"I imagine that yes is the only living thing." -ee cummings  

love is a place...

love is a place & through this place of love move (with brightness of peace) all places

yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds

-e e cummings

 

 

 

I say No a lot.

No, I can’t go. I can’t do that. I don’t have time. I can’t afford it. I’m too busy. I’m not smart enough or rich enough or thin enough. No. Nope. Uh-uh.

Motherhood is full of No-s.  No, you can’t go there, there aren’t any parents at home.  No, you can’t eat that.  We’re just about to have dinner.  No, you can’t watch that, it’s R rated and you’re much too young.

Necessary No-s.  Protection No-s.  Safety No-s.

Wisdom No-s.

And then there are the other No-s. The “I’m too scared to try that” No-s.  The “out of my normal routine” No-s.  The “What if I fail?” No-s.

No-s that limit and confine us.  No-s because we are afraid.  No-s that keep us from stretching and achieving and growing.  No-s that hold us back, keeping us from soaring.  Grounded, like a bird with a broken wing.

I know those “No-s” too.  They seem to roll effortlessly off my tongue. Several months ago I was introduced to a book by retired Stanford professor Patricia Ryan Madsen called Improv Wisdom. It’s a wonderful little book filled with powerful improvisational maxims that are equally, if not more powerful, when applied to real life.

Yes I can.  Yes I will.  Yes. Yes. Yes.

In counseling class, I ask the students to bring in a picture of something they feel deeply about.  As they share the picture with the class, the students are asked to reflect back the emotion they hear in the speaker’s story.  Most of the students bring in pictures of their children or their aging parents or their twin pet boxers.

That is, until it was Sam’s turn.

“This is a picture that was taken by my daughter,” he started, as he began to pass the picture around. It was a picture of him holding on to the biggest Ling Cod I had ever seen and he was smiling from ear to ear.  “It’s a picture of me doing what I love to do.  I’ve been fishing for more years than I care to remember and that is the biggest fish I have ever caught.”

“You asked us to bring in a picture of something that we cared deeply about and I had to bring this one.  I’ve had a rough time of it.  I’ve lost it all.  Battled addiction and depression and incarceration.  I’ve had more family problems than I care to mention.  I gave up.  I wanted to die and I would have succeeded if it weren’t for the efforts of someone I didn’t even know.  Someone who saved my life.”

He got a second chance.  He went into treatment and got clean and sober.  He made a choice to look at what was in his way, what was holding him back.  All the ways he said no to his life.  And one day, just by chance, he happened to be driving by the college and thought he would stop in to see what it would take to go back to school, to turn things around and learn how to make a difference in the world.  And here he was.

“For the first time in my life,” he said, with a smile that conveyed it all, ”I can honestly say that, I care deeply about me.

Sam said yes.

My mind was racing as I got into the old brown Lexus for the drive home.  There are so many things I want to do, so many dreams that float around on the periphery, just at the edge of consciousness.  There’s learning Italian and wandering the Tuscan countryside and finishing the book that I started so many months ago.   Dreams of action, possibility and adventure.  What if I said yes to them?

With yes, all things are possible.   Yes, I can.  Yes, I want to. Yes, I will.  Yes! Yes! Yes!

I want to say yes more. Starting today.  Right now.  Yes.

What can you say yes to?