The Power of a Question: Why do you want to do this?


I’m launching a new venture – a non-profit that will work in the general space of recovery and re-entry of the ex-offender. This stems from a passion I’ve had for awhile, fueled by an experience I had in late 2010 while I was unemployed.  The Mayor’s Office for Re-Entry sponsored a workshop for ex-offenders, planting the idea/seed to consider starting a small business as an alternative to facing barriers to employment.  Fast forward, and the timing seems to be unfolding to pursue this dream – the Candlestick House and Engagement Center (www.candlestickhouse.org).

I was recently having dinner with a friend who is helping me with some concepts we’d like to use with CHEC. She asked me a question: so why do you want to do this?

Huh?

Umm…

Wow…

Ok.  Anne, I’m pausing because I don’t want to just rattle off “the right answer” (whatever that really means right?) or the first thing that comes to mind.  We talked more that evening…and since then, that question has percolating in my mind.  And, I’ve come to understand why (well one of the reasons why…)

To learn how to live in community.

That resonates deeply with me.

It connects with two stories from my time at Broadway UMC, and how my Higher Power has revealed things to me that I needed to learn or understand.  One comes from a sermon that Rachel gave during a Lenten season.  At the time, I was in recovery, but still living at my house in Greenfield – and unemployed.  I knew I would be moving to Indianapolis once the house sold, but that was about all I knew.  Her question for us was “What are you taking on for Lent?”  Yes, taking on for Lent – not giving up, which is the traditional approach we often take.  From what I recall, it was challenge to take on a new practise, a new dimension to our spiritual life, a new perspective.  As I pondered the question – in the context of my growing up as an Exxon brat and then my 7 moves during my 19 year career at Lilly – the answer came to me…  I would take on Living in Community.

So as I made my selection for where to live in Indianapolis, I deliberately chose Mapleton Fall Creek neighborhood, the area around my home church.  And I’ve committed that barring some unforeseen circumstance, I will remain in MFC – making this home.  Remember – the longest I had ever lived in one place (neighborhood or community) since elementary school was my 4 years at college.  So, at the age of 42 years old, that’s a pretty significant shift.

Now since then, I’ve made small strides – but probably nothing as deliberate or intentional as I’d like.  But nonetheless, it’s progress, not perfection – and it has born fruit for me to stay in one place.

Which leads me to the second connection or story with Broadway UMC.  In our recent three year planning process at church, we talked about “living out our mission with greater intention.”   We didn’t redo our strategy or mission – we felt that the one people came up with 40 years ago is still our calling: “to be a multicultural Christian community, that in its ministry seeks, welcomes and values all people.”  We’ve chosen simply how to live that out more deliberately – with greater intention.  And entering into Year Two, I can personally see the fruits of our approach.  For that I’m grateful and humbled.

And as I reflect on my personal decisions to take on “Living in Community” – on staying in Mapleton Fall Creek – and now to start this venture of bringing the Candlestick House and Engagement Center to life, it has been VERY significant to me that the property we are looking at is in MFC. I believe in signs or affirmations – and this was one of many that has pointed me to this venture, in this time, in this place.  CHEC will be a part of the community in which I live. That was pretty awesome and important to me.

And, then as I think about my Lenten pledge and my sense that I haven’t done as much as I might have hoped or liked…I realized that this venture isn’t just for the women who might live in the house, or the people who drop in looking for resources or connections, or even for the community residents around us who might get involved.  This venture isn’t just about them…it’s about my journey, helping me to learn how to Live in Community with geater intention.  Full stop.

And, this “revelation” of sorts will also keep me humble because as I come into the venture “helping individuals lead fulfilling lives in community,” I’m not coming into the situation “with all the answers.”  I’m not coming to “help someone” – “save them” – “equip them with life-skills.”  No, we’re coming into a relationship – a community – to discover what is already here, to find one another’s gifts, and to support one another in our personal journeys.  And I’m convinced that in and through that, I will learn…as much or more as anyone.

I don’t have the answer.

I just have the power of a question.

As a self-centered, egotistical engineer problem-solver, that’s a HUGE admission.

And for once in my life, I’m ok with that.

So Anne, why am I doing this?  To learn how to live in community.

That’s pretty awesome.  For me.

And all that from a question?!

Thank you for helping me discovery what I needed to understand.

Questions to the Sick II: When is the last time you danced?


A daily devotional I use by Mark Nepo introduced me to a series of questions Native America medicine men ask of the sick: When was the last time you sang? When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you told your story? These questions would be put to the sick and dying by the tribe’s medicine man. In my recovery journey, I’m learning it’s just as important to ask these questions of the living. (http://www.marknepo.com/books_theexquisite.php)

Question II popped up again this week as I cycle through the book a second time, so I’ve been more aware of this lesson. And, I can actually think of two recent contrasting experiences that taught me an even deeper lesson.

Last month, I was at an outdoor concert of Jennie DeVoe, a regional musician whose work has been a discovered gift since I started this journey. There in the open venue, I jumped up, stood by our table and let myself go — dancing and swaying to one of my favorite songs from my muse. I let the joyful release of the music flow through me, unphased by what others might think of me.

Last night, I was at another outdoor venue, listening to a live broadcast of Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion. His storytelling and weekly radio broadcast have been a part of my story since I was in my twenties. But, in my final years of active addiction, my Higher Power used several broadcasts in particular to speak to my broken spirit. I knew then I’d be ok even if I didn’t know when and how. So, one of my bucket list items was to see him broadcast live. With that context, again, it’s no surprise I felt the same joyful release well up inside me. I SO wanted to jump up and dance — but I held back. It was still an amazing performance, with laughter and tears and healing. But, I wasn’t able to live as authentically as I wanted.

As I reflected today on the way I chose to react so differently during those two cathartic situations, I asked myself — why? I realized the level of safety created by the company I was with was a key factor.

I’m human, and know that much of my life has been driven by fear and shame. In one situation, I knew I would be understood and my joy celebrated. In the other, I feared ridicule and shame.

What a difference the company we choose can make. And today, I do have choices. It doesn’t make one set of people “good” and one “bad.” But, it does mean I can make choices to be around that which celebrates living authentically and openly. And being able to make those choices doesn’t make me better than. It simply is what I choose to do.

Of course, I hope that in the future, I’m able to let go regardless…unphased by the reaction of others, driven instead by the deep connectedness I’m having at that moment with the music, my feelings, my true self…and the universe.

But, this is a journey – I strive for progress, not perfection.

Today, I’m simply grateful for the awareness and growth.

Transparency and my ego – a conflict of interest?


Lately, I’ve been more aware of my character defect of self-sufficiency. One of the way this manifests itself is I try to get through my tough times alone. I don’t reach out for help or support during my struggles. I’m much more inclined to share with you AFTER I’ve “made it through” and tell you what I’ve learned. But, to share where I’m at, to be transparent about what’s really going on at the time, to take off the mask and let you see my pain when I’m in the middle of it, is not one of natural reactions.

This, I’ve known for awhile. I’ve become more aware of it recently as I’ve been through some dark times. So, I’ve also been trying to share more – in the midst of my challenges.

But, I recently realized how clear of a role my ego plays in this inability to be honest – with myself and with others. In some of my regular 12-step meetings, I’ve found myself being hesitant to share what I’m going through. But this week, I ventured out to a new meeting, just to try something different. As I sat waiting for the meeting to start, I realized I didn’t know anyone in the room. As I reflected on what I might want to share about my week, as part of my increased transparency, I realized something was missing from my gut.  No fear.  No shame.  No concern of what people might think.  No “reputation” to protect.

No ego.  No conflict of interest.

I understood this in theory on one level – but it really struck me that evening as I sat there, how much my ego plays into my ability to be honest, transparent.  I worry about what people will think of me – how how I might be judged. And the sad irony is, I’m more willing to open up with total strangers, than I am with those who know me, who are close to me.  Very sad.

Part of this is human nature.  Part of this is my addictive nature.  Part of this comes from years of keeping others at a distance.  Part of this comes from years of anonymous online chatting.  I understand all of that.

Yet I know I’m robbing myself of so much. I know I can’t do this on my own. I know I need others.  I also know people don’t think about me as much as I think they do.

So hopefully, the next time I hesitate to share in one of my regular meetings, or with friends and family outside of the rooms of recovery — hopefully, I’ll move past my ego, drop the mask, and share what’s really going on at the time, even without the answer or solution.  Who knows what I might gain…  And just for today, I know that I’m losing when I don’t.