William Stafford, “Ask Me”
Some time when the river is ice ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life. Others have come in their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt: ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made. I will listen to what you say. You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say.
“Ask me whether what I have done is my life.” If you had asked me that question at the beginning of December 2021, I would have been ashamed of my answer. 2020 & 2021 (the pandemic years I like to call them), had challenged me in ways that I never could have imagined, in turn, revealing parts of myself that I struggled to accept.
In those two years, my grandmother passed away, my mother was furloughed and had surgery on a cancerous tumor, my dad’s restaurant stalled and he got stuck in Bangladesh during a 3-month lockdown, my bootstrapped startup failed to become sustainable, my friend group dispersed, and my girlfriend and I began growing apart.
I responded to these situations in my typical go-getter fashion. I surmised what needed to be done, put on my fix-it hat, and tried to *solve* these “problems”. I moved cities, launching a frenetic travel regimen between Atlanta, Philly, NY, and wherever else so that I could be with all of my core relationships. I took on gig work to augment the income from my nonprofit job in order to better support my loved ones financially. I doubled down on the startup journey, launching new side projects until taking a position to run Venture for America’s startup accelerator and apply the learnings to my own business. And, finally, I applied to graduate school at Stanford, seeking to fulfill a long-time dream of my family’s.
But, as I tried to make it all work, I began to grow frustrated when things didn’t seem to change, spiraling through a cornucopia of “ugly feelings” - bitterness, cynicism, envy, fear, guilt, inadequacy, loneliness - that began to color my perspective and behavior.
Time to Make a Change
By the end of the year, I was not proud of who I was. It is said that when the going gets tough, a person’s true character is revealed and the answer disappointed me. I was 25 and felt far from the person I wanted to be, not just from a career standpoint but behaviorally, as well. Though the past two years had been particularly challenging, this same downward spiral tended to appear whenever I felt overwhelmed by pressure and perceived setbacks. The cycle had to stop.
But, having no idea where to begin, I reset everything. I decided not to continue on with Venture for America, and instead drove from New York with half of my belongings to the mountains of Asheville, North Carolina.
Mountain Light Sanctuary
Nestled in the forests of the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains lies the Moutain Light Sanctuary, a quirky DIY village built over 25 years by an even quirkier self-identified part-Elvin founder. While researching to determine where I would conduct my reflection, I found Mountain Light appealing for its commitment to weirdness (it describes itself as a “refuge from consensus reality”), its remoteness in nature (I had to drive 30 minutes off-road out of signal to get to the place), and its pan-spiritual perspective.
Typically, when the trees are leafless and winter is in full force, the Sanctuary reserves its space for folks on solitary retreats, for people struggling to find their next step. In the silence of the forest, my days were filled primarily with the sounds of the streams and the howling of the winds. Day in and day out, I meandered the sanctuary’s grounds, following the Sun’s path, chatting with the Sanctuary’s fascinating cast of long-term residents, meditating, and writing down what came to me. The catalyst for much of my reflection; however, came from a book that I had brought with me - Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation by Parker Palmer.
Project Light not Shadow
Parker Palmer is an educational leader and frequent On Being contributor who focuses on topics within education, community, leadership, spirituality, and democracy. A mentor of mine based in the Netherlands recommended Let Your Life Speak book to our startup team earlier in the year as a resource to help the young adults we served navigate “transitioning into adulthood”. I never got to the book then, but lo and behold, it turned out that I was the one who needed it. Let Your Life Speak is excellent for someone who feels as though they have lost their way and wishes to evolve into a light who lifts those around them. The most profound section of the book explains the shadows within many leaders that both diminish their light and get projected onto their teams and communities, shadows which I had seen in myself.
The 5 Shadows
Insecurity about Identity and Worth: Considering many leaders are often extroverted, this shadow can be hard to see. But, extroversion can sometimes develop as a way to cope with self-doubt. Examples of how this shadow can manifest are: plunging into external activity to prove we are worthy (or to evade the question altogether) or becoming depressed when an external role is taken away. When projected, leaders with this shadow may attempt to buttress the identities of those around them in order to feel superior.
Fear of Losing: Many leaders can get obsessed with beating the other, seeing the universe as a zero-sum battleground. Examples of this shadow are: using imagery of warfare to talk about work or implying a dire need to be fiercely competitive. When projected, folks around a leader may quite literally feel as if they are at war, failing to see cooperative ways of doing things and creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Bearing Total Responsibility: On its face, this shadow seems noble. However, assuming that whether something good or bad happens rests entirely in your hands can manifest quite perniciously. This mindset can lead us to impose our will on others, stressing our relationships, sometimes to the point of breaking. It can lead to burnout, depression, and despair when we soon realize that the world does not bend to our will. It can also lead us to struggle to tolerate distance or silence by creating anxiety that if something good is not happening then we must be failing.
Fear of Natural Chaos: In order to avoid any messiness that may threaten to overwhelm us, leaders can sometimes structure and organize things to an extreme. This shadow can appear in the form of rigid rules and procedures that end up being more imprisoning than empowering. Projecting this shadow can lead to the stifling of dissent, new ideas, challenges, and change.
Denial of Death: Our culture tends to operate with a denial that everything will one day end or die. Leaders who project this denial often keep resuscitating things that are no longer alive. Lurking underneath this denial is a fear of failure, of seeing something die “under your watch”. We see this shadow when we keep pushing others towards something even when there is no longer any energy for it.
In his book, Palmer shares his experience identifying the shadows as they appeared in his life and how he grew through them. As I read his takeaways, I discovered a set of questions that I had never asked myself.
Asking Myself New Questions
What are my limits?
Palmer: “But as pilgrims must discover if they are to complete their quest, we are led to truth by our weaknesses as well as our strengths. We can learn as much about our nature by running into our limits as by experiencing our potentials. I ask them instead to help each other see how limitations and liabilities are the flip side of our gifts, how a particular weakness is the inevitable tradeoff for a particular strength.”
Reflection Question: Where did I feel like I hit a limit on myself? What did that teach me? What are the consequences of the gifts that I have?
Where is home?
Palmer: “There are some roles and relationships in which we thrive and others in which we wither and die.”
Reflection Question: Where do I feel like I am not enough, and where do I not even think about that?
What is actually within my reach?
Palmer: “There are some things I "ought" to do or be that are simply beyond my reach. If I try to be or do something noble that has nothing to do with who I am, I may look good to others and to myself for a while. But the fact that I am exceeding my limits will eventually have consequences. I will distort myself, the other, and our relationship-and may end up doing more damage than if I had never set out to do this particular "good." When I try to do something that is not in my nature or the nature of the relationship, the way will close behind me.”
Reflection Question: What are some things that seem like the ‘right’ thing to do in my mind, but did not make sense for me on a day-to-day basis?
What can I truly give?
Palmer: “When I give something I do not possess, I give a false and dangerous gift, a gift that looks like love but is, in reality, loveless - a gift given more from my need to prove myself than from the other's need to be cared for. That kind of giving is not only loveless but faithless, based on the arrogant and mistaken notion that God has no way of channeling love to the other except through me.”
Reflection Question: What have I tried giving in the past couple of years that held the expectation of reciprocity? What are some ways that I have given without actually have something to give? Why did I try giving that way?
How do I let go?
Palmer: “When a way closes behind us, it is tempting to regard it simply as the result of some strategic error: had I been smarter or stronger, that door would not have slammed shut, so if I redouble my efforts, I may be able to batter it down. But that is a dangerous temptation. When I resist way closing rather than taking guidance from it, I may be ignoring the limitations inherent in my nature-which dishonors true self no less than ignoring the potentials I received as birthright gifts.”
Reflection Questions: When have I tried to force something that was closing? When something ended outside of my decision, what did it reveal to me about myself?
Getting Into My Life & Living the Questions
As I sat with this long list of questions, excited by the prospect of finally figuring everything out, nothing came. I had vague ideas of some answers to the questions based, but none that I could write with lasting conviction. Towards the end of Let Your Life Speak, Palmer writes, “If we, as leaders, are to cast less shadow and more light, we need to ride certain monsters all the way down, explore the shadows they create, and experience the transformation that can come as we "get into" our own lives.”
The chronicles of the past two years felt incomplete. I still harbored unanswered questions: “were certain ways actually closed?”, “had I given everything my best shot?”, “what if I tried a different approach?”. As my time at Mountain Light waned towards its end, I felt a powerful itch to get back into my life. “I don’t need to reset,” I thought, “I need to go towards what I want with more patience, gratitude, and follow-through!”
I knew answering Palmer’s questions would help me transform as a person and a leader, but as Rilke famously wrote to a young poet, these questions needed to be lived more before I could answer them. So, I identified the unresolved “big” questions that I believed to be contributing to turmoil in my life and created an action plan to answer them over the next year.
The Questions:
Where is my home? And, what makes a place my home?
What dreams and desires that I carry are mine? And, what are others’?
What are my strengths/gifts and my weaknesses/limits?
What are the problems I want to solve? What roles do I thrive in and what roles do I wither?
How will I continue growing my family and our legacy?
Who is my extended family? Who is my tribe? What is the broader community I want to build and grow? And, how do I live and stay connected with those relationships?
What is the spiritual path and tradition I will follow?
For my next steps, I chose to pursue experiences and activities that would push me out of my comfort zone. I also wanted to follow through on arcs to their end and reconnect with communities and people with whom I felt supported and encouraged.
Some Next Steps:
Return to Atlanta and be intentional about my family relationships
Complete a mandala of the Isha Kriya Meditation
Return to New York and follow through on my intentions
Return to Ecuador and launch a project with the San Clemente community
Dive into Web3 DAOs, Writing, and Community Building
Consult different organizations I believe in
Apply to graduate school again
I’m going to make it happen, I resolved. I would figure out my shit, break the cylical rut I found myself in, and become the person I’d be proud of.
Who is in control?
But, was I really in control of this process?
The last activity on my retreat was to grab a quick coffee with a friend/mentor/former boss’s older sister, Elizabeth, who lived in the city and occasionally conducted silent retreats of her own. As Elizabeth and I sat in the senior care facility that she led, I excitedly told her my story: from the fatigue and confusion I carried when I began to the questions and action plan I had just created.
Through it all, she listened intently, not judging the story I told. As I finished my account, I dropped my exuberance, resigned in my chair, and admitted my doubts, “I hope this all works out…” With a confidence that I could not yet fathom, she assured me, “All of these questions that you put out into the universe, they have already begun the process of sorting themselves. All you have to do is sit back and observe.”
But, I was scared. Going with the flow and letting the universe run its course had brought me to this situation, I thought. How could I grow if I was not the one making it happen? I needed to feel like I had some sort of control over this process of becoming who I want to be. I could not just be a spectator.
“I’d like to think we co-create our destinies with the universe, fifty-fifty,” flashing a grin to mask the fear I had. Elizabeth laughed, “After each silent retreat over the years, I keep coming back to the idea that I’m just an observer to all of this,” she flourished her hands in a broad circle, “and the more I realize that my task is to be as loving and grateful as I can for the chance to be able to experience it all through the vessel that is me,” she brought her hands back towards her self.
Driving to Atlanta, I couldn't help but wonder, “Was Elizabeth right?”. Even this new path that lay before me was a consequence of a book spontaneously recommended to me by someone who had been randomly assigned to me by an accelerator program.
I shook my head. That’s the problem! I keep letting the world sway me. I continued on, both uncertain and fired up for the year awaiting me.
I share this piece nearly six months after I embarked on my retreat. I’ve completed nearly all of the adventures I had laid out in my action plan, as well as ones that I never could have foreseen. The journey has had some great serendipitous moments alongside others that were much harder to accept. I’ve learned new habits and rewired my thinking in order to navigate the prolonged uncertainty I faced as I stuck towards my intentions, wherever they took me. But, through it all, I kept perennially asking myself: How do we grow into the selves we wish to be? How do we change? Who is in control? I’ll be sharing stories from this long adventure over the coming weeks and the lessons they taught me. Through those stories, perhaps we may gain a better understanding of those questions. Life’s a wild ride!
Shadman
✨