Author: Parlay House

May 2023

 

Last year for my 60th birthday, my husband proposed a celebratory trip for me and six girlfriends in the Caribbean. My only responsibilities were to pack my clothes and pull a group together. He’d handle the rest.

If you know me even a little, you’ll give him big kudos: the gift of “Time with People I Love” is the best possible present.

But picking only six friends was a near-impossible task.

I’ve spent the last chapter of my life with the intention of building better, deeper and more meaningful friendships, and I must say that I exceeded my goals.

I’ve built bonds with more wonderful female friends than I even knew existed when I was neck-deep in corporate America.

So how did I decide who to include on this celebratory adventure? My first reaction was to think about my tribe. My posse.

Tribes and posses are such ancient yet modern concepts.

Historically, tribes were social divisions within societies made up of people similar in status, economic position, bloodlines and religion.

Posses were slightly more menacing but like-minded grouping: a group of people (usually men) summoned by the “lead guy” to help enforce the law. One person led, and the others did the dirty work.

We now describe tribes and posses with phrases like “my ride or die,” my inner circle, my peeps.

But I soon realized that I didn’t have, nor did I want, a fixed tribe, posse, inner circle or peeps.

I wanted to bust out of those familiar segments and predictable mindsets.

Why? Because by definition, groups of people in tribes and posses tend to be a lot like each other from the get-go, and they spend as much time keeping others out as they do inviting those who feel “other” in.

Who wants to only surround themselves with people whose lives and beliefs are shockingly similar? For me, “it’s a small world” would quickly become a “dull world” if I only associated with people like me.

I wanted a celebration with women who would stretch me and stretch each other.

I wanted to open the possibility for unexpected perspectives, experiences and growth.

I wanted a new form of community to kick-start my next 60 years.

Instead of just picking the people I’d spent the most time with, I began my process with an intentional gamble. I only invited people who didn’t know each other and were exceptionally different from each other.

Of course, I could see some sort of commonality between them (and I already loved each of them for the woman she was), but the potential points of connection and overlap were not obvious.

I chose my BFF sister, my college best friend, and an amazing woman I’ve only known for the last couple of years. One was in Alabama, the next in Stockholm, and the last in Marin, California. I included a poet, a highly-successful entrepreneur, and the only woman in my life who was a high school cheerleader and continues to bust out all the moves.

We ranged in age across a 40-year span, with pieces of our lives spent in different places and on different paths. We have ethnic, religious, geographic, stylistic, and cultural differences too. Introverts, extroverts, and ambiverts. Career-centric and inner-life led. Happily married. Happily not married. Somewhere in the middle.

The one thing we had in common (aside from being women and knowing me) was that we were all open to being open.

As we began our five days of togetherness, someone brought a birthday banner that said, ‘ExtravagANNEza’. But in the heat of my excitement, I read it as Extravag Anne za.

Extravag became our group moniker because an extra vag is always a good thing. A promising start to be sure.

* * *

From the moment we landed, we drank, twerked and swam. We swapped book recommendations, health tips and paddle board techniques. Some went to bed early, and others chatted till near dawn.

By the end of the first day, we were sharing childhood memories and telling stories. By day two, we were sharing secrets, goals and dreams. By day three, we were promising to support each other through all that life would bring.

By the fifth and final day, we cried that it had ended so fast.

Not only did we get to know (and love) each other, but I think we got to know and love ourselves a little bit more when framed by this new close-knit community of women who are very different.

* * *

Since that gathering, the connections and bonds have solidified across the miles.

Last week, we had a reunion, and while I can’t tell you what was shared because what happens in Extravag stays in Extravag, let’s just say it got even better.

The magic began at the level we’d left it, and we found that while we were apart, each of us became committed to replicating our experience in our own way. We’re creating new forms of communities that break us out of the tribal bubbles and posse protection that might have prevented the birth of this new collective.

The poet is becoming a singer and bonding in that new world. The cheerleader is becoming a business leader, and the career-exec is narrowing her scope to focus on the small connections that matter. The Swede is helping launch Parlay House in Stockholm. The community builder missed the reunion because she was off in Paris on her own community-building quest. My sister and I have expanded our connection through creative collaborations that span mediums, miles and meaning.

It turns out that moving outside of our bubbles didn’t burst them at all.

* * *

How might you grow beyond your tribe, posse or bubble?

Share it Small: How about getting to know someone whose life is really different than yours? It all begins with a simple invitation and your willingness to begin the conversation by sharing a personal truth that makes space for them to do the same.

Share it Big: Find your own Extravag! Maybe it’s pulling together a range of people from your own life, or maybe it’s inviting strangers into your world as I did when I began Parlay House. However you start shuffling the deck, you’re bound to be dealt an interesting hand.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

April 2023

 

I don’t need glasses to see things at a distance, but I need a 2.5x magnification to read just about anything. I can identify a whale’s spout a mile offshore but can’t read a restaurant menu in front of my nose. I can make out a street sign more than a block away, but I can’t read the temperature on my car’s dashboard without glasses.

I see things differently depending on my own configuration, and I’m guessing you do too.

How we see things differs based on how we’re wired, what we’ve experienced, what we’ve been taught, the things that excite us, and how closely we look.

Personally, I tend to see things up close and personal, noticing a hair out of place, a perfect piece of jewelry, or a painting that needs to be moved an inch to the left. But I can also easily misread signs if I’m not paying attention or assume I already know what I see and therefore fail to look closely enough.

Some of my favorite people in the world (like my husband) are just the opposite.

They’re focused on big-picture views and overall impressions but can’t possibly tell me what the person they met for lunch looked like. They definitely won’t notice that I colored my hair or even that it was getting gray in the first place.

This leads me to wonder: When we look at the same things, do we see the same things?

He looks at me and takes comfort when he sees the “me” he already knows.

I love the “him” that already exists and look specifically for the new details that expand my familiarity.

In a world that feels increasingly polarized, I can’t help but wonder how many of us are looking at the same thing but focusing on a different aspect of it. We need some explanation for how we can live in the same household or country at the same time and still see things so differently.

In a time of social instability, we’re straining to find proof that what we see is real. We’re searching for the concrete. The unmovable. The truth.

* * *

When we feel unstable and ungrounded, most of us dial up our search for the black and white.

A black-and-white situation is one in which it is easy to understand right and wrong, true or false, good or bad. If something is black and white, it is clear and distinct. Something being black and white means that there is no ambiguity. No room for personal interpretation. No shades or subtlety.

Maybe we feel that if it’s black and white, it’s universal. After all, even colorblind people can differentiate black from white.

Of course, most aspects of life aren’t black and white.

So how do we cope with the obvious tension between a desire for complete clarity and the fact that such clarity doesn’t exist?

If we can never agree on universal truths, how do we come together to close the gaps we can all sense?

The answer might lie in the spectrum.

I recently went down a scientific rabbit hole to learn about sight and how what I see might differ from what others see. Is the gray I see the same as the one you are experiencing when we look at the same thing?

I learned that most of the colors humans see are a dizzying combination of primary hues spun for us through the three cones in our eyes.

Butterflies have 5 or 6 cones compared to our 3, so the number of iterations and variety of colors they experience is far beyond anything we can imagine. I’d love to see the world through a butterfly’s eyes, and I know that I would have to do a huge amount of processing to experience the world so differently.

Recently, scientists learned that the tiny mantis shrimp, a carnivorous marine crustacean less than 4” long, has 16 extra color cones in its eyes. Mantis shrimp spend most of their lives burrowed deep into underwater bunkers, enjoying a color experience that is incomprehensible to us. (At least, it’s incomprehensible to those of us who have never been on an acid trip.)

Obviously, we’re not butterflies or shrimp.

But even though most of us are built with three nearly identical color cones, it’s clear that we do not see the same things at all.

Maybe we need to take baby steps.

I suggest we search for shades of gray.

In color theory, gray symbolizes compromise and control. Gray areas mean that something is undefined. While gray can often mean bland or safe, it can also be a mechanism for finding common ground. Looking for the gray – a bit of black in my white and a bit of white in your black might help us move more closely towards each other.

Gray makes room for exceptions. For sharing. For humanity.

I’m working on stretching beyond the absolute “clarity” of black and white to come closer to those who seem so far away by embracing the gray.

I’m not ready to stop with the hair color yet, but at least I’ve stopped dying the roots.

* * *

Where can you find gray that matters?

Share it Small: Take some time to question your beliefs – especially the most polarizing ones or those you assume are true but haven’t reevaluated in a long time. Is there any wiggle room? If so, start wiggling!

Share it Big: Reach out to someone who seems at the other end of the spectrum, and see if you can talk about opportunities for moderation. Then explain to the people who tend to see the world as you do how you found common ground with someone so different. Who knows, they might try it too!

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.