Dental Despotism

I have been massively anal retentive about my teeth for as long as I can remember. I'm guessing I have a pretty good shot at the Guinness book of World Records for consecutive days of flossing. It's probably a twenty year run at this point. I brush twice a day, once with a manual and once with an electric, and I go to the dentist at least three times a year. I know, it sounds like some sick fetish but I've got a genetic predisposition to plaque buildup and I'm desperate to avoid the really deep cleaning. Also, I'm a control freak, but more on that in a minute.

When I was a child, around 5 or 6 years old and living in the Bay Area (that reads funny, as if I struck out on my own, found a cool flat over my kindergarten and joined the city's subculture of innocents), my older sister worked in a dentist office in San Francisco. I was deathly afraid of this place because she and her colleagues put the fear of God in me that if I didn't take care of my teeth, my teeth would rot in my mouth and I would rot in hell. Impressionable young lad that I was, this successfully planted itself as a permanent, non-negotiable part of my make-up.

Rotting teeth and rotting in hell = bad.

Taking extremely good care of teeth = good.

Given this backdrop it should be fairly easy for you to draw some conclusions about how I approach my children's dental hygiene. Yes, I'm intense. I brushed my son's teeth until he was about 6 or 7 years old. Now, of course, he doesn't do it right, has two cavities to show for it and is no longer getting any Christmas presents.

As for my daughters, ages 6 and 4, I have been brushing their teeth from the beginning. And just a couple of months ago I finally hit the wall, exclaiming to my wife that I hate brushing the kid's teeth and I don't want to do it anymore. A couple of months later I realized, in a blindingly obvious insight, that I actually don't have to brush their teeth anymore. I could (GASP) teach them to brush their own teeth! And, this is where the control freak comes in. I already made this mistake once and dare not to be burned again!

In spite of this internal resistance, I have started small and started slow. I told the girls that it's important (all quality concerns aside) that they learn to brush their own teeth. They looked at me with sweet confusion, like "Really, Dad? You're going to stop squeezing my cheeks, bending my neck backwards and jamming me in the face with my toothbrush? How could I ever let that go?" I reassured them that this was both really important and that I would still be available to help them. Now I help them get the toothpaste on the brush and then give them a few minutes to do their best before I squeeze their cheeks, crane their necks backward and jam them in the face. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call progress!

I can't let them do it on their own, I just can't. It sicks me out. And, I have to let it go. I really do. It's no fun for me and, though I know they would really rather have me do it (see the dependence I've created!), I don't think it's much fun for them either. Problem is, I haven't made it clear to them what's at stake. Better have them talk to their brother.

© 2010 David Berry

Friday Morning Run

I am going to write a book and I have no idea how to start. Some helpful people have told me to "just start writing." I have found that this is not very helpful. Of course, I understand their point: if you want to write a book you actually have to sit down and write it. I think it's the enormity of the task that's got me stalled: it's "A BOOK!" after all. I know this is the biggest challenge because at this very moment I am actually in the act of writing but since this is "only" a blog post it's no big deal. Not that it's easy, it's just way, WAY more manageable on my fragile, less than confident psyche.

When I think about writing a book, I hold a few key images in my mind. First, it has to be FINISHED. Second, it has to be FANTASTIC. Third, people must LOVE IT. Fourth, it must open the door to a bright and compelling future. In other words, it must be PERFECT. Pretty good recipe for not getting started. I used to think of this blog that way. And then I just started writing. Perhaps I could learn from my own experience. What a concept!

Yesterday morning I went for a run. I don't carry an iPod when I run because I like to listen to the world as we pass each other by. I also like to let my mind wander. Early in the run, quite unexpectedly, my mind landed on this phrase: "Nobody's listening. Nobody cares." There it was; my "non-book writing" subconscious rushing to the surface to keep my company. So much for positive affirmations (sorry, Stuart Smalley). I laughed to myself that if I kept repeating that phrase it was sure to be the hardest, longest run of my life.

Instead, I switched gears and tried on another phrase: "Everybody's listening. Everybody cares." I considered this one for a few more strides and it felt really good. It just didn't ring true. Better than the first, just equally inaccurate. And then I found in myself the ability to do the thing that I have been working on for years now: the ability to move from polarized and limiting thought to thought that carries the seeds of possibility.

I said to myself: "Somebody's listening. Somebody cares."

And so I will write the book. I'm really not sure how to start. "Just write," I suppose. And, knowing that I really could use some help, I called a writing coach. We're going to talk at 9:00 on Monday morning.

I wasn't looking for anything on that run. And I found exactly what I needed.

© 2010 David Berry

Time for a Change

This is my final post to the blog "Coaching Inside." As of today, as spring greets summer and longer days allow us to see and experience more of the world around us, I have re-named and re-purposed this space. I began this exercise two years ago as a practice in self-expression, trusting that if I could just commit to a regular practice of writing about my experience something of significance would emerge. And, thankfully, that is what has occurred.

As a professional coach inside an organization and as an individual who has grown increasingly committed to my own learning, "Coaching Inside" was an ideal way to "house" my efforts to share my experience. Recently, however, I began to notice that my original intent and what has actually taken place weren't matching up very well. My suspicion about that was confirmed when a trusted friend said to me, "You need to change the name of your blog." This is interesting, I thought. She went on to observe that while I am a coach I am also many other things. And, while I do work "inside" an organization I also operate "outside" that setting, often sharing anecdotes beyond that singular point of view. She was challenging me to inhabit a much bigger perspective, one that more accurately takes into account my many roles and my many experiences, both inside and out.

Exactly the validation, exactly the push that I needed.

As I notice what the blog has become I recognize that the entries that feel most authentic, most inspired and that I was most eager to share are the ones that are most personal. Not to mention that those tend to be the ones about which I get the most feedback. Interesting but not surprising. I have long known and believed that what is most personal is most universal. That by sharing more openly I tap into what is most personal in others. And from that emerges a deeper and more meaningful connection than would otherwise be possible. It is in this way that I see myself as a catalyst for the generative process of self exploration from which true personal learning can emerge. This is what excites me and this is what I want to be more and more about.

As I began the process of finding a new name for the blog, as I was anxiously awaiting the "bolt from the blue" to spark my creativity, it dawned on me to go toward those key ideas and resources I have already identified as true to my practice and my purpose. For some time now I have relied heavily on a quote by John Updike from his 1984 memoir, Self-Consciousness. In the preface he writes: "...my autobiography is my attempt to treat this life...as a specimen life, representative in its odd uniqueness of all the oddly unique lives in the world."

And there it was, right before my eyes: Specimen Life.

I am proud to introduce you to my new blog. It is a place from which I hope to share my experience as genuinely as I possibly can. And, it is a place from which I hope you will draw inspiration for your journey, as I will for mine.

© 2010 David Berry

I Am the Center of the Universe (Right?)

Every once in a while I find myself feeling a little needy; not quite special enough; not quite tended to; not quite important enough. I wonder why the small band of people who are my friends and family aren't doing more to take care of me, more to encourage, support, appreciate and validate my existence, if not my awesomeness. I wonder why they are so wrapped up in their so-called "busy" lives with their commitments, careers, families, passions, heartaches, headaches, losses, goals, joys and dreams that they can't take the 5 minutes it requires to remind me of the gift I am to the world. (Seriously, what the hell is with them anyway?).

It's a little embarrassing to write this as I'm sure no one else ever feels this way. But, on the off chance that you, or someone close to you ever has one of these moments, this poem may be of use.

We who are

your closest friends

feel the time

has come to tell you

that every Thursday

we have been meeting,

as a group,

to devise ways

to keep you

in perpetual uncertainty

frustration

discontent and

torture

by neither loving you

as much as you want

nor cutting you adrift.

Your analyst is

in on it,

plus your boyfriend

and your ex-husband;

and we have pledged

to disappoint you

as long as you need us.

In announcing our

association

we realize we have

placed in your hands

a possible antidote

against uncertainty

indeed against ourselves.

But since our Thursday nights

have brought us

to a community

of purpose

rare in itself

with you as

the natural center,

we feel hopeful you

will continue to make unreasonable

demands for affection

if not as a consequence

of your disastrous personality

then for the good of the collective.

- Phillip Lopate -


© 2010 David Berry