I sat up straight in bed recently with Franklin Delano Roosevelt on my mind. Specifically, how his hardships with polio shaped him into the leader he became.
My hardships are waning and not as dramatic as FDR’s, which left him paralyzed from the waist down, but they’ve left me feeling as if the person I once knew myself to be is dying.
And I’ll confess to having said some prayers to regain my will to live (thankfully, I did).
Spiritual teacher Matt Kahn says that life begins with death, not birth.
If you consider a new-born baby, this makes sense: its earthly life began with the death of its existence in the womb.
And while new life is something to celebrate, the birthing process can be traumatic.
Historian James Tobin thinks that FDR only discovered who he was through the ordeal of polio. Or, to use my words, through the death of part of himself.
That’s the kind of evolution I’m claiming: that feeling like parts of myself are dying is helping me to discover and embody more of who I truly am. Namely, a loving, creative and unafraid soul, like who you truly are too.
Truth be told, there are parts of myself that I’m eager to die off.
Like the part that still cares too much about other people’s opinions.
But just because I’m past ready for some parts of me to be gone, it doesn’t mean that the dying and rebirthing process is painless or not bewildering.
My first impulse to deal with feeling hollowed out was to rush to fill the void with activity. But until only days ago, I had scant energy or desire to do anything.
Still, I resisted taking naps to try to be productive, though I usually preach honoring when the body and mind are tired, as well as prosperity—aliveness—over productivity.
Now, I’m settling into the dying process because resisting it is prolonging it.
Plus, I’d rather let my deficiencies wither away to create something new from a place of power, not the pain of the past.
Roosevelt contended with fevers, facial paralysis and bowel and bladder dysfunction, along with other problems that threatened his life. Surviving these, historian Tobin thinks, “gave him a kind of confidence in his own strength.”
He also thinks that it “gave him a kind of passion for people who are suffering that he couldn’t have had if he had not deeply suffered himself. That capacity was perfectly timed for the country’s problems in the Great Depression.”
I think we can evolve through joy but that we’re mostly too distracted or stubborn for that. So it takes hardships to get us to look within ourselves and meet our immense capabilities.
From wars between nations to aged populations to the loss of jobs, merriness and a sense of security or hope for large swaths of people globally, death abounds.
Our response, as individuals and together, can prolong our grief or birth heaven on earth.
Historian Harvey J. Kaye says that we recognize that Roosevelt led the U.S. through two crises—the Depression and WWII—that threatened to destroy American democracy.
But, Kaye says, we fail to grasp that he did so by leading “Americans to see that the only way to truly defend, secure, and sustain American democratic life against those who were determined to suppress it is to radically enhance it.”
“There is no question in my mind,” Roosevelt said at the beginning of the Depression, “that it is time for the country to become fairly radical for a generation.”
As the good things of life are dying or being destroyed, we—all of us in our respective countries—are at a moment in history to choose to become fairly radical or succumb. And to trust that the deaths we’re experiencing are enriching the soil for something better to grow.
Decide for yourself, but becoming fairly radical to me means deciding to BE that way now. It means not rushing into doing things that make sense in our heads but taking time to detect the wisdom of our hearts and having the courage to follow through.
Or, leading with our heart smarts and using our head smarts to work out the details.
Our hearts won’t put us on the path to depletion.
But if you’re feeling hollowed out like I was recently, consider that you now have more room to hold new awarenesses and radical imagination, which is your power to create prosperity.
Stay calm and let the discomfort pass as best as you can, and don’t impede your evolution into a more expanded version of yourself by rushing back into a familiar place.
Slow down, take deep breaths, stay hydrated, find ways to laugh, connect with nature.
These are all supportive ways to help you hear the whispers of your heart, as is taking the advice of theologian Howard Thurman, inspiration to MLK Jr. and other civil right leaders:
“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
I can’t say that I feel pronounced aliveness at the prospect of speaking in public, but I have a quiet but insistent inner knowing that it’s part of my growth into a new level of leadership. I’ve known this for ages. New depths of hardship have “inspired” me to start.
May you gain more confidence and compassion as a leader—whether in your home, neighborhood, region or beyond—from getting going without the suffering.
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