“This is the purpose of emotion, to let a streaming beauty flow through you.” -Rumi
I have been spending the last months building my storehouse of compassion and allowing emotions to flow through. I wonder, if these might be two of the elemental themes in leadership period. I believe that one of the best human experiences imaginable is to connect with what is alive in myself and another. This profound connection is the foundation of effective communication.
The challenge, of course, is our emotional reactions often get us tangled sideways. I see emotional masturity, consciously noticing and allowing our emotions to flow through us without getting attached to a story as pivotal in effective communication.
If now is the time to refine your emotional maturity, sign up for one of my mid-year Renew, Refocus and Re-engage private coaching sessions.
“We often talk about love of place, by which we mean our love for places, but seldom of how the places love us back, of what they give us. They give us continuity, something to return to, and offer a familiarity that allows some portion of our own lives to remain connected and coherent. They give us an expansive scale in which our troubles are set into context, in which the largeness of the world is a balm to loss, trouble, and ugliness. And distant places give us refuge in territories where our own histories aren’t so deeply entrenched and we can imagine other stories, other selves, or just drink up quiet and respite.
The bigness of the world is redemption. Despair compresses you into a small space, and a depression is literally a hollow in the ground. To dig deeper into the self, to go underground, is sometimes necessary, but so is the other route of getting out of yourself, into the larger world, into the openness in which you need not clutch your story and your troubles so tightly to your chest. Being able to travel both ways matters, and sometimes the way back into the heart of the question begins by going outward and beyond. This is the expansiveness that sometimes comes literally in a landscape or that tugs you out of yourself in a story.” –Rebecca Solnit, The Faraway Nearby pp 30-31