Tiger Woods’s Universal Lesson

We’re told by some pundits that Tiger Woods has a sexual addiction disorder and that he needs to be more actively engaged in repairing his public image. Both conjectures are self-serving. Both are designed to give the pundits more to talk about and to give their audiences cheap thrills and comfort. The cheap thrills come from focusing on someone else’s life instead of our own. The comfort comes from believing that somehow, because he has been labeled an addict by the experts, the human drama in the life of Tiger Woods is fundamentally different from our own.

Polly Berends, in her book Coming to Life, observes, “Day by day, year after year, we live our lives out of certain fundamental assumptions of which we are almost completely unaware. These assumptions govern our lives, yet they are so universal and unquestioned as to be virtually unconscious.” We don’t have to look far for a universal, fundamental assumption that few ever question. The universal human drama throughout the millennia is people doing foolish things, because under their behavior lies an unquestioned and unexplored assumption that something outside—power, money, sex—can fill the emptiness they believe is within.

Woods is perhaps the most famous athlete in the world, he has more money than he could spend in many lifetimes, and he has a beautiful wife. Yet, something was missing; and something within drove him to foolish behavior. Labeling him as an addict with a disorder allows us to dismiss a universal lesson that he is inadvertently teaching. While most of us will never reach such extremes in behavior, we have our own repertoire of coping behaviors to fill what seems to be a universal void. These behaviors may include excessive eating, drinking, shopping, Internet surfing, and television watching. Often we engage in these activities to avoid becoming aware of and then questioning our own faulty assumptions about what we think will make us feel complete.

Our failure to the question our assumptions is all the more remarkable since our coping behaviors never relieve our angst for more than brief intervals of time. In his classic book on addictions, The Diseasing of America, Stanton Peele writes,

One of the key dynamics in the alcoholism or addiction cycle is the repeated failure of the alcoholic or addict to gain exactly the state he or she seeks, while still persisting in the addicted behavior. For example, alcoholics (in research, these are frequently street inebriates) report that they anticipate alcohol to be calming, and yet when they drink they become increasingly agitated and depressed. The process whereby people desperately pursue some feeling that becomes more elusive the harder they pursue it is a common one, and appears among compulsive gamblers, shoppers, overeaters, love addicts, and the like. It is this cycle of desperate search, temporary or inadequate satisfaction, and renewed desperation that most characterizes addiction.

But what are we hoping our coping behavior will do for us? Berends writes, “All compulsive behaviors make sense in relation to some perceived threat to self survival. It is impossible to give up an impulsive behavior until the underlying perception of threat is faced and seen to be false.” Berends echoes the perennial spiritual wisdom when she explains the origin of our pleasure seeking: We are afraid. She writes, “Afraid? Of what? Feel it. What is it? Fear and separateness. Separateness and fear. These occur together.”

Separateness? Berends writes, “The threat is always of some separation—from job, boss, financial support, family, spouse, from psychological and emotional outreach and support—from whatever you see as your interpersonal life-support system … Whenever something makes you doubt your viability, a desire to make some connection is triggered.” In other words, we seek unreliable and false ways to fill empty, inner void—a void of which we often don’t let ourselves become aware.

But what if the void that we do not let ourselves feel is itself not real? Again, echoing the perennial spiritual wisdom, Berends tells us, “The basic idea that we are separated and disconnected, from each other and from everything else, is the one idea we have not examined.” You may not have examined your belief in separation, but others have, and they assure us it is false. For instance, Einstein wrote,

A human being is part of a whole, called by us the Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

Berends writes, “Whatever our false surface goal may be, before it can be relinquished, it has to be questioned. Before it can be questioned, it has to become questionable. For most of us this is a painful process. For anything cherished to become questionable it has to not work out.” It would be hard to find a human being that to one extent or another does not have a problematic life situation—often things do not work out. We have the power of choice—before we reach for another drink or click the remote again, before we choose another angry outburst, before we…—we can question our faulty assumptions and make another choice.

Success Beyond Success

In late April, an extraordinary event happened in a women’s softball game between Central Washington and Western Oregon Universities.

In the second inning of the game, Sara Tucholsky, an outfielder for Western Oregon, smashed a ball over the center field fence for her very first career home run. In her excitement, she badly injured her knee rounding first base. She was unable to continue circling the bases.

What could Tucholsky or Western Oregon do? Could her teammates carry her around the bases? No, the umpire ruled against that option. Could her team substitute a pinch runner? Yes, but the pinch runner would have to remain at first base, and Tucholsky’s home run would become a single.

It did not look good for Tucholsky. Then, Central Washington’s first baseman and the league’s all-time home run record holder, Mallory Holtman, asked the umpire if she and her teammates could carry their opponent Tucholsky around the bases. The answer was yes, and so they did. Central Washington lost the game and, in so doing, decreased their chances of making the NCAA tournament. Holtman is a senior and has never been to the tournament.

In post game interviews, Holtman offered that she had done nothing extraordinary and that anyone would have behaved the same way. Sadly, we know that isn’t the case. In sports, cheating has been routinely tolerated; unsportsmanlike conduct is viewed as part of the game.

Clearly Holtman’s actions were not ordinary. We can imagine other players never having the impulse to be of assistance. Still others might shut down any impulse to help with thoughts like: “We really need to win this game to be in the NCAA tournament.” Or, “Her unfortunate accident is just part of the game. Nothing I can do about it.” And who would fault such players for their inaction?

In her outstanding book Soul-Kissed, Ann Linthorst tells this story of a “woman who was showing her spiritual teacher around her backyard”:

The teacher commented on the number of birds. The woman exclaimed. “Oh, I have never noticed any birds out there before. “ Her teacher replied, “Madam, you must have birds in your heart before you will find birds in your backyard.”

In other words, what allowed Holtman to act in such an inspired way, was that a higher value had already been cultivated in her heart—the value of treating another human being as she would treat herself. Eckhart Tolle has written: “The true meaning of love is to see the other as yourself.”

Linthorst’s teacher, the late Dr. Thomas Hora, offered this principle of harmonious living: “Take no thought for what should not be; seek ye first to know the good of God which already is.”

Why is this a principle of harmonious living? Hora’s principle stresses process above outcome. For example, in the softball game—instead of allowing the ego to run through its reasons why it should or should not help, prior practice of this principle orients the mind to allow harmonious choices to flow through spontaneously, even in the heat of the moment.

Holtman and her Washington State team clearly allowed a decision to flow through them—a decision that emanated from beyond their egos. In doing so, they won more than a game. They achieved what Fred Kofman has called “success beyond success.” They strengthened their future ability to allow happiness, love, and peace to flow though them.

Some cynics may view the Central Washington State players as foolish altruists. Those cynics are wrong. Recent academic research on happiness demonstrates that happiness depends very little on success in the world. Transitory events like winning a ball game have only temporary effects on happiness. In contrast, expressing higher values—values such as love and gratitude—has enormous and lasting effects on happiness.

Besides teaching us a life lesson, Central Washington may have become an even better team. For, as legendary basketball coach Phil Jackson has observed, “Love is the force that ignites the spirit and binds teams together.” No doubt, a team whose spirit is ignited and whose players are bound together will play better.

The Ultimate Secret of Delivering a Memorable Presentation

This is the third of a three part series. In the first post in this series on delivering effective presentations, I examined why you have to put your audience before your ego’s concerns. In the second post, I examined why scripting your presentation is a terrible idea.

Scripting is a sign that you do not trust your Self or your audience. By definition, you have separated yourself from both. No matter how many times you practice your presentation, separating yourself from the audience is a fearful place in which to be. In this final part of my series, I examine the issue of separation.

As long as you believe you are separate from your audience, you will not be fully responsive to what the moment asks of you. Once you understand the illusion of separateness, you will be able to connect with your audience on the deepest possible level. This connection is forged when you are prepared to speak in an authentic and genuine way.

The approach that I will explain does not depend on positive thinking—such as thinking that your audience wants you to do well. Although this is usually true, it is not always the case for everyone sitting in the room. In any case, positive thinking will only partially mask, but not remove, your fear.

The approach that I am suggesting does not depend upon convincing yourself that the audience is no better, or even worse, than you. This premise seems to be what is behind the poor advice that you should “picture your audience naked.”

The more profound way to remove fear and to relax is to forge a deep relationship with your audience. Grady Jim Robinson put it this way: “A speaker does not walk to a microphone and give a speech. The speaker ignites an event within a context of relationships.”

There is literally nothing to fear; what we fear is in our minds. Can a wave be frightened of the ocean? Can a leaf be frightened of the tree? These are absurd questions. But once we understand that the essential nature of human beings is that they too are part of a whole, than it is equally absurd to ask the question, “Can a speaker be frightened of his audience?”

Physicist David Bohm calls this whole, with which we are all connected, the “implicate order” where “everything is enfolded into everything.” Bohm’s work has very practical implications. Although our physical senses tell us that we are separate bodies and separate minds, on a deeper level, our physical reality is fundamentally illusory. We are connected to all of life and not separate from it.

Each wave is fundamentally connected to the ocean. It is made of the same substance and it is not separate from it. If the wave had consciousness and saw itself as separate, from our vantage point, we would laugh at the wave.

Albert Einstein observed that our belief in separateness creates an illusory prison from which we must free ourselves:

A human being is part of the whole, called by us ‘universe’, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest—a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affections for few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison.

Human beings have the gift of consciousness. We sometimes don’t use it wisely. We walk into the room to give our presentation and we notice the individual who is slumped in his chair in boredom. We can choose to feel separated and annoyed, or we can choose to laugh at our thinking and drop it.

How about the person in the audience who is talking to his neighbor? How about the hostile questioner? These too are opportunities to feel separate or opportunities to recognize our illusion. In front of us, our audience is a slice of humanity. They have gifts and foibles not unlike our own. We are just seeing ourselves reflected in their faces. Once you understand this, a big inward smile will wash over you, and tension will vanish.

It has been said that a great speaker could read the phone book to an audience and be successful. What is meant by this is that there exists in the speaker a connection to the whole that is so vibrant and strong that their mere presence helps others make the same connection. It is this profound connection to their audience that is the real secret of their success.

All human beings are yearning to remember that Wholeness is reality and separateness is an illusion. When you remember that you are not separate, you help your audience remember, and you connect with them on the deepest possible level.

There is no need to strain, there is no need to impress, and there is no need to resist anything in the moment. You are just meeting yourself. When you remember this truth, you are allowing the audience to participate with you on the deepest level. Your audience will reciprocate. They will connect with you, with your authenticity, and with your message.

Delivering a Memorable Presentation: First, Forget About Yourself

For many, making a presentation is something they endure rather than enjoy. Yet I have learned that public speaking, if approached with the right mindset, can be very enjoyable. Even more, it can provide enormous personal benefits. I have found that public speaking can leave me feeling the same as vigorous exercise. At the end of both, I have an energized and clear mind; and frequently, I obtain insights about my work and my purpose.

Many “experts” give terribly bad advice about public speaking. This is because they approach public speaking from a mindset that it is something to endure, not enjoy. Advice such as “picture your audience naked” is silly and harmful.

This post is the first of a three-part series. I will deal with the “picture your audience naked” advice in the third post. That post will explain why you need to join with—rather than separate yourself from—your audience. In the second post, I will explain the difference between good preparation and scripting your talk. Scripting is deadly to a memorable presentation.

In this post we deal with the issue of presence and why a memorable presentation depends upon forgetting yourself. To be more precise, it depends upon forgetting about your ego. Once you do, your true Self, which arises from the love and intelligence of Wholeness, will rise to the surface.

When you hear the word presence, you may think to yourself, “Of course I am present. Where else could I be?” But your mind can take you to many places; it can take your attention away from this moment. As you stand to speak, you may think, “Gosh, this could be a tough audience. I never do well with this type of audience. I’m not getting paid enough for this job. It’s too hot in this room. This audience is so inattentive.” Clearly there are an infinite variety of distracting thoughts.

When you are thinking those distracting thoughts, your ego is present but your true Self is not. Your true Self is the source of an effective presentation. Ask yourself this simple question: What do I value more? Do I value my ego thoughts, or do I value being present for my audience? Taking a moment to inquiring into your values will allow you to choose again.

But what if the distracting thoughts are coming fast and furious? There is indeed no way out—until you remind yourself that these thoughts are not coming from the situation. Thoughts come to your mind and then the cause of the thoughts is projected by your mind onto the situation. For example, you feel tense and then you blame the fact that you are tense onto the “hot” room that you are in. Once you understand this principle of projection, you have the ability to choose again.

Once you regain the power of choice, then when a thought comes that takes your presence away, you can choose to drop it. The error many people make is that when a distracting thought comes, they engage the thought. We engage our thoughts when we resist them and when we process them. When you resist or process thoughts, you will find that one thought leads to another and another and another. Pretty soon, your presentation is ruined. Instead, choose to observe the thought and then drop the thought.

Many years ago when I was a relative rookie at lecturing, I would very easily make the error of being distracted. I frequently taught in a building whose classrooms were less than ideal. My classroom was situated right over the entrance to a major expressway. Classes began at 5:30 p.m. and the traffic always roared. In addition, the classroom had old heating and cooling units; they frequently made a lot of noise.

Some days when I was teaching, I felt that, even if I spoke in my very loudest voice, I was hardly audible over the racket. As I lectured, my mind drifted, mentally complaining about the expressway and the heating units.

Curiously enough, on other days—with the same level of racket—I would not even hear the noise. I could talk in a normal lecturing voice and feel as though I was speaking in an intimate setting.

Although this was many years ago, even then, I was beginning to understand what was going on. The issue wasn’t the expressway or the heating units; the issue was my presence—or lack of it.

If I was mentally complaining, the room would seem very big and noisy and I would feel very small; I was not present. If I was present, I placed my audience first and I experienced a quiet classroom.

Before your next presentation, there are a few steps that you can take to increase the chances that your distracting thoughts will fade away and leave you to be present for your audience.

Plan your schedule so that for some time before your presentation, you have a chance to be very quiet inside. Center yourself by reading something inspirational. Remind yourself of your purpose in giving the presentation: You are there to share your gifts. Remember that you value your audience above the distracting thoughts of your ego. Remember the distractions are not in the external circumstances; the distractions are in your mind.

If you take these steps to be present and turn away from your ego, there is an excellent chance that you will use your skills to the utmost and enjoy your presentation.

Renée Fleming on the Inner Voice

This weekend I was reading The Inner Voice, the autobiography of opera singer Renée Fleming. In the book, she explains her view that ambition should not be about rising to the top. Ambition, to Fleming, is an “inner motivator.”

It’s less about seeing how high up I can vault than about seeing how deeply I can explore my potential. How can I find a truer interpretation of a role? How much more depth and light and emotion can I find in my own voice? How much can I feel when I’m singing a piece, and how much can I in turn make the audience feel? Ambition for me is about the willingness to work, the ability to mine my own soul fearlessly. At the end of my career, I want to know in my heart that I did everything I was capable of doing, that I succeeded in singing in a way that not even I had imagined was possible.

As I read Fleming’s words, I couldn’t help but recall my last blog post on Bill Belichick. Belichick’s ambition, in Fleming’s terms, is not driven by the need to develop one’s gifts; his ambition is driven by a need “to step on other people to make sure you’re the first one to get through the door.”

A few years ago, in a radio interview, Fleming told the host of her long hours of practice and her belief that she didn’t have exceptional ability. She explained:

The most important talent that exists in all of us is our instrument; whatever sound there is that makes us all unique is the crucial thing that separates the men from the boys. But it is the part of which we have no control over, so it’s not what I think about everyday. I’m not aware of how my voice sounds so much as I’m steeped in the process of making the notes on the page come to life.

Fleming’s views on both ambition and ability reflect her deep understanding that her accomplishments arise out of a process of personal surrender to forces greater than her self. It is her “inner motivator” that allows these forces to live in her. Wisely, she pays less attention to the outcome and more attention to her practice. She observed philosophically in her interview that her gifts were ephemeral: “On any given night, what we do is a gift, and it can all go away due to unforeseen possibilities.”

Fleming is not unique. We have all been given a gift of genius; our business is to discover it, practice it, and share it. We can only share that for which we have respect. And we can only respect our gifts if we understand, as Fleming does, that our gifts truly are gifts—we did not create them.

The energy that animates Fleming’s gifts, and our gifts, has been called by many names. I prefer Wholeness, since that word conveys that each of us is a part of something greater than our self. It is this energy of Wholeness that animates Renée Fleming’s “instrument,” and it is this energy that animates our own. We receive this gift as long as our intentionality—our inner motivation—is authentic.

When we behave with ruthless ambition, like a Belichick, our gift is sure to flee. There are other ways our gifts flee too. Our gifts flee when we forget to be grateful for them. We forget to be grateful when we think we must run our life off our own personal willpower. I know that this delusional belief—this belief that I am separate from Wholeness that animates my gifts—has caused me grief.

We also block our gifts by our thinking. The ways we do this are endless. We may believe we need a new material possession. We may ruminate that our house is too small. We rehearse an imaginary conversation that may or not be necessary. We may hold on to a past grievance. We may think that our circumstances have to change before we can use our gifts.

All of these are just thoughts. Our problem starts when we think that because we had a thought, we have to take the thought seriously. We think we have to act on the thought or resist the thought. What if we just let go of the thought?

It is our gratitude and respect for our gifts that help us want to live our career with the kind of ambition that Fleming describes. As Fleming explains, practicing our gifts is a journey of lifetime; and that journey is endlessly fulfilling.