Persevering

Falling On and Off the Beat: Metaphor and Practice for Learning to Start Again

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Some years ago, I was an avid Salsa and Rumba dancer. I’d go out a few times a week, every week and dance for hours. If you’ve enjoyed partner dancing to live music then you know that it’s one of the best feelings on earth. That joy of feeling into the steps, being in the moment with your partner, and wrapped in powerfully good music.

Falling On and Off the Beat: Metaphor and Practice for Learning to Start Again 1
Finding the beat then losing it

The satisfaction I had when my partner and I were in sync, but also the frustration we both felt when we bumped into eachother, or were off-time. But beyond both extremes, being able to re-engage in the dance, and lighten-up inside! What a relief.

It could be a metaphor for our quality of attention when working on a given project. When I have an idea and decide start it, but fail to go fully into the implemention or the action of it, or when I start and make great headway, but then get interrupted…it’s unsatisfying. It’s like intending to do a particular dance step, starting it and getting interrupted, or realizing that I’m off the beat. It’s almost painful. I’d argue that it’s even more painful in a work project than in a dance, or some other physical activity, because it’s more difficult to access the joy.

The joy is in the body, not the head. When we work, its all to easy to get into the head. The point is that whether we mess up and fall off the beat or nail the step, there is always the opportunity to re-start, and isn’t that really the best part?

Imagining the Worst that Can Happen is Useful if…

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Walking around the lake with my friend Mary one afternoon, the idea came up in conversation that I should visit my dad. I had a problematic relationship with him since my 20s, and had tried every which way to insert myself into his life – from showing unconditional love by being a ready ear to his troubles, to directly communicating my true feelings in a loving way. I even tried shutting him out of my life if things didn’t change, but that only made him do the same to me. Nothing worked. 

But I couldn’t give up.  

So, when we started talking about this idea, it made me stop inside. Strange thing is, I don’t even know who brought it up first, me or my friend. I knew that if I thought about it even for a minute, I’d miss an opportunity to change things – I didn’t know what would change or how I’d do it, but I knew it was worth considering. 

“OK, I’ll go. I’ll go see dad in person,” I said half shocking myself hearing the words out loud.

Without hesitation Mary responds, “Good. How about next Friday?”

“Next Friday works,” I say. Is this really happening, I think to myself.

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll pick you up at 9:00am and we’ll drive up together.” 

 At this, I’ve stopped breathing. “Sure Mary. Sounds good,” I say taking a breath in. 

Next Friday comes fast, and true to her word, Mary is at my apartment at 9:00am sharp. The drive to Sacramento takes twice as long no thanks to travelers heading North for the weekend and unusually bad commuter traffic. Plus, it’s hot – in the 90’s to be exact. All of this, however, is made bearable with a combination of stimulating conversation, a sense of personal mission and the tinge of adventure that a road trip with a good friend will bring.

Hours later we’re just a few miles from dad’s house and I start to tremble. Mary pulls over, “What’s wrong,” she asks with concern. 

“I don’t know but I can’t control it,” I sob. It occurs to me that I’m putting myself in the same situation I went through as a teenager so many years ago when dad locked me out of the house late one stormy night for being 15 minutes past curfew. He wouldn’t let me inside, so apparently I walked to the safety of my best friends family’s house on the other side of town miles away. I say apparently because I have no memory of what happened between standing at the door of my house and arriving at my friend’s house later than night. 

I realize in that moment that the same thing could happen to be all over again: Being abandoned by someone I love. I shared this with Mary whose quality of presence helps me find a little bit of stillness inside. 

After a few minutes she suggests that I call him and let him know that I’m on my way. I had decided before coming that I wouldn’t call him in advance because in the past that gave him the chance to come up with an excuse as to why he didn’t have time for a visit. So I had to come up with a story as to why I was nearby so that it would be harder for him to say no. 

“Dad, hi, it’s Robin,” I say with a shaky voice. 

“I know who it is,” he says, not unkindly. 

“I was in Nevada city for a dance workshop and thought I’d come by to say `hello’. Can I stop by?” I say hastily finishing the question in the hopes he won’t have time to think of a way to say no. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says with a long pause before continuing, “You may as well stop by, but I don’t have much time.”

Hearing the words, you may as well stop by, was like witnessing the opening of a treasure chest that only happens after years of toiling for the secret key. Ten minutes later, we pull into his driveway. I gather my courage and take a deep breath  and approach the front door. I’m ready for any outcome.

“Hi there, mate. Come on in,” dad says with a boyish grin. He’s originally from England and even though it’s been many decades since he lived there, his accent is easy to detect. The word “mate” to him is a term of endearment, much like American’s use the word “buddy.” 

After introducing him to Mary, we stand awkwardly in the entranceway. Dad leans over to give me a hug and says, “It’s good to see you.” 

It was the beginning of a new start.

Getting Fired: Is There an Upside?

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A couple of years ago I got fired and I didn’t see it coming. My boss asked me to stop by the office at the end of the day. He wanted to talk to me about something. This wasn’t unusual, since I worked from home and he frequently asked sales people who worked remotely to come in to get updated on new product features. (I worked at a high-end sauna company that was constantly coming out with new improvements.) I had rented a car to leave for the weekend, so could stop by on my way out of town. I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long because I didn’t want to get stuck in 5pm traffic.

While packing it occurred to me that this “talk” could be a performance review. My sales hadn’t been great compared to the year before during the same time period. But I dismissed this idea by reassuring myself that surely the other sales reps were struggling to make their quota just like me. Besides, it took all I had to simply show up and deal with customers who would ask the same questions, have the same objections and basically, haggle for the cheapest price. I had had many different sales jobs in the past, and nothing had been harder to sell than saunas – not because it was rocket science. It wasn’t. But because customers tended to be blind to anything but getting the best price. And this made for predictably boring and rigid conversations. It was getting more and more difficult to not care about that.

A couple of hours later I arrive at the office. My boss has a tall, muscular build with a strong presence about him. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s the boss. He’s also got a million and one things going on – from employees on the floor coming to ask questions, to both of his phones ringing off the hook from overwhelmed sales people needing his support to frustrated customers asking to talk with the decision maker. Amidst all this he maintains a calm authority. I’ve never experienced being in the eye of a tornado but I imagine it’s similar to being in the company of this man.

I knock at his door and am both glad to see him but afraid to meet with him face to face. This surprises me. I have nothing to be worried about. “Come in,” he says, getting up from behind his desk. “Have a seat,” he gestures to the couch adjacent to his desk. 

This couch is a gorgeous teal retro piece from the 50’s. To sit on it is to be transported to the set of a Mad Men episode. In all the meetings we’ve had over the past 2 years, not once has he asked me to sit on this magnificent couch. I settle in and scoot back all the way to be as upright as possible. It’s as if my body has sensed a threat and must brace for attack. Then the guy from HR comes in, closing the door behind him and I realize: I’m going to get fired. 

My boss starts talking about pressure from corporate and that my sales aren’t what they were last year. I interrupt him despite my throat tightening and heart pounding.  “But surely the other reps also have low sales,” I say, in a feeble attempt to challenge his data-based reasoning. As soon as I say it, he counters with the sales numbers of the other reps. I am so done for. 

He continues talking, not once becoming harsh or expressing disappointment. Despite his stoic exterior, I could tell that this was hard for him. Toward the end, he made the comment that I was a wonderful person, this job isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain kind of killer instinct. 

It’s true, I’m not a killer. And I can’t fake it. And trying to do so has become harder than the job. And right then and there, something shifted. Sure, my voice was chocked with tears, my hands trembling, my face flush and my body slumped – I had to force myself to sit up, take a breath, and focus. But at the same time, a little voice inside said this just is, it’s neither good nor bad. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was an unpleasant experience. The very nature of the situation – an authority at work delivers the news that you are no longer a fit for the role you were originally hired to do and as a consequence you are being let go. And not only are you not a fit, you won’t get that check at the end of the month each month. And if this weren’t bad enough, you’re the only one who got fired, so while it’s not personal – it’s almost impossible to not take it personally. And yet it was still the ok. 

I left the office shaken and a little ashamed – but by the time I reached my rent-a-car, I felt a hint of relief. Not just because I no longer had to do something I hated for a paycheck. But because of the way I took the bad news. Sure, my eyes looked like a popeye-fish from crying, and my mascara was probably half way down my face, but I didn’t lose myself. Something remained neutral inside – neither wrong or right, angry or defeated – while the outside world felt upside down. And just then it occurred to me that perhaps those qualities I admired so much in my now former boss, were in me all along.