Every time I see this image, I wonder about how each one of us establishes our boundaries.

• How do we decide where to draw the line?
• How well do we hold the boundaries we set?
• How rigid or flexible are our boundaries?
• What does it mean for us to say “no”?

This Harvard Business Review article, “No” is the New “Yes”: Four Practices to Reprioritize Your Life, offers four practices or tactics to “reprioritize your life”. But saying “no” isn’t easy.

I know many people for whom engaging in these seemingly straight-forward practices would be very difficult. Because saying “no” in such cases isn’t a simple tactic; it includes the person’s assumptions of what it means to say “no” and the implications of doing so.

When in spite of our intentions our efforts don’t work, it is because we trying to solve “adaptive” challenges through “technical” means. Robert Kagan and Lisa Laskow Lahey offers this language in their book, Immunity to Change: How to Overcome It and Unlock the Potential in Yourself and Your Organization (Leadership for the Common Good).

And having the language to describe, recognize and understand what’s going on is the first step towards resolution.

Recently I was telling a friend that I find myself repeatedly visiting a particular decision. Why do I keep returning to this crossroad?

My friend, a fellow coach, asked me: Where do you want to go?

Talking with fellow coaches is always interesting, because of their way with questions and my responses to them.

“I want to go home,” I replied. (Huh? Where did that come from? )

“Home” turned out to be a way of being, where I am at peace with myself, my environment, my companinions at work and at home. When I’m “home” it doesn’t matter what I’m doing — just that I’m at peace with it.

As we talked about my finding my way “home” I felt a familiar constriction in my throat — an indication that this was resonating with me. I had uncovered an important piece of information. I also knew how my body would feel when I arrive “home” because I had been there before and remembered the physical sensations of that way of being.

The body is a remarkable source of information. It’s like a compass. And as I continue to practice paying attention to all that it tells me, I appreciate how well it serves me when I actually pause to use the information!

All summer I worked hard to generate business for Upohar, the catering business I started a few months ago. But my plans weren’t working as I had expected they would. I was not having fun anymore. And if it wasn’t fun and it wasn’t fulfilling, why do it?

As I read the book, I realized that I could make whatever work I’m engaged in fun and fulfilling just by the way I interpreted everything about it. Or I could make the most meaningful work pointless by stripping all the stories and changing my interpretations about it.

Paying attention to what still excited me in the day to day work even when things weren’t working according to my plans and what specifically bothered me on particularly difficult days, was a starting point. Noticing the stories or explanations I gave myself and others for each of these good and bad events was the next step. Finally, applying a different story or interpretation to the same event was most illumninating.

I’m enjoying the painstaking process of building the business again.  It all depends on how I interpret what’s happening.

This weekend I saw tiny sprouts poking through the earth. I planted the seeds late this year, forgot to pre-soak them as I had been advised to do, and watered them only once since planting them. And yet, in spite of all the neglect and oversight, there they were — tiny sprouts!

These little things remind me that nature is resilient, that potential needs little encouragement to blossom, that my garden grows in spite of me! I’m a small part of a much bigger system. However, small actions on my part can start the chain reaction for wonderful things to happen.

Like Upohar, my flegdling company that employs resettled refugee women from various countries.

Looking at my garden and the sprouts in the ground and remembering that I’m only part of the story, I scheduled a meeting with my team members next week. I want to offer them an active business-building role in this venture. Because my hunch is that with a little encouragement and support, they will become active partners in making Upohar blossom. However, just like in the garden, after I plant the seeds my role is limited. I don’t really have any “control” over the outcome even though I might want to think I do.

And this is both humbling and liberating.

Read more >> Options >>

It also made me dig out the self-remembering questions from Not Waiting to Be Alive, New Ventures West’s Autumn 2008 newsletter. Here are the questions from it, that I’m contemplating right now:

• What is the central intention of my life right now?
• Who am I really?
• Whom am I serving right now by doing what I’m doing?
• What possibility, what freedom can I step into right now?

Join me, if you’re so inspired.

In the book study discussion with the author, I asked about the distinction between accepting reality and fatalism. The author’s answer was that the difference lies in the mood: fatalism has a mood of resignation and feeling of being trapped. And acceptance is simply an acknowledgment of what is.

I knew all this cognitively, but hearing it that day it really registered. I was ready for it.

As my friend and fellow coach reminded me today, “Isn’t it true that we cannot see, hear, comprehend, sense a minute sooner than our system is ready to see, hear, comprehend, sense?”

So true.

Earlier this year, when I heard this song, I was struck by the lyrics. I am at a stage in my life when I’m no longer willing to turn away from what I encounter. Is it a coincidence that I re-discovered this song now? Or did hearing this song again open the door for me to move into this stage? And what does it takes to step into this way of being?

Here’s the song. I invite you to listen to it and see how you respond to it. If you feel like it, please share your comments below.

He was feeling very sad about a wide range of things, and didn’t want to feel this way. He sobbed about not having had the opportunity to spend too much time with our cat Bill, who died. He cried that his favorite tree at a nearby park had been cut down.

I told him it was OK to feel sad and that feelings teach us many things. When we feel sad about something, it means that whatever we’re sad about is important to us.

I planted some carrot seeds earlier this season, and I checked every day for sprouts. After what seemed like a very long time, I concluded that this batch was lost. Perhaps I had forgotten to water or maybe I didn’t plant them properly in the first place.

Just as I was planting a second batch, I noticed some sprouts.

I thought they were weeds and was about to pull them. But I decided to wait a couple of days because I thought I saw tiny, fringy carrot leaves. Well, they turned out to be carrots!

The lessons?

My concept of time is not always reliable. I thought I had planted the seeds several weeks ago. Looking at my gardening notebook, I realized it had been only two weeks. And the seeds sprouted within 10 – 14 days as the packet said it would. How often do I “give up” too quickly, I wonder?

Sometimes, I don’t recognize what I see. I almost pulled out my carrot sprouts, because I didn’t know what they looked like. I wondered how often I dismiss something, e.g., an opportunity, because I don’t recognize it as such.

For more lessons from gardening, here’s another article I wrote a few years ago.

I have come to love gardening because of the unexpected lessons I learn from it. Of course, there is also the satisfaction of a great harvest!