When yes is freed from reason it becomes an agent of commitment, of boldness, of possibility. When no is backed by excuses, it masks the truth of our limitations, and ensures that those chains continue to bind us.
What a great story, Rick... didn't end up where I thought it was going, which was lovely. You've left me pondering the question you never really asked but certainly implied through your own ponderings. When is my "yes" an authentic, free, and fully all-in "yes" -- and when is my "no" simply avoidance for whatever the reason. "No," can certainly be utterly appropriate and authentic, but it can also be a way my ego cheats me out of a genuine "yes" or a purpose-filled, "no."
Curious where you thought it was going. I really like, a "purpose-filled no" - which is the alternative to the "no" as an escape route. No matter our decision, if we're deceiving ourselves with our yes or no it spells trouble, and yes or no with clarity is a yes to who we really are.
I just didn't see it boiling down to such simple but powerful quintessence -- why we say yes or no -- and what an essential self-examination that becomes for our own authenticity and integrity.
Yes to this: “I just didn't see it boiling down to such simple but powerful quintessence -- why we say yes or no -- and what an essential self-examination that becomes for our own authenticity and integrity.”
Everyone else was watching the performance under the lights on stage. Thank you for sharing the play that was happening between your ears. And I love the point that every piece of artwork we see is a mirror reflecting back who we are at that moment in time.
When I sat down to tell this story this week I didn't anticipate this theme of reviewing the quality of our yeses and nos. I'm walking away with renewed commitment to transform my affirmations and denials into "yeses well spent" and "purpose-filled nos" - a term that Chris Harding coined here in the comments.
Kathy already pointed out your idea that really stood out for me, but this one is a close second: "Personal storytelling is a safe place to own one’s strengths rather than dismissing them, and to face one’s weaknesses instead of avoiding them."
Bam. Bulls-eye. (I just sent both sentences to myself via email. Gotta ponder them a lot more.)
It's been said that "You're only as sick as your secrets," and I admire your willingness to pull your own covers and admit a human imperfection. That you're willing to circle back and review your decision speaks volumes about your character ... and the power of storytelling.
Maybe we need a corollary like, "you're only as well as the number of stories you tell." There's a question I often pull out for myself when I feel stuck or like I'm treading water, which is, "What am I defending?" Letting go of whatever I'm defending produces remarkable movement in life. I hadn't told any about this experience before and sharing it brings a kind of closure to an energetic leak I've carried in the background for a long time. I think that's the principle behind how secrets make us sick, because they require energy to protect, and when your energy is being drained for pretense it's hard to be up to other healthy activity.
I'm learning – kicking and screaming, of course (are you listening, Larry's ego?) – that one of the best ways to reveal what's being defended or protected is by reflecting the underlying story ... and by writing about it. And the way to most effectively leverage this process to greatest positive effect is by sharing it with others.
I remember seeing The Wiz on Broadway when I was a teen and watching Gregory Hines play the scarecrow. Dang could that dude move. I think I've wanted a shot at that role in that musical ever since. Alas, the vehicle is no longer in the kind of shape that could do the role justice. Maybe if they re-stage the production as The Wiz Revisited with Dorothy having a recurring visit to OZ at age 60 I could land the part.
'What more could you want from [playing the role of] a king?' is a great question. This essay is deeply and subtly provocative, in that focusing on the contrast between the yes and the no, both are called into question and 'freed from reason.' It occurs to me that on some level your friend, working so hard, and committed on so many levels actually needed and wanted to play that role of the king (what an evocative picture!) more than you did? What if, on a deeply intuitive level, you wanted to give yourself this opportunity to reflect on how you use excuses to both limit, and free, yourself? This really is the potency of a good story, to offer many dimensions from which to explore choices and commitments...
That's a great question. I need to think about that one, but I'd have to assume that I have regretted a yes. I find defaulting in that direction very useful though, because regretting a yes is way less common than regretting a no for me. Even if you get yourself into something that is unpleasant for a while based on a yes, you're still on the playing field, learning things and gaining experience. No cuts all of that off at the knees and you never know what you missed. At least with a yes that's regrettable you know exactly what was on offer.
Super helpful reminder:
When yes is freed from reason it becomes an agent of commitment, of boldness, of possibility. When no is backed by excuses, it masks the truth of our limitations, and ensures that those chains continue to bind us.
This nails it... thanks, Kathy. And, oh yeah, thanks Rick!
Kathy, that's *exactly* what I was going to highlight in my own comment ... but ya beat me to it! It really is a very profound thought.
Thanks Kathy.
Thank you for your honesty, your self awareness, and your profound vulnerability.
Thank you very much Amba.
What a great story, Rick... didn't end up where I thought it was going, which was lovely. You've left me pondering the question you never really asked but certainly implied through your own ponderings. When is my "yes" an authentic, free, and fully all-in "yes" -- and when is my "no" simply avoidance for whatever the reason. "No," can certainly be utterly appropriate and authentic, but it can also be a way my ego cheats me out of a genuine "yes" or a purpose-filled, "no."
Curious where you thought it was going. I really like, a "purpose-filled no" - which is the alternative to the "no" as an escape route. No matter our decision, if we're deceiving ourselves with our yes or no it spells trouble, and yes or no with clarity is a yes to who we really are.
I just didn't see it boiling down to such simple but powerful quintessence -- why we say yes or no -- and what an essential self-examination that becomes for our own authenticity and integrity.
Oh cool, thanks Chris. Your phrase "purpose-filled no" is still lingering with me.
Yes to this: “I just didn't see it boiling down to such simple but powerful quintessence -- why we say yes or no -- and what an essential self-examination that becomes for our own authenticity and integrity.”
Perfectly put Chris. Beautifully told Rick.
Everyone else was watching the performance under the lights on stage. Thank you for sharing the play that was happening between your ears. And I love the point that every piece of artwork we see is a mirror reflecting back who we are at that moment in time.
Yes, you've spoken so usefully yourself to that theme of art reflecting ourselves. Thanks for being an audience to my inner play.
Yes can be a remarkably liberating word
What's the last thing you said "yes" to?
Staying over at some friends' place the other night. Ended up spending the next day with them and having a delightful time.
Nice. A yes well spent.
I love that...a yes well spent
When I sat down to tell this story this week I didn't anticipate this theme of reviewing the quality of our yeses and nos. I'm walking away with renewed commitment to transform my affirmations and denials into "yeses well spent" and "purpose-filled nos" - a term that Chris Harding coined here in the comments.
I dig it
What a thought-provoking essay, Rick.
Kathy already pointed out your idea that really stood out for me, but this one is a close second: "Personal storytelling is a safe place to own one’s strengths rather than dismissing them, and to face one’s weaknesses instead of avoiding them."
Bam. Bulls-eye. (I just sent both sentences to myself via email. Gotta ponder them a lot more.)
It's been said that "You're only as sick as your secrets," and I admire your willingness to pull your own covers and admit a human imperfection. That you're willing to circle back and review your decision speaks volumes about your character ... and the power of storytelling.
Maybe we need a corollary like, "you're only as well as the number of stories you tell." There's a question I often pull out for myself when I feel stuck or like I'm treading water, which is, "What am I defending?" Letting go of whatever I'm defending produces remarkable movement in life. I hadn't told any about this experience before and sharing it brings a kind of closure to an energetic leak I've carried in the background for a long time. I think that's the principle behind how secrets make us sick, because they require energy to protect, and when your energy is being drained for pretense it's hard to be up to other healthy activity.
"What am I defending?" Great question.
I'm learning – kicking and screaming, of course (are you listening, Larry's ego?) – that one of the best ways to reveal what's being defended or protected is by reflecting the underlying story ... and by writing about it. And the way to most effectively leverage this process to greatest positive effect is by sharing it with others.
SO . . WELL . . . SAID!
…top three dream roles for you?…
I remember seeing The Wiz on Broadway when I was a teen and watching Gregory Hines play the scarecrow. Dang could that dude move. I think I've wanted a shot at that role in that musical ever since. Alas, the vehicle is no longer in the kind of shape that could do the role justice. Maybe if they re-stage the production as The Wiz Revisited with Dorothy having a recurring visit to OZ at age 60 I could land the part.
…what a stud he was…nice choice…
Seriously talented. God rest his soul. Did you ever see him in White Nights with Baryshnikov?
I remember Hines in White Nights. Both he and Baryshnikov were amazing.
I remember how surprised I was that Hines, "only a tap dancer" - came off as equally as skilled, athletic, and impressive as the famous Baryshnikov.
The story premise was great, the athleticism even better.
…enemy mine!!…but yes white nights is amazing, also my fave chicago cop movie running scared…
'What more could you want from [playing the role of] a king?' is a great question. This essay is deeply and subtly provocative, in that focusing on the contrast between the yes and the no, both are called into question and 'freed from reason.' It occurs to me that on some level your friend, working so hard, and committed on so many levels actually needed and wanted to play that role of the king (what an evocative picture!) more than you did? What if, on a deeply intuitive level, you wanted to give yourself this opportunity to reflect on how you use excuses to both limit, and free, yourself? This really is the potency of a good story, to offer many dimensions from which to explore choices and commitments...
Yes, there are so many dimensions and the fun and art of life is that you get to pick one and run with it!
Now that you say Yes to more requests, has it ever backfired the other way - where you wish you hadn't said yes?
That's a great question. I need to think about that one, but I'd have to assume that I have regretted a yes. I find defaulting in that direction very useful though, because regretting a yes is way less common than regretting a no for me. Even if you get yourself into something that is unpleasant for a while based on a yes, you're still on the playing field, learning things and gaining experience. No cuts all of that off at the knees and you never know what you missed. At least with a yes that's regrettable you know exactly what was on offer.
Love these life hacks where you can find asymmetric upside in your choices