Snoop Blog

We have a fire bowl that sits a few feet away from our deck in the back yard. It’s great for these cool autumn evenings. We love sitting around it, drinking wine, making smores. . . Okay, we’ve done that twice in 10 years, but still, it was fun. Recently, my husband started a fire in the bowl while our 6 month old granddog, Snoop, (yes, that’s right, Snoop Dogg) was outside. I watched from the kitchen window worrying, because, after all, that’s what I do, that Snoop would get too close to the fire and hurt himself. He walked to the edge of the deck, stretching his shoulders and neck as far out as he could toward the fire, with his nose in the air, nostrils flaring. He breathed deeply in and out, several times. Then he promptly turned around and walked the other way.

After a careful assessment the baby dog knew that fire was something to avoid. His instincts told him. It left me standing there wondering about a few things. Like, for instance, why his instincts don’t tell him not to eat paper towels, or highlighters, or lunch money. But, I digress. The thing that really caused me to take notice was that he took the time to investigate something new, from a curious but safe vantage point, and when he determined it was not a good thing he wasted no time in removing himself from proximity to it.

You know where I’m going with this, right? Why, if our animal friends are savvy enough to trust their instincts, is it so hard for we humans to do the same? I can think of about a bazillion instances when I, or a friend, or a family member, or a coaching client, approach a situation, maybe something new and flashy and enticing like a bright orange flame on an autumn night, and despite the fact that our instincts jump up and down, shouting No! Wait! Don’t! Think about this!, we walk right into the fiery mess and get burned.

Or, we find ourselves engaged in an activity or a relationship that just doesn’t feel right. We can’t really say why, exactly. But on some core, physical, solar plexus level, something is amiss. Do we immediately extricate ourselves, trusting that to do so will serve us well? Uh, not really. Typically we hang around long after we know better, allowing what might have been just a superficial little burn to deepen and fester until we are truly and lastingly wounded, now requiring months of healing work to regain our “normalcy,” wherever our spot on that continuum might fall.

I’m not sure when we learn to disconnect from our instincts. Maybe it’s when we start listening to others telling us what we want, or feel, or think, or like. The origin of the phenomenon isn’t really the issue. The issue is tuning back in. Being willing to fiddle with our inner dials until the instinctual intuition is loud and clear again, and then LISTENING! Taking to heart what our hearts tell us.

Take a minute each day to practice listening. And, if you’re lucky enough to have kin in the animal kingdom, watch and learn. Investigate new opportunities and adventures openly and fully, with nose in the air and nostrils flaring. Determine if what you’re feeling, deep down, gut-level feeling, is attraction or avoidance. Then follow that instinct confidently into the future.

The Jail of Negativity

After watching countless hours of coverage about the search for, discovery and demise of Osama Bin Laden some months back, I was struck by the tremendous amounts of negative energy some humans are willing to invest in their existence. I wondered whether during those last few moments of his life, he thought it was worth it.

It’s true he had not been in “custody” for the decade post Sept. 11, but to my mind, he was imprisoned nonetheless, trapped within the tall walls of the compound for 5-6 years, venturing out only once a day. Sure sounds like incarceration to me.

I find when people choose to embrace a mindset of negativity and exclusion, they not only bar others from coming in, but encage themselves, too. There’s the family member who stays home from all the gatherings rather than to extend civility to someone who slighted him or her years ago, the person who blares their car horn and flips off the driver next to them for some perceived infraction of traffic norms, leaving other drivers shaking their heads and seeking distance, the co-worker who would rather be silent day after day than to be the first to say good morning.

Such acts of iron will for such ill will. Imagine what could be if the same level of determination were applied to finding the common ground from which to form a partnership, or at least a peaceful place of disagreement, or even, hold onto your hat, forgiveness.

Consider the signs for negative – and positive+. The negative sign is linear, stark, and alone. The positive sign shows two paths converging at a midpoint, a sort of coming together of two parts to form something new. A cooperative intersection for good.

I recognize no one, least of all me, is constantly positive and all sweetness and light. Still, when negativity pervades one’s existence it’s incredibly destructive. Not toward the perceived external enemy, but to the enemy within. One doesn’t have to be Osama Bin Laden to harbor negativity. It’s an issue for many of us, albeit on a comparatively infinitesimal scale. But, unlike Osama, we all have the opportunity to make a shift. We can consciously decide to step out of the jail of negativity, embracing positive energy to ourselves and extending it to others.

The next time negativity rises, leading to feelings of separateness and exclusion, envision the + and work toward an intersection of heart and mind that allows positive energy to flow to you and from you. That positive energy will unlock the jail of negativity and set you free.

Feathering Nests

I’ve been pondering the phrase “feathering your nest” a lot lately. In fact, I think I want to take my life coaching into a realm that addresses that concept in various situations. I started thinking about it because my nest, while not yet empty, has become more spacious. What’s more, the flight of my youngest chick looms within sight. So, as I’ve been thinking about that, about my role as parent shifting again, I’ve been considering what it means to have a nest that suddenly becomes a bit more airy. Like so many stages, it’s an adjustment. It’s a time of fresh possibility, for reflection and for choosing how to move forward. It’s a time when the nest seems to need a bit of “feathering” of one sort or another.

While contemplating all that it occurred to me that most people have times when they discover their nest needs feathering, even if they don’t have chicks tumbling out. For some it may be after a work-life transition, say from a very demanding work schedule to one that’s less so, or after completing a major project, or even when shifting into retirement mode. For others it may be after leaving a long-term relationship, or losing a loved one, or when grandchildren move away, or a best friend leaves town. Suddenly, where before there were responsibilities, demands, phone calls, lunches, or companionship, now there is space. Something is gone and a void is in its place.

Those are nest feathering occasions, times to rearrange things a bit, to fill some of that space with something that brings joy, excitement, and satisfaction. The possibilities are endless, but the process requires a willingness to investigate, to take a chance, to try something new, to be open to change. Feathering a nest isn’t about just filling it up, it’s about enhancing it, improving it, transforming it into the newest version of what feels right and good and true.

I’m making plans to feather my semi-empty nest by doing more of what I love to do, writing and life coaching. And I’m jazzed about what’s ahead. I’m also inspired to help others discover how they want to feather their nests. For sure it’s not a one size fits all proposition. The designs of our nests are as individual and unique as are our fingerprints. Those designs reflect our progress on our journey, and they change in substance and style over time, just like we do.

Regardless of whether your nest has a gaping hole, or just a little space around the edges, feathering, at its finest, should never be about slapping a few spindly twigs into place. No, I see feathering as an art form, where careful consideration goes into the selection of just the right touches to make our nests true reflections of our personalities and our priorities.

If there’s space in your nest, start the quest today. I’m confident you’ll find feathering feels an awful lot like fulfillment.

The Sound of Hope

I didn’t see the entire speech President Obama made in Tucson Wednesday night, but I saw a lot of it. Regardless of one’s politics, I think it would be difficult to find fault with his message. In my opinion, those who continue to put up walls of division and refuse to compromise are completely irresponsible. Where do people get off thinking they can just refuse to hear an opposing view? It’s like working on a group project at work, or being in a marriage, or chairing a committee at your church, you don’t get your way all the time. HELLO! In fact, often no one person gets his or her way, but rather a new and better way is forged that is an amalgamation of thoughts, ideas and energy. That’s the beauty of working together – synergy – together we are greater than the sum of our parts. But if no one is willing to let go of their idea, or to listen to the idea of another, synergy cannot manifest.

In any group endeavor it’s essential to first identify the goal. Whether that goal is to create a successful new product or to maintain a loving relationship, identifying the interest held in common marks the point where beliefs, efforts and energies meet and begin to build momentum. It’s no different on a national scale. To truly move forward in this country we have to find a point where our beliefs converge on a goal that we seek and then move forward from there, keeping the mission in mind and always referring back to it if we begin to drift too far in one direction or another. If the only point on which we can agree is that we all want to be safe, then that’s where we start.

You see, I’m of the opinion that we all have much in common. Oh sure, we’re all individuals with unique gifts, but, let’s face it, we have a lot of similarities. We want good health care with a realistic price tag. We want our kids to grow up and have opportunities to be successful in a country where people feel safe and valued and free. We want to be heard and acknowledged when we have a concern. We want to believe that our leaders want what’s best for us, as a nation, more than they want to be a sound bite on CNN or Fox News.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I think all that’s reasonable and possible. Here’s the challenge though, it requires us to set aside egos and work together toward the goal, being willing to do whatever we can to get there. That’s likely going to include some painful letting go and some uncomfortable reaching out, but there is no other way. Anyone who has worked successfully with others knows that. There will never be true progress without concessions, compromises, and sacrifices. Those things aren’t glamorous, for sure, but they are real and worthy efforts toward a better outcome that will last more than a day or an administration. That’s what I heard Wednesday night and to me it sounded like hope.

Bring on the New Year

This year our Christmas tree dried out very quickly. By a few days after Christmas it was so brittle I decided to commence with the undecorating process. Like usual I approached the task with a mix of dread and anticipation. I hate the tedious taking off of ornaments and then picking up 3.2 million prickly pine needles. All that before even beginning to drag the not-so-evergreen out the door, spewing aged water and 4 million more needles during the exodus.

But, anyway, it has to be done, so I do it. The good part, the part that I anticipate, if not with true eagerness at least with a little bit of relief, is how big and clear my living room looks once the tree’s out. It feels absolutely expansive and suddenly cleaner and lighter. It was especially so this year. I’m telling you, I felt like doing a cartwheel. And if not for the risk of breaking a hip, I would have.

Instead I stood there feeling all positive about the dead tree out of the room and the open space and light where it had been. In that moment I realized I could stand to do a little mental undecorating of my attitudes and angst. I decided to drag out some of the dusty, brittle, and outdated worries and disappointments packed away in my mind’s attic, and toss them right out there in the side yard alongside my now horizontal Christmas tree. And from that moment forward I’ve been a new woman, humming and skipping through blissful days.

Well, okay, that’s not exactly how it went, but I have been making efforts to do more “out with the old” to make room for some new and it has been good. A new year is the right time to realize that you can’t grab an opportunity if you’re using both hands to hold onto the past. All that undecorating broadened my living room and my horizons simply by clearing out what was finished to make room for what’s becoming. The space is there and so are the possibilities. I think it’s going to be a really happy new year.