the comfort zone

A little more than a year ago I recall reading a quote that stuck with me. "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." I liked it. Liked it so well that a few weeks later when I was talking with a student about how she might get members of her student organization to try new things in order to make membership more meaningful, I commended this quote to her as relevant to her organization and their plight. 

This morning I am looking at that quote in a new light. I understand, and agree fully, that staying in our comfort zone--that place where our norms, our habits, our viewpoints are familiar and unchanging--can stunt us. It's hard to make new discoveries in a place that doesn't expose us to new thoughts, ideas or experiences.  We may be content to remain where we know what to expect, and where our choices serve us. 

It has been my experience in life that when I risk stepping beyond the boundaries of what is known and safe I benefit from the experience.   Sometimes my boundary--my zone--expands to incorporate a new idea or ritual. Other times I find that what lies beyond does not serve my needs or enrich my life. Not every experience will, or should be life-changing. When we taste something new we may find that it is sweet or bitter or on our tongue.

Yesterday I was invited by a friend/acquaintance to attend a training meeting for members of her direct sales team. I've spoken with her several times about the opportunity her business offers, and lord knows that since I no longer have a paycheck the need for some income is great. The potential of what can be achieved and earned through Sandy's company is tempting. In less than three short years in this business she is earning more than $20,000 a month. And she's happy.

I'm familiar with direct sales. I've lived the regimen for the last five years as a consultant with The Pampered Chef. I love PC. Love the products, love the perks, think the training is second to none, and the support I receive from my director and other team members is beyond sufficient to succeed. The Pampered Chef provides all the tools for me to do well and become its poster child. The only thing standing in the way of banking a big commission check is me. 

Here's the bald truth. I don't "do well" with my PC business. There are aspects of working with customers and promoting the products where I excel. But the nitty gritty, nuts and bolts parts that stand in my way are outside of my comfort zone. We're encouraged to step outside that zone, to push ourselves to take the steps that will lead to success. Can I do it? Of course. But I hate how the effort to dig down to find the energy and the courage to perform the necessary tasks makes me feel. To paraphrase another quote that has circulated and become popular, it's like asking a fish to climb a tree. No matter how badly that fish may want to climb that tree, it just isn't equipped to do so. 

I am not equipped for direct sales. As I listened to the encouragement and motivation Sandy offered yesterday to her team and the guests present, I knew that it would be a mistake to sign on. I'm already living outside of my comfort zone selling Pampered Chef. What I take away from that experience is that my "limits" are confirmed, my deficits highlighted. I am reminded that when I play to my strengths my life is richer and happier, and I have energy that enables me to offer the best of who I am to the world. 

Life doesn't begin at the end of our comfort zone. Rather, at that fuzzy edge between comfort and risk we have the opportunity to examine that zone, to consider how what lies beyond might transform and empower us, or cause us to seek retreat. The willingness to step beyond is critical. Staying there is not always to our advantage. The discomfort of being out of our zone is also instructive.

My present circumstances require my presence in the territory of the unknown and yet-to-be-revealed. It serves me well to step outside my comfort zone and listen for what the world has to offer as well as to heed what I already know. I have put my hand into the hand of God, whose wisdom is sufficient and whose guidance I trust. That is the only zone I really need.

the saturday after

Listen carefully. What do you hear? I'll give you a play by play (sort of). The one face clock here in the office is going "Tock. Tock. Tock." Such a measured, patient sound... Rigel is panting. He does that after pacing relentlessly... I can actually hear myself breathe... And wait! McKinlee is scratching her way into some sort of imagined nest in the carpet beside me...

Those are the sounds of a Saturday morning to myself after a week of icon-writing. Ah... Isn't that bliss?

I really enjoyed Gabriel. We bonded well, in spite of the fact that I messed up royally in a few places and didn't have time to complete a couple of sections or fix the messes. Meh, as my friend The Bug would say. It's all good. He doesn't hold it against me, and I don't either. In fact, thanks to a style commentator on NPR and a comment shared by another painter, I had a flash of penetrating insight.

The gist of the style commentator's remark is that what we wear reflects who we are (in the sense that we choose what we want people to see). That's hardly a new thought, but she stated it in a way that got me thinking anew about what my wardrobe says about me. (We won't linger there!) The comment by my classmate was in regard to how spending time with a work of art gives us deeper and deeper appreciation for what the art communicates. And no matter how you want to spin it, what it communicates depends not on the artist, but on us. Those two things went to work in my mind and what emerged was this: we don't interpret art, art interprets us. With that perspective, my less-than-desired outcome with Gabriel made everything okay. I don't know if any of this makes any sense--I don't want to subject you to the peculiar wanderings of my mind that led to this epiphany--but it served to let me off the hook in terms of aspiring to create an icon that is "just right."

This is one of the wonderful things about art. It is organic, relational and transformative if we allow it to be. All art opens a window into our souls, and if we are likewise open to what it can tell us, it has the power to teach and transform. Then, when we see it with transformed eyes, it continues to reflect back to us what we see and know. With an icon there is an added dimension of holiness whether we apprehend it or not. I know this to be true for one simple reason: my own efforts to guide the paintbrush  in an attempt to write Gabriel's name on the icon were disastrous. Only when I invited Gabriel into the effort did it go well. Just sayin'.

On that note, with thanks to the blessed Teresa (teacher) and Sandra (assistant), and the whole communion of fellow-writers, I offer my icon with humility and love.