Here are a couple of simple suggestions.

Breathe.

Take a moment to breathe. Sit or stand still. Exhale deeply. Exhale a little more. And a little more. Hold the breath out. Pause. Wait until it’s time to inhale. Let the air in and notice where the air goes. Pause. Repeat. And repeat again, as often as you like.

A thoughtful client recently reminded me that I’d told her that it’s nearly impossible to feel negative emotions and breathe deeply at the same time. I love my clients. We learn so much from one another.

Smile.

If you’re around other people, look someone in the eyes and smile. Watch the response. Turns out the smile is contagious. Scientists might call it “activating the mirror neurons.” Thanks to Mel Robbins for this idea—it really works! If you’re alone, try smiling anyway. It’s good for you.

Happy Thanksgiving. I wish you much abundance, wonderful people to love and enjoy, and some breathing room.

P.S. Please leave comments to let me know how these exercises work for you, or to share other strategies you use to find breathing room.

You probably do the same thing in your life’s work. Got something really important to do, but you’re not sure where to start? Got something that you really want to have or be or achieve, but you’re not sure if you’re smart enough, good enough, deserving enough? You can distract yourself with bright and shiny objects—bright ideas and shiny enthusiasm for something that’s easier, simpler, and probably not as important as what you’re avoiding.

How do you distinguish the real stuff from “fool’s gold”? The real stuff keeps coming back. You might get nervous about it, avoid it, approach it, circle around it, whatever—but it keeps coming back. The real stuff makes your heart sing, makes the world a better place for you, and when you’re in the middle of it, you’re unselfconscious and have no sense of time.

There’s nothing wrong with fool’s gold. It’s bright and shiny, fun and entertaining for a while. There’s nothing wrong with it unless or until it gets old and boring, and you get resentful and realize that it’s distracting you from what you really want to be and do.

What are the bright and shiny objects in your life? What’s keeping you busy and distracted? What is it that you really want to be and do? What’s keeping you from being and doing what you really want? Fear, anxiety, old stories about what you deserve? What might happen if you faced those obstacles and moved deliberately and strategically toward what you really want to be and do? Who knows what’s possible? Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?

Change happens. It happens in an instant, and it happens over time. With or without our direct intention; and certainly with or without our approval.

It happens when we’re young and it happens when we’re old. It happens internally and externally.

What are we to do with all this change? Do we control it or not? Can we channel it somehow to make the world a better place—or at least our lives a little better? Or perhaps even a few moments or aspects of our lives?

How do we initiate or direct change? How can we respond to change, when it’s imposed on us? How can we go with the flow—the ebb and flow—of all that changes and all that stays the same?

How can we take what we are given and make the world—or our own selves—a little better?

That’s what Tools for Transformation is all about: making a difference; making our own lives and the lives of others better, or more meaningful, or more fun; shifting, growing, changing, as the world changes, and as it stays the same.

So what about these tools? They’re simple, complex, and paradoxical. They’re easy to use and challenging to master. They’re obvious and elusive. They take no effort, and they require careful attention and lots of practice.

The tools are as simple as noticing and as complex as understanding. They work great, except when they don’t—and sometimes even then. We all have tools for transformation, and we’ve been using them since day one. What might be possible if we noticed how these tools work and how to utilize them more effectively?

As with most processes, being and changing—transformation—is enhanced by collaboration. This is the beginning of a conversation. You’re invited to join me in an exploration of our lives: what’s working, what’s not, and what’s next.

We’ll start with noticing. Noticing as a tool for transformation? Yes. It’s the first step in initiating or responding to change. First you notice that something has changed or needs to change.

Luckily for us, we’ve been noticing all our lives. It’s what we’re programmed to do. We notice even when we don’t know we’re doing it. Even when we don’t remember what we noticed.

So for a while, notice what you notice. It might start to change.

Friends help you put your best foot forward.

Don’t you just hate it when your friends are right? Especially when it means you’ve got to dig a little deeper and do what you’re capable of doing. When they see your capacity to show up, to produce, to do great work, even when you are about to settle for good enough. When you are about to be a little lazy and deliver a product that’s not as good as it ought to be.

On our own, it’s easy to make excuses. It’s easy to say there isn’t enough time, or talent, or resources. It’s tempting to hide behind the excuses and play it safe, take the easy route.

But a good friend, a wise mentor, someone who sees you for who you are, will not let you show up that way, any more than they’d let you go out half dressed. They are not oblivious to your faults, but they treasure your talents and won’t let you forget them.

And, oh, aren’t we grateful for those very same friends! They see right through our reluctance and resistance and anxiety. They see our capacities, they have confidence in us when we have doubt, and they encourage us not to settle for being and doing less than our best.

Thank you, friends.

Who in your life has confidence that’s greater than your doubt? Who in your life loves you enough to tell you when you’re holding back? Who in your life cares enough to take a chance on offending you, because they see the larger, better you? Who in your life does this and still loves you as you are?

Go. Find those people and thank them. And be that kind of friend or mentor in someone else’s life.

And, if you don’t have people like that in your life, let’s talk about how to find them, how to find and nurture relationships that help you to be and do your best.

Then I went down an unusual trail—”What would I have to give up or leave behind, if the money were taken care of?” Anxiety, fear, excuses, constraints…. Might be nice to leave those behind.

And “What would I do differently, today, this morning, if the money were taken care of?” I’d finish typing this blog, pack my bag, and drive to Baton Rouge to visit some friends and family. Oh, that’s what I was going to do anyway.

What would you do if the money were taken care of? What would you leave behind? What would be different?

Explaining his work in the field of human functioning and self-awareness, Moshe Feldenkrais, founder of the Feldenkrais Method, invoked the Weber-Fechner law, which attempts to describe the relationship between the magnitudes of stimuli and our ability to perceive differences among them. He asserted that at a slower pace, with smaller movements—on a foggy day, maybe—we can get more clarity. If we slow down enough to pay attention, we can learn something new about how we move, how we put one foot in front of the other, what it takes to get us moving, how we find our way in a confusing environment.

Coaching is useful on those foggy days. Something interferes with your life and you need to get your bearings. Coaching can bring some light—not the high beams that bounce off the fog and create glare, but the low beams that focus on the ground right in front of you, the ground you might otherwise not have noticed. In coaching, we look at how you move, what propels you forward, and what slows you down. As daylight increases and burns away the fog, you can move forward with greater ease and grace because of what you’ve learned.

What’s interfering in your life? What creates the fog? Where might you shine some light and learn to move a little easier?

And now it’s getting toward the end of January, and I’ve been noticing some patterns. For example, when I get stressed out, I want to get everything organized and cleared out. I think that’s because I feel like I gain a sense of control, and when I’m stressed, I want to know that I can handle it.

I’ve also noticed that I like to keep my options open. Not such a bad thing, except when it keeps me from doing what I want to do. The problem is that in order to go somewhere or do something, you have to decide yes to this and no to that. Every time we make a decision to do something, we implicitly decide not to do something else. How’s that for narrowing your options?

Where is all this leading? I’m beginning to realize that not deciding, not finishing, and keeping my options open are sneaky ways of not doing what I’m here to do on this planet. I suppose there’s some underlying fear of not doing it right, not getting what I want, not pleasing other people or even myself. But what I also notice is that I’m surely not going to get it right, get what I want, or please anybody if I spend all my time opening up the options instead of choosing a place to start. I’ve also noticed that once I get started, the path gets clear and I can leave those unnecessary options in the dust.

Someone dear to me is dying, and she says she’s not ready to die. For a long time, I’ve thought that life is short, and I want to enjoy it to the fullest. Now I’m wondering if my friend and teacher, Paul Rubin, might be right when he says, “Life is long, and if it’s not, it doesn’t matter.”

What would be different about our options and our actions if we believed that “Life is long, and if it’s not, it doesn’t matter”?

What I’ve noticed lately is that I’m afraid I’ll miss out. I recently lost a few people who were near and dear to me.

One was 86 years old. He had a long, rich, full life and knew it. He seemed satisfied with his life, but he would have happily welcomed more. He was my father-in-law, and I can’t begin to express how much richer my life is because of his life and the way he lived it.

Another person I lost was half my father-in-law’s age and died suddenly. She lived a rich, full life, but it was much too short for me to get to know her as I would have liked. My life was richer and fuller because of my brief acquaintance with her.

I’ve also lost two of my brothers recently. They were younger than I, and they missed out on some things that I hold dear. It makes me sad to think that their lives might not have been as rich and full, and certainly not as long, as I would have liked. And, again, my life is richer for having been their sister.

Grieving is a curious experience. I find myself feeling sad and tired. And then I find myself wanting to reach out and go for the gusto—do the things I’ve always wanted to do, go the places I’ve always wanted to go, live life to the fullest. And there’s also the realization of what I don’t want. I don’t want to lose any more friends and loved ones.

I keep everything. I’m not a hoarder, but I don’t let go of stuff easily, and I feel especially determined to keep my friends and loved ones. The odd thing is that when I hold on too tightly—to people or to stuff—my life feels less full. When I enjoy the moment, enjoy the presence of others, even when I experience the sadness and grief and confusion, my life is richer, fuller, better. As far as how long a life ought to be, that’s a mystery. It can seem very long indeed, and yet, no matter how long, it’s the blink of an eye.

Thanksgiving is next week, and I’m thinking about gratitude. Gratitude for life in all its mystery and confusion and grief and grace. I’m so lucky. I wish you much to be grateful for and a very happy Thanksgiving celebration.

And in the process of telling stories, listening to stories, and asking and answering questions, new stories emerge and lives are changed. These stories are not fairy tales, where our heroes ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. These are real lives and real stories in which people move in new ways and in new directions. They live more happily, and the people around them get happier, too.

Thank you to all of you who help me to do what I love to do.