“It is good to listen. If you listen carefully, without always passing judgment, you will enter into the very heart of the creature to whom you pay attention. You will begin to grow the flowers of your soul. Then all of nature will whisper to you her secrets.” (p. 161)

Michael, E.J. (1995).  Queen of the sun:  A modern revelation.  San Francisco:  Harper Collins.

“One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people can be.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, “How was the trip?”

 ”It was great, Dad.”

 ”Did you see how poor people can be?” the father asked.

 ”Oh Yeah” said the son.

 ”So what did you learn from the trip?” asked the father proudly.

 The son answered, I saw that we have one dog and they had four.

 We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.

 We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.

 Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

 We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.

 We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.

 We buy our food, but they grow theirs.

 We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them.”

 With this the boy’s father was speechless. Then his son added, “Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are.”

( June 4, 2010, http://www.khamneithang.blogspot.com/ )

Something in the story below reminds us of the need for leaders to listen, even to the smallest of impulses, and of what happens when they don’t:

“Over the years, a practical and materialistic society can usurp the original mystery of childhood. We are sent to school early to “grow up,” to “be serious,” and if we don’t let go of our childhood innocence, all too often the world tries to knock it out of us. A hundred years ago the American painter James McNeill Whistler encountered this attitude in his engineering class at West Point Military Academy. The students were instructed to draw a careful study of a bridge, and Whistler submitted a beautifully detailed picturesque stone arch with children fishing from its top. The lieutenant in charge ordered, “This is a military exercise. Get those children off the bridge.” Whistler resubmitted the drawing with the two children now fishing from the side of the river. “I said get those children completely out of the picture,” said the angry lieutenant. So Whistler’s last version had the river, the bridge, and two small tombstones along its bank.”

Kornfield, J.  (2000).  After the ecstasy, the laundry:  How the heart grows wise on the spiritual path.  New York:  Bantam, p. 9. 10

I think of the following story when I reflect on the conditioning of our minds, behaviors, and the burdens we carry that limit our freedom:

“A young monk who was seeking “freedom” searched far and wide throughout all of Asia.  He traveled from India, to Burma, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam in search of the one who was free.  In every country, he would ask the villagers if they knew of this being. Alas, many had heard of him, but none were sure of where to find him. Finally, near the end of his journey the young monk heard of an old man who lived up on the mountain who might be the one he was seeking.  So with what energy he had left he started his trek up the slope.  Nearly half way up he noticed, as though in a dream, an old man walking toward him with an enormous bundle slung over his shoulder.  As he approached the man he asked, “excuse me, but are you the enlightened one?”  The old man replied, “I don’t think so.”  “Then are you the one who is free, free of all suffering?” he queried.  “No, I don’t believe that I am.”  “Then are you the Buddha?” he demanded.  “No,” replied the old man.  “Then what are you?” the young monk pleaded.  With this question the old man dropped his burden and replied; “I am awake.” As the younger man stood watching, the old man picked up his enormous bundle and continued down the mountain.” -As told by Timothy Dukes, September 2004

Clarity of Purpose can be thought of as prudence, as defined by David Brooks in his article questioning the leadership capacity of Sarah Palin: “It is the ability to grasp the unique pattern of a specific situation. It is the ability to absorb the vast flow of information and still discern the essential current of events – the things that go together and the things that will never go together. It is the ability to engage in complex deliberations and feel which arguments have the most weight. How is prudence acquired? Through experience. The prudent leader possesses a repertoire of events, through personal involvement or the study of history, and can apply those models to current circumstances to judge what is important and what is not, who can be persuaded and who can’t, what has worked and what hasn’t.”

Clarity of Purpose, from this perspective, is not simply based on your personal intention. It emerges from a dynamic involvement with your years of experience and the reciprocal understanding that evolves from the experience of the people you trust and work with.

One of the best ways to recognize your worth is to have a clear understanding of how your behaviors come across to other people; your employees, colleagues, clients or friends and family. – I am just off the phone with a friend of mine. She consults with individuals and companies to help them understand who they are, what they do, and how to take this understanding into their personal and professional lives. I consistently find that when I am speaking with her, I clearly recognize myself as she formulates and expresses how she perceives me and my work. She becomes a mirror and steadies our connection so that I can see myself in her understanding of me. I recognize the value, not so much because I see and accept myself, but because of how she expresses her experience of how she perceives me.

This relationally activated recognition of self and worth, refreshes and supports my experience to such a degree that I literally recover a deeper – felt sense of who I am and of how I am being perceived. It is as though my “worth” is market driven; it is based on how value is determined by those who are invested in having a relationship with me.

Recognition of self and worth becomes the currency with which we learn to more deeply value who we are. And it has value to the degree that we value our relationships with one another. Take a look at one of your relationships today and greet with curiosity that person you are as perceived by that person you are with.

Ref: Goldsmith, Marshall. 2007. What got you here won’t get you there. New York: Hyperion 

“I remember the time, as a boy, when I had this bicycle with a wobbly wheel. Everywhere I went my journey was difficult. The front wheel of my bicycle rotated seemingly with a will of its own. First to the right and then to the left I would careen down the road.

When I finally earned enough money to take care of the problem, twenty-five cents as I recall, I zigged and zagged across the boulevard to the garage of old Mr. Oberwagner. As I approached his driveway, there he sat smoking his cigar; open from 2 to 5pm each day in time to catch the after school traffic of kids just like me, in need of an adjustment, a repair, a replacement or an over-hall.

I remember this as though it were happening today. After surveying the problem he grunts and says “there is a solution!” To my amazement and surprise, he states that a simple adjustment is all that is required to address this seemingly incomprehensible problem.

He walks over to his bright red tool box. He lifts the lid and takes in hand the tiniest of tools. His “spoke adjuster,” as he calls it. With two, three, perhaps four simple turns of the spokes, right at the hub of the wheel, the outer rim groans into alignment. Then one more tap, a little bit of oil, and he sends me on my way.

The wheel now turns true. And I am heading home.”

©Timothy Dukes January 2005

  Above Image: www.hopscotchtechnology.com/…/boy_on_bike.jpg

Commentary
In the above vignette there appears to be no agenda, no method, and no intention on the father’s part but to be with his boy. Perhaps nothing was gained, yet certainly nothing was lost in this gentle interaction.

This interchange was influenced by the context and the state of the father’s psyche. In that moment the father appears free of conflicting demands which could have predetermined his psychological, emotional, and behavioral posturing. What took place in the father’s psyche, both conscious and unconscious, is of interest. How he entered the room could have been conditioned by numerous potential influences. He could have been carrying a judgement of how long he feels his boy should sleep and of how he should wake up. When told to “go,” there was fertile ground for intrapsychic intrusion on the part of the father. He could have allowed dozens of alternative responses (i.e., his feelings could have been hurt). Yet, quite simply, he got up and walked out of the room. How did he do that? In addition, what message did he leave with his son as communicated by his body posture, breathing pattern, words, and gestures? These actions are also grounds for choice or subject to defensive responses. Could these responses have been determined by the degree of awareness brought to the situation?” – Dukes, Timothy P. (1995). Father Mindfulness: The psychodynamics of loving attention. Ph.D. dissertation.

Above Image: www.sydney-australien.de/…/DSC01937_xl.jpg

Dinner is ready, places set, our first family  meal at our first new piece of furniture. We are happy and excited; we bless our food. I hand our boy his metal spoon and without hesitation he expresses his delight by banging it on top of the table. I notice immediately the small crescent shaped dents multiplying with every “bang,” and I urgently reach out to stop him. Holding his hand for a moment, as though suspended in a dream, I realize that this will be the nature of our life together – As perfect as I will try to make it, life will accumulate dents. Small dents that will, over time, replace the well conceive plans – life that is real – made - evoked by the impact that we have on one another.

I let go.

(© Timothy Dukes, Fathering Journal, 2010)