I recently had the pleasure of reading a terrific book about fatherhood and baseball ... and life. In Henry Dunow's "The Way Home," he recounts learning how to be a good father -- specifically, having to overcome a family tendency to be distant and distracted with his son. He needed to stop the race of things that were always pulling at his attention (work, bills, projects, anything) and really sit down and be with his son. He needed to not resort to razzle-dazzle techniques to try and win his son's true affection, but instead, to just be patient and listen to the child. "So I began to pay attention," he writes. "Max would speak, and I would make damn sure I was listening. Really listening. Sometimes I needed every ounce of my will and concentration to silence my preoccupations, so I could give myself over to him ... I worked at it, sometimes pulling myself back to the present moment with a start, like someone shaking off being asleep at the wheel." Dunow's perseverance at doing what needed to be done was striking to me, because that is often what is missing when we set out to pursue our dreams. We want life to be easy, and our processes to feel good and 'natural'. We're willing to work hard, we say, but are we really willing to make core changes in our very behavior ... even when they feel uncomfortable? For me, my discomfort zone has often been around the technical aspects of running a business. "I'm an artist!" I always declared. "I don't have to be good with numbers and keep accurate books." Or at least that's what I thought until I a financial coach who pointed out that I was trying to pretend I wasn't running a business. She got me to open a business account, keep books that were accurate, handle my income and expenses professionally, and basically grow up as far as being a business owner was concerned. None of this felt 'good' or 'natural' from the start. It felt awkward and intimidating. I can remember the lump in my throat when I opened the enormous box from the back with my business checkbook in it. I still feel trepidation on the day I have to sit down and pay bills and write up the monthly expense and income report. Yet, over time the discomfort has faded; I've gotten used to the process of doing what I have to do every month. When financial questions need to be answered, I have fewer moments of putting the whole thing off until later (a favorite avoidance tactic) and more moments or realizing, with a small wave of amazed delight, that I actually do know what to do. I've gotten used to being this more grown-up, capable person, and pressing through my resistance, even though it didn't seem possible at first. Henry Dunow saw amazing results from the small shift in attention he gave his son: "He began to seek me out more and more and was noticeably more affectionate, throwing his arms around my neck for the morning good-bye kiss, running down the hall to greet me as I got off the elevator coming home from work. It felt wonderful. It was only a beginning, but a hopeful one, and I wanted to do more." We do have the ability to re-train ourselves to think and act differently about the things we want to change in our lives. Like dieters setting out to lose ten pounds, we have a choice. We can stall, and cheat, and flummox around. Or we can set our minds to the task and change our lives. We really do have that ability -- it's simply a matter of remembering again, and then again, and making the right choice each time we do.
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