Responsibilities can turn into obligations. Obligations have a way of denying or suppressing the human will – they become an energy zap. There is a single word that is a tell-tale sign of a task becoming an obligation: “Should.”

• I should organize my files.

• I should mow the lawn.

• I should check-in with my friend, or brother, or sister, or mother, or father.

• I should do my taxes.

• I should ______________.

Do any of these resonate? If I hear these kinds of statements coming out of someone (including myself), I will respond, “It sounds like you are ‘shoulding’ all over yourself.” Every statement is an imposition. Something external is pressing upon you, compelling you to act.

It’s not that I want to, or I think it would good. It’s just that I should.

But energy and liveliness comes from a feeling of freedom, an honoring of the will, and a desire to do the thing. How can we reconcile the idea that there are things that need to be done (even that we might not want to do), while avoiding the idea of being obliged?

Should to Could

The first move is from should to could. Rather than relating to tasks with the imposition of “should” we can give ourselves room to choose by saying “could.” This tiny move creates just enough space to make whatever happens next a personal choice.

Say I have 30 minutes of unscheduled time that opened up. I could dump a ton of should’s on myself, or I could float a list of could’s. The should’s would likely bear down on me defeating any opportunity for liveliness. A list of could’s present possibility, allowing for experimentation, discovery, and the exercise of choice.

Making such a list exercises our imagination, giving us a moment free from obligations. We know they are there, but we can take a few minutes to imagine all the things we could do with the time we have been given.

• When considering possible actions, ask, “What could I do?”

Could to Good

This second move is important in order to fulfill responsibilities, especially those that we may not like or enjoy. I have my 30 minutes and a list of could’s. That list includes things that might be better to do than others, regardless of our feeling about them. Of everything on my list, I might say, “I want to pick the thing I think would be good to do,” given the circumstances. The more I practice picking a good thing from my list of could’s the more I can begin to trust my chooser. Of course, this may take some experimentation, more than a few failures, and continual adjustment. This is part of the process of formation.

• For any list of could’s, ask, “What is good to do?”

What is good?

What happens as a natural result of asking these questions is a lived embodiment of what you think is good. Your definition will evolve over time, of course. This is an ongoing process that leads to two distinct outcomes: an active imagination while making a list of could’s, and a trustworthy chooser that knows what good things to choose from the list.

But none of this would happen without asking the question.

There are two general ideas around what change is. One is behavior modification. The other is spiritual transformation. Both have good outcomes, but they are not the same.

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Coaches are supposed to help us navigate the space between where we are and where we want to be.

Coaching happens in a dynamic context. It is not stagnant. It isn’t taking a car to the shop to have it tuned-up or fixed. Life doesn’t necessarily stop for the sake of change.

Rather, change happens while life continues. This can make navigating transitions, achieving new goals, or avoiding burnout challenging. The reality of life comes at us every day – unrelentingly.

There is one shift that has done the most good for me when I am stuck or overwhelmed by the nature, gravity, and too-muchness of life. It is this:

Rather than requiring some separate time and space to experience the change I am aiming for – I can recognize that life itself is the context of all change. Any moment is an opportunity to move toward a new goal.

Said another way, instead waiting for transformation, I can engage in my daily formation.

We are already on a path to become a particular kind of person. Our lives are organized toward a particular outcome. We are a willing conspirator in both the direction and organization, and they effectively determine whether or not we experience the transformation we are hoping for.

Formation is a daily – if not moment-by-moment – process. That means we can engage in it as often as we would like. No moment is more special than any other. We need not wait. Here are a few things that are good starts:

• Observing our own reactions to situations.

• Getting curious as to why certain patterns emerge regular.

• Gracefully acknowledging the distance between the person that you are and person you want to become.

These are all well within reach. Engaging in our daily formation is accessible to us. We can do things (albeit indirectly) that affect the direction and organization of our lives.

Keeping our focus on the things we can do that help the actual process of formation frees us from the tension, anxiousness, and helplessness that comes with being over-stretched and under-resourced.

Next thing you know, you might wake up one day and the thing that was hard has become easy, the thing that you had to work for now just shows up, and the transformation you were hoping for has become your reality.

But it doesn’t happen with asking the question.

There is a better question we might ask ourselves. It is a vision question. It goes to the heart of the idea of spiritual formation and may require some reflection. No need to rush towards an answer. Just let this question simmer a while.

There are a number of ways to begin to think about this question. We can think about personal characteristics like humility or generosity. We can think about abilities like climbing or jumping or swimming. We can think about how we might respond to certain situations or what we might bring to a certain situation. All of these are worthwhile explorations and fill in the blank of this sentence:

I want to be the kind of person who…

Here are few examples just to get the juices flowing. Remember, especially with a question of this directness, the answers must be yours. We only cheat ourselves when we take on someone else’s answers.

• I want to become the kind of person who is naturally generous.

• I want to become the kind of person who is naturally humble.

• I want to become the kind of person who can relax, enjoying a morning, afternoon, or entire day with nothing to do.

• I want to become the kind of person who can work with almost anyone.

• I want to become the kind of person who can wiggle their ears.

• I want to become the kind of person who offers empathy to others.

• I want to become the kind of person who doesn’t get riled up when they are given news or gossip.

You’ll notice that characteristics are preceded by “is” – a state of being – while abilities are preceded by “can” – or another word referring to action. To go further, I have found that the more specific I am able a particular desire, the better. For example:

• I want to become the kind of person who enjoys regularly going to the gym on a weekly basis at least.

• I want to become the kind of person who can deescalate emotionally charged conversations at family gatherings, particularly those around holidays.

There is a vast difference between the person that hates going to the gym, but goes anyway, and the kind of person who genuinely enjoys regularly going to the gym on a weekly basis, at least. There is a vast difference between the person who sees charged conversations and either goes headlong into them (adding to the charge) or runs away from them, and the one who engages with an aim to deescalate them. These are different kinds of people.

Of course we can learn the skill, do the action, and that will have great affect. Even deeper still is the possibility of deep transformation from one kind of person to another. This is the stuff of spiritual formation and spiritual transformation. At the heart of these ideas is the aim of the person we are to become. What kind of person is that for you?

We’ll never know unless we keep asking the question.

Apprenticeship allows for trust, love, and personalized guidance. It is the learning school of those desiring deep change. To become a particular kind of person requires the kind of trust, intimacy, and personalization that apprenticeships are designed for. However, apprenticeships don’t just happen. There is a part that the student plays in all of this.

This week’s question may help us unveil just what that is, as we ask…

As child, we might have been asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” In my day, the common answers were vocational. Mine answers were fireman and astronaut, depending on the day. The question and the answers are a specific way of setting a goal, which in turn sets a focus and direction of our lives. We might not take a child’s answer too seriously, but it’s worth considering. My own desire to become a tap dancer at the age of nine lead to a life that I could not have predicted.

Still, there may come times in our lives where we are tasked with reconsidering our pursuits. Perhaps a willful or imposed shift in circumstances make our current path no longer available. Maybe a role we’ve filled is no longer available to us or a role we hoped to have is no longer an opportunity. Whatever the catalyst, considering what we are pursuing is a good question to help plant one’s feet back on the ground.

Here I’ve encountered two basic types of pursuits. One is a particular achievement – think job, recognition, life moment. These are things to which we can say, “I did that,” or “I have that.” Then there are qualitative or pursuits of character – think kindness or stubbornness or gentleness. These are things to which others might say, “you are that.”

I say “others,” because part of the core proposition of spiritual transformation is that it happens in the context of intimate relationship. That is the kind of connection between people that offers knowledge of persons. Here we will be known, and so others might be able to speak more honestly about who we are than we might be able to ourselves. This is not to deny the efficacy of self-reflection but to acknowledge its limitations.

That said, pursuits of character are the type that withstand the natural frivolousness of material things. Ultimately, it is the character that we have that we share with the world. It is the character that we have that we are responsible for (to whatever degree we are aware and capable). It is the character we pursue that we can work towards specifying and that comes from the pursuit of a persona rather than a position, thing, or value.

As material things come and go, one’s character seems to have a way of living on. In that sense, it makes sense to contend for the pursuit of a particularly good character. Ask the question, specify the goal, pursue in the manner of the person you hope to become, for the process is, in itself, formative of our person, and our person is the greatest gift we can give to the world.

As always, we’ll never know unless we ask the questions.

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A post shared by @untamedhero

I shows the speaker, identifying an entire group as “idiots.” I was struck by the viral nature of the clip, and how demeaning an entire group so easily generated support. I’m not naive, nor blind to the fact that this is a common practice. Nevertheless this particular video surprised me.

Contempt is a sneaky temptation to slide into. It is very easy desire, even a consistent in some, to feel that they are good. One easy way to feel that you are good is to position yourself as better than someone else. This is one road to contempt. It doesn’t have to do with whether your actions are of a higher moral quality than someone else, or not. It only has to do with how with think of our relationship to that someone else.

This week’s question can help in drawing our attention to important aspects of our lives that may go overlooked otherwise, helping us prevent ourselves from ending up on a slippery road.

Actions are easy to see. A friend stops calling. A boss is unusually short during conversations. A colleague becomes more helpful than before. These are all changes that happen in relationship that are noticeable. They are ways that we notice, “something has changed in you.”

In the framework of spiritual formation the idea is that we are always changing. That is, we are continually immersed in the process of formation. We are always becoming the person we are becoming. We can experience this process passively or actively. The invitation is to become engaged in this important process. If the invitation is taken, the process often begins with our eyes and ears opening to ourselves and the world around us.

We begin to see more than just the actions that are coming out of us. We begin to inquire about their roots. For example, if we notice particular kinds of words coming out of our mouths without resistance, we might ask, “What is working inside of me for this to be the case?”

Contempt itself is not to be taken lightly, and the sneakiness of contempt is quite dangerous. Demean another person (or groups of people) and it is much easier to justify harming them. In what is commonly referred to as the sermon on the mount, Jesus Christ addresses anger and contempt as what leads to the violent act of murder. He presents anger and contempt as the roots that ultimately, especially when given opportunity, express themselves in violence.

If we are hoping to become the kind of person for whom contempt isn’t working within us, then a particular kind of attentiveness is needed. Knowing that our actions and language are an expression of our inner landscape, we can begin to sensitize ourselves by asking questions like:

• What are the actions that express contempt?

• What is the language that expresses contempt?

Once these are identified we can mind ourselves by asking this week’s question:

• What are you noticing?

If we catch ourselves expressing actions or language that we would identify with contempt, we can make note. We can assume that if we express such actions or language with ease, that contempt is working in us. This may sound harsh, but there is no need to feel condemned. There is opportunity for transformation.

The next step is highly personal and may include practices of interruption in addition to envisioning, replacement, and meditation exercises.

The practices we would implement are not meant to alter the organization of our spirit (where action initiates, and where true transformation occurs) through direct effort. We can’t change our will through force of will. Rather they are meant to position us for easier transformation. In the spirit of full disclosure, how exactly the spirit of a person transforms remains a wonderful mystery to me.

Yet, imagine becoming the kind of person from whom contempt has no draw, no pull, no resonance? Imagine moving from the kind of person easily willing to demean someone else, to the kind of person who can speak clearly of evil while remaining in a disposition of love toward the person from whom that evil comes?

The journey begins with becoming attentive to areas of life that we may have taken for granted – a flagrant word that’s thrown in someone’s general direction or the contemptuous thought and reaction to someone’s opinion, for example.

Taking a moment to pause and ask ourselves, “What are you noticing?” is the just one way to start.

As always, we’ll never know unless we keep asking the questions.

The kind of position we’re talking about here is relational. How might we describe our relationship to the world around us? Winner? Favored? Underdog? Dumped on? This is just one example of a relational position. There are plenty more, with regards to family, friends, God, work, community, for example. How we describe our position sets in motion ideas of what’s possible. Our position is directly related to perspective. If we change our position, our perspective changes.

Our question this week is directed at one of the ways changing our position is challenged.

Four years ago, I made a substantial move. It included days of packing, a moving truck, and many hours of driving. We had a lot of stuff that we wanted to move with us. We let go of a significant amount, and still had plenty we wanted to hold on to. It took a lot of energy to make the move on account of everything we wanted to hold on to.

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When thinking about the forms I have adapted my life around, the craft of tap dancing, the person of Jesus Christ, it is not the lack of form but what is working in the form that makes the difference. Instead of moving from form to formless, we move from imposition to love. The dance transforms. The relationship to reality, the world, and relationships in general transforms.

To experience this kind of transformation it may be necessary to explore our current formation. This week’s question helps us do that.

Spontaneous action is a mark of our formation. What comes out of us is a mark of what is working in us. Therefore, asking a question about what might be causing a particular action can lead us to see some of the unseen inner landscape of our being. Here are some specific examples:

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Being taught wrongly is almost an unavoidable reality. I stress almost because I believe it possible to not be taught wrongly. I just have not experienced it. There are many things that I have been taught rightly in, and some things wrong got in the mix. Once we open our eyes to the things that have found their way into our lives that we’d rather not have we will encounter the process of correction.

At that moment, this week’s question may be useful.

There are at least two angles to approach this question – from the position of someone being corrected, and from the position of the someone doing the correcting. I’ll address each below.

From the position of someone being corrected we might describe the feelings associated with being corrected. We might describe things that worked and didn’t work in particular instances. We might prefer an experience where the correction was short, direct, and easily applied. We might prefer a correction that was more of a journey, leading, and something that we had to eventually find the answer to. Corrections come in many forms, and some ways sit better with some personalities than others.

In the mix are assumptions we hold from having been corrected over time. Exploring these assumptions are key to understand how we anticipate what will happen if we are wrong about something. What might the correction look like?

From the position of someone doing the correcting we might describe the tools we use to try to impart a correction. We might explain how we use leading questions, punitive methods, or some other tool. We might explore the reactions we are hoping to get, or have gotten, when using our tools. We might even explore the ways we’ve been corrected and how that has shaped the way we impart correction. Corrections come in may forms, and some may sit better with some personalities than others.

Here, one key is the interplay between our own experience with correction and what we would then do when in the position of being the corrector. While we may be responding to our own personal preferences in the way we impart correction, that way may or may not be the best method for the person we are correcting. What might correction look like then?

On either side of the interaction of correction, we find ourselves with opportunities for discovery, evaluation, and change. None of that would be possible unless we keep asking the questions.

What we think something means is important. It will guide future decisions, even the building of entire mental models. However, we don’t always articulate the meanings we discern. Sometimes we act without thinking – acting on what we assumed something meant rather than a clearer picture of reality.

Our question this week is a doorway into the clearer picture.

Meaning is a category of thought that attempts to understand what is behind the visible world that we see. Didn’t get invited to a party? It might mean that the host doesn’t like you. It might mean that they limited guests, and you didn’t make the cut. It definitely means that you aren’t formally invited.

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As Esther shares in the episode, Gather began as a dream. A few words and visions inspired her to want to take action. Our question, this week, is a way for us to start the conversation around dreams.

Visioning is a common skill in the coaching. Guiding clients in cultivating a practice of visioning, acknowledging what they see, and then supporting their movement towards their vision is basically the deal. This is one thing that makes coaching powerful, and different than other modalities of help.

Dreams are different.

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But what of a life in which forgiveness was not the norm? How might we begin to look at learning and practicing an activity so integral to the path, yet potentially so foreign? As with most cycles of change I like to begin with questions that probe the vision. Given a possible situation in which forgiveness would be necessary to prevent a rupture, we might ask this question…

When talk of forgiveness arises, there is often a significant amount of resistance. We wonder what forgiveness looks like. Depending on the type and scale of the offense, the relationship may note be able to return to what it was before in the same way. There may be quite a bit of intuitive self-protection at play – all rightly placed.

Sometimes we might think that forgiveness means reconciliation. That in forgiving someone (even ourselves) we are obligated to reestablish the patterns of the relationship as they were before the offense. This is not true. Forgiveness is one aspect of the journey of reconciliation, but it is not the whole thing. Let’s take a closer look.

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Visioning is often considered a soft exercise. Left for the “visionaries” in corporate culture, the artists, or those who practice manifestation, visioning gets a reputation for being an exclusive, elitist, or elusive skill. It is none of those things, and in fact is required for any change to occur. The bigger the change we are trying to initiate (like a predisposition to war), the more concrete the vision of change needs to be.

We might not have a practice of envisioning (what some might call imagining), which is why this week’s question starts where it starts. We begin, not with the vision itself, but with the desire to cultivate a particular vision. We start by asking…

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Here, however, there is another question that bears considering. In the journey of spiritual formation, the experience is often a combination of quick learning and slow change. The inspiration to pursue perfection may come quickly (learning), the working it out in our own lives may be slow (change). For those of us who may be challenged by this apparent dichotomy I have this week’s question:

There is only so much time in the day, so much energy we each have, so many things we can carry at one time. I personally came to the end of my rope in a spectacular experience with burnout (I talk about it here). I had physical manifestations (shaking) and distance between me and tears was like the distance between two sheets of paper, one on top of the other – imperceivable.

This week’s question was the one that helped me interrupt the habits of speed in action that I had developed. It was this habit that, in my case, drew me towards patterns and cycles that would naturally end in burnout.

Let’s see how this week’s question may work itself out…

One of the primary challenges for a perfectionist or visionary is the idea that “nothing is ever good enough.” The idea is never complete. The work is never finished. If only I had a little more time, I could work a little more on it – whatever it is – and it would be better. The reality is that big ideas, and projects, are often never really done.

The biggest ones often get applied and shipped – in various contexts – and then are iterated until they run their course. They are in a state of continual unfolding.

One way that many may learn to cope with this reality is to work quickly. The logic is that if I can work faster (in thinking and doing), then I am effectively spending more time on the work. That means that my work will be better – closer to perfection (or completion if you will) – even given the limitation of time. This is where a habit of speed can develop.

If big ideas or projects are never really done, then speed doesn’t help finish them. Speed might help get us further along, but it doesn’t help quench the pressure we might feel to arrive at an end as soon as possible. That pressure is what is debilitating. There must be a different way.

While keeping a vision of completeness or perfection in mind, we can concurrently ask, “What is enough?” Asking the question can help bring our ideas and pursuits into our personal scale. What is enough for me, today? For this moment? For this circumstance right now? For this project right now?

Is it enough to send a few emails, write a few words, finish that proposal, be present for a handful of people, tend to the garden, maintain the car, or do a little reading? Is it enough to show up, be present, ask a question, or give a hug? Only you can really decide. Experimenting with what is enough – with room for times that are more intense, and more importantly, times that are less intense – can help us encounter a mode of engagement that is more measured, interactive, and perceptive of reality in any given situation. This, rather than just going full steam ahead or burning out.

There is one more thing that I’d like to share from my own experience with this question. When I first began to stop once enough had been reached, I encountered two shifts. The first was that “good” could be enough. I did good work, and that was enough. I made good effort, and that was enough. I aimed for goodness, and that was enough. My personal judgement focused on the day’s activities. Future hopes were left to time.

The second shift was something more profound. I began to contend with the proposition that my activities were not the thing that kept my world intact. There was something else that kept my world, and the world around me, from falling apart. Of course, I had a part in all of it, but my part was not the most important. I was not the center, and therefore the output of my work was not what undergirded my well-being. For me, the reality of the love of God, as exemplified by the life of Jesus Christ (I share more about that here), became the center. My entire world shifted.

These shifts weren’t immediate for me, and I still contend with some of the remnants of my experience with burnout. The learning was quick, and the change has been slow. But none of it would have come about without first asking the questions.

In this week’s talking note, I explored the idea of self-justification. That is, the attempt for us to prove for ourselves, and maybe for others too, that we are in the right. I explored two ways that self-justification might be accomplished. One is through an achievement orientation. The other is through an idol of authenticity. In the first, we say that our actions are justified because we are an accomplished person (and we have the receipts to back it up). In the second, we say that our actions are justified because they were an honest expression of the way we are (and that can never be wrong).

Both ways are self-focused, leaving little room for concern for another being. More so, both will ultimately fall short of the true requirement of justification. There aren’t accomplishments, either single or accumulated, that can justify a person. There isn’t an expression of self that can do it either. True justification comes by experiencing unearned love through interpersonal relationship – that is, from someone else.

The harder truth is that we can all slip into a pattern of self-justification. Rather than deal with the possible guilt or shame of being wrong, it is easier to mount an offense of self-justification. If this is true, how might we unravel ourselves from this pattern. The first thing we can do is get curious, and that is exactly what this week’s question is designed to do.

This is a “dig deep” kind of question, so you may want to prepare yourself for what can come up when exploring this. In preparation, I will often remind myself of moments of unearned love that I have experienced. These may be moments from family, friends, even through my faith. As I write, I’m noting the timing (albeit unplanned) of this topic as we lead up to the commemoration of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection – the most profound act of love I’ve personally experienced. If moments of unearned love don’t immediately come to mind, consider moments of unearned kindness or favor – from people you know or even strangers.

The unearned part is especially important because it prevents us from making the gift about something we did or something we are. If we think we deserve the love we are receiving then anytime we don’t receive the love we expect we may come to frustration, contempt, or anger – defending our deservedness. Or we may come to doubt our position of being deserving, think we are undeserving, and walk down a more self-destructive path. Both ways lead to peril.

Instead, what happens when we ask our question? Approaching ourselves with curiosity allows for an honest conversation. What are we trying to justify? Maybe it is an action – what I did was right. Maybe it’s a position in an interaction – I didn’t do anything to warrant that response. Maybe it’s a desire – it can’t be wrong to want that.

I want to offer the following progression of a common pattern for the self-justifier, speaking about myself. Let’s start with the idea of justifying an action. I might begin by saying, “What I did was right.” If we remove some of the words, pushing the statement to be even more personal, it becomes, “I was right.” Press the sentiment further and, “I am right,” might show up.

The interactive position begins with, “I didn’t do anything to warrant that response.” Pressing it to be more personal makes it, “I didn’t do anything [wrong].” There is the possible added sentiment of, “I didn’t do anything wrong, but you did.” Press it further and, “I don’t do anything wrong (but you do),” might show up.

Finally in justifying desires, we begin with, “It can’t be wrong to want that.” Press it and the statement becomes, “It can’t be wrong.” Even further, it might become, “I can’t be wrong.”

These sentiments sting of perfection and lack humility. They also are static. If I am right, I don’t do anything wrong (but you do), and I can’t be wrong, there is also no place for me to learn, grow, or change, let alone transform.

Of course, it is rare to find someone who believes that they are right, or can’t be wrong, in all areas of their life. These sentiments may only hold true only in particular areas or very specific situations. And for those areas and situations, there are two ways forward I would like to offer.

Give Up

Defending ourselves, whether to friends and family or to God, is exhausting. Giving up on the defending, notably not on our position, is akin to calling for peace. It is saying that I will stop defending myself, but I haven’t necessarily conceded my position. Giving up on defending ourselves allows for a shift. What would happen if I stop defending myself? Instead of warring, there may be peace. There may be opportunity to work out the thing we were defending – what am I trying to justify? Instead of all our energy being spent defending, we might experience space to get curious – what is actually going on? Giving up isn’t about giving in, it’s about conceding that there may be something more important than being at war.

Consider the Aim

What’s more important? Finding ourselves in the right, or something else? Maybe the way we relate to those we love is more important than being right? Maybe having space to see our own intentions is more important than being right? Of course, it is a wonderful feeling to find ourselves justified, to realize that we have been doing the right thing. It is also of immense importance to discover if we have somehow been doing something wrong. Self-justification puts being right over even the opportunity to discover that we might be wrong.

I want to be clear here – I’m not advocating for some kind of consistent self-doubt – a kind of purposeful unknowing. That would be debilitating. What I am saying is that while assurance is possible, I have yet to find a human being without a blindside. Rather, humility comes from having a realistic view of our own limitations. Knowing that we might be wrong – while possibly hard to take – allows for a reality that isn’t built on us being right all the time (even in a particular area).

But we’ll never know, unless we ask the questions.

This isn’t to say that our goals can’t change or adjust. It is just to honor the importance of vision. Dallas Willard’s V.I.M. model of change – which I briefly describe here – does this by setting Vision (the “V”) as the first and foundational aspect of any pursuit of change.

There are a few questions that can get us to articulate vision, this week’s question is one of them.

If we want to stop or start a particular action, it is not enough to simply wish to stop or start. Our vision must articulate how life might be different if the stop or start happened, for the change to be inspired, willingly pursued, and ultimately fulfilled. Thinking of vision often brings to my mind the big and lofty goals of having a life characterized by peace, joy, gentleness, kindness, even love. But the centrality of a clear vision functions in more tactical pursuits as well.

This is how it might work out…

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We relate to money, environment, colleagues, friends, family, even ourselves. It is how we understand how two different things interact – that is in some kind of relationship. With any endeavor then there are relationships to consider. It is not to say that the relationships somehow run our lives, but rather to honor the profound connection we have with the world around us.

In considering a particular pursuit, one way to bring this to the front is with this question:

Our considerations are the relationships that we bring to mind, that we attend to, and that we aim to do our part in. It is our considerations that we bring to mind as we think about what pursuing a certain direction might mean. What exactly am I saying yes to? What exactly am I saying no to? Even more pointedly, who am I saying yes or no to?

Let’s see how this plays out.

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This isn’t a license to push ourselves to confront harsh realities without grace. There is no need for harshness, as kindness and gentleness may be found at the root, too. Rather, there becomes a desire for knowledge – interaction with what is actually going on. Less navigating masks, false personas, and manipulating language and imagery. More seeing, experiencing, and interacting with ourselves and the world around us as it really is – to whatever degree we might.

If such a desire exists, we can begin exploring with a straight-forward question:

There are two main kinds of coaching – one centers on action, the other awareness. Action-centered coaching is focused on doing things, scratching tasks off our list, and accountability for hitting goals. Awareness-centered coaching but considers the achievement of goals an outcome of greater awareness. Awareness of what? Our personal desires (the real deep ones that drive us) and blocks (anyone here have an inner critic?). With greater awareness the possibility for a deep shift in one’s person can occur. With the shift, the desired action then becomes the natural output of the person – the task list become lighter, the inner critic less critical.

Consider this example:

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How then can we apply this idea in our own lives for our own transformation and even for greater impact in world around us? We may first want to realize that we operate with a certain amount of abstraction. For areas of our life that are too much, too big, or too far away, for example, abstractions give us language to hold on while swimming in an unmanageable scope. This is not inherently evil, but can cause us some trouble when we begin to desire change in that very area. For change to occur, we must be able to concretize the situation.

To do so we can ask a fairly direct question:

Making something concrete is bringing something from the realm of the abstract into the realm of the material. With regards to the spiritual, or unseen world, making something concrete has to do with acknowledging the material effects of its reality. It may be a lovely idea to think that the Universe is benevolent or that God is unconditionally loving. If those ideas don’t have some real material effect on your life there is little concreteness to them.

Concreteness is important because our physical bodies and physical experience play a large part in our formation. In order for a belief to be acted upon, our bodies must come to trust that it is true – or at least be willing to find out. Spiritual realities, beliefs, or ideas may have little hold on us if they don’t show up in the physical world.

An Analogy to SMART Goals

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If you haven’t done this before, it may take some practice, as with all things. It begins with asking this question:

This question comes with some caveats. We are not playing with our language to create a new reality. Nor are we looking for a way to fake the reality we are experiencing. Reframing is not becoming a master of our universe, nor is it gaslighting. It is shifting perspectives.

We are limited beings and so it may be good to admit our limited perspective. We see things from certain vantage points. This admission allows us the opportunity to explore other perspectives. Without pressure to adopt them, or sensing them as an imposition, a new perspective can lead to new connections, ideas, even pursuits.

So how does this actually work?

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