In a twist of events that I hoped to avoid, I’ve found myself back “in the weeds” at the organization I used to run.

Weekly meetings. Strategic planning. KPI tracking. Accountability for delivering on goals. 

All while I’m in China – 12 hours ahead of the rest of the team.

I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but I’m a fiercely boundary-ed individual. 10:00 PM calls? They’re not going to happen. 6:00 AM ones? Definitely not.

I’m a non-compensated volunteer giving my time to an organization that once burned me out. Ya best believe that boundaries are my friend in this situation (in all situations?).

Not because I’m selfish or self-centered or any other non-team-player-y quality. But because the organization currently needs my skill set and the only way that I can commit to offering it is on terms that work for me.

I am a dedicated anti-martyr. I refuse to spend any time living in the martyr archetype.

I don’t prove my love by making sacrifices. I don’t burn the candle at both ends to make other people happy.

I live in the trickster archetype.

Liz Gilbert summarizes the difference this way:

Martyr energy is dark, solemn, macho, hierarchical, fundamentalist, austere, unforgiving, and profoundly rigid.

Trickster energy is light, sly, transgender, transgressive, animist, seditious, primal, and endlessly shape-shifting.

Martyr says: “I will sacrifice everything to fight this unwinnable war, even if it means being crushed to death under a wheel of torment.”

Trickster says: “Okay, you enjoy that! As for me, I’ll be over here in this corner, running a successful little black market operation on the side of your unwinnable war.”

Martyr says: “Life is pain.”

Trickster says: “Life is interesting.”

Martyr says: “The system is rigged against all that is good and sacred.”

Trickster says: “There is no system, everything is good and sacred.”

Martyr says: “Nobody will ever understand me.”

Trickster says: “Pick a card, any card!”

Martyr says: “The world can never be solved.”

Trickster says: “Perhaps not…but it can be gamed.”

Martyr says: “Through my torment, my truth shall be revealed.”

Trickster says: “I didn’t come here to suffer, pal.”

Martyr says: “Death before dishonor.”

Trickster says: “Let’s make a deal.”

Martyr always ends up dead in a heap of broken glory, while Trickster trots off to enjoy another day.

Martyr = Sir Thomas More

Trickster = Bugs Bunny

The key to understanding the trickster, Liz says, is that the trickster trusts.

“He trusts himself, obviously. He trusts his own cunning, his own right to be here, his own ability to land on his feet in any situation. To a certain extent, of course, he also trusts other people. But mostly, the trickster trusts the universe. He trusts in its chaotic, lawless, ever-fascinating ways–and for this reason, he does not suffer from undue anxiety. He trusts that the universe is in constant play and, specifically, that it wants to play with him.”

Me? I trust that fully. I know the universe wants to play with me.

That’s why I’m trying to bring trickster energy to this situation. Because there’s space for it to be playful. In many ways, trickster-ing is the single best act of service I can contribute. Everyone will benefit from a lighter, more playful, less anxiety-driven culture.

And, since I’m on a communication kick, I’m also trusting that communicating this is the right thing to do. I believe in living in “radical alignment,” in knowing what’s true for the people you spend time with. And this particular trickster has a truth that impacts the whole team: if we can’t be trickster-y, if the only acceptable path is to make martyr-like sacrifices, then I’ll have to bow out. I’m making too much progress on my most important goals to risk getting burned out at this organization again.

Isn’t it so nice to know where you stand?

Wishing you a Bugs-Bunny-esque day,

Source - Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert. Chapter: “Trust” Section: “The Martyr vs. The Trickster”