On Monday I wrote about Evan Lysacek’s comment on loving what he does.

I’m sure 90% of the Olympians fit in this category, and surely all of those who win medals love what they do. I think it would be difficult to win if they didn’t.

Another Olympian that comes to mind when I think of this love is Shaun White.

Not too long ago at the X Games, Sean debuted a fancy new trick he calls the Double McTwist 1260. And he bit it. Big time. If you haven’t seen the video, it’s crazy. (You’ll never catch me doing this sort of thing!)

What happened afterward? He got right back on it and did it again, undeterred. He completed the trick successfully.

Last week, he repeated the trick again and nailed it in the Olympics. No one could come close to matching his score. (For some reason I don’t understand, I can not find his Gold Medal video anywhere online. This source cites a similar experience.) He got the gold.

When Shaun talks about snowboarding, you can feel the love he has for what he does.

When I sit down to do what I do, whether it’s writing or coaching or brainstorming the next thing for my business, I like to tap into the energy that these guys have. The passion. The unwavering commitment. The love. Connected to feelings like those is the way I want to live.
 

You have really great days and you have tough days. I think that if you’re participating in a sport for the right reasons..., when you have those tough days and those trying moments, your love for what you do is going to get you through it.

I was watching some Olympic recaps and heard gold medalists Evan Lysacek say that to Oprah when she asked him “What would you say to the young skaters out there?”

I choose to believe that each one of us can have as much love for what we do in our lives as this man has for his sport. I don’t believe that this love is reserved for Olympic and professional athletes, actors, singers, and Oprah. I think we can all feel this love.

If you’re in a job you don’t love, why are you there? I’m sure you have plenty of logical reasons. How does your heart feel when you spend your days doing something that doesn’t fill you up?

Just for a moment, consider that it is possible to feel the same way Evan does about his “job.” What could you do to make that your reality? Are you willing to take even a tiny step in that direction?

Photo courtesy of dev null via Flickr

We’re having absolutely fabulous weather here in Corvallis, Oregon. As I type this, it’s sunny and mid-50s. It will likely hit 60 today. I had a delightful morning run. The sun is now streaming in my office window and I can feel the fresh air blowing in. I love it.
Except when I start future-thinking. I fret about the winter we didn’t have.

Will it come in March or April?
Will it kill all of the buds on the trees?
Will this create problems for the local farmers?
What about the summer?
Will it be crazy-hot?
Will there be a lot of fires?
We need more rain!!!

Once I start down this path, it quickly turns into a death spiral. I stop enjoying the sunshine, the crocuses, and my open office window. I start worrying about all of these things that are completely out of my control.

As I’ve been noticing this mental weather pattern of mine over the past few weeks, I’ve been catching myself in the act and stopping this future-thinking.

On my run today, as soon as I stopped fretting, I noticed so many more crocuses that I usually notice. It was because I was present. I was in the now. I was living today.

It got me thinking about how much I miss because my mind is focused up ahead.

This weather one is a simple example. Of course I can’t change the weather. Future focus on that is obviously a waste of time for me. I’m not a farmer. I have air conditioning. And forest fires don’t come to Corvallis.

But what about the other areas of my life? There are plenty of times I future-think and believe that future-thinking will somehow help me. Every time I think about the future and not the now, I am missing the now.

Future-thinking is not necessarily a bad thing, just when it becomes a repetitive pattern full of worry. We can future-think about our bodies and health, the weather, money, relationships, work, you name it! Most of the time it just fills us with worry and offers no benefit (unless you think stress is a good thing).

Do you future-think? Is there one area where you can commit to stopping your future-thinking pattern?

With all of my talk about change, I want to also remind you that even when it feels like life is a whirlwind of change, there are always some things that remain constant.

If you’ve embarked on a new career, notice that your relationships with friends remain the same. If you’ve had a shake-up in your home life, notice that your exercise routine can stay the same. Notice whatever is constant for you.

What do you enjoy or appreciate about this aspect of your life? How does it bring you comfort? Whatever it is, keep it. Notice it. Connect with it. Enjoy your time with it. Appreciate it. Express gratitude for it. Relax with it. Let its essence fill you up.

Use this aspect of your life as your grounding rod. Let it hold your feet to the earth and steady you despite the whirlwinds of change that surround you.

Photo courtesy of my dad, John Williams, from his visit to Oregon in June-08

Your new identity has been revealed through the hole left from your old identity’s dissolution. You’ve followed the breadcrumbs and spotted your new destination.

You can clearly articulate who you are and what you are to do next.

How are you going to reach your goal?

Map out the steps--every single one. Fill in the blanks. When you’re not sure how to accomplish something or how to get from one step to another, ask for help. Learn new things. Interview experts.

When the picture is clear, it’s time for the real work. It’s time to roll up your sleeves and make things happen. (This is my favorite part!)

Take the first step. Then the next one. The steps can be small (actually, that’s recommended)--no need to leap or try to tackle everything at once.

Learn what you need to along the way.

Fumble and be willing to fail.

Go back and redraw the map where you got it wrong. No one says it will be or has to work perfectly on the first try.

Enjoy watching your dream unfold. You are making it happen.

Photo courtesy of Jasmic via Flickr

Change happens. We lose part of ourselves. Then we find a new way.

Heading in a new direction is like following a trail of breadcrumbs. We do not know the end destination, yet we can just barely see the next step. Each crumb we find offers us new information about our destination.

For some, this slow revealing is a fun adventure. For others, the mystery is agonizing. Whichever your disposition, know that the process of noticing your new information and narrowing in on your target is essential for arriving at your destination. Otherwise, you’d stop short of where you’re supposed to end up.

As you set out on your new way, write out what you know about where you’re headed--this can also include where you know you’re not headed. At the beginning, you won’t have much--that’s okay. Slowly you’ll find clarity.

Each time you find a bread crumb, add to, delete from, refine, and rewrite what you know. Notice what you can from each crumb. When you’ve gathered all you can from it, search for the next crumb.

Enjoy the journey. It’s an adventure to a yet-to-be-revealed destination. Trust that your true self knows how to find the way and the process of its unveiling is divinely timed.

Photo courtesy of Storm Crypt via Flickr

When change happens, you lose one identity and make space for a new one to emerge. If the loss of your old identity was fully grieved, then you will have plenty of space for something wonderful to emerge.

You’ll feel it in your heart that it’s time for something new. You won’t have to look for that something new--it will find you. You will feel a sense of possibility, hope, and excitement. Ideas will arrive in floods and a smile will return to your face.

If you haven’t fully grieved your loss, you may still find a new identity, but it will feel forced and firm, as opposed to inspired and soft. We often look for a new identity to escape the pain of our loss--yet seeking and jumping to a new identity too soon results in dissatisfaction and repressed grief in the long run.

Your heart will tell you it’s time for a new direction. You will find delight in the sense of newness you feel in the world. Enjoy the excitement from the possibilities you see.

Finding a new way is a process of uncovering. Don’t jump on every idea you have. Roll them over in your mind, let them simmer, and let your imagination run wild.

When you have a firm knowing in your whole being, you will have found your new identity. This firm knowing does not come from your head, it comes from deep within your heart and soul.
 

One of the most challenging steps in navigating change is the first one: letting go of our identity. Change in our lives signal the loss of a part of who we are. For something new to come into our lives, something else has to die.

If you lose your job at The Corporation, you also lose your identity as an employee there. If you move to a new city, you lose your identity as a resident of your prior city.

This seems like an obvious and simple concept, yet I find many people brush aside the significance of their identity loss. Many say, “Yup, that part’s gone,” without truly acknowledging the hole it creates within them.

To successfully transition into a new identity, we need to grieve the loss of our old one. The logical part of the mind thinks that grief is foolish and a waste of time. We say things like “Why bother?” and “No use crying over spilt milk.” But grief is essential. Feel the hole inside your body. Cry, scream, shout, stomp, and grumble. Releasing the emotions associated with your loss allows something new to be born.

Our tendency is to quickly get past the pain or pretend it’s insignificant. Resisting the reality of your identity loss will eventually cause more pain and make your transition to a new identity take longer. You can make it through the painful patch and over to the other side--give it time.

Allow the old identity to die and leave a hole, even though it hurts. From that hole, a new identity will soon be born. From a clear, seemingly empty hole, something better will grow.

photo courtesy of Dizzy Girl via Flickr