Jen Knox's Blog, page 8
December 6, 2024
Day 4: Creative Flourish
In our final session, we'll examine what flourishing means to us. What are feelings we want to cultivate in our lives? Have a notebook ready.
Thank you for practicing with me. I hope these offerings support you as we move forward in t…
December 2, 2024
On love & week 29 of 52
The Netflix algorithm is usually wrong.
Late last week, Netflix said I’d “love” a movie so much that I’d give it not one but two thumbs up. This movie, “Hot Frosty,” is a Christmas tale about a snowman who comes to life and falls in love with a restaurant owner in a small town. The restaurant owner, a widow, begins to love him back, but she can’t ignore the fact that he is, in fact, a snowman.
He will inevitably melt.
My husband and I had a quiet time at a cabin because he’ll be traveling for most of the season and a few family members were joining us there. We missed the traditional get-togethers this year, but we were trying to make the most of our time before his travels.
Chris and I had all intentions of changing the channel after five minutes. Exhausted after a relatively challenging hike that concluded with a lengthy call from one of the people we were supposed to meet up with, we settled in with our two large dogs at our sides and a healthy number of ginger snaps within arm’s reach.
The movie was horrible from the get-go. The acting was unconvincing. The story made fun of science. At one point, the doctor in this fictional town said she believed the snowman (who was “hot” because he was muscular, I guess) had once been made of snow because, despite her medical background, a hot frosty was believable. After all, it was Christmas.
When all the women over fifty in this fictional town began to fawn over the hot snowman come to life, Chris and I made a bet about how the movie would end. We couldn’t go back after that (we were both wrong). We were locked in.
In the movie’s defense, love is hard to write about without being cliche. It’s easier when you add the forbidden, the unlikely, or the impossible.
But when we think about love as the sheer relentlessness of dedication to and belief in the beauty of what is, rather than romance alone, we change how we see the world and those we share it with most. In a way, I needed that message.
There was a backdrop of this scene: a middle-aged couple watching a bad movie in a cabin flanked by snoring dogs and laughing about how creepy it is that a woman would want to kiss a man whose body temperature is similar to a corpse was not funny. Earlier that day, a loved one felt her internal world break apart and questioned her ability to keep going. She sobbed over the phone and apologized for her existence. I listened and supported, let her know I was here.
If only a season could heal and make people believe in themselves again. This loved one of mine is suffering greatly and, unfortunately, is far enough away that I can only reach her by phone. I’d told her how much I loved her earlier that day, and she heard me.
I believe in this woman and see the beauty in her life, even if she can’t see it. I love her relentlessly and believe she can come back from what seems, to her, an impossible situation. This is not blind optimism or a denial of reality but a hope that stems from somewhere real and grounded.
We can relentlessly love people and believe in them more than they believe in themselves. We can do this for ourselves, defying all odds to love what is, even when we disagree with what’s happening around us.
To love someone who used to be a snowman is a bad metaphor, a bad metaphor, but I have to say that sometimes this feels true—that we are loving someone who is slowly losing their sense of self. We are loving people who will one day cease to be or cease to be who they are.
We can’t save them, we can’t keep them from pain or a sense of loss, but we can hope for them and never give up that hope, even if a situation seems impossible.
Watching bad Christmas movies on an early holiday in a cabin in the woods is not a panacea, but slowing down long enough to engage with any love story—no matter how idiotic—might be worth our time here and there, if only to remind us how ridiculous life can be for some of us and, still, how much potential there is if we continue to love beyond the pain of circumstance.
I want to go on record that I would not give “Hot Frosty” a double thumbs up, nor would I recommend watching it. Life is precious, and two hours is a lot of time.
But I appreciate the time I had to decompress after a worrisome conversation with someone I will never stop loving for who she is. So many suffer around the holidays. It seems the time to double down on our ability to recognize what lies beneath and beyond the pain.
This is the time to love relentlessly.
AYTL: Where can you let love lead in difficult conversations or around people who are being difficult (even impossible)?
Writing prompt: Write about love amid something or some place that makes it feel impossible.
A holiday offering: Loving-Kindness Meditation
December 1, 2024
Compassion Break
Here’s one for the holidays. The music at the beginning and end is “Adrift Among Infinite Stars” by Scott Buckley.
November 26, 2024
On(e for my) misfits & week 28 of 52
misfit: a person whose behavior or attitude sets them apart from others in a conspicuous way.
by La Balaur“Why it's simply impassible!
Alice: Why, don't you mean impossible?
Door: No, I do mean impassible. (chuckles) Nothing's impossible!”
― Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass
Maybe it’s the Batman villains taking over the leadership of the U.S., maybe it’s the mass adoption of AI and its subsequent impact on the environment and our waning social responsibility—not to mention creativity, maybe it’s the three-day migraine I had last week, or maybe it’s some combination…
All I know is that something recently nudged me into a sense of vulnerability reminiscent of my past, and the subsequent insights were hard-won.
I’ve been reliving and reevaluating, digging deep into self-evaluation and reflection because I feel a strong call to action. It’s possible that many writers and artists feel this—a desire to advocate and pave the way toward a better social world, and we realize how necessary it is to take action. But it’s getting harder to be heard.
I wrote this CTA a few weeks ago. I stand by it, but I want to acknowledge the other side of this emotional and social equation and create a different call to action, mostly for myself. But if it resonates and you find yourself at odds with the trends, it’s your CTA, too.
Let’s embrace the misfit energy. Let’s seek it out and celebrate it.
Being a misfit takes courage. Courage is necessary. And for the artists whose heckles are going up right now because they think they can’t, I disagree. In a world of curated algorithms, we need to be willing to stand out.
If you think you don’t have courage, you’re wrong. When we don’t have a choice, we find the courage.
When I was a kid, my neighborhood was not safe, especially as I began to approach puberty. I was a small person who loved to walk to collect her thoughts. But wandering by myself then often meant being approached by shady older men with shadier intentions; no matter my self-belief, I had to be on guard and decide whether their claims on my value were true.
“I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then…”
― Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
When a person is surrounded by distortion, internal clarity is still possible. But we do need to be aware. Otherwise, we lose ourselves.
I’ll admit. I lost myself when I was younger.
At one time, I was a misfit trying to fit in. I believed I was broken because I let those around me defined me. Losing myself as I tried to fit in wasn’t the painful part either. Breaking away from that conformity was.
Once I sought to steer my course no matter what, things got EVEN tougher.
For me, anyway, being true to myself meant steering a rickety-ass boat with no compass on choppy waters. It wasn’t like the self-help gurus promised. There was no obvious “alignment.” It meant rebelling and facing what I feared head-on. It meant being where I was but being uncomfortable.
Blue boat on the sea in Cambodia by JonathanBut I had to do it because I knew I’d have a better chance of getting somewhere new.
We live in an age in which it’s easy to give away a lot of our power in the name of convenience, and very few people are making a lot of money and gaining a lot of power accordingly.
I get it! Comfort is addictive. So is complacency. And so is a feeling that we are safer where we are than where we’d be if we were showing up in a bigger way, navigating the unfamiliar, rickety-ass boat we’ve been offered.
It might be true that it’s safer in the short term. It was true in my case. But the pain is worth it. I promise.
I’ve been studying with David Whyte for the last few weeks, and he offered our group a Koan that went something like this (butchering it, I’m sure): Where have you been the most foolish? And how, in those foolish moments, were you actually wise?
For me, the answer was my willingness to be humiliated. It took courage and a bit of foolishness, but when I broke away from trying to fit in, I began to fall into purpose.
I hope to one day share my full story as it is meant to be shared because I’m finally ready. But for now, I’ll leave it vague and invite you to think about yourself—how are the parts of you that feel different, embarrassing, awkward, or wrong actually right?
To build on David’s prompt, where is the wisdom within shame or humiliation?
Standing out can be incredibly painful. But then, it’s not. And then, so much later, the pain no longer matters. It doesn’t matter because it’s that beautiful.
Be awkward.
Be the misfit no matter how shaky it feels.
Be in integrity, even if it means a willingness to be seen as a little crazy.
Or really crazy.
After all, as I say (paraphrased) in WAU, it’s the world that’s truly crazy. And as J. Krishnamurti said long before me, “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
AYTL: How can you lean into your version of being a misfit? Answer in action.
Writing prompt: Journal about what authenticity means to you. Where in your life are you most authentic? Who and when do you shrink away from yourself, even for a moment? Why? Where can you find strength?
Posting early because I’ll be gone for the holiday. Wishing you a joyous and safe one. xo
November 20, 2024
On expecting reciprocity & week 27 of 52
—Mahatma Gandhi
Each semester, I ask my students to read a biography or autobiography of a leader they admire—ideally, a leader from a different background. This assignment culminates in a class-wide book club that starts in small groups and then circles out to the full class. Sometimes, we discuss up to 20 books, exploring parallels, differences, integrity, and biases in the personal stories.
Inevitably, a student (or two) is impassioned by what they read and wants to share the wisdom gained. This class almost always goes over.
Photo by Pete NuijTopics like discipline, optimism, or overcoming adversity often arise, but this semester, something new surfaced. It was a topic less distillable, but if I had to assign it a single word, it’d be passion.
The student who wowed me this semester read a book different than those most pick (many choose the auto/biographies of Barack Obama, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Steve Jobs, Phil Knight, Malala, etc…). He read McCullough’s account of The Wright Brothers, but it wasn’t the biographical story or choice that contributed to the wow factor, it was his insight.
This student was baffled that the brothers continued their quest to birth flight even after seeing so many others fail or come close and be ignored. He saw in their story a fortitude that came despite the odds and without guarantees. It didn’t matter that they were now studied, nor did it matter that they had succeeded or gotten credit. What mattered was how much they believed in their mission.
Those seeking to cure cancer or find solutions to age-old societal problems do so knowing that many have come before and they may receive little to no attribution. Many peaceful or activist leaders were despised while alive and had no reason to believe they’d be studied today. Still, they dedicated their lives to their cause.
Workers on the front line in hospitals and many educators do this, not knowing who will survive or listen. Writers and artists do this not knowing whether they’ll finish a project, let alone find an audience. We know this, but how often do we contemplate the sacrifice that true passion demands?
Marcus Aurelius referred to the success or thank-yous of it all as “the third thing,” which amounts to extrinsic motivation. The first things are the aim and action itself. The doing. The third thing is the desire for prizes or praise. We want these sometimes, yes, but if we release the need for them, we find meaning that sustains us as much, if not more. Again, this is not new, but it is easily forgotten.
To see a student come to this realization was a beautiful experience. And I think this is an important message to revisit right now.
Writing prompt: Write a story in which one person gets everything they want and another doesn’t, but their passions are matched.
AYTL: Examine where you want praise, likes, hearts, more of something. Examine it honestly and let it go.
A few additional offerings this week:
*I’m hosting a write-in on the solstice this December. If you’d like to join, register here. No fee. It’s on Zoom. The theme is light and dark.
**Here is a meditation on channeling anger.
November 13, 2024
On being the light & week 26 of 52
We do not have time to dwell on what could be.
BanksyI know this is a difficult time for many in the United States. Trump’s impending presidency has sparked books like On Tyranny to rise to the bestseller list again (it’s a fantastic book, and I highly recommend it) for good reason.
Many feel powerless to stop what feels like a fast-moving clown car coming toward us, but I want to assure you—and I mean this—that we have power over our own lives and actions right now. This means strengthening ourselves (mind and body) and our resolve, sparking conversations, and organizing action—because action will sustain us through challenging times.
The important thing is to remember that we do not have time to ruminate or point fingers. Analysis at this point will not bring fulfillment. We must do what we can today. Below is an excerpt from a beautiful poem by Nina Bogin. You can find her work here.
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedINITIATION, IIby Nina Bogin...I climbed the pink stairs, enteredthe house as calm and ephemeralas my own certainty:this is my house, my key,my hand with its new lines.I am as old as I will ever be.This poem speaks of time deliciously and mysteriously. It also may seem out of left field, but “I am as old as I will ever be” is a line that settles somewhere in the recesses of my mind as a subtle but firm reminder that all we have is now. We are deluding ourselves by thinking otherwise.
So how to find the will to act?
It might begin with honest self-assessment.
I’ve been reading a lot about Stoicism lately, namely the work of William B. Irvine, who wrote A Guide to the Good Life and The Stoic Challenge. I interviewed Irvine for the Fisher Leadership Initiative, and in our talk, I asked him how he’s used Stoicism in his daily life, especially when anxious or concerned.
He recommended allowing the worst-case scenario to surface in our minds. I tried this for myself regarding the way I had to confront panic disorder in my younger years here, and it was illuminating.
Indulging fears with steadiness helps us prepare for what may not be as bad as we imagine. But even if it is, we can benefit and grow strong by realizing we can handle anything. We have to decide to do so.
Irvine also recommended doing a daily inventory at the end of the day that looks honestly at our actions (not just our thoughts or stated opinions, but actions). This focused journaling is a way to hold ourselves accountable and explore what we did right.
Even when our actions feel small, they are worthwhile. We do not have to chase good feelings but rather live a good life. And living a good life means acting, not merely reacting.
“When I speak of survival, I mean living intact, living with focus, not merely existing.” —Audre Lorde
AYTL: Take some action, no matter how small, that makes you proud.
Writing prompt: Practice the art of “negative visualization” on the page. Let any fears surface in this safe space, and for this particular exercise, once you are done, explore what arose through your genre of choice.
November 8, 2024
Breath practice: SOS
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November 4, 2024
On the path disappearing & week 25 of 52
I wanted to riff this week and post a little early. Thinking about the power of creativity to cut both ways.
AYTL prompt: Imagine you only had a little over six months to live. Where would you stray from your current path, find a new path, or pause to take in the sights? Where would you let go of a story you’ve been dragging around?
Writing prompt: Explore the fallibility and potential harm of storytelling in a story or poem.
Photo by Max Böhme See you next Thursday & if you find yourself in the fray of election drama, please, remember to breathe.
Jen
Pre-order Chaos Magic, friends! Do it! I just got the ARCs. They are full of words I wrote on road trips, at writing residencies, and while I should’ve been doing other things. The cover looks amazing & the story is full of … well, see below (thank you, Kallisto Gaia Press). It’s a fun book, I promise.
October 31, 2024
On presence as performance & week 24 of 52
“Many of us have made our world so familiar that we do not see it anymore. An interesting question to ask yourself at night is, What did I really see this day?”
—John O’Donohue
We could add to this quote and ask, “Who did I really see this day?”
If you hang out with me in the next few weeks, I might stare deeply into your eyes. Not because I’m trying to freak you out (or seduce you), but because I know that when we look for the light in another’s eyes, we see them. When we don’t, we don’t.
There is no gift greater than attention. But we cannot pay attention to everything at the same time. We choose to be attentive to others. For that, I owe you - reading these words - gratitude for choosing to spend time with me. Even though I might not know who you are, you are here. And your time is precious.
For a long while, I’ve been struck by how much cross-over there is between social psychology (which feeds most leadership curricula) and artistic instruction. It’s not surprising. Our human condition can be distilled into a few similar and shared sensations that we interpret in a million ways.
One of the themes and challenges across industry, modality, and lifestyle is that so much of modern life is about avoiding vulnerability or arming ourselves against it. Presence means exposing ourselves to hurt. Heartbreak. Maybe because when we slow down, we face the truth we’ve been avoiding.
Whether you’ve seen this before or not, please take the time to watch it with me now.
Why is something as simple as attention—with no intention or trade-off, just simple attention paid to another human in the form of a shared gaze—so powerful?
AYTL weekly prompt: Instead of spending time, give it this week. Practice steadiness and see what changes.
Writing prompt: Write your interpretation of what that means.
And then, if you’d like, watch this one.
I am thinking about offering a Substack meet-up in December. If you’d be interested, let me know and I’ll email you with details. In the meantime, if you missed it, here is a meditation.
October 27, 2024
A resilience boost
I keep hearing friends talking about election fatigue and general stress, so I thought I’d offer this short reflection and meditation that leverages content I cover in personal leadership and resilience.
Please consider becoming a paid subscriber to open other meditations and older content.
xo
