Your Courageous Life

photo credit: Andrea Scher

An Interview with Brene Brown

Brene Brown and I got together for our first interview for The Courageous Living Guide, over a year ago. The Gifts of Imperfection had been released and was starting to take hold. TED talks were on the horizon.

I immediately resonated with her warmth, her depth, the way she was able to take her research (often something that we associate with being cold and clinical facts) and turn it into work of the heart.

By far and away, I hear again and again from visitors to the website that her work, especially her book The Gifts of Imperfection, has been pivotal.

I contacted Brene and asked if she’d be willing to do a follow-up interview, in part to hear about what’s new and in part because it was time for a new chapter in the conversation. She was totally open to it, and this is what transpired:

Click the player below to listen to the full interview.

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“There’s no secret to it. It’s just a lot of years of getting up, putting on the shoes and getting out the door on those days when it doesn’t feel good and when it’s not all that fun and still putting in the work.” –Jenny Simpson
(1500M gold medal winner at the 2011 IAAF Championships in South Korea).

So often, we don’t want to believe that this is true.

We put a lot of time and energy into time management systems and reading about how other people are doing it, and comparisons–oh, the comparisons are killing. If there is one thing I have learned after six years of life coaching, it’s that everyone has a secret inner world, and in that inner world, there is some little nugget of pain somewhere. The right circumstances will bring it out, in anyone.

We were driving home after a speaking event this past weekend. It was late at night and we were close to home in wine country. The world was an empty black punctuated by stars and headlights from oncoming traffic.

Andy said, “You know–you just do the work until you find a way to make it work. Not everyone can do that.”

And I responded, “It’s not that other people can’t do it. It’s just that they see the snake, while I see the rope.”

I was referencing the talk I’d just given, in which I’d shared an anecdote from Byron Katie–when you’re walking along a trail and see a snake coiled on the path, you jump away in fear. But once you look closer and realize that it’s just a rope, you can’t go back to seeing a snake, again. It’s impossible. You know that it’s really just a rope. The story falls away. The reason not to continue along the path dissolves.

The rope that I see is that fear is just along for the ride, and it’s no reason not to continue along your path, because as bad as it feels, it can’t really hurt you. You’re just with it.

I spent the day leading up to my talk feeling nervous, anxious, unable to concentrate. Total fear. And I just kept on keeping on. I tried reading, meditating, relaxing. I reached out for support. I was honest about what I was feeling. I knew on some level that what I really wanted to do was just break down and cry a bit, because that was what would release the tension, but the tears didn’t come until late in the day. When they did, I let them fall. I snuggled against Andy’s chest and cried, and he knows me well enough to have expected it.

Then I took a shower, put on my makeup and an outfit and a truly fabulous pair of heels, and headed to the event.

I showed up, I did my very best.

This, of course, is all any of us can ever do.

This is life–the anxiety, the fear, the worry, the tears, the being held, the shower, the makeup, the outfit, the feeling afraid, diving in anyway, and transforming. The doing our best, letting that be enough, trusting that we will be loved, anyway.

There is no secret. It is years of getting up, stepping forward, moving even when the fear gets so intense that everything in life skews sideways and feels wrong, and it’s not fun so it’s easy to think, “What’s the point?” and –still putting in the work.

The work to love.

The work to forgive.

The work to start a business.

The work to write a novel.

The work to tell someone your truth.

The work to remain optimistic in the face of pessimism and fear.

The work to shed the tears that are waiting to be shed.

The work to feed one another, clothe one another, help one another.

The work of having patience and compassion.

All of this work. All of this life and living. All of it, every second–worth it.

I’m one of those people who can tell you exactly what happened, play by play, in an intense discussion that I had with someone years before.

I can usually tell you what I said, what he said, how he looked when he said it, what I said in response, and what I was feeling when I responded. I’m empathic and sensitive, and the most important conversations of my life are etched upon my soul.

So here’s how I can tell that I’m doing some kind of intense personal growth work that is rubbing right up against a core belief–the kind of intensity that might just shatter a long-held belief or way of doing things:

I get fuzzy, and I forget things.

Perhaps you can relate.

I Don’t Know

If I’m the client in a session with someone who’s helping me wade through my stuff, and we’re really walking right in the thick of it, one of the truest signs that we’re in the right place is that I start saying a lot of this:

“I don’t know.”

And in those moments, I really don’t know. Everything feels blank, everything feels fuzzy and not quite clear–and I’m one of those people who almost always “knows.”

I’m not talking about “absolutes” or righteousness–I’m saying that generally, my preferences about anything–where to eat, what it meant to me when so-and-so said such-and-such, whether or not I like an article of clothing, whether or not it’s a good idea to spend money or save it, whatever–generally, my sense about these things feels clear.

When I’m butting up against a core issue, I hesitate. I rub my eyes.

I have to ask the person speaking to me to re-ask their questions.

Sometimes I have to ask them to rephrase what they’re saying, because I know that they’re speaking English, but it’s as if the words aren’t computing–I’ll find myself thinking, “What are they saying? What does that mean? Wait–what are they saying?”

Major Insight: This sort of muddling confusion is the last defense Ego/resistance/the critic will put forth to fortify itself.

“I don’t know” is a way that we can separate ourselves from clarity, from taking action, from a solution to a challenge, or even from just being with what is.

If we don’t know, how can we possibly be expected to change? If we “don’t know,” then we can rationalize not taking action.

A great way to test out whether or not “I don’t know” is used as a defense from seeing the truth? Try standing firm around the belief that the person *does* know.

Someone who is defending a powerless position will get really, really angry when they hear that statement. They’ll insist that they don’t know, repeatedly. They’ll tell you all of the reasons why they don’t know. They might even spin a Story of how they couldn’t possibly be expected to know, now or ever.

I’m not talking about the Buddhist concept of “Don’t Know Mind,” where you approach everything as a beginner, with openness. Being willing to sit with Don’t Know Mind is immensely powerful.

I’m talking about an emphatic statement made by someone insisting that they do not “know” how to handle an issue, when in fact, they do.

We Always Know

We know what our personal answers are. We know what we’re hungry for. I wholeheartedly believe this.

We might have fear around voicing it–but we know.

We might not be listening–but we know.

We might not know steps to getting what we want–but we always know that they are out there.

It’s not about what we don’t know.

It’s about what we’re willing to declare.

Confusion Precedes Clarity

It’s the very process of being “in it” with the confusion that produces, eventually, the clarity we desire. There’s no short-circuiting that process. I don’t care what anyone is trying to sell you– “How to” is massively over-rated, and not even usually what we need.

What we need, as Brene Brown says, is to look at what gets in the way.

“I don’t know” gets in the way.

What doesn’t get in the way?

How about: “I’m committed to knowing,” or “I’m excited to learn,” or “I’m willing to be present with ‘not knowing’ until the next right step appears.” Or even– “I’m willing to be gentle with myself every time I notice myself saying that ‘I don’t know,’ ” or “I’m open to the idea that ‘not knowing’ is not a big deal.”

Try it out: Take out a sheet of paper, and make a list of the top five things that you feel stuck around, like you “don’t know” what to do.

Finish this statement: “If I don’t know exactly what to do, I could probably try…”

Then–and this is the part that the “I don’t know” resistance was trying to keep you from, because it’s scary–actually commit to trying the things that are on your list.

Be prepared to astonish, amaze, and inspire yourself–especially when you see how brilliant you really are, and how you really did “know,” the entire time.