Being and doing differently
2023 is here and change is in the air. Or, at least a popular topic of conversation on the podcasts I listen to.
I’ve heard Anand Giridharadas talk about his hopeful new book The Persuaders, positing that we can and must change things (like our politics) by changing minds (including our own); pull others in, don’t write them off. Lisa Lahey helps leaders embrace the change they want to make through behavior and mindset transformation. She explains that motivation is a prerequisite for change, but it’s not enough — we have to uncover the blind spots, competing commitments, and assumptions that are stopping us.
“If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, we aren’t really living.” — Gail Sheehy
Change is also at the heart of my coaching work (yes, I’m seeing clients now!) — deepening the capacity to do this or that, shifting old narratives into new ones, releasing and adopting behaviors.
Here are a few ways I am changing, bit by bit, practice by practice, day by day.
💃 My Body, My Guide 💃
In September 2020, six-ish months into the pandemic, my family was wearing masks while socially distancing outdoors and having weekly “where are you going, who are you seeing” mutual check-ins with our nanny. I was doing pro bono work for a COVID symptom screening app (aka grasping for some degree of control and impact amidst wild uncertainty and deep fear) while interviewing for my first full-time job since winding down my own company and becoming a parent. And I was still grappling with the fury and grief that I felt about my daughter’s preterm birth over a year before and all it meant for me, my family, and our lives moving forward.
We were…not good. So we decided to make a Hail Mary road trip to Whidbey Island, a place that brings us so much calm that we named our daughter after one of its beaches. The raging fires up and down the west coast forced a last-minute change in plans: we couldn’t safely drive and stop along the way, so we would fly. We stocked up on face shields, masks, hand sanitizer, and a good dose of denial and sublimation.
Meanwhile, I had been feeling depleted, achy all over, foggy brained, and overall off. With air travel looming, I set up a virtual doctor’s visit. After a brief and alarming video chat with a doctor I’d never met who thought I might have COVID, I scrambled to schedule a rapid PCR test and reschedule our flight so I’d have just enough time to get my results. My test came back negative, and we went on our stressful and restorative trip.
The next doctor I saw knew something I didn’t and have been learning ever since: my body had a message for me, I just wasn’t listening.
Exhaustion, aches and pains, inability to concentrate or focus: depression, not COVID, people! When the doc suggested I see a counselor, I remember laughing out loud with relief and aha-ness.
I’ve been a triathlete, I’ve given birth to a baby, I love to dance, I’m a hugger. I know my body’s mechanics, its capacity and its quirks, but now I’m learning to listen to its wisdom. I’ve lived in a Driven Body and a Collapsed Body; now I’m working to cultivate a Relaxed Body, an Open Body, a Grounded Body. I’m learning to stay centered in my own body so that I can be less reactive and more open.
Being aware of what’s going on in my body allows me to engage with my coaching clients, my family and friends, and anyone else I come across without losing contact with myself. I’m practicing sitting meditation to get grounded in my body, I’m reflecting regularly on which parts of myself I feel most connected to and what that’s like for me, and I’m trusting what my body is telling me even if my mind and heart haven’t caught up yet.
TIP: Your Body, Your Guide
One simple and accessible way to be more in tune with your body and to let it be the truth detector it is: observe and be aware of the breath in your body. When you are less centered, your breath tends to get shallower and trapped high up in your chest. If you notice that happening for you, pause, take a few minutes to breathe freely and deeply, in and out through your nose, filling up your belly with air. You can also check your posture and find a solid, upright pose filled with dignity and and stability.
🐢 Pace, Don’t Race or Chase 🐢
One of the first assignments for my coaching training program was to take on a brand new activity that would engage my beginner's mind and help me build empathy for future clients whom I'd be asking to adopt unfamiliar practices.
Thus began my frenzied deliberation, research, and anticipation. It was a toss-up between learning to play the harmonica and surfing. Since we already own a harmonica and I’m pretty musical, I decided the Blues Traveler path was too easy. Surfing, which terrified me, seemed like the “right” choice. My spreadsheet of safe, skilled, inclusive surfing instructors grew. I got advice from a friend’s brother who is a fitness and surfing coach. I watched Instagram videos that identified the different parts of a wave. The night before my first surf lesson, I dreamed of sharks and broken noses.
And then…my first lesson was just bliss.
I woke up at 5:50am. My husband and daughter were asleep, the sun had yet to rise. It was peaceful and I could feel those eager and adrenaline-fueled race day jitters I know well. I picked up my friend Jen — note: get yourself a friend like Jen who enthusiastically says “hell, yes!” to doing scary new things together — and we rolled up to the surf-iest beach shack in Venice where our instructor lives. We spent fewer than 5 minutes “learning” how to pop up on our boards in the middle of the living room, then we grabbed wetsuits from the closet and walked to the beach. No lesson on wave science, no more pop up practice, just into the water and at it!
Our teacher told me to think less. I did. He told us the waves could shift us at any second and we just had to be dominant right back while also respecting the power of the ocean. I dropped into my inner strength and focus. He spoke less, supported more. I learned.
My new motto (and my search for the most stylish wetsuit) was born that day.
Pace, don't race.
When I sense myself getting buzzy, operating at a frequency higher than a harmonica's vibrato, channeling the Energizer Bunny, it's time to stop, breathe, and slow down. Once I do that, I can start to get curious about what's going on underneath it all, because I’m definitely compensating for or covering up something. Am I scared? Feeling insecure? Defensive? When I’m honest with myself about what I’m feeling, I can accept and address those emotions or assumptions head on, rather than sweep them under the surfboard.
Recently, I excitedly added an addendum to my motto.
Pace, don't race OR chase.
Community, connection, sharing, intimacy — with myself, with others, with the divine — is my heart’s greatest desire. At my best, I accept and love myself, I show up authentically, and I experience the joy and privilege of relationship. I can also lose touch with myself and become competitive or turn on the charm, overly concerned with my image and what others think of me. I believe in myself, have a strong sense of purpose, and am intrinsically motivated to become the best version of myself, yet I also compare myself to others and I want to be special, to be admired and recognized. When I feel a lack of connection with someone, I can take it personally and shut down or shut them out.
When I catch myself chasing external validation or acceptance, I redirect and rest in the present with my genuine feelings and needs. I’m deepening my capacity to just be me and giving fewer f*cks. I’m allowing myself to do the things that make me feel giddy and stimulated, not just what gets me recognition or pleases others.
I’m also committed to deepening my most meaningful relationships, valuing quality over quantity. I’m investing in my friendship with myself, perhaps the most precious of all. Not chasing also makes room for serendipity and the generosity of others. When I slow down, I make space for others’ invitations and am available to say yes when they come my way.
TIP: Pace, don’t Race or Chase
A daily sitting meditation practice (I’ve worked up to 25 minutes per day most days) is a powerful counterbalance to all of the racing around and comparing or competing we do. It's also impossible to do it wrong — there's no right way to be — so this is an opportunity to just be yourself in your full expression with no external validation or personal expectations. Sitting is about embodying a strong and stable yet soft, compassionate presence.
🛑 I’m the Kind of Person Who… 🛑
When I returned to work after becoming a parent, I faced a major, if not common, identity crisis.
Up until that point, I had spent anywhere from 50 to 60 or more hours each week writing, creating, planning, meeting — with time to socialize and exercise to spare. I had experienced my share of stress and burnout, and I had learned not to confuse myself with the work that I do, but I had never given less than my all (and then some). I was the kind of person who had always gone above and beyond at work, aiming to surprise and delight my customers and colleagues with thorough and entertaining slide decks, personalized thank you gifts, and, yes, long hours and near-immediate email response times.
I didn’t think I couldn’t be any other kind of person or work in any other mode, even though everything around me was different now. My foundation — built, in part, upon my daughter’s NICU stay and a global pandemic that quickly followed — was shaky. I had a toddler who I wanted to see for more than 30 minutes every day. I had a husband and family and friends whom I wanted to make time to connect with during a period of social isolation that was hitting me hard. I cared about my colleagues, my company’s mission, and our customers, but I cared more about my own creativity, health, and flexibility.
I knew who I had been. I could see how far I’d come. I love and am proud of the me whose pure chutzpah, dedication, and drive got the me of today to where I am. Yet, I couldn’t imagine future me as anything other than the person I thought I was.
Every time a friend or coach or family member suggested that I reasonably give a little bit less to my job, knowing that it was still going to be pretty damn good, I was offended. “No. No way. I'm the kind of person who…” I worried about being less impressive, less effective, about my impact being limited. I wanted to show up like I always had at work — and then also shine in full force at home, with family and friends, in my community. But it was exhausting, painful, even inauthentic.
Most of us have changed with the times, often in increments too slow to recognize until something brings us face-to-face with something we once believed or accepted and now no longer do. — Rebecca Solnit, “Why Did We Stop Believing That People Can Change?”
Today, over two years later, I’m the kind of person who starts work no earlier than 9:30am, takes an hour to make (not microwave) lunch, finishes by 5:00pm at the absolute latest, rarely opens my computer at night other than on Thursday evenings which are set aside for writing (hey, reader!), hasn't designed a slide deck in longer than I can remember, and sometimes even finishes assignments a day late. I'm the kind of person who prioritizes family time, refuses to experience burnout, trusts the quality of my work without frills and bells and whistles on top, and generally feels a greater sense of balance.
The shift took — is still taking — time, many sessions with coaches and therapists, baby steps, introspection, loss and letting go, logistical and financial coordination with my husband, curiosity and openness, tradeoffs.
Anytime I hear myself starting a sentence with “I'm the kind of person who…” or “I'm not the kind of person who…” I stop. I know who I am today but who I will become is a mystery. I’m getting comfortable with the unknown and learning to live in deep intimacy with life as I ride its wave to true freedom. I’m holding everything tightly and loosely at the same time. I’m becoming who I’m always becoming.
TIP: Becoming who you’re always becoming
Regular journaling, whether responding to prompts or letting your thoughts (or images) flow freely, can be cathartic and help us learn from our experiences. I like to journal after I meditate, when I’m feeling inspired or bursting with thoughts, or right before bed, when I want to unburden myself of any stress or anxiety. I try to incorporate reflections about my relationships with others and my experience of my body (including my mind and my heart), as well as jot down any actions I might take based on my observations from that day.
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This is a sporadic newsletter by Danya Shults offering a smorgasbord of Danya-y content. If someone forwarded this to you and you liked what you read, subscribe below to get the next issue in your inbox.