I’m always striving for a goal, always striving for better, to be “better” in a variety of contexts. I was listening to a podcast recently (I’m hooked on Tim Ferris’ Tribe of Mentors) and he mentioned his coffee table is a piece of driftwood on which is etched this quote, “Life expands and contracts in proportion to your courage.”

He went on to offer another quote and pearl of wisdom, “Life is 25% finding yourself and 75% creating yourself.” This really hit home for me and I found it incredibly reassuring. I thought back to a therapy session I had when I found myself in a really dark place after moving to Seattle. While it felt a lot like rock bottom, it was a starting place for better things ahead. I am reminded of Pema Chondron and her wisdom in her book Start Where You Are. One passage in particular has really stuck with me:

WE ALREADY HAVE everything we need. There is no need for self-improvement. All these trips that we lay on ourselves— the heavy-duty fearing that we’re bad and hoping that we’re good, the identities that we so dearly cling to, the rage, the jealousy and the addictions of all kinds— never touch our basic wealth. They are like clouds that temporarily block the sun. But all the time our warmth and brilliance are right here. This is who we really are. We are one blink of an eye away from being fully awake.

In this moment nearly a decade ago in Seattle, I remember realizing that I’d always relied on other people to tell me what to do, whom to be and also relied upon the acceptance and feedback of others to determine my worth. It was a low place as I also realized something incredibly terrifying…if I let go of all that feedback, I felt hollow, truly empty. I had no idea who I was, there was nothing, without the voices and input of others.

It was at once paralyzing and freeing. It took many more years of therapy and investing in myself, but in hindsight, it was this wonderful opportunity to deal with my past, understand myself, “find myself” and then move forward to create who I wanted to be, to truly create my authentic self.

More recently as I have now moved to LA, I have again struggled to redefine myself and to once again look at this as an opportunity to be courageous in the face of change, to continue to adapt and grow and embrace the new. I have felt the challenge to find my voice and to speak a little louder, to dare more greatly. For months after moving, I felt angry and resentful and struggled to see the opportunity.

I have since taken some bold steps, starting my own business, starting a coaching program at Fielding University, and starting a Women’s Group to empower and create community. As I sit here and now ponder this shift, I am reminded of the words of Viktor Frankl, Austrian neurologist and psychologist, as well as a Holocaust survivor, (1905-1997). He was the founder of logotheraphy, a form of existential analysis. His experiences as a concentration camp inmate led him to discover the importance of finding meaning in all forms of existence and thus a reason to continue living. He noted, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

For months, I longed to move back to Seattle, to run home, and I mourned my situation, grieved what I had perceived to have left behind. I have no intention of comparing my challenges or situation with his, however I do intend to learn from his wisdom and to see this important shift in thinking – opening myself to be transformed instead of struggling to transform a place and situation outside of my control. He offers two more pieces of wisdom I have found inspiring as I tiptoe further and further into acceptance of my place and path and strive to meet the challenges and embrace the opportunities:

“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

I find it empowering to shift my thinking, to open my mind, and as I have longed for control and felt so powerless, these words remind me, I may not have the total control I long for, but I always have control over how I respond to the situation, the attitude I move forward with, and the direction I choose to move. With this in mind, I choose courage to continue to seek, explore, create and move forward.

Have you experienced this shift in mindset? What struggles are you facing and how might you view them as opportunities? What is holding you back? What does it look like for you to choose to move forward with courage and to be the change that unlocks your next move?

Later that same day, after we crossed the treacherous waters hiking to the Tierser Alpl,  I made it to the summit.  I was first to the top and I was met by a cruel wind.  It was lonely and cold, and I found myself wishing I’d slowed down, enjoyed the view, and taken time to have more conversations.  Rather than stopping and waiting, however, for people to catch up, or to simply enjoy the view from the top, I snapped a few photos and I quickly faced into the wind to begin the descent to the Tierser Alpl, the Alpine hiking hut where we would spend the next two nights.  Not only did the wind howl around me, but the snow was hip deep in places from the drifts, and no longer working hard to go uphill, my body wasn’t producing heat the way it had been.  I cursed the wind and the snow and myself for being weak. It was cold and lonely at the top!

My thoughts began to wander and I began to see this sojourn as representative of my life.  I love a good challenge, I love climbing to the top, I love pushing my limits.  I rarely stop to admire the view from the top, to revel in my success, and never do I enjoy the unknown of the descent.  I am always looking for my next mountain to climb.  I have found it is often lonely and isolating at the top.  In my family, I was the first to go to college, and I didn’t just go to any college, I went to Yale, yikes!  Everyone saw me as someone who was perfect, who had it all together, and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting them down.  Going to Yale set me apart and made me different yet again.  When I finished Yale, all my friends from college were going on to law school and med school or starting Ph.D. programs and I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do, so I trained and ran a marathon.  I didn’t wait long before I ran another and another and another, and finally set my sights on qualifying for Boston.

I’m not writing this to brag about my accomplishments, but as I climbed down the mountain in that deep, deep snow, and let my thoughts swirl with the wind, I realized I keep setting myself apart, isolating myself, never stopping to appreciate the journey,  always fighting to recover from my missteps quick enough that no one might notice, never stopping to enjoy the success of achieving my goal, and I never, ever run down the other side of the mountain with reckless abandon, allowing myself to enjoy a little time coasting.  I don’t think I’m alone.  I think many of us fail to be still and to enjoy the journey, to revel in our accomplishments and to call them enough, to call ourselves enough.  Instead, we are always making ourselves busy with the next conquest, striving for the next success.  If we don’t slow down, will we ever take the time to learn the lessons, to appreciate the journey, to savor the view from the top, and to allow ourselves the time and grace to be human?

In September, I had the opportunity to go to the Italian Dolomites to help facilitate the course, Leading with Emotional Intelligence, offered through the Albers School of Business at Seattle University.  As an MBA student at SU, I had taken the course before.  It was quite an honor to return to the Dolomites as a facilitator.  The first time around, due to unfortunate circumstances, the class did not have the opportunity to summit the Schlern.  On this trip, we made it to the top and I learned a few things about myself that resonated for both personal and professional reasons.

This year, as we set out to hike up the mountain, the rain turned to snow and we found ourselves trudging up the mountain paths in less than optimal conditions.  I was leading the group and while I had made this part of the journey before, the snow made the trail nearly invisible.  At one point, we made it to what is normally an area where water flows down the rocks and must be traversed carefully.

The path ahead was completely obscured by the snow.  I remembered this place from my previous trip, but couldn’t remember how we’d crossed and couldn’t see the trail for clues on which direction to go.  I started leading the group up the rocks rather than simply across.  This proved nearly impossible and I was struggling for direction.  I was also frustrated with myself for not knowing the answer, the easy way to help the group.  Finally, one of the students with rock climbing experience made it up the rocks and found the trail was down below. We were able to correct the mistake, but I felt foolish for taking several students up rather than simply across.  I had failed to see the “easy” though obscured way, and instead set out trying to conquer what felt impossible.  Later, these same students thanked me for the adventure, but I could not forgive myself nor could I shake the feeling of failure.

In hindsight, there are lots of lessons in this moment.  We too often fail to see the adventure that comes from taking the harder option. We too often hold ourselves to an unfair standard and even when reassured others didn’t see the fault and can give us grace, we fail to give ourselves the same grace.  Too often, we think we need to get to the top on our own and don’t operate as a team, to simply acknowledge our faults and failures, and express gratitude for the member of the team that saved the day.  In reality, we were all in it together, and each of the students I was leading had nearly the same experience hiking this trail as I did, especially in the snow covered landscape we found ourselves in that day.  In reality, each member of the team should get to have their time in the lime light, their moment of glory.  In reality, our successes aren’t usually our own alone, but rather the compilation of many pieces.  We got to the top together and no one saw me as lesser for stumbling, but rather I became more human that day.  Hopefully that is a lesson that sticks – in my stumbling and vulnerability, I am truly one of the team and that is leadership, too.