“I simply do not differentiate between work and play.” —Mary Oliver
There is a deep cultural belief that the path to getting what we want requires sacrifice—some kind of cost or payment. There is a pound of flesh, a penance, blood spilled, a compromise, or hard work involved. Embedded in this belief is that the sacrifice is worth it because of how you feel, or what you gain, when you get there—the thing is worth the cost of admission.
This bedrock belief is everywhere, in everyone. How many times have I heard some version of:
It sucks getting to the gym, but I feel great after.
I don’t want to sit down and do my homework or emails or pay my bills, but it’s worth it to have it done.
Eating salads (or whatever “health” food trend) is a drag, but I feel better when I do.
Marriage is work. Relationships are work. But we work on it and it’s worth it.
These long hours are worth it. My retirement will be the reward.
Work first. Then play.
We need to sacrifice for the greater good.
I have to do _____. Then I can do _____.
A little effort goes a long way.
Compromise is necessary.
I can feel the pull of these statements, the convincing quality. I’m writing this blog and I STILL almost believe them.
But the sacrifice idea isn’t, ultimately, true. Or at least, it’s not the truest thing. The truest thing is that Life does not require your bloodshed, or any real cost to your Being. It will most certainly cost you your story—your limited and distorted ideas about yourself and life—but it does not require an actual, physical, tangible cost in the way we imagine.
Years ago I wrote a blog on this general idea called Nonzero Sum Game. Check it out here. Today’s blog gets into the day to day workings of this belief, with a story of a recent session with a coaching client…
My client and I were talking about her 12 year old son and his guitar practice. He didn’t want to practice on his own, without his tutor, and she was concerned. She referenced her own high school years and how she had ‘pushed’ herself in gymnastics—she believed this pushing is what made her good, won her matches. She wanted to push her son with guitar, afraid that he wouldn’t achieve his goals with the guitar otherwise, and would perhaps give it up.
And she wanted to be a good mother. If her son quit? Lost interest? ..Bad mom.
I acknowledged that pushing was an option; however, when we looked together at how to do this, she couldn’t find any authentic way to push him. Yell? Threaten? Tell scary stories? Strongly encourage with just a hint of guilt? It all sounded awful to her.
When it came down to it, she could only fathom sharing her experience—the rewards, she believed, of having been pushed by coaches, and pushing herself, in her high school years and beyond. But when we looked at her actual experience in high school gymnastics—every win, and every enjoyable time on the mats, did not come as a result of pushing. In fact, it was the opposite. The competitions she won were on the days she had the most fun. The practices when she was laughing with her friends were the ones in which she learned a new move, or advanced from two handsprings to three. She was told a story of struggle = success by her parents, coaches, teachers (and, well, everyone) …and she believed it.
And she told herself that story for 30 years.
But it wasn’t the true story. She was shocked to look back and see that the actual, on-the-ground-facts of her life were so different. My client could see that on those highly successful and rich days there was a coach or friend there—maybe they were suggesting a more-advanced move, or showing her a technique she hadn’t seen before—but the overall feel was that they were playing around with her, exploring the edge of her ability. When it came to the coaches specifically, they knew she could do the new move, and they encouraged her, but they didn’t actually push.
I recently learned that there is a general misunderstanding regarding how mother birds teach their young ones to fly. Ornithologists describe eagles coaxing their young from the nest, rather than giving them a shove. When the fledgling eagle is almost ready to fly, parents swoop by the nest with their kill; but instead of landing in the nest to share the meal, they land near the nest and eat in plain view of the hungry little one. This behavior continues until the fledgling is hungry enough to venture out of the nest, at which point the parent will share the food.
Encouraged, not pushed. Shown what they are capable of, not scared into it.
When internally motivated, the young bird also has the direct experience of her legs and wings working in new ways, a discovery and a reinforcement in and of itself, in addition to the food reward. It was the same with my client—when she did a new gymnastics move, it was for the sake of itself—not to win (though she did) and not to relieve the pressure she had been put under (though it did), but the inherent joy in discovering what her body was capable of.
If we track my client’s belief that she needs to push her son, there is fear there. Fear of an unsuccessful future for him. Fear she isn’t a good enough parent and needs to ‘do more.’ And that fear is so convincing!
But again—when we looked at an actual moment she had with her son—in which she sat with him while he was frustrated (not understanding a chord progression and angry with himself and his coach)—her presence, just like the mama bird, was the helpful element. She literally just sat in the practice room, listening to her son have a rant. She then made some lunch, coaxing him to leave the practice room. After lunch, her son went back on his own to practice.
The natural desire to play, to discover, to satisfy his own curiosity led the way. Such a funny thing for my client to discover, yet again, that reality of her life was the opposite of her story.
Another client recently said to me ‘Nothing happens inorganically’ when looking back on years of attempting to push herself in her work. Every time she pushed, there was a dead stop. When she followed her sense of play, of natural, easy curiosity, she thrived. Kiran Trace calls it following your Delicious Yes. This client had also (previously) told the story that pushing herself, and sacrificing, was the secret to her success; but when we looked, not one of her ‘successes’ came as a result of pushing herself. They were the result of an organic movement.
This has been a running theme with myself and my clients recently. When we look at our success and fulfillment, it was not due to ‘hard work,’ though we all believed that story at one time. This includes a high-achieving CEO, a top 1% athlete, a writer, a chef, and artists of various stripes. It doesn’t matter the achievement—they actually occurred via less doing. This remains shocking news, as it is antithetical to the very roots of our cultural beliefs. But truly, every single client achieved more through less ‘work.’
It’s a funny thing, our belief in an external push or pull being necessary. Literally ANY animal or plant is a living example of the opposite—of taking the path of least resistance, less pressure (think of falling water, or hibernating bears, or birds hopping only as high as necessary to avoid the cat). Our human story seems to forever invoke the need for artificial momentum/motivation, versus seeing where the momentum is already. Check out my most recent blog for more on this.
Bottom line: In reality, work and play are not separate. So there is no need for work/sacrifice/effort/pushing to then release the energy of play/effortless/ease/rest/delicious.
In fact, start with delicious. Start with play.
But first a how-to…
Kiran has a 5 part audio series on YouTube talking with a client about how to find Delicious Yes and how it is different than what she calls “2/3 ain’t bad,” which always has a bit of work/sacrifice/compromise/effort in it. This is essential listening—I recommend listening many times. We need practical tools to help us find the natural/delicious/playful moves, as the density of ‘work’ conditioning in our system is intense.
Take a listen and report back in the comments!
xo