W.C. Fields said, “Never work with animals or children.” Why? On stage, people can become wooden, practiced, trite in their delivery. While animals and children remain riveting because we never know what they’ll do; they are wildly unpredictable and therefore fascinating. In the theater, we hear actors say, “I was anticipating, sorry.” Meaning, we were not in the moment, but were anticipating an entrance, a certain way of delivering a line, a light cue. We look towards the wings a second before a character is due to enter, transmitting to the audience what is about to happen. We stop and wait for a line to be delivered rather than barreling on as we would do in daily conversation. And in the split second that we are expecting an occurrence, we let our behavior be determined by something unimaginable and uncontrollable—the future. ..Read on…

The idea that we can control the way others feel is, of course, folly. And managing others’ expectations is a folly of monumental proportions!

“I don’t want them to get their hopes up. What if they don’t make the team?”

“I’m afraid that they’ll be disappointed if we can’t afford it. So I don’t want to even float the idea.”

“I worry that if I give them a raise, they’ll expect a bigger office, too.”

“I don’t even want to say yes to coffee—what if they think I’m interested in being more than friends?”

When we found out I was pregnant at age 39 after almost a year of trying, I guarded the news closely to “manage the expectations” of everyone—my parents, my siblings, my husband’s parents and siblings, my friends. Why? I did not want to get their hopes up! Because I might lose the child. And they would be devastated! Or I would be devastated? Of course, it was all about me. A wise therapist reminded me of this, saying: Read on…

I often have clients who come to me wanting to control their emotions.

“I want to be confident.”

“I do not want to be anxious.”

“I want to be strong.”

“I don’t want to cry.”

“I want to be relaxed.”

“I don’t want to shake with fear.”

“I want to be vulnerable, but not too vulnerable.”

I’ve even had a speaker say they wanted to make themselves cry during their talk. At a certain moment! Orchestrated emotion! Watching someone “try to cry” is really painful.

I get it, we are all afraid of either being hijacked by our emotions or we want to project a certain emotion or state of being.

This, like worrying about what others think of us, is something we can let go. Trust me.

There are two reasons it is a fool’s errand to try to control our emotions…read on.

I’m going to say two things that may seem completely contradictory:

1) The audience, the other, in any communication, is our raison d’etre, our only reason for communicating.

2) Wondering if the audience likes us, is a red-herring; whether they like us or not is irrelevant. We are not there to be liked. We are there to communicate something and that thing, is what is important.

A few years ago I found myself standing just outside the spotlight, costumed, made up, warmed up, and about to walk on stage for the first time in over 20 years. My thoughts were something like:

“Shit. Shit. The dress is riding up my butt. I don’t remember my first line! Is that the critic sitting there? What if they hate me? What if I’m awful?”

Then I remembered…Read on…

Where are the sheep? The New Zealand farmer who had lived his entire life on this piece of land noticed one day that the sheep were disappearing. The family looked far and wide, but found no clues—no carcasses, no wolves, no traps. It was not until the farmer almost fell into a massive sink-hole that he realized he had to look down in order to solve the mystery of the missing sheep. Alas.

When my husband and I traveled in New Zealand, we went on a (crazy) adventure rappelling 300 feet into that sink hole, past the ferns sprouting from the sides, into the mist, and landing at the lip of an underground river. The farmer now gives tours of his “Lost World.”

To get to the root of things, to unearth hidden mysteries, we have the courage and patience to discover the Lost World. Many questions we ask are horizontal—they keep the conversation safely in our sight-lines…Read on…

Which of these flowers do you like the most? Which is the most beautiful? Which is the oldest? Youngest? Which is the best, smartest, most fragrant, most handsome, wittiest, strongest? Side-by-side, which do you choose?

My father warned me to beware comparison, ANY comparison. Even if it sounds harmless. He believed that even the most casual, complimentary, banal, kind, seemingly non-judgmental comparison, was harmful. And sure enough, every time I hear myself comparing people, even just to notice the difference (tall/short…Read on…

This photo of the visual art performer, Laurel Jay Carpenter, is taken in Berlin at the Hebbel Theater in 2005.

Laurel taught herself the famous, “walking over the chair” trick in real time as part of the “Gifted Generation" exhibit curated by Marina Abramovič. In this clip you can hear the song, “Maybe This Time,” from Cabaret as it played on loop in the artist's head. Laurel sings softly along as if giving herself a pep talk as she falls, once more, to the ground.

Maybe this time? No? Maybe now? Maybe?

Our world values commitment, perseverance, grit, never giving up. And yet, sometimes the best, healthiest thing to do, is let go.

In a recent tea-time conversation with Susan McCulley, she used the phrase, “I let go of the rope” two times to describe moments when she…Gave up? Gave in? Walked away? Let go? Realized she was pushing, pulling, forcing something that was not going to happen? Indeed, Susan knew that she was making a strong and wise decision. She was not giving up. She was letting go.

So, how do we recognize the difference between giving up and letting go? Read on…

Many years ago I was in the first production of a new play, “Little Messages” by Dean O’Donnell. The whole cast and crew fell in love with this play, with the beauty and pathos, with the process, and with each other. Although the subject matter was hard, we believed in its humanity.

When the first review came out, we were devastated (I hadn’t yet heard Frances Cuka’s wisdom on reviews!). The review flattened a new playwright, a young theater company, and a group who had committed completely to telling this story.

We were shell-shocked. The worst thing that can happen to a creative endeavor is to lose one’s belief in the magic. We were jolted back into reality, as if we’d been living in a false world, a world of folly and naivete. I can’t tell you how hard it was to walk back into the theater to prepare for the evening performance.

As we entered, instead of moving towards our dressing rooms, we were invited by the director, Daphna Fields, to lie on the black-painted floor of the theater, close our eyes, and listen. This is what she read to us: Read on…

Recently, I had a fun and fruitful brainstorming session with a very creative friend. After the session, Mike emailed me:

“Kate, 

Such a delight and great help to get a dose of your perspective and creative energy…After our conversation I realized a big question that I forgot to ask you.  You seem driven and moved by creativity (I love that) -- what's creativity?  

Warm wishes, Mike”

My response:

“Hahahahahaha!

Good question.

Creativity: A generative process resulting from curiosity and play, and devoid of rules and expectations.”

I thought that was the end of the conversation, but no, Mike went further still:

“Great answer. If I can "inspire" a bit further, the bigger (practical) questions for me are how you turn it on and how you recognize you're not there yet. A million answers out in the world....What are yours -- for you -- and for other people you are helping? (Hope that's not too much inspiration!). Thank you!!”

To which I answered:

“Oh, my gosh! OK. So, John Cleese just wrote a book on creativity and I was lucky enough to be at the dinner with him after the talk…

I asked him just that--HOW do you make yourself creative? Was it working alone, at a certain time during the day, with certain people? He told a hilarious story about using the Thesaurus with Graham Chapman to find silly words like “plummet,” which led, of course to sheep plummeting, but really had no prescription.*

However, this is what I would say I need:” Read on…

While studying at the Smith College School for Social Work, we were asked to face, own, and acknowledge the power dynamic inherent in any therapeutic relationship. No matter that we were young-ish, still-in-training therapists, the roles assigned, “therapist” and “client,” create an unequal power dynamic. No matter our age, race, gender, level of experience or education, in that particular relationship, we, the burgeoning therapist, are seen as the “expert.” We have the power, whether we know it or deserve it. At Smith, we were taught to become aware, acknowledge, and work to equalize this dynamic. Our goal was to shift the dynamic as much as possible so that our clients had power over their own treatment.

This week, we broaden our awareness of our own power and seek to find more balance by doing these three things…read on.

Living Colour, the amazing hard-rock band from the 80s, captured me with their song, Cult of Personality. I remember warming up to perform a play at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, roaming the cobblestone streets, my Walkman cranking their album, Vivid.

“I'm the smiling face on your T.V.

I'm the cult of personality.”

Our culture values “personality,” a certain type of loud, big, bold, almost performative presence.  It’s like a fad, in style. The loudest, most expressive voice wins. Not necessarily the wisest, smartest, most creative, most compassionate, most insightful. So many artists, writers, leaders, actors (yes!), are in fact, very shy.   The push to fit into the current love of the “big personality” can increase anxiety, comparison, and even lead to a sense of worthlessness. I see this in my clients who come to me saying they are getting 360 Feedback that they don't have "Executive Presence." When I ask what that means, they say they are given the feedback that they are too measured, thoughtful, listen too much, don’t jump right in.  What a loss for those groups, teams, businesses, who miss out on the brilliance of the shy or introverted or simply thoughtful minds?  

What is one to do if we are not born with a temperament that is naturally big, extroverted, boldly expressive?  Read on…

One of the many things I have learned from Dr. Jim Coan is that, unlike Gottman’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which are contorted anger, direct expression of anger is…just fine. In fact, it is probably very healthy to get angry, directly, rather than holding it in, which can lead pretty quickly to more toxic behaviors like criticism and contempt.

What does direct anger look like? According to Jim Coan, direct anger simply means, “STOP! Enough! Basta! No more!” It is putting up a hard boundary that says, “NO! No more, absolutely not.” Usually this kind of direct anger comes after every other tool in the chest has been used to no avail.

What does it feel like? Read on…

This week we focus on the 4th of Gottman’s horsemen: Stonewalling. Dr. Jim Coan worked with Gottman and said that when coding couples in the “Love Lab,” they would note one partner literally turn away from the other. Stonewalling is when one partner removes themselves from the conflict rather than going towards it. We can see that sometimes this might be the best thing to do—when we are being baited or lured into a rabbit hole. But if stonewalling is a recurring habit, the relationship suffers. Knowing how to recognize and walk away from a rabbit hole or an unhealthy dynamic is vital; stonewalling is only harmful when it becomes our default.

Gottman says that we stonewall when we are physiologically flooded—often as a result of too much of the first three horsemen!

What’s the antidote? Read on…

According to John Gottman:

“Contempt is the single greatest predictor of divorce. It must be eliminated.”

In Gottman’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, contempt is by far the most toxic to relationships. Contempt is characterized by being brutally mean in a way intended to make the other person feel “despised and worthless.” Behaviors such as mocking, ridiculing, name calling, mimicking, eye-rolling, sneering, scoffing, all code as contempt. Notice the facial expression in the accompanying photo of Dr. Jim Coan modeling contempt: one side of the mouth is raised in a sneer. There is a sense of superiority and distaste, almost disgust.

Gottman and Coan looked at couples. But we all know that contempt sneaks into the work place, certainly into politics, and more and more into what used to be simple disagreements. If contempt is the most toxic behavior in intimate relationships, it is certainly toxic elsewhere.

What does Gottman prescribe as the antidote? Read on…

We’ve been digging into John Gottman’s work, specifically what he calls The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or the four behaviors most correlated with toxic relationships.

Last week we looked at Defensiveness.

This week we look at Criticism. Criticism is a global attack, often using words like, “never,” “always,” and often invites defensiveness. Gottman makes the distinction between criticism and complaint: “A complaint focuses on a specific behavior, but criticism attacks a person’s very character.”

I’d like to add another distinction between “complaint” (a specific request) and “complaining” (whining). Whining did not make it into the Four Horsemen, but it sure is a connection killer, if you ask me.

See if you can distinguish between criticism (global personal attack) and complaint (direct request), below. Read on…

In exploring John Gottman’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, I begin with Defensiveness mostly because it is the one I find most common in my own relationships and interactions. Yes, indeed. Why? Because I want everyone to love me and I’m always right. A perfect recipe for defensiveness.

Gottman notes that defensiveness is usually a response to criticism (we’ll get to that!).

Importantly, Gottman reminds us that “being defensive never helps to solve the problem at hand.” Defensiveness does not work! It does not solve the problem! It only serves to dig deeper into the conflict.

What does Gottman advise as an antidote to defensiveness?  “The antidote is to …read on.

Though John Gottman’s research focuses on romantic partnerships, I find his work very useful when thinking about all sorts of interactive communications: tense conversations, co-parenting, parenting, facilitation, interviews, community meetings. Gottman’s Four Horses of the Apocalypse are particularly useful; these are the behaviors Gottman has found to most negatively impact relationships. Of course, we all fall into these behaviors sometimes! They key is to notice when they dominate interactions and practice their antidotes when possible. In heightened, high-stakes interactions where we need to influence others, gain momentum, create coalitions, change systems, ignite ideas, or overcome obstacles, avoiding these behaviors is an essential skill.

Gottman’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are: defensiveness, criticism, stonewalling, and read on…

In this photo we have the ‘seen’ and the ‘hidden’ ,the sunlit tracks and the mysterious tunnel. In communication we see this dichotomy in the words we use, or the text, the ‘seen,’ and the true meaning, or the subtext, the ‘hidden.’ In a recent post, I talked about how Intention animates language and even changes its meaning; HOW we say something carries more weight than the words themselves. In fact, HOW we say something is sometimes in opposition to the WHAT we are saying. Sometimes it sounds like people are “speaking in code,” saying one thing but meaning another.

What would happen if we answered and addressed the hidden, the subtext, rather than the spoken words? This is fun to play with. Read on…

Just after I posted last week’s blog about generosity (thanks, Jake!), I began to think about overflowing generosity, endless outpourings, infinite neediness, The Giving Tree, boundless desire, the eternal teat, being bled dry. Yes, I am a parent. The expectation of limitless generosity that some of us might feel, is not healthy. For anyone—not the giver, nor the receiver.

So how do we maintain our abundant generosity and our whole selves? How do we balance taking care of ourselves and giving to others?

Read on…

Have you ever watched a talk, performance, or concert that felt like a gift? Like the performer is giving us something precious? Wouldn’t it be amazing if we all could harness that generosity when speaking?

Last summer, while spending the afternoon with a dear friend, writer and musician, Jake Slichter, my son asked him who is favorite musicians were. The first name Jake uttered without hesitation was Stevie Wonder. Luke asked him, “Why?” And Jake answered, “Because he is generous.”

The truth is that Stevie Wonder is always in my top three favorite musicians ever, along with Bonnie Raitt and Everything But the Girl, but I couldn’t contain myself and butted-in, “What about the Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Al Green? Aretha Franklin, Steely Dan, Ella Fitzgerald, Beck, PRINCE!”

Jake agreed that these are all wonderful artists. But to him, the thing that makes Stevie Wonder so phenomenal is his generosity.

Before writing this post, I reached out to Jake to dig a little deeper into his idea of generosity. Here is what he had to say…