm and all it's inhabitants; in developing and communicating vision; in serving as a steward; in giving and receiving appreciation; and yes, in cleaning up messes.

And so I have come to embrace my role as King:

I accept my personal and shared responsibility for the future of humanity and the Earth.

I accept responsibility for problems, and take action with others to create solutions.

I accept responsibility for my own choices and the impact of those choices, both intended and unintended.

I live a life of mission and purpose.

As an example, seven years ago I decided that I was going to rid my neighborhood of crap: dog poo, cigarette butts, bits of paper, and my most targeted focus, plastic bags and wrappers that will otherwise wash into the Bay and then the ocean.

Once or twice a week, you may see me making my rounds with a trash bag and a picker-upper. It takes me an hour to circumnavigate Bernal Hill, where we live. Pretty quickly, I began noticing that there was less detritus. I found the spots where the wind would collect litter, and I would keep them neat.

I feel great satisfaction in doing a tangible job that can be finished quickly. Immediate gratification! By contrast, in my legal work, there are few quick transactions.

My neighbors started noticing too. People are always thanking me, and sometimes I see them pick something up too. A number of excellent conversations have started this way, and I have made many friends on the hill in my walks.

Connection, appreciation, mindfulness, and love, all unleashed by a simple act of service to the realm.

And here's the really good part: it's not like the old days, where's there could be only one Sovereign.

Nope, we need a lot of Kings and Queens and Czarinas and Emperors: we need the Sovereign energy in this world in a BIG way.

My invitation to you is to consider stepping up and taking your seat in the Sovereign. It doesn't matter so much what the action is, it's about the intention and awareness of acting in service to something larger than oneself.

You are needed. You will make a difference. And you will be filled with joy and blessing in your service to the realm.

Have a wonderful day brothers and sisters!

(August 13, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Tears

I woke up feeling sad and lost last week, needing a good cry, but the truth is I'm not that good at crying. I'm working on it.

I have been working on a big side-project this summer that I have been super excited about, and now it looks like the time for it is not now.

I have swum through the various stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, with perhaps an extra dose of depression and anger.

As I have learned before, the stages are not sequential, nor conclusory: stuff bubbles up here and there, reminding me of one of my favorite Rumi poems, The Guest House, where

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Then I remembered that it was is the anniversary of my mom's death in 2008.

I remember crying a lot back then.

The tears came easily, in torrents of lung-emptying shoulder-shaking spasms, a visceral expression of the empty feeling inside, which still arises when I think of her.

Yet, though there is still a hole in my heart, I also feel her so present in my life. Cheering me on, checking in with eagerness for any news, loving me without conditions, believing in me so totally and completely. And also driving me crazy sometimes. (good spot for a heart emoji here!)

Whew. And now, the tears are flowing. I had to stop writing there for a bit. In the tears are cleansing, release, and opening.

I am grateful for my sadness.

As Rumi ends the poem:

Be grateful for whatever comes

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Today is a good day for tears. I love you Mom.

(July 31, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Defense

As my 51st birthday approaches, I find myself more and more saying things that make me sound like an old-timer, which both amuses and, occasionally, shocks me.

For example, this summer marks my 30th year working in criminal defense for people who can't afford a lawyer.

Gulp!

In the summer of 1989, I had just finished my junior year of college when I set out for Washington DC to work as an Investigative Intern for the Public Defender Service.

After several weeks of intense training, I was sent out to investigate a murder case and a mayhem case.

In the first, I ended up interviewing the man we thought was the actual shooter, and two years later as a 2nd year law student testified in federal court to impeach the witness. Despite my testimony, our client who we believed to be innocent was convicted and sentenced to life.

In the mayhem case, I spent several weeks lurking around a crack house to find witnesses who may have seen the incident where our client allegedly set a woman on fire during an argument over some drugs.

For context, I grew up in one of the whitest, preppiest, an wealthiest of suburbs, and my blind spots around privilege and racism and wealth inequality could obscure a semi-truck.

My eyes began to open that summer, a bit, and I found I idolized the PD attorneys I was working with. They were brilliant, fierce, passionate, funny, and above all, committed.

I wanted to be just like them.

So when I applied to law school later that year, I was very clear in my essays that my goal was to be a PD.

Since my summer at PDS, I have volunteer-interned in 5 different PD offices, worked for 2 years as an Assistant State Public Defender for the State of Ohio, and am now entering my 23rd year as PD for my beloved office the Alameda County Public Defender.

I have litigated dozens of jury trials, and thousands of hearings, and I have stood next to countless humans as they experienced the most challenging moments of their lives.

I am deeply grateful for this work and for the chance to serve on the side of justice and fairness and redemption and second chances.

I am profoundly grateful for my colleagues, for my mentors and teachers, and for the healers and wise ones who have helped me to sustain myself through the years.

It has been at times a harrowing journey. I have felt the crushing numbness of burnout, the devastating soul-death of defeat and injustice, and, the exquisite joy of victories, both small and large.

Above all, I am grateful for the growth and evolution that has been gifted to me, which would not have been possible without the support and love and understanding that I have received from Alycia and my family and all my communities, including you all.

And to my clients, who so often were willing to give me a chance to prove myself, to overcome the apparent distance between us, and to trust me to hear and tell their stories.

Thank You!

How does your purpose intersect with your livelihood?

(July 16, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of the King

When I said I wanted to be the King of BeeCharge!, our long running camp at Burning Man, everybody thought I was joking.

I had been the de facto leader for many years at this point, which really meant I was the cat-herder, emailer, and chief nudger. I was the one who started the thread about the kitchen and the one who reserved the truck and the one who managed the budget - sometimes going in the red- and the one who answered all the questions.

Then I started to get resentful, a common malady for Burner leaders.

I felt like I was doing too much while others weren’t doing enough, and often I didn’t feel seen and appreciated for my effort. Even as I felt a huge responsibility and burden, I didn’t actually have any authority and always felt like I was asking for favors.

Change was needed, so I took a deep look inside myself. I joined the ManKind Project and started sitting in a circle of men for support and accountability. I gradually saw that I was being driven by old stale stories from my childhood, and my deepest belief was that I was unworthy of love and affection.

The truth was I wanted so much to be liked I rarely said no, and this lack of boundaries often led to the over-commitment, fatigue, resentment, and flawed leadership that I experienced in the early days of the camp.

With the support of my men’s circle, a series of powerful life coaches, and the love and connection of our Bee community, I found healing by loosening up on my judgments and criticisms, especially of myself. I learned to love myself and to open my heart to others.

Much of this growth happened on the playa, where judgments and projections may fall away in the container of immediacy and participation and radical inclusion.

So years later when I claimed the title of King of BeeCharge!, everybody thought I was joking, but I was dead serious.

I decided to step into a new way of being as a leader, to live in integrity and be accountable, to do what I say, and when mistakes happen to admit it and clean it up. I embraced the dirty jobs and led by example, while always making sure to share a wider vision of our effort, so our people remembered why we were doing so much hard work.

I made friends with conflict and got curious about the grey areas, recognizing that the more intense things become, the more I shine and the more brilliantly I may show up.

As a leader, I am a healer, a counselor, a consoler, and a coach. I mentor and guide the new people in acculturating, and I am the first and last to MOOP the camp and surrounding neighborhood. I am the fire-tender of our camp, keeping the flame going even in the winter when Burning Man seems far away and energies are low.

People reach out to me all the time, for support and listening and problem solving. It is a huge honor to me when a friend (or an acquaintance!) trusts me in this way. I am often told that I am inspirational, and a great example of how a man should live. I am told I am the best dad ever, and I am told by a very large circle that I am loved and appreciated.

With the new skills I learned on the playa and in the ManKind Project leader training program, I stepped into supervision and leadership at the public defender’s office too, where I led teams of lawyers handling the most difficult and high-pressure cases in the state. I volunteered for the most serious multiple murder case in county history and we managed to avoid the death penalty.

I became a teacher of trial skills and self-care, and a mentor to young lawyers. I became a leader in the wider criminal justice community and gained the respect of judges and prosecutors and even police officers, finding ways to connect beneath our surface disagreements of how a case should go. I have been invited many times to apply to be a judge, and always said no, as I was not ready to leave the PD’s office.

My biggest challenge is patience. I push myself hard, and sometimes I think I see the big picture and what needs to happen so clearly that I push a situation too. What has helped me with this is my meditation and zen practice, regular yoga and qigong, and my essay writing and poetry. What especially helps when this comes up is to reach out and ask for support.

In my leadership I am willing to sit with and reveal whatever feelings or stories are bubbling inside me. When I lead from my heart in this way, I help others to see that they are not alone in feeling anxious or sad or overwhelmed.

Of course, there is also much to celebrate, and I am willing to lead in the fun too! Every year after our Wednesday party, when the Bees swarm the Man I am out front, leading the charge with a megaphone and a tutu, stirring the pot and building the buzz to a frenzy!

Burning Man was the opening that led to much of the growth in my life and to my emergence as a powerful, compassionate, and collaborative leader.

There is an old tradition out on the playa of Burners greeting each other with "Welcome Home."

I have learned that home is not a place or a location. It is a state of mind, a way of being with myself.

Home is a way of loving and accepting who I am.

Home is recognizing the great gifts I have to offer the world, and understanding that to withhold these gifts would not only be a shame and a waste, it would be an abdication.

So Welcome Home dAVE. Welcome Home!

What are your proud of in your leadership?? What are you working on?

(July 3, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Mirrors

Here's a poem I wrote for Father's Day, to my dad, and to myself.

From the Department of Mirrors

My dad's dad always told him that

the most important thing is

to be able to look at yourself in the

mirror every morning

and see the man you want to be.

I was a little boy when my dad told me that

and so it didn't make any sense

the man I wanted to be was him,

tall, gentle, wise, loving, proud,

a man who gave everything of himself

when we went to the grocery store, always

a person would approach and say "Hi Dr. Klaus!"

with such warmth and appreciation,

my dad could never remember their name

but he would always remember their heart

He is a master of the heart, a cardiologist

the ultimate plumber of the human body

yet when it was time to fix the sink

he would call another, for

like me, he is the opposite of handy

I asked him once "How many times in your career

have you come to a patient that has died,

and put your hands on them

and done something

to bring them back?"

He paused with his thoughtful, careful gaze

and I saw him counting,

"I would say,

in the last forty years,

probably about once a week."

I had no idea

I thought perhaps that happened a few times,

"Clear!!! Zap!! We've got a pulse"

and life breathing again, like on TV,

but every week?

My dad has given everything of himself

so that others can have their moms and dads a bit longer

He has given his time, and his health, and his sleep, his passion, his love, and his peace of mind,

to all those people whose names he often cannot remember,

though he always remembers their hearts.

For a long time when I looked in the mirror

I did not see the man I wanted to be

because I was not him.

I wanted to be a healer as well,

but I believed that I fell short.

How to compete with a master of hearts?

How to become a man with the touch of miracle?

How to give everything of myself

when I am selfish and small

and the opposite of handy?

But I have learned that healing comes in many forms,

that it does not happen only

in hospitals or doctor's offices

I have learned that healing happens

in every new moment, everywhere, in every breath

The heart is more than plumbing,

and there are many kinds of mastery,

and I have learned that I too am a healer,

that I too have the touch of miracle

that I too can be a master of hearts

So today when I looked in the mirror

on this Father's Day

I saw the man I want to be

I saw my face, which so closely,

and more every day, resembles the face of my father

I saw a man who is tall, and gentle,

and wise, and loving, and proud

I saw a man who is greeted

with love and appreciation

in the grocery store

I saw myself, and my dad, in the same mirror

I saw a man who, though not at all handy

gives everything of himself,

who saves lives

and though he cannot always remember people's names,

always remembers their hearts.

I love you Dad! Happy Father's Day!!!

And blessings to all you fathers and sons and daughters out there (and moms too!) . We are all in this together!

What or who are you seeing in the mirror today??

(June 18, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Warrior

Burning Man is often described as a place of Yes. Just Say Yes is a motto for many Burners, and this approach can lead to all sorts of amazing and unexpected adventures.

However, my big practice for the week in 2016 was to say No.

When I first did the ManKind Project training in June of 2010, I was introduced to the masculine archetypes of The King, the Lover, the Warrior, and the Magician.

At the time, I was already a second degree black belt in Jujutsu, and I had worked as Public Defender trial lawyer for more than 15 years. I considered myself to be tough, a fighter and soldier for justice, a man who was not afraid of a fight.

I could clearly see how much work I had to do on my lover and king energy, even as magician energy baffled me, but I thought I had the warrior thing Down.

How wrong I was!

Warrior energy is getting shit done, setting boundaries and asking for help, fighting for principles and values, and engaging in conflict with courage and resolve.

Perhaps above all, warrior energy is about saying No.

Yet I was terrible at saying no.

In my heart, I was insecure and afraid that others would see me as weak. I desperately wanted to be liked, and as I have often written, my core wound is the belief that I am fundamentally unworthy.

To compensate, I strained to please others, and while this had benefits, including my overachieving tendency to get good grades, be the one who volunteered for everything, and do a million activities and projects all the time to be helpful to others, it also had a huge cost.

The impact of all this Yes was that I often felt overcommitted and overwhelmed.

My To Do lists were massive, and I often felt severe anxiety. I didn’t ever sleep enough, and my body would go through regular cycles of collapse and recovery. I used intoxicants to take the edge off, which only further depleted me.

I was a Yes Man, and would do anything to avoid saying No to someone.

That summer, I did a lot of work at my Igroup around cultivating my warrior energy, and something clicked for me. I began to see how all my of Yes-ing was actually bringing suffering to the world: to others AND to me.

For example, to be an Enabler is to say Yes.

When someone comes to me and asks for help, I must have the wisdom to see what is truly needed. Is this person asking me for money because of a momentary unforeseen need, or is the request a product of irresponsibility or addiction? If it is the former, my Yes may be a perfect healing action, but if it is the latter my Yes will be a wound.

When I say Yes to someone with addiction, or rather, refuse to say No, I am sending them a message: you are not enough. You need my help. You can’t do this on your own.

By refusing to say no in this instance, I serve to further entrench their suffering.

By contrast, when I say No to the addiction, I say: “You can do this yourself, you have it within you, I see it, and I won’t pretend otherwise.” My no thus becomes a Yes.

Of course, this applies to me too.

I have the heart of an addict. I am a binger and a glutton. If one cookie is good, then a dozen are better. If one coffee jacks me up, I’ll have two. When I say no to my cravings, I say Yes to myself.

That year was my eighteenth at Burning Man, and I had learned early on that trying to recreate previous years is a big mistake. There’s no going back, especially out there, so every year I try to find something new, whether it’s some new activity, some new angle, or some new outfit.

In 2016 I decided to try out NO.

In my leadership of the camp, I determined to be clear and firm and to set careful boundaries around what I was willing to do, thus protecting myself from overwork and the resentment and fatigue that often result.

I allowed myself to call personal time-outs, heading to bed when I got tired, rather than pushing through into late nights.

I ducked out of work events, allowing myself to go for a walk to find a margarita in the middle of building one of the shade structures.

When someone asked me if I could help them find a bike pump, I said no. When someone asked me to help turn on the generator, I directed them to someone else. I learned that delegation is a way of saying No.

To be sure, this was not easy for me. With every question or request, I fell my ego puff up: I am needed. I am important. I am useful! This is my chance to shine, to be the hero, to be Helpful.

My ego loves that shit. More than anything really.

But I said No. And I kept saying it. And even though every time I said it there was a twinge of sadness and fear (because after all, my ego said, if I don’t perform for people, they won’t love me), with each No there also arose a feeling of strength and well-being.

It was both terrifying and thrilling, yet the more I said no, the more I exercised that muscle, the better I felt!

I also noticed some fascinating things happen around me.

New leaders started to emerge in our camp. Folks who had been around for a few years suddenly stepped up to take charge of projects, even though they didn’t exactly know what they were doing. When I saw this, I jumped to support them and encourage them.

How interesting! Here was a way that I could still be useful and helpful, yet without doing the actual work myself. My role shifted from Yes Man and Doer of All Things, to supporter and advisor and mentor.

It was delicious, and I began to experience a stable sense of relaxation and ease that was truly new to me out there.

By getting out of the way, I made space for others to shine! By saying No, I said Yes to the growth of our team! By setting clear boundaries, I opened up new areas of exploration for others!

Now of course, I don’t mean to claim all the credit for the development of all these new leaders, it wasn’t me that did it, it was them.

But I did help the process by checking my ego, stepping into my own discomfort, and pushing myself to try something new.

The result was my favorite Burn ever (well until this last one in 2018!)

I felt more relaxed, more present, more joyful, more at ease, more rested, more delighted, more loved and appreciated, just more ME than I ever have before.

I am so grateful for this gift. In all those years of being afraid to say no, I see now that I was serving as an enabler to my own shadow belief that I am not worthy and that I must perform to be loved.

By learning to say No to other people, I reassured and comforted my shadow, rather than exacerbating his wound. By saying No to my ego, to my shadow, and to my need to please everyone, I found a way to say Yes to myself, my true self, dAVE.

And in doing so I found my way back to the beginning of the story.

Burning Man is a place of Yes, and by learning to say No, I said Yes to ME!!!!

I am curious, how do you say Yes to You?

Please write me and let me know!

(June 4, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Competition

I have been doing yoga since the early 1990s. I remember when our dear friend Kelly took my wife Alycia and me to a class in a woman’s basement in Columbus. At that point, at least in Ohio, yoga was a super-weird thing that only flaky hippies did, and in truth I had no idea what it actually was.

Fortunately, I aspired to being a flaky hippy, and so when Kelly mentioned it I was eager to go.

I remember how the lady’s house smelled like fried seafood and her enormous husband would always be lying on the couch as we padded by to the studio, aka the dark and scary basement, the kind where the light never reaches any corner.

I have gone in and out of practice ever since, and then I got lucky when a new studio opened a block from my house. I have been going once or twice a week for almost four years now.

I love yoga, especially now that I have learned to do it in kinder gentler way, because it turns out that for all those years, I was engaged in what I affectionately call “Doing Yoga like a Dude.”

That means, I saw it as a competitive sport, where I was constantly trying to win the class: best posture, deepest lunge, most sweaty, most meditative.

You name it.

I wanted to be the best. I wanted to get an A in Yoga. I wanted to Win.

This approach, which some current commentators might describe as masculine, led to me getting injured a lot, and to sometimes feeling shame and embarrassment in class, with some occasional anger and frustration.

So it was with delight that I realized a few weeks ago that I have finally learned how to practice yoga more like a normal person, and less like a hormone-driven teenage version of me.

Here’s what happened.

I got to my 6:30 am class, and decided to switch things up and set my mat on the other side of the room. This put me next to this younger guy who seemed like a real Gumby-type. I later learned his name was Jesse, and he goes to class every day.

I immediately felt my competitive-yoga reflex come online, and just as quickly realized that I could never compete with Jesse, so I made a conscious decision not to try.

I decided instead that I would go for Second Place.

Immediately, I felt relaxed and blissful.

I didn’t need to go deeper than Jesse on every chataranga, and it didn’t matter that he could do that cool Crow pose and I couldn’t. I was just chilling: I didn’t need to win.

All I wanted was a solid second.

Now one thing that helps me tame my inner competitor is that I wear glasses, and at class I take them off, which renders me pretty much blind and unable to see anyone else. This really helps.

Except today I could see Jesse next to me, and I could see that he was totally kicking my ass.

But Wait. Wait. Wait!

As soon as I noticed it, I would remind myself: second place, second place, and relax again.

Smooth. Chill. Deeeeeeep!!!!

And then it was time for “optional" headstands and I decided, no way am I trying that, not today, not for my second place. Instead, I just did some child’s pose and mopped my drenched forehead and hung out.

Of course Jesse went for it and began his headstand practice and he. was. awesome.

Perfect, brilliant headstands. He was a like the Washington Monument of headstands. He was like the Eiffel Tower in his sinuous expansion and grace.

And then, it happened:

He fell over! Spectacularly!

In fact, he almost took me out! I had to side-scoot to get out of the way!

He smiled at me apologetically and I gave him a generous, if not downright beneficent, “It’s all good dude.”

Almost done with class now, I congratulated myself for the dozenth time for my maturity and wisdom.

Second place is Cool Dave! You have learned so much! You Go!!!

And then it hit me. I had won. I had won the class.

Jesse blew it!

He wiped out and almost crushed me. That’s a major yoga faux pas, a critical mistake!

And this could only mean one thing: I WON FIRST PLACE!!!

With my mellow attitude and my caution, with my wisdom and maturity, I was the better yogi today!

I WON FIRST PLACE!!!!

I have to say, realizing this felt damn good.

All my training, all my personal work, my meditation, my hard won moxie, it had all led to this place. To my Yoga Victory!

As, I smugly lowered myself down to do shivasana, the corpse pose, the blissful ending to our work, I came to my senses with a snort.

Crap! I did it again! My ego got me! I was doing yoga like a Dude again! In fact, I was doing it the whole time!

At this humbling realization, I started to laugh out loud at my own silliness... at my tricky, manipulative ego. At my ever-present striving teenage masculinity.

At this point, as everyone else was resting in corpse pose, I was laughing and laughing. Indeed, I laughed all the way to that last Namaste.The Dude in me honors the Dude in you.

Thanks for reading this far.

I am curious, When has your inner competitor made you laugh?

Please write me and let me know!

(May 21, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)

From the Department of Busy

I do a lot of things.

My days are very full, my calendar is booked, and sometimes, I feel completely overwhelmed.

Probably the biggest question I am asked by my friends is "how do you do all the things you do?"

I always grin when I hear this, and I to be honest I also sometimes feel a little embarrassed. I know how busy I can get.

At times, I may find myself minimizing my activities, or expressing regret that I am so busy. If I am in a state of panic, as I was last weekend, I will say "I am TOO busy and I need to get a grip!", or I will confess that I am a do-aholic.

Indeed, our culture’s standard response to the question “How are you?” seems to be a frenzied “BUSY!!!”

Some time ago, I read a wonderful article on this very idea. It introduced me to the custom in many Islamic countries to ask "Kayf haal-ik?”, "How is your heart in this moment?", rather than the broad Western "how are you?"

I like this question because it directs me away from listing all the things I am Doing to the way in which I am Being (or in my affected spelling, Beeing.)

It turns out my heart doesn’t ever seem to be busy, even though my mind often is.

When I check in with my heart and answer from it, not only is my assessment more peaceful and open, my actual experience of the moment feels different as well. Accessing the heart and diverting from the mind brings me an experience that is more lively, more engaged, and more present.

The truth of it is I love my full life, and I am delighted to be able to play a role in so many endeavors. Yet, in the past, I often overcommitted out of shadow - my internal belief that I was flawed and not good enough - which led me to say yes to too many things in a desperate attempt to be liked and validated.

My shadow thus led me to much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Because I wasn't always truly invested in these projects, I often resented them and felt pressed and stuck. I would become angry and bitter, and create a story about how hard my life was, how busy, how joyless, and how much I needed a vacation.

Of course, I still have that shadow belief of not good enough about myself - it never goes away - but because I am now aware of it, I less often allow it to drive my bus.

Instead, I now have a process of discernment when I am asked to take on a project.

I ask myself: is this something I truly want to do? Is it something that will benefit from my unique skill set and ability? Is there someone else that can or will or should do it? Will this project bring me joy, or is it just another pain-reliever for my needy shadow? Is this project in line with my mission?

When I have fully grokked these and other inquiries, I check in with my heart and my gut, and then wait. And I try to wait for at least a day or two.

Only then do I make a call.

Using this process, I have created more space for me in my life:

I sit in meditation every day...I take refuge in my writing and in reading poetry...I play my guitar and sing lugubrious songs...I listen to podcasts when I am walking around with Trixy the dog...I banter with my seventeen year old daughter Anya and play backgammon with my fifteen year old son Enzo...I tickle my beeloved wife, and we dance in the kitchen, and play cards, and talk before we go to sleep.

And now to answer the real question: “How is my heart?”

My heart is full of wonder and tenderness and compassion. My heart is broken open, again and again, as I witness the suffering in this world. My heart is sometimes constricted with fear and shame, and then in turn expanded with forgiveness and connection. My heart is alive and beating with the rhythm of the universe. My heart is strong and clear and brimming with joy and gratitude.

And this is true even when I am busy... Even when I am overwhelmed... Even when I am not sure how I will get it all done. Underneath all the busy, my heart beats with love and purpose.

How is your heart?

Please write me and let me know!

(April 7, 2019 - On Purpose Newsletter)