On Contemplation

As Greg Richardson makes clear in this month's Leadership Conversation, contemplation is defined in traditional Western terms as not having an object. We don't contemplate "a something."  Rather, it is a chance to remove the illusion of one's separation from the Divine. 

While I'm no longer a particularly Christianized soul, I do love my own kind of contemplative practice, intended to maintain an open mind and heart, listening and surrendering to the experience of a non-dualized reality. As leaders I believe it is vital to be able to put a hold on our treasured self-definitions and self-interests -- the very things that keep us separate.  All too often our protected sense of identity and ego is exactly what keeps us away from serving others, our mission, and our organizations as well as we could. Only opening up entirely, literally forgetting ourselves, enables us to truly see the possibilities.

I recall two executives trying to work out the terms of a potential merger between their mid-sized organizations. Over several meetings, I saw how one executive was convinced the other didn't share his values and had drawn all kinds of negative conclusions about his colleague's character. The other kept pressing forward, inviting a dialogue, hoping that sooner or later the negative beliefs might dissolve and the two could explore the partnership that the proposed merger would demand of them. In this case, unfortunately, the first executive could not forego his negative conclusions and, inevitably, the merger failed.  

This may be a metaphor for contemplation itself. There's a part of us that is reaching out for something larger, for that union, while another part holds on tightly to beliefs that have little to do with reality. To contemplate is to pause, even for a short time, letting go the illusion of the separate, thinking self that needs to defend and always must be right. It means waiting, opening new eyes, inviting a larger, more positive, more constructive energy that comes with the desire to serve a greater good -- where a quiet impulse toward unselfishness emerges with the beginnings of a different kind of peace.

In this regard, a form of contemplation may not be much more than simply stepping back -- to consider a new idea, proposal or possibility outside oneself -- but not with the cold eye of pure observation and rational evaluation. A leader's contemplation may be more like what might have made that potential merger go through: a dissolution of presumed differences, an appreciation for something bigger than ourselves, a true openness, a patience, and an invitation to the grace that can yet prevail in our all too human affairs. That, too, may touch the Divine.

 

  Memorial Day Prayer  Until the human race figures out how to stand up to war,/some will go for the rest of us, standing up for us as best they can/ and then lying down in peace upon the hill./Let the memories of so many souls, so good and true... Read More...

LEADERSHIP CONVERSATION

Greg Richardson Helps Us Meet Our Own True Selves

 

 

 

A richly contemplative man, Greg Richardson offers a life story that is symbolic of our times. Born and raised in rural Wisconsin, he gained a law degree and Master's in public administration. He became a criminal prosecutor and taught as a university professor, but then life experience -- bumping into those places where he could not find a right answer -- openned his life with the gift of needing to let go in order to explore his own spiritual depths. He became acquainted with contemplative practices, prayer and reading; was introduced to Benedictine beliefs, and became a certified spiritual director. A lay oblate with a Benedictine hermitage and monastery, Greg is "the Strategic Monk," serving as a spiritual mentor, leadership coach, and organizational coach. You can find out more about Greg on his website and, especially, through the beautiful, contemplative articles he posts there. You can also follow him on twitter: @StrategicMonk.

 

 

 

Greg, could you say a little more about your journey, especially how you became a "recovering lawyer"?

 

The turning points for me have been times when I recognized that I am in situations I can no longer control.  Control had been very important to me, perhaps the most important pattern of my growing up years.  I'd acquired the belief early on that I could or should always be able to provide the right answers.  To me, a leader was someone who had all the right answers every time. As a prosecutor that was exactly what my work was about, determining what was clearly right and clearly wrong.  But my experiences soon also brought me up against questions I couldn't answer.

 

For example, we tend to see criminal justice in this country as based on the precept that an adversarial process will bring us justice. Lawyers fight it out. It's a matter of persuasion and facts. Two sides will automatically lead us to the truth.  But I began to see that while that's certainly possible it wasn't necessarily the best way to solve problems.  I remember prosecuting a case that involved a person stealing tires from a junkyard. He changed his story three times on the witness stand. There was no question about his guilt, and yet that's where we had put our effort. What we didn't spend time on was what should we do about it? I was in a position to argue he should go to prison, but that wasn't going to change anything, and it would be expensive.  This case helped spark my interest in restorative justice, where people repair their crimes more personally, and it also caused me to do something else, to go much deeper and to ask, "Is there something better?"

 

What was happening in terms of my own growth is that I began to break through the controlling, right vs. wrong thought system behind the justice system itself.  It took me to a new place, where I began to increasingly focus on myself as a human being, asking the question, "And who am I in all this?"  Over time I've evolved to a more truly contemplative place, a process that's still continuing. I'm still a very strategic person, but I'm also becoming more monastic all the time, balancing the need to take initiative with knowing when to give up control.  That's where the "recovery" has led me.

 

What do contemplative practice, silence and depth - subjects you often write about -- have to do with personal healing?

 

This is a fascinating topic. It's not about doing something more. Rather it's about learning to stop, or at least pause, being calm even just for a little bit. We put ourselves through so much stress and anxiety, focusing on connecting to others all the time. We amp ourselves up to meet the expectations we've placed on ourselves.

 

As people pause, they can come back to themselves, getting to know themselves better. We tend to know our distractions and our convoluted images of ourselves -- who we wish to be -- better than we know who we truly are. We protect ourselves from others, but end up protecting ourselves from ourselves.  To spend time with myself means unwinding that labyrinth I've spun around me.  Step by step what I find is a new understanding of what it is I genuinely need -- and that's where the healing comes in. I find a depth in myself, a depth in what's around me that I wouldn't know if I didn't pay attention.  Without that depth we all can become shallow, narrow, hunkering down in a way we don't experience healing at all.

 

Are there places we can go to facilitate this kind of attention to ourselves?

 

I like an uncrowded beach, watching the ocean for awhile.  But it could be on the side of a mountain or among tall trees, seeing the stars at night, any place where you might realize that you are not the center of the universe; any place where there's a sense of relief seeing how deep things are around us and how we, too, have a depth in ourselves that has gone unrecognized.

 

Is there a difference between contemplation and meditation?

 

Traditionally, there's a difference between Western, Christian contemplation and Eastern forms. In the East, meditation is not focused on an object, while contemplation is always a reflection about something. In traditional Western Christianity, it's just the reverse: contemplation is open, a means of unifying with the Divine. For me contemplation is about spending time with God beyond words, feelings or thinking. It's an experience of intimacy. There are practices that help me develop my contemplative muscle but this is not about "getting good at it."  It's about opening. In Benedictine spirituality, God is always with us. Separation is an illusion.  The challenge is to remove the obstacles we have created for ourselves. It's not something you have to work yourself into. The practice is to simply stop closing the door. This is the exact opposite of American patterns of thinking, whether everything is about achievement.

 

Thomas Merton, the famous Catholic author and mystic once wrote:

 

"The false self consists of all the efforts we make to nurture a reputation for ourselves in the mind of others. In our culture, we have a compulsive need to be validated by external sources. But the true self is the one that is wholly separate from this fragile image that we try to construct in the imagination of others. The true self is like a very shy wild animal that never appears at all whenever an alien presence is at hand, and comes out only when all is peaceful, when he is untroubled and alone. He cannot be lured by anyone or anything, because he responds to no lure except that of the divine freedom."

 

What do you make of this statement?

 

I love Merton and what he is saying is so true: our true self is protecting itself. But we are afraid of that, too. We seek our true self and there's fear - that's why we have our defenses and create a labyrinth for ourselves. Those defenses were created before we knew what we were doing.  But there's a path and if we follow it we can ultimately experience that "very shy wild animal" that we are. It's a journey of which some people are conscious and some are not. I can certainly say that for a long time I was searching for my true self but I was also asleep and it took some challenging experiences to help me - slowly and surely - begin to wake up.  I'm more awake than I used to be - it's a process, a quest, and it is useful to remember that being awake is helpful to living a good life, but it is not mandatory.

 

For me to begin this quest was to realize I didn't have the right answer. It was a big, even a traumatic revelation.

 

I understand you have a tattoo related to your spirituality.  Would you be willing to share what that tattoo is?

 

Last year I was doing some goal setting for myself and I used the idea of getting a tattoo as an incentive. At first I thought I'd get an image of a labyrinth - it's a potent symbol for the journey into oneself, reaching the center and traveling back out again. But it is a complicated symbol and I thought maybe too painful to get as a tattoo!  So the image I finally decided upon is one related to accounts of early Christian monastic life and the stories of the desert fathers and mothers who went to live in the desert, choosing the spiritual challenge of living in a harsh wilderness as a substitute for the rigors of martyrdom.

 

My favorite story from that time involves one of the monks describing what's beyond day-to-day fasting, praying and doing one's practice. "If you want go farther," he said, "you must become a consuming fire; you can become a flame." And to prove it he held up his hands and the tips of his fingers were lit like candles. The image I have as a tattoo is related to this story.

 

Quakers have sometimes been referred to as "practical mystics." You seem to share in some of that same energy.

 

Yes, I'd say that's true.  I think of the monks at my monastery as hermits. So, in addition, I'd say I'm an extraverted hermit!

 

Greg, if you could leave one gift for the rest of humanity, what would it be?

 

Well, I'm tempted to say a deep appreciation for craft beer - craft beer is my avocation.  But I'd say the true gift is more closely related to what I love most to do, which is help people get to know their true selves.

 

 It's like any other relationship.  You sort of meet someone.  It's formal; it's information.  Then you get acquainted and if the other person is friendly, your questions get more personal.  You get closer and your inquiries become even more important. You find yourself asking for advice. The other becomes intimate to you and the relationship becomes one where you say anything you want or nothing at all.  That's the arc I've started with myself and I can see it happening.  I'd love to give this experience of self-meeting to others.  It's a challenge.  It's not these five steps and your life will be wonderful.  There's an effort.  It's work - it's hard work to let go and there's a lot of bringing together parts of yourself that sound incompatible. 

 

What I know is that it's good to be in a relationship with someone who can go through the experience with you, to be part of a community. There's discomfort, for sure, but it is so worthwhile to build this profound new relationship with who you really are.

 

 

MY LEADERSHIP BINDER

More Resources to Foster Reflective Learning

 

* The Problem with Competency. Forbes contributor, Mike Myatt, takes on why competency models for leadership don't work in "The Most Common Leadership Model -- And Why It's Broken."