#15 The Fellowship: Flower Shopping

Hello wonderful people,

A full week of life lived. Smiling on this beautiful day in Austin.

If you’re new, welcome! I'm Ben! This is all about exploring my curiosities and sharing the things that most energize, challenge, and inform my life.

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Missed past editions? I recommend checking out Nerf Gun Fight: Fun & Play, The Power of Now, Man In The Mirror.

Let’s get into it!

Air Guitar

In high school, I was driving in the car with two friends.

One in the back seat, the other in the passenger seat.

The friend in the back was completely lost in the music playing through the speakers.

Humming, yelling, singing, smiling. He was in it.

Then my buddy in the passenger seat asked him, "Who wrote this song?"

My friend in the back answered.

"How about we keep it that way," my other friend responded.

Though said jokingly, I watched a little piece of freedom inside him wither in that moment.

This pattern plays out everywhere.

My brother Leo is one of the greatest humans I've ever known.

Since childhood, that guy could dance like nobody's business. And he’s still got it.

As a kid, he was infamous for breaking out the air guitar during soccer games as his team scored a goal.

A wave of cheers from the parents would erupt.

This young, wild and free boy commanded attention.

He possessed what many of them secretly yearned for:

The freedom to simply be himself.

The kids were less impressed and often joined in. They still owned their freedom of expression.

But for the adults? It was a pure spectacle. An incredible gift to witness.

His dancing played out in everything. Around the house, out in public, at school, you name it.

I was the big brother. I had two possible responses to Leo's joy: celebration and encouragement of this gift, or judgment and diminishing his light..

Like any "good" older brother, I gave him a hard time.

As it happened, I was insecure and judgmental about my own freedom to express.

His light shined too brightly for me to sit comfortably beside it.

I can see how my inability to embrace his incredible joy and freedom extinguished some of that inner light.

My self-judgment not only limits my own life but impacts those around me.

The more I judge myself the less space I can hold for that joy.

The inverse is equally true.

The less I judge myself, the more freely I step onto life's dance floor.

Thank you Leo for exampling to me what it’s like to be free.

I'm thinking about taking some singing and dancing lessons myself. I'll keep you updated.

Where in your life can you step into the freedom of expression?

Turn Your Cart Around

I looked left and saw a large display of flowers.

"Go buy some flowers, Ben," my inner voice told me.

I kept the cart moving.

“You can turn around. It’s not too late.”

In recent weeks, I'd been intentionally embodying a person who gives.

Reciting: I am a giving person.

It’s been a wonderful commitment AND whenever I try to become more of something, all the areas where I am not that thing rise to the surface.

I had been going to dinners and gatherings where I would simply show up and enjoy without any worry.

Immediately once I made that commitment, I had this voice inside suggesting, "You could stop by and pick up some food or ask if they need anything.”

I was now seeing opportunities to give everywhere!

I also started noticing my excuses: "I'll be late" or "They didn't ask for anyone to bring anything" or "I don't want to spend more money.”

They were limiting my ability to experience the power of giving.

It was Sunday morning, grocery run. I was walking to checkout at Costco when I casually passed the flower section.

“Go buy some flowers, Ben,” my inner voice said.

“You are trying to be a more giving person. This is your chance.” it insisted.

Then my excuses came.

"I already have too much stuff. This is already expensive enough. Who would I even give the flowers to?”

“You can turn around. It’s not too late,” it repeated.

I felt a heavy lump form in my stomach.

I needed to turn around.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my cart in the opposite direction.

A guy waiting in line commented, "You just passed it.”

It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

(As I reflect back, he was referring to another line that started farther back, but at the time I thought he was conspiring with my inner voice.)

I found myself scanning the flower section.

I decided on a small bouquet and placed it in my cart.

After checking out and reaching my car, the question came: "Who am I going to give these flowers to?”

Instead of seeing it as a wonderful opportunity to make someone's day, I stressed about finding the "right" person to give it to.

I can only laugh as I write this.

Sitting in my car, I spotted an older woman walking by. "She's too far away," I thought.

There was a guy pulling out right next to me. I could give the flowers to him. "But will he really value flowers?"

Welcome to my brain.

I ended up putting the car in drive and heading home. I arrived back and parked on the street.

I took a moment. The flowers still in my possession.

I decided: I’m not going inside until I give these flowers to someone.

I didn’t buy them just to keep them!

Then I remembered. The woman across the block had unexpectedly just lost her husband to a heart attack.

Yep, that was it.

I tore out a piece of paper and wrote a short note:

"These flowers are from the sun. I hope you continue to shine your light."

I got out of my car and walked through the neighborhood, flowers in hand.

I walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

I fully expected nobody to answer.

A dog started barking and I heard a quiet voice ask, "Who is it?"

“Hi, I’m Ben, I’m your neighbor from across the street.”

The door opened slightly. We hadn't met before, and I could tell she wasn't expecting visitors.

I smiled.

“Hi, I was just thinking about you and I wanted to give you these.”

She took the flowers and a half-smile crossed her face.

“Well…well thank you. That is very kind of you.”

I made friends with the dog for a moment, and we exchanged goodbyes.

I walked down the steps and thought to myself, "And THAT is why we turn the cart around and buy the flowers!"

Where in your life are you feeling called to act?

Extremes

“I love you, but I don’t like to talk with you when you are like this.”

Those words shook my world, but they also saved it.

My sophomore summer found me in Nairobi, Kenya.

I was worlds away from the life I'd known just five months earlier.

I had taken a 180 on my life. Going from doing everything everyone else was doing to being the person that only did the unconventional.

Throughout my entire life and this process my family had been my greatest support.

As my time in Kenya progressed, I embraced the freedom of adventure in a place with seemingly no boundaries.

I could do what I wanted, go where I pleased, be whoever I imagined. It was freeing.

BUT I was seeing the world in black and white. Right and wrong.

This way or the highway. No middle ground.

I was caught up with proving to everyone that my life change had been worth it.

This experience gave me so much AND I was just trading one extreme for another.

I felt a duty to share this new found way of life with my family.

I imposed much of what I thought life should be onto them: Go and do the impossible, conquer the world, be limitless.

Imagine being a family member interacting with me during this phase. (Thank you, family, for sticking with me.)

It got old and it came with a cost I couldn’t yet see.

After two months, I was on the phone with my sister.

Our conversations had fallen into a predictable pattern: catching-up followed by my sermons about my adventures and why she should try out what I was doing.

But during this particular call, what my sister said make me listen.

"Ben, I love you, but I don't like to talk with you when you are like this.”

Whack.

It was the first time anything had broken through my trance.

What did she mean, "when I am like this?"

The week that followed left me out of sorts. I was questioning this identity of 'doing the impossible' that I'd worked so hard to construct.

But I was it was clear. The way I was living risked what I loved most, my relationships with my family.

It was clear.

The way I was living was risking the things I loved most. My relationships with my family. It wasn’t worth losing the thing I loved the most just to impose my sure way of life.

This became the first step in my journey back to center.

Is there something in your life you believe is the only way forward, but comes at a cost that may not be worth paying when you look back?

Thank you for reading another edition of The Fellowship! I'm grateful to have you here. If you enjoyed this issue, please share it with others who might benefit from it as well.

Thing I’ve been listening to: Movie sound track. LOTRs, Avatar, Dune, Narnia, Lion King, all the best!

Peace and Love,

Ben