tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96296872024-03-13T02:35:43.277-05:00Fumbling for WordsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1010125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-53816704045164986962010-01-31T23:14:00.000-06:002010-01-31T23:14:13.385-06:00This site is moving to its own domain!At the ripe old age of 5, I thought it was high time this blog grew up and moved out on its own. So I staked my corner of the web and set up camp.<br />
<br />
Introducing... <a href="http://www.fumblingforwords.com/">http://www.fumblingforwords.com/</a> <br />
<br />
Please be sure to change your bookmarks, bloglines, favourites, rss feeds - whatever - so that you don't miss anything. I've got a fun little video up there today to celebrate the move.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-35109179808679362010-01-29T14:56:00.001-06:002010-01-29T14:58:36.751-06:00Pity party cut shortSometimes just a snippet of conversation is enough to turn your day around. Sometimes you don't even need to be <em>part</em> of that conversation for it to take effect.<br />
<br />
I was having a grumpy, no-good, very bad day. There was really nothing significantly wrong - it was just one of those days when the gremlins were winning. You know the ones... "you're not talented enough, you shouldn't bother trying, you're wasting too much time, you're not focused enough, nobody will listen to you, you might as well forget about the proposal you sent in yesterday - it'll never happen."<br />
<br />
I was walking through the skywalk at lunch time, heading for the far-away food court where I could feel sorry for myself and eat unhealthy food without any colleagues finding me. Didn't I deserve to eat fast food crap, after all? Hadn't I earned the right for a little pity party with extra calories?<br />
<br />
"He lit himself on fire when he was 2 years old." That was the first snippet I caught from the woman on the cell phone power-walking past me. It was enough for me to quicken my pace to keep up with her.<br />
<br />
"He had burns all over his body, one of his hands fell off and all of the fingers on the other hand fell off."<br />
<br />
"With only one thumb, he learned to tie his shoes at 12 years old and he said that changed his future."<br />
<br />
"Now he's a famous drummer. If he can do that, there is NOTHING that I can't do."<br />
<br />
That was all I heard, but that was enough to shift something inside of me. What the heck was I doing, moping around with this "poor me, I'm a failure" attitude? <br />
<br />
I ate my lunch, but it was curry instead of mac-crap. When I got back to my desk, I googled "drummer with no hands". Sure enough, the story was true. <br />
<br />
And if he can live without excuses, why can't I?<br />
<object height="360" width="580"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yQBEB4fqOnI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yQBEB4fqOnI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-68903004225172467592010-01-27T22:08:00.002-06:002010-01-27T22:22:53.132-06:00Art of the bodyHow does one prepare for the day when a surgeon will cut off a piece of what makes one a woman?<br />
<br />
I've been thinking a lot about bodies lately. <a href="http://www.blisschick.net/">Christine</a> intrigued me with her choice of "embody" as her word for the year. And then <a href="http://creativeeveryday.com/">Leah</a> invited us to focus on the body as our creative muse this month. So since the beginning of the month I've been contemplating how I wanted to incorporate "body" into my creativity. I was full of ideas and just needed the time to play with them.<br />
<br />
Then the envelope came in the mail. The envelope that held the letter that says in simple Times New Roman font, as though it were no more important than my daughter's next soccer practice, that my breast reduction surgery has been booked for March. Gulp. Suddenly all creative ideas were blocked and all I could think of was "I'm going to lose a piece of what makes me a woman."<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong - I really want this surgery. I chose it. I'm so tired of the aching back, the carvings in my shoulders, the sore ribs from impossible under-wires, the impossibility of finding double H bras for less than my mortgage payment, the shirts that never fit, the near earthquake that's caused when I try to jog - all of it. I want it to be over.<br />
<br />
But that doesn't mean it's not complicated. It took me a long, long time to come to this decision, and I won't back down now, but there are so many mixed emotions that play tricks with one's mind. All of those memories of the babies I've nursed, the pleasure I've shared with my husband, the aching fullness of unused milk when the baby who was meant to nurse has left this earth - they're all wrapped up in my identity, my shape as a woman.<br />
<br />
And then there is the message I'm sending to my daughters. Is it okay for me to have plastic surgery, when I want to encourage them to value their bodies and not let media images dictate how they view what they see in the mirror? I would be lying if I didn't admit to myself that at least part of the reason for this decision is about my own complicated body image.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Tonight I finally had time to disappear into my studio for awhile to play with paint, ideas, memories, heartache... and breasts. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Zc2ycDFziNmke3KQuv1TZwA5hetdWUKfaB_zftAkwRMSMZHuyLn_RInsCeDJl0ddgLJPDIdytyr41WQ26PgSknQ5lCbIVW2ClsWWzi-tyjw0Wmmc2_2QBGE3HE5t8cmCCXoM/s1600-h/IMG_7350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Zc2ycDFziNmke3KQuv1TZwA5hetdWUKfaB_zftAkwRMSMZHuyLn_RInsCeDJl0ddgLJPDIdytyr41WQ26PgSknQ5lCbIVW2ClsWWzi-tyjw0Wmmc2_2QBGE3HE5t8cmCCXoM/s400/IMG_7350.JPG" width="315" /></a><br />
</div>I started with a few of those images that surround us - the perfect bodies with the perfect breasts. No, those aren't the only reasons for this choice, but I have to at least acknowledge them and let them be a part of the picture. And the truth is, not even those women in the magazine ads are completely content when they look in the mirror.<br />
<br />
As I prepare for this journey, I will try to acknowledge the hope and the hurt, the beauty and the ugly, the truth and the lies I tell myself. I know that I will be changed in more ways than one.<br />
<br />
<i>P.S. I had thought I'd be a little more private about this journey, but for some reason, I feel compelled to share it here. I know that you, my kind readers, will hold these words gently in your hearts as you have so often done when I've been vulnerable. If you're interested, I first wrote about it <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/04/pieces-of-me.html">here</a>, when I went for my original consultation with the surgeon.</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-89268246273414431792010-01-26T21:23:00.000-06:002010-01-26T21:23:42.883-06:00Drawing Class (so far)<div style="text-align: center;">Week #2 - perspective...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_sRNk4IwCnD4XX7hBoVkIlaubPR34ZbaFsBqE_eUzf729GP_T0l0pzguoBThBvnmFgDrTz5My1e2_NIL7L6FNkO0OFBvQiBPWwawfaGgrOQXyR-XFBMCGIQm1vwgBrY8seWi/s1600-h/IMG_7342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_sRNk4IwCnD4XX7hBoVkIlaubPR34ZbaFsBqE_eUzf729GP_T0l0pzguoBThBvnmFgDrTz5My1e2_NIL7L6FNkO0OFBvQiBPWwawfaGgrOQXyR-XFBMCGIQm1vwgBrY8seWi/s400/IMG_7342.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Week #3 - still life with charcoal...<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHg5c_3fgVRsw7hyAAyCzGsN9sTPLJZ4zFhNd15ZRJpPxsDXcoBR-1bO0Ia_QP-lMYxtDtSGT4MHp8QT3n9IwdCrawY4nUXMmDUVqt9FWWOAkNCvWck5EsFsPXHlfd_X9-VGp/s1600-h/IMG_7341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHg5c_3fgVRsw7hyAAyCzGsN9sTPLJZ4zFhNd15ZRJpPxsDXcoBR-1bO0Ia_QP-lMYxtDtSGT4MHp8QT3n9IwdCrawY4nUXMmDUVqt9FWWOAkNCvWck5EsFsPXHlfd_X9-VGp/s400/IMG_7341.jpg" width="326" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I am a happy, happy girl!<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-50816703401916394072010-01-25T11:48:00.004-06:002010-01-25T13:02:49.623-06:00Getting through the week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZixmCAY4S1i1NZiY21Wqn14fnysk9MBoZwaFsTDVIZBp_GXJpsbXxxxi8tnSj0kd-VIFSw70qbH24KulPolmf-rzlqByyPFb4rw1AHm-kBhDlOuuplzV6RxR2u8BJXXKDywPx/s1600-h/IMG_7070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZixmCAY4S1i1NZiY21Wqn14fnysk9MBoZwaFsTDVIZBp_GXJpsbXxxxi8tnSj0kd-VIFSw70qbH24KulPolmf-rzlqByyPFb4rw1AHm-kBhDlOuuplzV6RxR2u8BJXXKDywPx/s400/IMG_7070.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
</div>First it was the weariness from five days away (some of which included a fairly intense staff retreat). Then it was the scrambling energy it took to start filling a small role in response to the Haiti disaster (communicating, responding to donors & media, issuing appeals, looking for appropriate images, writing web text and ad copy, etc., etc.). Add the ups and downs of the ongoing drama of motherhood and management. Throw in two very different (mostly good) pieces of news that are potentially life-changing and that carried me into an odd introspective space. (No, I'm not prepared to talk about them here yet - maybe later.) Add a few complicated relationships. Top it all off with a major screw-up in which I totally overlooked a presentation I was supposed to give (ugh). And there you have it - the week that was.<br />
<br />
Now you know why I was mostly silent last week and will probably continue to be much of this week. There are only so many balls a woman can keep in the air without dropping a few of the rubber ones.<br />
<br />
But then there was last night. Last night, for a few precious moments, I managed to put all the balls away on a shelf and walk away. The house was fairly quiet, and other than the laundry that needed to be shifted from washer to dryer to folding table, and a mostly-content seven-year-old who flitted in and out for a little mommy-love now and then, I didn't have a lot of demands on my time. So I disappeared into my little studio and soon I was lost in a drawing that had begun to emerge at last week's class. <br />
<br />
It's a row of small fishing sheds lined up on a dock with a couple of fishing boats in the foreground - meant to teach about perspective. Follow the lines to the vanishing point to determine the angle of rooflines, dock edges, etc. Lots of little details and extensive use of a ruler for all those doors, roofs, windows, and wooden siding. It's not the kind of art work I would normally be drawn into (I get a little bored with symmetry), but oh my, was it zen-like! Soon those heavy thoughts were disappearing right along with those lines on the way to the vanishing point.<br />
<br />
Though I recognize the value of meditation, and I've tried it several times in various iterations, it just hasn't been something I've been able to fully adopt into my life. Too many monkeys playing around in my mind, I suppose. <br />
<br />
That was before I discovered the meditative quality of art. A paintbrush or pencil in my hand, and suddenly I'm a zen master!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-79015249231973376752010-01-20T11:54:00.001-06:002010-01-20T11:57:17.937-06:00Sometimes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fumblingforwords/4091466718/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="IMG_5376 by Heather Plett, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_5376" height="266" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2582/4091466718_91249204ea_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes parenting wrenches your heart right out of your chest, <br />
tosses it on the floor and stomps on it.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you have to sit in the bathroom holding your daughter <br />
and listening to her sob for half an hour<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">all the while knowing you can't do a damn thing to FIX IT.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes those beautiful children who own a big piece of your heart <br />
bottle stuff up forever and then one day it's released <br />
in a sudden outburst that results in a hotdog flying across the room.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you have to live through the cruelties of life vicariously through your children<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and sometimes that second-hand pain is almost worse <br />
than if it were happening to you directly.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you feel the weight of realization that you are the only safe place <br />
where their deepest fears and troubled emotions can be unleashed.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And then sometimes you go to bed worrying about your beautiful daughter, <br />
and through the basement floor you hear her humming along with her ipod,<br />
a sure sign that the tears in the bathroom were just right for helping her carry on.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And sometimes you know that the best you can hope for is "carrying on".<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-10960909081995891262010-01-19T11:57:00.002-06:002010-01-19T13:05:55.449-06:00Sometimes you just have to find a tree and lean on itIt was day one of the staff retreat. The day that my team was meeting under my leadership. Staff and volunteers had come from across the country and I had to lead them, inspire them, and encourage them. The trouble was, I wasn't feeling very inspired myself. I was just feeling.... well, kinda blah. Low energy and low motivation.<br />
<br />
Halfway through the day we took a break. It was a beautiful day and we were close to the woods and the river, so I went for a walk. Near the Red River, in the middle of a small wooded area, I spotted the largest tree I have ever seen in this province. It would have taken about 4 people with their arms fully spread to make a circle around that tree.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5FM9vejsPpgZOqwYH2KyQJLgzN3nA0GR088k0kODn-CZhfC0xgfAFRVfLre1RXKuCBBTw_B50zhOMhm6dqQT0de5MU-y3i04O3AjN-Q05M6TY6j9qbT-D4Dsa6M_hp51CVb0/s1600-h/IMG_7049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5FM9vejsPpgZOqwYH2KyQJLgzN3nA0GR088k0kODn-CZhfC0xgfAFRVfLre1RXKuCBBTw_B50zhOMhm6dqQT0de5MU-y3i04O3AjN-Q05M6TY6j9qbT-D4Dsa6M_hp51CVb0/s400/IMG_7049.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I spread my arms as far as I could reach and leaned against that big solid tree, my face pressed up against the rough bark. I stayed there for a few minutes, just leaning. Borrowing energy from a tree that had stood through more than a hundred prairie winters and a myriad of floods, storms, and pestulance. Soaking up inspiration from a life-force that had born witness to endless human and animal stories. Finding encouragement in this remarkable source of oxygen, shade and beauty. All the while, thanking the Creator for this love-song shaped like a tree.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Refreshed, I returned to my meeting.<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-69451250678424568662010-01-18T10:31:00.000-06:002010-01-18T10:31:43.169-06:00Haiti on my mindToday, after 5 days away from my computer, I came back to an in-box packed full of inquiries about Haiti. Many wanted to know if we will be doing any food programming there (the answer is yes - <a href="http://www.foodgrainsbank.ca/">feel free to support</a>), but most wanted to know if M & J are safe.<br />
<br />
This past summer, two of my staff resigned from their positions, and for completely different reasons, both moved to Haiti. J is working in a fairly remote area, providing administrative support for a clinic. M is doing contract work with NGOs in Port-au-Prince.<br />
<br />
J reports that, though they felt the quake, they were not significantly impacted. They will, however, be providing some medical support from their clinic, so she will be working hard in the coming weeks.<br />
<br />
I haven't heard anything directly from M, but through the NGO grapevine, I've heard that she is safe and that her home was not destroyed.<br />
<br />
Though I've never been to Haiti, I feel quite connected to it through many friends and colleagues who have lived there or are currently living there. This disaster seems so unfathomable that there really are no words to express it.<br />
<br />
That's about all I have to say right now, because at this time, this is one of the only things on my mind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-92164437497962917862010-01-12T10:28:00.001-06:002010-01-12T10:43:58.377-06:00Learning to draw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3440/3293768163_f7fef6fbce_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" ps="true" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3440/3293768163_f7fef6fbce_b.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
</div>Last night I started my drawing class. At the Winnipeg Art Gallery, no less - a place for SERIOUS artists. (My last class was through the local community centre, so this is me "kickin' it up a notch!") I'm so excited. My teacher is just the right mix of down-to-earth, approachable, relaxed, wise, and <a href="http://www.dominiquerey.com/">seriously talented</a>. I know I'm going to enjoy soaking in her wisdom. We spent last night learning about shading with cross-hatching and smudged charcoal - playing with light. <br />
<br />
This is what I wrote in my journal on the bus ride home. <em>"My first drawing class is over. Loved it! Oh yes I did! Teacher, looking over my shoulder, said 'you have a great sense of light!' Woohoo! Light! I am elated! Let the light shine on me! And may I recognize the value of the shadows for the way they bring out the light."</em><br />
<br />
Yup, I was just like Maddie coming home from her art class - silly and imaginative and just plain giddy. I didn't tell goofy stories like she does (not sure my bus-mates would have appreciated it), but I'm sure I was grinning all the way home.<br />
<br />
This morning, in honour of my desire to "bask in pleasure" just like a kid, I want to share a blessing from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bless-Space-Between-Us-Blessings/dp/0385522274">one of my favourite books</a>:<br />
<br />
<strong>For the Artist at the Start of Day</strong><br />
<br />
May morning be astir with the harvest of night;<br />
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,<br />
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse<br />
That cut right through the surface to a source.<br />
<br />
May this be a morning of innocent beginning,<br />
When the gift within you slips clear<br />
Of the sticky web of the personal<br />
With its hurt and its hauntings,<br />
And fixed fortress corners,<br />
<br />
A Morning when you become a pure vessel<br />
For what wants to ascend from silence,<br />
<br />
May your imagination know<br />
The grace of perfect danger,<br />
<br />
To reach beyond imitation,<br />
And the wheel of repetition,<br />
<br />
Deep into the call of all<br />
The unfinished and unsolved<br />
<br />
Until the veil of the unknown yields<br />
And something original begins<br />
To stir toward your senses<br />
And grow stronger in your heart<br />
<br />
In order to come to birth<br />
In a clean line of form,<br />
That claims from time<br />
A rhythm not yet heard,<br />
That calls space to<br />
A different shape.<br />
<br />
May it be its own force field<br />
And dwell uniquely<br />
Between the heart and the light<br />
<br />
To surprise the hungry eye<br />
By how deftly it fits<br />
About its secret loss.<br />
<br />
~ John O'Donohue ~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-42436465205756442952010-01-11T10:24:00.001-06:002010-01-11T11:15:47.040-06:00Random Monday morning1. My oldest daughter is insane. She LOVES to go to the gym, LOVES to run on the treadmill, and WILLINGLY got up at 5:45 this morning to drag me out of bed and drag me to the gym. She finally has the doctor's okay to start running again (since her knee surgery in September), and is doing everything in her power to convince me running is FUN. Yeesh.<br />
<br />
2. I may have to admit that my eye-sight is not quite what it used to be. Gulp. Everybody warned me that it would start to deteriorate after 40, but I refused to believe them since I've happily lived without glasses all of my life. But last night... darn it all... I could barely focus on those nearly invisible stitches I was trying to rip out to replace a zipper. I have the injuries on my finger to prove it. Aargh.<br />
<br />
3. Tonight I start a drawing class at the Winnipeg Art Gallery. I've got a healthy mix of excitement and nervousness. More excited than nervous this time around, but this feels like SERIOUS art instruction instead of just the community centre stuff I did last time around. Yikes! Who am I trying to kid?<br />
<br />
4. Speaking of art classes, Maddie started hers on Saturday, and oh my gosh that girl is fun to have in the car on the way home from art classes. (And swimming classes too, for that matter.) She gets really silly when she's happy and her imagination goes wild when she's gotten positive energy from something she loves. I think we grown-ups have gotten a little too good at stifling that kind of thing to the point where we often don't even recognize what gives us true pleasure. We can learn some things from Maddie about basking in pleasure.<br />
<br />
5. Since I mentioned the other two daughters, I should mention Julie too. It appears she has inherited two of my characteristics - perfectionism (when it comes to projects, anyway), and procrastination. Not a great combination when you have a big creative project due on Monday and want to get some actual sleep on Sunday night, but boy-oh-boy does she have a nice project to hand in this morning!<br />
<br />
6. I'll be spending most of this week at a staff retreat. If you've been here for awhile, you might remember <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/01/year-of-living-fearlessly-chapter-2.html">last year's retreat</a>. This year will be significantly different, because we have a lot of new staff on the team. None-the-less, I've got some fairly big challenges that make me feel a little queasy about the whole thing. I may have to wear my colourful jacket again for fortification.<br />
<br />
7. After the retreat comes the fun stuff - a weekend at a soccer tournament in the States. I wish I could just jump to the fun stuff where I get to hang out with my family in a hotel and help my daughters spend the money they've been earning by trudging through the neighbourhood delivering flyers.<br />
<br />
8. I have one of those plants in my office that I only know of as a "mother-in-law's tongue". A rather horrible name, I know (especially since my mother-in-law's tongue is anything but sharp), but I don't know the proper name. (I just looked it up on wikipedia and it's also known as the "snake plant".) It has one really tall leaf that is shooting toward the sky. It seems like it's trying to serve as a metaphor similar to the "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tall_poppy_syndrome">tall poppy</a>" where people dare to stand above the crowd even when they might be shot down for it.<br />
<br />
9. I have a grinning plastic monkey on my desk by my computer (from my friend Kelly from back in the days when we were trying to avoid using the word "monkey" in communications plans because the lab we were working at was beginning to do experiments on "non-human-primates" - ah yes, we were spin doctors!). For some reason, that monkey is making me smile this morning. Thanks Kelly.<br />
<br />
10. Nine doesn't seem like the right number to end on, so I'm adding this point just so I can end on an even number. I have nothing more to say.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-73666268759817878572010-01-08T09:53:00.003-06:002010-01-08T11:56:30.942-06:00Still burningA few days ago, I let Maddie drag me out of the house to see the Olympic flame as it passed through our city. It was my first day back to work and I really didn't relish the thought of leaving my warm cocoon again in the evening, but I just didn't think it was right to extinquish the enthusiasm of a 7 year old child who'll probably only have one chance to see the flame in her lifetime.<br />
<br />
In the end, I was glad we went. We didn't get there in time to see it arrive at the Forks, but it was burning brightly in a fairly large torch on the stage where performers were putting on a concert.<br />
<br />
At the end of the festivities, the flame was passed from the large torch to a very small enclosed lantern where they keep it burning through the night. It was just a tiny flame, but it was still THE Olympic flame. The next day, it would burn brightly again as it continued its journey toward the coast.<br />
<br />
As I stood there watching them shrink the flame and then extinquish the large torch, a sudden epiphany visited me. That flame is just like me. Sometimes I'm burning brightly for everyone around to see, and then sometimes I have just a tiny flame burning inside me, nearly invisible to the naked eye. The beauty of the moment was the recognition that that small flame still holds within it the capacity to burn fiercely and powerfully.<br />
<br />
Lately I've been going through one of those "tiny flame" periods. There are moments when there seems to be no more passion, no more inspiration, and no more energy. No more fuel for my fire. It's not just a "January blahs" thing this time around. It's a "something happened that makes the future seem dark again" kind of thing.<br />
<br />
But seeing that flame reminded me that it's still burning deep inside me. I just have to wait for it to be refueled and then it will shine again.<br />
<br />
This morning, after having a conversation with a good friend over a chai latte, and then reading the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/notes/pema-chodron/how-to-taste-the-quality-of-the-moment/243384846427">article</a> that my friend <a href="http://artcetera.squarespace.com/">Darrah</a> passed on, I had another epiphany. I am letting the shadow of this difficult situation cloud the future and I am forgetting to focus on that tiny speck of light that still burns within me (and within the people around me). I am also forgetthing that I have some control over what fuels my flame and do not have to wait for external forces to fuel it for me. But at the same time... I don't NEED to burn brightly all the time - some times low flame times are crucial for helping me refuel and prepare for the times when I am called on to burn brightly.<br />
<br />
As Pema Chodron says in the article linked above, sometimes we take the shifts of our emotional weather too personally. Sometimes we let ourselves believe that our current experience is how it IS instead of remembering that things are always shifting and changing.<br />
<br />
A few days ago, I wrote this on Twitter: "I'm in one of those moods where I can flip-flop between 'life is beautiful' and 'life sucks' in mere seconds."<br />
<br />
Today I wrote: "Every day gives us another opportunity to rise above the things that dragged us down the day before."<br />
<br />
What about you? Where is YOUR olympic flame these days?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-5118795215266260012010-01-07T09:20:00.002-06:002010-01-07T09:31:50.493-06:00A picture is worth a thousand words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbocDeCn-6TaADW-I3IJTY0FH1-JvLiJmoHZDRAiNWoZrdGmIHYxc9vq-3qcVKHtl6pdbQ9rQKz397fY5oQwV1xQTexeO15ru3WX4H5P2yQix3tst5OwxCRcFEer9UBxxPHYIi/s1600-h/49+-+Heather+with+Maasai+woman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbocDeCn-6TaADW-I3IJTY0FH1-JvLiJmoHZDRAiNWoZrdGmIHYxc9vq-3qcVKHtl6pdbQ9rQKz397fY5oQwV1xQTexeO15ru3WX4H5P2yQix3tst5OwxCRcFEer9UBxxPHYIi/s400/49+-+Heather+with+Maasai+woman.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Today I am posting this picture simply because it made me smile yesterday when I came across it in one of our work publications.<br />
<br />
It makes me smile and it helps me to remember that I've lived a good life. I have been privileged to walk on foreign soil many times. And I will do it again and again. This was taken almost exactly 5 years ago in Kenya, and yes, that's me with a little less hair, a little less weight, and a fly on my cheek. And a huge grin on my face because I was doing what I love most in the world - going on a journey. And meeting fascinating people. And letting the world change me.<br />
<br />
This is what I wrote on my <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2004/12/going-to-africa.html">very first post</a> on this blog, when I was preparing for my first trip to Africa:<br />
<blockquote><em>I won’t expect that my English words are somehow endued with greater wisdom than theirs. I will listen and let them teach me. I will open my heart to the hope and the hurt. I will tread lightly on their soil and let the colours wash over me. I will allow the journey to stretch me and I will come back larger than before.</em> <br />
</blockquote>I believe I did what I set out to do - allowed the journey to stretch me. And I've done that on every journey since.<br />
<br />
I'm looking forward to seeing what journeys will stretch me this year.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-38365355081264900952010-01-05T21:23:00.001-06:002010-01-05T21:24:26.312-06:00Just one glimpse<div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Do you ever stop and stare at the art on your window pane?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIudUTM1jSdONHyFjRnD5NoDPmWbXtAJzaE9zbOr5f6wAiXKg40l4cSZDzHqE0Bibw3i_XfaKXCZaTIFi8JsSgyN8q_wmasypYho3O4bDBbtpR9IZ-aKSMLMKTtV78Pt7r8pj/s1600-h/IMG_6972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIudUTM1jSdONHyFjRnD5NoDPmWbXtAJzaE9zbOr5f6wAiXKg40l4cSZDzHqE0Bibw3i_XfaKXCZaTIFi8JsSgyN8q_wmasypYho3O4bDBbtpR9IZ-aKSMLMKTtV78Pt7r8pj/s400/IMG_6972.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The endless variety?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0IfxUlDJb1LQB5_ObtCQ8N_n6QK1b_P35YBDircEg9p1ol1HVGhGymP9l9W1RN1c2bAkAHWRhzIOozjImmDeWJUdJvG8VzJUvKse9KF3suDL0-WK6mKDjMPMBIBvQcmq3ui4/s1600-h/IMG_6968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0IfxUlDJb1LQB5_ObtCQ8N_n6QK1b_P35YBDircEg9p1ol1HVGhGymP9l9W1RN1c2bAkAHWRhzIOozjImmDeWJUdJvG8VzJUvKse9KF3suDL0-WK6mKDjMPMBIBvQcmq3ui4/s400/IMG_6968.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The symmetry? The precision?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaJ2cPa6XXqm53HNcl1ml_rfrRDYkf26Ovlnqof6adOUPejIH6XV4wrEpOkNJTuE2dv5i3stoaPjQnZJwYDibTvDAcxt9rDVwLDdsN1sdyx9ZinBeXknkw2Yvr3nTZtzAI6Ww/s1600-h/IMG_7018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaJ2cPa6XXqm53HNcl1ml_rfrRDYkf26Ovlnqof6adOUPejIH6XV4wrEpOkNJTuE2dv5i3stoaPjQnZJwYDibTvDAcxt9rDVwLDdsN1sdyx9ZinBeXknkw2Yvr3nTZtzAI6Ww/s400/IMG_7018.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The delicate brush strokes mixed with bold connecting lines?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOcAtklWCTooVI2dAoWjmZWlIEOv5ReJNG1o5H-lOmAqORWGnwhXU5t1b54HfW_k4pqQgsrQqGh4swlgCaFSGDTTsmZuwzSCR49Y5O_LZVB6M9j-r5sw0TJdchKvQZ0gupG-x/s1600-h/IMG_7019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOcAtklWCTooVI2dAoWjmZWlIEOv5ReJNG1o5H-lOmAqORWGnwhXU5t1b54HfW_k4pqQgsrQqGh4swlgCaFSGDTTsmZuwzSCR49Y5O_LZVB6M9j-r5sw0TJdchKvQZ0gupG-x/s400/IMG_7019.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The way the sunlight changes each piece at different times of the day?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1PjsGjZp62V81az84igXNt8kCmgoPTBm1WDrbLx_mJBZDtc-Jz8bhQPvyZEZB-N00pzWaG_zQhRha-fdC7sTqErFAuAG9eIDchQ-TWAMQadH7yLe_h4rlnBUxl2D9IcebDEi/s1600-h/IMG_7022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1PjsGjZp62V81az84igXNt8kCmgoPTBm1WDrbLx_mJBZDtc-Jz8bhQPvyZEZB-N00pzWaG_zQhRha-fdC7sTqErFAuAG9eIDchQ-TWAMQadH7yLe_h4rlnBUxl2D9IcebDEi/s400/IMG_7022.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #351c75;">The bold and unorthodox lines? Sometimes balanced, sometimes not?</span><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQf8YIYO8A0mQ3uz49m4wTDLre2z4MLbs8Z7kS5GYDRHUbGmAvSKn1qp3WUVsrXk-05ZdQUxeb8ezjyTZO8JlIJYfmA9SRIEslAZL0GmME8r8w5sDQkdbqePLcgif1wq_hmU07/s1600-h/IMG_7023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQf8YIYO8A0mQ3uz49m4wTDLre2z4MLbs8Z7kS5GYDRHUbGmAvSKn1qp3WUVsrXk-05ZdQUxeb8ezjyTZO8JlIJYfmA9SRIEslAZL0GmME8r8w5sDQkdbqePLcgif1wq_hmU07/s400/IMG_7023.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The soft edges mixed with dazzling sparkle?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh6W1pLkIaMZb7JzwaEzIiaPOYUS8Tmrw51sunvjVDGnwOdk1W5awNKhH-nMtolzc-0260W-Gr3mxu9XfpeAfcaHBFSdOtBqw10TylkhUYHHrWJ3U3DnbzwCY-tTXNUHRh2Qm/s1600-h/IMG_7025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh6W1pLkIaMZb7JzwaEzIiaPOYUS8Tmrw51sunvjVDGnwOdk1W5awNKhH-nMtolzc-0260W-Gr3mxu9XfpeAfcaHBFSdOtBqw10TylkhUYHHrWJ3U3DnbzwCY-tTXNUHRh2Qm/s400/IMG_7025.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #351c75;">The playfulness of the artist's dancing brush strokes?</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsRr5iCQPkky5WmgAYO0gEmbPfzjr_SF1qeZ-FWyN_HDJF7gkSgiErbUixovyi0ySSJDPXGI-szMRSNouqn1Ie6iD3-35iU3TvkvbcM8OrUdnzWF60MoQ5iKs9vemOqFWBvCL/s1600-h/IMG_6978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsRr5iCQPkky5WmgAYO0gEmbPfzjr_SF1qeZ-FWyN_HDJF7gkSgiErbUixovyi0ySSJDPXGI-szMRSNouqn1Ie6iD3-35iU3TvkvbcM8OrUdnzWF60MoQ5iKs9vemOqFWBvCL/s400/IMG_6978.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Some days, the best you can hope for is just one glimpse of beauty in the middle of the messiness.</span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-89547258584148899672010-01-02T09:20:00.002-06:002010-01-02T11:14:33.801-06:00Pregnant with words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQclWU7h0aFu9h_rXc-OiDIH3vio7onWbrj6E2q_EXn4B3MCu4EYQA1c9rZBHZn3hv7BJIdjLxT0HC_w-_lU8HFabWDDUq13jqVzfBar4mdPKnRlTsfsBj7cBo7GbyCm_XUPqD/s1600-h/IMG_7017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQclWU7h0aFu9h_rXc-OiDIH3vio7onWbrj6E2q_EXn4B3MCu4EYQA1c9rZBHZn3hv7BJIdjLxT0HC_w-_lU8HFabWDDUq13jqVzfBar4mdPKnRlTsfsBj7cBo7GbyCm_XUPqD/s400/IMG_7017.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Okay, here's the thing - I really need to write a book. Well, more to the point - I need to write ANOTHER book. I've been down this road before. <br />
<br />
I've carried this dream with me for almost as long as I've been able to string together words. After my first publishing success in high school (a poem in the high school yearbook), I had a taste of what it's like to see my words in print and I've been a little like a drug addict, craving it ever since.<br />
<br />
I've seen my words in print fairly regularly since then. I've had probably about 20 things published in various publications (poems, articles, essays), and hundreds more in publications related to the various places I've worked. I've even seen my words on stage, with three of my plays produced on either a University or Fringe Festival stage.<br />
<br />
But the book is the golden prize that still alludes me. I want it. Badly.<br />
<br />
My first book was a novel I wrote when I was on maternity leave with Julie, my second child. It was called "In My Mother's Words" and was about a young woman who returns to her childhood home to clean it out after her mom dies and she discovers some surprises about herself when she finds her mom's journals. I know it sounds rather incredible (it still freaks me out a bit), but with a new baby and a toddler just 16 months older, I managed to write a 300 page book in less than 6 months. For about 2 hours every afternoon, they both took a nap, and I wrote like a mad woman.<br />
<br />
I came close to getting that book published. I sent out close to 20 proposals and had about 4 or 5 requests to see the full manuscript. One publishing company said they were pretty sure they'd publish it but they just had to get their board to put the final rubber stamp on it. Sadly though, that never happened.<br />
<br />
I still think the book was good, even though I know there are some flaws that need some fairly serious re-writes, but with a few too many rejections under my belt, and real life (diapers, a career, etc.) getting in the way, I put that book up on a shelf and left it there.<br />
<br />
It was when I was in the hospital for three weeks waiting for our third child (Matthew, our stillborn son) to be born that I began to dream of writing a different kind of book - a memoir. The problem is, since then, I've been cursed with the debilitating disease of "too many ideas".<br />
<br />
First there was the "Journey of a Woman" idea that came to me in the hospital.(See how that word keeps popping up?) That was a general memoir that would focus primarily on some of the tough spots I'd been through in my life - rape, a stillborn son, etc.<br />
<br />
Then there was "The Mango Principles", a book about leadership and community building that had at its core the story of an amazing mango a friend gave me when I was in the hospital. I sent that proposal out a few times but never even got a single response. Since then, I've had too many rocky points in my leadership career to truly believe I have a right to give out leadership advice, so I didn't pursue it too much further. (I might revisit it though, because I still think it has potential)<br />
<br />
More recently, there was "Fumbling for Faith", a memoir about how my stumbling faith has changed over the years and how it has changed me. I sent out a proposal for that one too, but again - no response. I lost interest in that one too because I'm really not sure I have a solid enough faith or any real expertise to write about it.<br />
<br />
There have been other ideas - like "Matthew's story" about how my stillborn son continues to impact me nine years after he died. And another <em>honest</em> leadership book about how hard it is to be an effective leader when you're surrounded by flawed human beings (a bit of an antidote to all of the leadership books out there that just make you feel like you're failing because you can't attain their standards that are based on hypothetical teams and not real, human, flawed teams). And something about the connection between beauty and justice - an idea that I keep wanting to explore after a couple of amazing experiences in India and Africa.<br />
<br />
And now... well, now I have another idea cooking in my brain that's about art and life and personal growth and how shadows play an important role in deepening the beauty of all of them. It kind of brings together some of the ideas from the past. <br />
<br />
But the fact of the matter is, I feel a little deflated right now because even though I think it's a good idea, it sort of feels like "just another idea" that will eventually land on that pile of unattained dreams. And all of those little gremlins - fear, self-doubt, not enough time, not a good enough writer - they're all getting me down in one way or another these days. (Not enought time/energy is a big one right now, since my career has been draining so much from me lately.)<br />
<br />
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, I kind of feel like I need to figure out how to get this thing done (or finally give it up for good), and this blog has been an important place for me to process stuff in my life in the last 5 years. Maybe if I share it, it will have a better chance of being realized. Maybe if I'm honest about it, I'll feel like I need to be accountable to this dream and put some serious energy into it.<br />
<br />
So here I am, telling you my biggest dream, hoping that you will hold it gently in your hands. <br />
<br />
No, I'm not going to make a New Year's resolution or big goal about this, since this is the year I'm determined to enjoy the "journey". But... here's the thing... a few years ago, I started a file on my computer called "The Journey toward the Book" and I filled it with little snippets of stories and ideas that I thought might eventually find their way into a book. So - when the word "journey" came to me on that plane ride and <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/beginning-2010-with-word-to-inspire-me.html">became my word for the year</a>, I couldn't help but think a book might be part of that journey.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-85328147221430530172009-12-31T19:00:00.000-06:002009-12-31T19:00:16.739-06:00Beginning 2010 with a word to inspire me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTm8pI-zKLOO93smWHL4k0lQmJ9pZCgHs9ma1JRpk3kua9GohkHrSwzjqdNegWysuA2oVpkEgeXOagXCYFL0-GXQJnKhcXJ_4deFZYZU7xwvJonM0aLR8FmNtrfbnoxsVjLGik/s1600-h/IMG_6552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTm8pI-zKLOO93smWHL4k0lQmJ9pZCgHs9ma1JRpk3kua9GohkHrSwzjqdNegWysuA2oVpkEgeXOagXCYFL0-GXQJnKhcXJ_4deFZYZU7xwvJonM0aLR8FmNtrfbnoxsVjLGik/s400/IMG_6552.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>It was on my last flight that my word for the year came to me. I'd just spent a week in a rental car, exploring various parts of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in between meetings with staff, volunteers, and supporters and now I was on my way home. After finishing the book I was reading, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. As I began to drift to sleep, listening to the cacophony of sound in the plane, this thought punctuated my inner monologue like a flash of fireworks... OH HOW I LOVE THE JOURNEY! I sat there feeling so blissfully content, so perfectly calm and relaxed, and I knew that this moment was about as good as it gets for me.<br />
<br />
<strong>I love the journey.</strong> I really, really do. Planes, trains, automobiles, bicycles, boats, or even my own two feet - it doesn't matter - I just love the whole process. It doesn't matter if I'm going on a grand adventure to Africa or just driving to my favourite bookstore - I am almost always content when I am in motion, going somewhere, on a journey. With or without companions.<br />
<br />
And that, my dear friends, is my word for the year. <strong>Journey</strong>. This year I'm not going to try to conquer any montains, face fear with bravado, or set grand goals for myself. There's a time and a place for all of that, but right now, for me, it's time to savour the journey.<br />
<br />
It doesn't mean that I'm going to travel more (though that would be nice), or that I'm going to uproot myself or my family, it just means that I'm going to remember to savour whatever journey I'm on. <br />
<br />
Here are some of my thoughts on what it means to focus on the journey:<br />
1. I'm going to try to be in the moment more.<br />
2. I'm going to learn to pack light and not weigh myself down with too much baggage.<br />
3. I'm going to take time for conversation with interesting strangers, just like I did on that long train ride to Cleveland.<br />
4. I'm going to let myself be inspired by the beauty that's right here in front of me.<br />
5. I'm going to forgive myself for not accomplishing grand goals.<br />
6. I might even manage to forget about the destination now and then and just focus on the process.<br />
7. I'm going to be open to adventure around the bend in the road.<br />
8. I'm going to stop and stare at the wonders of the world.<br />
9. I'm going to take lots of pictures and tell lots of stories.<br />
10. Mostly, I'm going to savour more. Really savour - like that long slow sip of chai latte that's got just the right mix of spicy and sweet.<br />
<br />
Here's my dream board for the year. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlw1kc8poOcQGmxJ4uAr8LNSqDp0GLeefFAGoXXBlbOk2Aqjv4MrhfKwTYbRrb6USvkfbTqiEo66TyIo6SsL8NbUjc2UtoBATw570N0IxgHgARGkdO7u3epNcXg0iJhjB3BnJ/s1600-h/IMG_7013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlw1kc8poOcQGmxJ4uAr8LNSqDp0GLeefFAGoXXBlbOk2Aqjv4MrhfKwTYbRrb6USvkfbTqiEo66TyIo6SsL8NbUjc2UtoBATw570N0IxgHgARGkdO7u3epNcXg0iJhjB3BnJ/s400/IMG_7013.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<br />
And here's the painting I was working on this morning - about one of my favourite kinds of journeys, along the misty beach early in the morning as the seagulls are waking up.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtYXOdcBuDVuERy1g1UT-QWordIijxyIXiEoOfkOESdeYM5Mqp4sqnGeYM9YRvYj8Zpu9sV5T5Fwih5lSr6ZD0B3SsjIGgU4lEH9yfaoa3nYeQ6Rilvqql5WZZhdnH1cxgH-6/s1600-h/IMG_7001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtYXOdcBuDVuERy1g1UT-QWordIijxyIXiEoOfkOESdeYM5Mqp4sqnGeYM9YRvYj8Zpu9sV5T5Fwih5lSr6ZD0B3SsjIGgU4lEH9yfaoa3nYeQ6Rilvqql5WZZhdnH1cxgH-6/s400/IMG_7001.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>And, just for fun, here's how I'll be starting the journey - with brown hair!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf7ihIx3rlAlmZLNjs-KEbElHLbEJHTWff9PhhPykr2mlIYIebZWgsT6mTNyJOmve8Ow-NACydItmMYa3L7oMtgNkFeclmOU5OYE9s_UiTd_aVS1_Lg66ILa9q_nh6RQFZ2cQ/s1600-h/brunette.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf7ihIx3rlAlmZLNjs-KEbElHLbEJHTWff9PhhPykr2mlIYIebZWgsT6mTNyJOmve8Ow-NACydItmMYa3L7oMtgNkFeclmOU5OYE9s_UiTd_aVS1_Lg66ILa9q_nh6RQFZ2cQ/s400/brunette.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-73570742052905791062009-12-30T11:52:00.001-06:002009-12-30T11:57:16.546-06:00A year with a little less fearA year ago, I was feeling the need to let go of some of the fear in my life. I claimed "fearless" as my word for 2009, and to kick it off, I made a little video about it...<br />
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<br />
It's been an interesting year. I took yoga for the first time, despite the fear of letting my clumsiness show. Yes, there was the odd time when I went left when the rest of the class went right and the teacher had to gently correct me, but I loved it none-the-less.<br />
<br />
I took a watercolour class and <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/02/year-of-living-fearlessly-chapter-5.html">fell in love with painting</a>. In September, I went to Cleveland for a little more <a href="http://whatareyougivingaway.com/2009/09/births-deaths-and-the-spaces-in-between/">creative digging</a>. I practiced <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/chipping-away-at-it.html">calling myself an artist</a>. Next week, I'm starting a drawing class, and I CAN'T WAIT.<br />
<br />
I entered an international photo contest and was named one <span id="goog_1262192031868"></span>of the runners-up, I won a Communicator of the Year award for taking some chances and launching some big ideas, and - when a film project started hitting the rails - I stepped in and took over much of the leadership.<br />
<br />
I launched a <a href="http://www.whatareyougivingaway.com/">new website</a>, held a big launch party, and then got a bunch of interesting people to write guest posts for me. But then I realized that I'd bitten off more than I could chew and this really wasn't the direction I needed to take right now, so I swallowed my pride and <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-blogs-love-story.html">shut it down</a>. That probably took more courage than starting it in the first place.<br />
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It turned out, though, that the biggest lessons I had to learn about fearlessness were in the area of leadership. I wish I could tell you that I've conquered that mountain, but I've still got lots of climbing to do. And some of the climbing seemed to take me in the wrong direction.<br />
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There were a lot more leadership challenges this year than I'd anticipated. Almost a year ago, with great intrepidation, <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/01/year-of-living-fearlessly-chapter-2.html">I bared my soul to my team</a> and challenged them to be more honest with me and with each other. It was scary, but there were positive results that made it worthwhile. (I have the same retreat coming up in a couple of weeks again, and I'm approaching it with a healthy mix of hope that we've moved forward and fear that I'll fall flat on my face.) A little later in the year, I put forward a huge proposal to the board for more funds and more staff, and though there was resistance, it was approved and I could move forward. I've hit lots of roadblocks since then, though, and some days I wish I'd kept those big ideas to myself. Some of the resistance came from <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-do-you-do-with-criticism.html">within my team</a>, and oh... I just get so weary of having to drag people forward when they don't want to carry the vision. Plus, on top of all of that, there's a never-ending court case that I can't say much about, but that has caused a lot of stress (and way too many conversations with people who've heard lies about me) in the last 4 years. <br />
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I got a little more hopeful in the fall, when I started <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-is-beginning.html">hiring new staff</a>, but I've hit some <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/waiting-for-hope.html">major roadbumps</a> since then, so the hope seems a little questionable right now. <br />
<br />
What can I say about trying to live more fearlessly? Well... it has definitely opened me up to new experiences and new delights. I don't regret the new things I've tried, especially in the area of exploring more art.<br />
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But with each step we take toward courage, there's bound to be some force trying to push us back to where we were before. There's no doubt that I am a stronger, more bold leader than I was a year ago, but the journey to get here has been fraught with rough patches, challenging relationships, road blocks, and snarls. I'm feeling pretty beaten up by it all right now. There have been many moments this past year when I've wanted to throw in the towel and just find a job where I didn't have to carry the weight of responsibility.<br />
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But I will carry on, because, despite the challenges, I feel called to this role and I believe that I am making a difference. Last week, in the middle of one of my hardest days, a co-worker stopped me in the hall to say "I believe you're doing the right thing." She has no idea how much those simple words have carried me since. I believe I'm doing the right thing too, but it was so good, at that low point, to hear some affirmation.<br />
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For 2010, I'm chosing a word that results in less bruises. More on that tomorrow.<br />
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<em>p.s. If you have a leader who's working hard to do the right thing, PLEASE stop them in the hall to tell them you're noticing. Leaders (especially middle managers) are usually the most under-appreciated, over-stressed in an organization. I speak from personal experience.</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-66829794031398970802009-12-29T10:29:00.002-06:002009-12-29T10:32:04.480-06:00Cousin time<div style="text-align: center;">Every year there is the pajama picture...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPALizEd1C_tdcIG7nSGYIOCEMtV95j7I-4awgotI4LszekYRKV9I0ycEjwC9plDugeamsp4qrlzZknE_wbz81QDsGuTtH6HeA2586wh8ouPsbcl8pWC-Tr5qxorsapb-n4gB/s1600-h/pajama+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPALizEd1C_tdcIG7nSGYIOCEMtV95j7I-4awgotI4LszekYRKV9I0ycEjwC9plDugeamsp4qrlzZknE_wbz81QDsGuTtH6HeA2586wh8ouPsbcl8pWC-Tr5qxorsapb-n4gB/s400/pajama+picture.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Followed by some variation on the theme... like maybe the Christmas tree? (minus the youngest member who'd run out of patience by this point)<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwekfjpcBbAeqbHkckniBNBKtqL_jNjKojihqjFQiJxqU5gYYZSNCxVMMV48QyQKDmn9X7nC110Hk1CJn9zkqJb1LpY6yhYUpa6_wIeVI6zEqBx7aBcPofClp19wxHBDCnsKmK/s1600-h/christmas+treee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwekfjpcBbAeqbHkckniBNBKtqL_jNjKojihqjFQiJxqU5gYYZSNCxVMMV48QyQKDmn9X7nC110Hk1CJn9zkqJb1LpY6yhYUpa6_wIeVI6zEqBx7aBcPofClp19wxHBDCnsKmK/s400/christmas+treee.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And since they've been old enough, there's almost always been the pyramid...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKJybhduz68B53d-glNHS-3fr-YxrkXP4JHGP9JawMYJNRU65oS8xkCoUJCa8RZTT1L0iAvR8HWjkA1UQAp6UHxMkNatuMJJDRwUBIca2iGY-nSpt376L0ikwz1VZOBtIHGRD/s1600-h/pyramid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKJybhduz68B53d-glNHS-3fr-YxrkXP4JHGP9JawMYJNRU65oS8xkCoUJCa8RZTT1L0iAvR8HWjkA1UQAp6UHxMkNatuMJJDRwUBIca2iGY-nSpt376L0ikwz1VZOBtIHGRD/s400/pyramid.jpg" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Which generally tends to degenerate into the body pileup...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkAD8zArw9ZKdFKK_35JSy5JCHix802RnI4XIom5Ha8Yuauho56gPOSzglPc-sHx_ZiN5lntpRH77bNEIQeXaJ_-zQXKFH3zin-ga5nNUONdxi5G813ivow0iUkZjslG3MAh_/s1600-h/body+pileup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkAD8zArw9ZKdFKK_35JSy5JCHix802RnI4XIom5Ha8Yuauho56gPOSzglPc-sHx_ZiN5lntpRH77bNEIQeXaJ_-zQXKFH3zin-ga5nNUONdxi5G813ivow0iUkZjslG3MAh_/s400/body+pileup.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This year there was also the group hug for Grandma...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbUTpqzfPtUq21YmVRCxQbsKyiQdkLKteG-PFg2SZld3njECPxPkBG32peH6arDcpUTU0COGdYHdGxg__xzhizzpJU4FVlMkbvsORhjmgRPQoqb4JWxYXR4qTxvjwas5n_Pkj/s1600-h/group+hug+for+grandma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbUTpqzfPtUq21YmVRCxQbsKyiQdkLKteG-PFg2SZld3njECPxPkBG32peH6arDcpUTU0COGdYHdGxg__xzhizzpJU4FVlMkbvsORhjmgRPQoqb4JWxYXR4qTxvjwas5n_Pkj/s400/group+hug+for+grandma.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And a little gratuitous cuddle time now and then...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvOhgxNbdDkHe5zFSmJIJCb9VC3RKp8595b_LywXxj4qSSdf6aupyph_XaSDz2BdhfPklwtaD4ObH45_QDlux4bKVmacjjcCo-g5b7X20PBBGO4R073O3_DpK3XwgMVGHCpjA/s1600-h/cuddle+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvOhgxNbdDkHe5zFSmJIJCb9VC3RKp8595b_LywXxj4qSSdf6aupyph_XaSDz2BdhfPklwtaD4ObH45_QDlux4bKVmacjjcCo-g5b7X20PBBGO4R073O3_DpK3XwgMVGHCpjA/s400/cuddle+2.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uLu6GacjWUWJhh2GBVzMB_vdVwV6RVa9sexe51JXGoNtoOcasqGyxDPlbDlbOFCanGF8_OmC2LdkoZvnoDOw5S4Jz1hZTER6lpfm5ZLCL4n8c4iRpP_TJwCJrA4xIzXSZEzw/s1600-h/cuddle+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uLu6GacjWUWJhh2GBVzMB_vdVwV6RVa9sexe51JXGoNtoOcasqGyxDPlbDlbOFCanGF8_OmC2LdkoZvnoDOw5S4Jz1hZTER6lpfm5ZLCL4n8c4iRpP_TJwCJrA4xIzXSZEzw/s400/cuddle+time.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And, of course, at some point in the evening, there is a little dinner time silliness...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFWeoVIdVI95LzOQZO4z842fmafYn2iozvfnbVfL4j0ybefqiYtFald1BZGPqm4O1WDqsy5zZLTKGzCLsw2pjVl2_VNMtqKWkDFFxATLhBIuuAzXzZvc3772WdzcvOmLIW0KC/s1600-h/dinner+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFWeoVIdVI95LzOQZO4z842fmafYn2iozvfnbVfL4j0ybefqiYtFald1BZGPqm4O1WDqsy5zZLTKGzCLsw2pjVl2_VNMtqKWkDFFxATLhBIuuAzXzZvc3772WdzcvOmLIW0KC/s400/dinner+time.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">They see each other only a few times a year (as a group) and yet they seem to be rather fond of each other. I'm rather fond of them all too.<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-62711972770696992522009-12-23T09:43:00.000-06:002009-12-23T09:43:18.135-06:00The winner of the giveaway... and a few other random things<strong>First - the prize! </strong>So I figured it was high time I announced the winner of my little <a href="http://fumblingforwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/five-years-of-fumbling-its-my-blog.html">anniversary giveaway</a>. And the prize goes to... drumroll please... JANE STEEN of the blog <a href="http://keepgoingyoufool.blogspot.com/">"Keep Going You Fool!"</a> (isn't that a great name for a blog?) Jane, please let me know where I should send your prize AND go on over to <a href="http://www.tenthousandvillages.ca/cgi-bin/category.cgi?category=under25&template=">this page</a> and pick something you want for under $25. Have fun with that!<br />
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<strong>And now, the first unrelated random item:</strong> In other news, I just realized I have three dishes to cook for each of the next three days and I haven't given a single thought to what I'll be cooking, what ingredients I'll need OR when I'll find even a few minutes to shop for or cook said items. Oh to be one of those much-envied people with an organized brain who thinks of things IN ADVANCE!<br />
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<strong>Second unrelated random item:</strong> Speaking of my failings, while I was traveling last week, I read a delightful book I'd picked up in the discount rack called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Helping-Me-Help-Myself-Self-Help/dp/0061143960">"Helping Me Help Myself".</a> Oh - it was fun! The author has the same love-hate (leaning somewhat more heavily toward the "hate/skeptical" side) relationship with over-hyped self-help books, gurus, etc., and yet she subjects herself to a full year of trying to fix her life with the help of 10 different self-help gurus. She's got so many of my "endearing" qualities - disorganized, slightly scatter-brained, not very good with money, inconsistent parenting skills - that I felt like I knew her. At the end of the book, I decided that my resolution would be the OPPOSITE this coming year - NOT subject myself to ANY self-help books and just try to be content with who I am.<br />
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<strong>Third unrelated random item: </strong>It's Wishcasting Wednesday over at <a href="http://jamieridlerstudios.ca/">Jamie's place</a>, and I am wishing for one simple thing - some uninterrupted time in my studio. I had to duck in there this morning to grab something on the way to work, and it tugged me and cajoled me and tried to hold me in its clutches. The art supplies were calling me, I swear it! Alas, I had to go because there is just too much "stuff" to do. But next week when I'm on vacation? Well, I may just have to do what I did when I took summer vacation and spend the mornings in the studio before the rest of the household wakes up. I don't have any grand plans - I just want to play with paint again!<br />
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<strong>Fourth unrelated random item: </strong>I've signed up for a drawing class at the <a href="http://wag.ca/">WAG</a> starting in January. I'm a little disappointed they won't let Nikki take it with me. I was looking forward to learning to draw with my oldest daughter, but you have to be 18 to take the adult class. Perhaps because they'll have nude models?<br />
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<strong>Fifth unrelated random item:</strong> I think it's time to go make myself some tea.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-61930852388419919082009-12-22T11:13:00.003-06:002009-12-22T13:22:48.842-06:00Chipping away at it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60JemLjRii7YCDrwF5zGocIEYMgnWHcdIzzp4uHhfk7QEHIXYxAyaAFujLNypuzA4w0PHq_yAHuohQI0cdfW2T-Gb_uYyJQnDWm0xFa0bMOK_gJBWv9oN_hoB5dkmkaTO25XD/s1600-h/IMG_6692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60JemLjRii7YCDrwF5zGocIEYMgnWHcdIzzp4uHhfk7QEHIXYxAyaAFujLNypuzA4w0PHq_yAHuohQI0cdfW2T-Gb_uYyJQnDWm0xFa0bMOK_gJBWv9oN_hoB5dkmkaTO25XD/s400/IMG_6692.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>At first, I hesitated to share this picture from my travels last week, even though it's one of my favourite moments of the trip. Why did I hesitate? Because you can see just how much weight I've gained in the past six months, and... well... ugh. I hate that I've gained weight, but even more, I hate that it matters. Double ugh.<br />
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But here it is, none-the-less, because I like it, and it's beautiful, and I'm trying to move past those issues. Really - I am. Look closer at the picture - past the size of my imperfect body, up to my face, and you'll see a tiny smirk on my face. I was so happy in that moment - so full of what gives me pleasure in life.<br />
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This post is only partly about the weight thing. More than that, it's about chipping away at things. I was in the magical studio of <a href="http://reginacoupar.ash.com/">Regina Coupar</a> and she was teaching my friend and me how to chip away at glass and stone to make tiny sparkly tiles for mosaic art. None of them were symmetrical or perfect, but each piece was just right. Blended together, these imperfect, assymetrical pieces make the most beautiful <a href="http://reginacoupar.ash.com/mosaic.html">works of art</a>.<br />
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It's what I'm doing in my life too - chipping away at it. Trying to find the beauty at the centre of what looks like rough and ugly rocks. Trying to make the broken pieces into a work of art. Trying to trust the pain of the hammer and anvil. Trying to be brave enough to reveal what I've kept hidden under layers of protective covering.<br />
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I'm chipping away at what it means to be an artist too. Breaking off pieces of fear and hesitation. Revealing the shiny bits underneath. Taking chances and making mistakes. Trying new things. Risking failure. Learning from others... but in the end, trusting my own way of seeing and being. <br />
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This year has been full of so much "hammer and anvil" work. Chipping away at growth, change, pain, renewal, and fear. <br />
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I am artist and I am art, all wrapped into one imperfect package. I strive to create beauty and trust my own beauty to shine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-2000192195665538592009-12-18T03:51:00.001-06:002009-12-18T03:51:39.369-06:00There are so many reasons why I don't call myself a "mommy blogger"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_TcIk8734aa_CTgxPbIoPAG6v4kk3_jL7NUVVodjWigKizcI0lWJS6vQ-ddFZunHmZTrPZYx_kpwfcU7ivljY_Eblhz4FZw3APAcd_RXQe2dBzl3Jf7gfg-Z6X4sdfgTUo60/s1600-h/IMG_4661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_TcIk8734aa_CTgxPbIoPAG6v4kk3_jL7NUVVodjWigKizcI0lWJS6vQ-ddFZunHmZTrPZYx_kpwfcU7ivljY_Eblhz4FZw3APAcd_RXQe2dBzl3Jf7gfg-Z6X4sdfgTUo60/s400/IMG_4661.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span id="goog_1261128084946"></span><span id="goog_1261128084947"></span>About ten years ago, when I was the exhausted and overwhelmed (oh - I could add a LONG list of descriptors to that) mother of two very different toddlers (who knew kids would come with different personalities?), I remember asking a mother in my acquaintance, who had teenagers at the time, if she would consider being a motherhood mentor of sorts, or starting a support group for young moms like me to whom parenting felt like traveling in a foreign country without a guide. She looked at me with a terrified look in her eyes and said something like "that would suggest that I actually think I know what the heck I'm doing! Oh no - I don't feel capable of doing that AT ALL!" <br />
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I didn't understand what that was about until years later when I'd been a parent for almost as long as she had. Oh my gosh! She's right! It doesn't get much clearer, does it? Here I am, with nearly 14 years of experience at this, and I still mostly feel like I'm floundering in a dark cave without a flashlight!<br />
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So... when <a href="http://artcetera.squarespace.com/">Darrah</a> asked me some interview questions about parenting (because she's newly married and dreams of filling her home with the sounds of children some day), I had a similar reaction to the one I received. What the heck? You actually think I have a CLUE what it takes to be a good parent? Gulp.<br />
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It took me a long time to answer these questions, but here I go... trying to hold out a tiny dim flashlight for other mothers coming after me...<br />
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<b>1. How has being a parent changed you?</b><br />
Hmmm... well, for starters, it whalloped me with a great big dose of self-doubt. Seriously. I was a fairly self-confident person up until then, but suddenly I felt like I didn't have a CLUE what I was doing and mostly I assumed I was probably doing it wrong. I've chilled out a lot since then (because, surprisingly, my kids aren't turning out half bad!), but I still feel lost a lot of the time. What if I don't make them eat everything on their plates - will they die of scurvy? What if I DO make them eat it all - will they develop eating disorders? What if I don't make them go to bed before 10:00 - will they fail at school? Oh my gosh... the worry and fear and... well, you get the picture.<br />
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But there are also all those other things they tell you in the parenting books... Like the fact that you suddenly find yourself lost in a love so deep it feels like there's no bottom. Like the instantaneous realization that you are no different from a mother bear and you have little doubt that you could kill someone who threatens your child. Like the fact that the world feels bigger than you could ever have imagined it feeling. And then there are the moments when you're sitting around a campfire laughing with your partner and children and suddenly find yourself thinking "could there be any greater joy than this?"<br />
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And the funny thing is, as much as parenting contributed to my self-doubt, in a strange way it also made me a more confident person. It's hard to explain how it feels to have little people in your life who need you and believe in you in a deeper way than anyone ever has.<br />
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<b>2. What have you learned from your children?</b><br />
Oh my - it's hard to imagine all the things I've learned from them. For one thing, I became a leader shortly after becoming a parent, and I realized that I was a better leader because I'd learned some of my skills through parenting. For another thing, I learned just how different people can be. Each of my daughters is so unique that I've had to learn to relate to each of them (and discipline them) in very different ways. Interestingly enough, I started to learn things about my own personality and my husband's when I started to see things that showed up in my kids. For example, I read a book about "raising your spirited child" (because I desperately needed it for my first, and then could have thrown it out when it came to my second) and there was something in there about "negative first response" that the oldest was doing that I also suddenly recognized in my dear husband. I was almost always ready to rush into new things, and here I was living with two people who made me stop and evaluate things first. It changed the way I approached things - made me slow down and learn to wait. AND I also came to realize that a tendency toward overstimulation was probably something that was inherited from me. I hadn't recognized it before I saw it in my daughter.<br />
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<b>3. What do you wish you had known before you had kids, but learned the hard way?</b><br />
That when you are a parent, you will have to answer approximately TEN MILLION questions a day and you will have to make approximately TWELVE MILLION decisions. The moment you walk in the door, expect to hear some age-appropriate version of the following: "Can I invite Jessica over for a play date? Do you know where my new mitts are? Can you buy me a pair of mitts, 'cause I can't find mine. Can we have chocolate ice cream for dessert? What time can Jessica come over? MOM - you PROMISED me you'd buy me some new pants, and NOW I have to wear the ones with the holes in them! Can I stay up late tonight, because there's a show I really want to watch. When are you going to help me with my school project? If we can't have chocolate ice cream, will you take me to the store for a Slurpee?" This can go on all night. <br />
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And your personal space - you know that space you used to guard so preciously, especially when you were tired or overstimulated? Yeah, give it up, 'cause it will be invaded about as many times as you have to make a decision. OH. MY. GOSH! I was not prepared for this. The constant demands for answers and touch and decisions! Some days, I've threatened to put up a sign that says "Mommy is on strike until further notice. No more decisions will be made today. Don't even THINK about asking me if you can have another cookie!"<br />
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<b>4. How do you juggle a career and THREE kids? It sounds super-human to me.</b><br />
Oh yeah, I'm super-human, alright! Ha! Darrah, you're a peach for saying so, but I am SO not super-human and most days I feel like I'm not doing any good at either motherhood OR the career-thing. And housework? THAT went out the window YEARS ago! You should see my laundry room or my refrigerator! You would very quickly retract that "super-human" comment!<br />
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The truth is, I couldn't do this without a great co-parent. Marcel and I really are partners in this, and often (especially when I'm traveling) he ends up carrying a lot of the load. It helps when you have a partner who balances off your weaknesses. For example, if it were only up to me, the kids would miss half of their soccer practices, music lessons, etc., because he's much more aware of what's on the family calendar and who has to be where at what time than I am. <br />
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Just for fun, here are a few of the things I've learned (and keep learning) that have helped me cope... <br />
a.) You've gotta pick your battles. If you're exhausted and it just makes your life easier to say yes to that extra cookie, DO IT. The world will not come to an end. And your children will not become hardened criminals.<br />
b.) Don't sweat the small stuff AND don't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. If they happen to wear their clothes to bed instead of pajamas (because they can't find them or because they're too lazy) - it really doesn't mean you're a bad parent. At least they're sleeping at YOUR house and not a juvenile detention centre.<br />
c.) Sometimes you've got to change your definition of success. If your kids are interesting, decent citizens who have respect for the adults in their lives and they have moments of genuine kindness now and then, does it REALLY matter if their bedrooms resemble pig-pens?<br />
d.) That super-mom crap that the media shoves down your throat? Give it up, 'cause it will only lead to failure and stress. If you don't have time for home-baked goodies for the class party, the kids will be equally happy (maybe even more so) with Oreo cookies.<br />
e.) Your kids will be better off in the long run if (within reason, of course) you don't set aside everything you hold dear in order to cater to their every need. Do at least some of the things that give you joy, and learn to ignore the whining (which is mostly manipulation on their part) when they act like they should be getting ALL of your attention. As much as I sometimes feel guilty about it, I don't think my kids have suffered from me doing the traveling I do. I think they've learned to be more self-sufficient and they've learned that it's okay to follow your dream/calling.<br />
f.) Be there for the tough emotional stuff they have to deal with, but don't do everything for them. There's no reason they can't learn to pack their own lunches by the third grade or work through some of their sibling rivalry without you trying to keep the peace. Sometimes there's a tendency to get overly involved in every little minutiae of your child's life - avoid it. In the long run, everyone's better off if you do.<br />
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Sorry, Darrah, if I've scared you out of child-rearing. :-) It definitely comes with its challenges, but in the end, I wouldn't change it for the world. I could never have imagined just how much fun it can be to hang out with your own children. (Of course, I couldn't have imagined how much emotional stress it will cause you either, but this was supposed to end on a positive note! :-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-32228356076489640862009-12-17T08:55:00.000-06:002009-12-17T08:55:45.874-06:00A few unrelated things1. If you're interested in the continued adventures of Flat Madeline, check out <a href="http://madelinemakesart.blogspot.com/2009/12/flat-madeline-goes-on-trip.html">Maddie's blog</a>. I think the 3D Madeline is getting jealous of all of her grand adventures. I know I am.<br />
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2. I was interviewed by Connie over at <a href="http://www.dirtyfootprints-studio.com/2009/12/heather-plett-launching-dream.html">Dirty Footprints Studio</a>. I really enjoyed doing the interview because it helped me work through some of the things I've been wrestling with lately. If you want to know more about my work and why I've renewed my passion for it, check it out. Connie and I have been down similar paths lately, and it always seems that in the midst of my deepest wrestling, I get the most delightful emails from her.<br />
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3. I took a sick day yesterday. I was fighting a cold the whole week I was traveling, and though I didn't feel too bad then, I think it caught up with me yesterday. Mostly, I just needed a day of rest.<br />
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4. Last night was the last "winter concert" with all three of the girls at the same school. Nikki and Julie thought they were done with concerts (normally they only do them up to grade 6), but this year the grade 7 & 8 bands participated. Next year, Nikki is off to HIGH SCHOOL! Gulp. (Side note... Seriously - if they're going to call it a "winter concert" and there's nothing to do with Christmas in the content, why can't they have it in January or February when our lives are a little less busy?)<br />
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5. Winter concerts always cause me a great deal of stress because I'm just NOT one of those organized moms who has nice little outfits picked out for each of the kids months in advance of a big event. Every year I know it's coming, and every year I'm left scrambling to find the appropriate clothing. Oh it's black pants/skirts and white shirts this year? Hmmm.... does anyone HAVE black pants? Or a white shirt without a stain on it? Last night's concert was preceded with a frantic visit to the thrift store for a pair of black shoes, followed by another frantic visit to the thrift store for a pair that FIT, followed by an equally frantic visit to the over-crowded mall for a black skirt, followed by a frantic mom hemming a pair of black pants. In the end, all were dressed and clean and we were even EARLY arriving at the concert! (But supper consisted of that evil entity known as "fast food".)<br />
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6. I have never EVER left my Christmas shopping to this late in the season. Oh dear. This may be the year of the gift cards.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-21111606693744141332009-12-15T10:04:00.002-06:002009-12-15T11:14:13.973-06:00Five years of Fumbling! It's my blog-iversary!<strong>Exactly five years and 1000 posts ago</strong>, I dipped my toes in this big unknown world known as blogland. I didn't know what I was getting into, but I loved to write and I was curious about what it would be like to put my ramblings out into a public space. <br />
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<div>I started this blog as a way of processing my thoughts and feelings as I prepared to go to Africa for the first time. I was excited about it, but wanted to process the impact it might have on me. <br />
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A lot of water has passed under that bridge since. Right from the start, I was "fumbling" and I've done a whole lot of fumbling ever since - for words, for truth, for hope, for relationships, for peace, for inspiration... you name it, I'm a fumbler.<br />
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I've blogged from Kenya, Tanzania, Ethiopia, India and Bangladesh. I've traveled from coast to coast in Canada and into the States a few times. I'm made a lot of online friends and had the opportunity of meeting about half a dozen of them in person. I've worked through some fairly major life challenges in this space. I've watched my children grow and shared some of their stories online. I've been encouraged and inspired by the many bloggers I've come to count as friends. I've watched other bloggers come and go. I've tried new things. I've learned to Twitter. I've taken a lot of pictures, and started watercolour painting. I've wrestled with what it means to be a little more fearless. I've started calling myself not only a writer, but an artist - all-be-it a "fumbling" one. More than anything, I've tried to be authentic, honest, and approachable.<br />
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<div>I'm going to keep on fumbling and I'm going to keep on talking about it on this blog. It's become such a big part of my life, I know I'd feel lost if I let it go.<br />
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<div>Thank you, blog readers, for sharing these past five years with me (or at least the portion you've been around). I enjoy you immensely. You are my friends, my encouragers, and my fellow fumblers.<br />
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<div>In appreciation of you - whether you've been here a long time, or just showed up today - I'm offering a prize to one lucky reader. I'd like to give each of you gifts, but that might be a little out of my budget, so this will have to suffice. One lucky reader will get all of this... (I tried to combine little pieces of who I am and what I like in the package.)<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQL_xWYxYHTPhe9oMqMJlMJtGh5gbYTogPLrVXp_mzIERlAffTRN-3MB8JhOS-B1OWVwRTeUDefMz-0hr18qJOCv1kGBhnrO65O5A6qJwWZmmtYNCjW30uOtJmuFXhVm6HP29/s1600-h/IMG_6779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQL_xWYxYHTPhe9oMqMJlMJtGh5gbYTogPLrVXp_mzIERlAffTRN-3MB8JhOS-B1OWVwRTeUDefMz-0hr18qJOCv1kGBhnrO65O5A6qJwWZmmtYNCjW30uOtJmuFXhVm6HP29/s400/IMG_6779.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><ul><li>Three books - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/God-Laughing-Matter-Observations-Objections/dp/1585421286/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260892230&sr=8-1">God is No Laughing Matter</a>, by Julia Cameron (author of The Artist's Way), The <a href="http://www.amazon.com/War-Art-Through-Creative-Battles/dp/0446691437/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260892259&sr=1-1">War of Art</a>, by Steven Pressfield, and Echoes of the Remnant, by the amazing artist and writer I met last week in Nova Scotia, <a href="http://reginacoupar.ash.com/">Regina Coupar</a></li>
<li>Two of my favourite photos, matted and ready to be framed</li>
<li>A funky pair of earrings from my favourite shop in Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia</li>
<li>A bar of fair trade milk chocolate from Just Us, a fair trade compnay in Nova Scotia</li>
<li>A box of "cashews tumbled in Costa Rican milk chocolate infused with Chai spice" - my very favourite treat from <a href="http://www.somachocolate.com/">SOMA chocolatiers</a> in Toronto... mmmm.... </li>
<li>AND... here's the <strong>biggy</strong> (not pictured above) - a gift from my favourite fair trade global gift store, <a href="http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/?utm_content=visit_store_site&utm_source=custom_email&utm_campaign=em_perimeter_12.18.08">Ten Thousand Villages</a> - you get to pick something from their <a href="http://www.tenthousandvillages.ca/cgi-bin/category.cgi?category=under25&template=">Under $25 page</a> (or a couple of things that add up to under $25)!</li>
</ul>Here's how to enter:<br />
<ul><li>Leave a comment. You can say anything you want, but I'd be particularly interested in a comment about why you showed up here and why you've kept coming back (if you've been around more than once). I'd love to hear from some of the people who've been lurking but never leave comments - you know who you are!</li>
<li>Follow me! If you show up in the "follow me" box on the right hand side bar, or if you're already there, you'll get one entry into the contest. If you follow me in some other RSS feed (Bloglines, etc.), let me know in the comments, and you'll be added.</li>
<li>Tweet or Retweet about this post (and include my tweet name, so I can track it - @heatherplett) and you'll get your name entered.</li>
</ul>If you do all three of the above, your name will be entered three times!<br />
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Thanks for visiting! I hope you keep coming back!<br />
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<em>Note: The draw will be held on the weekend.</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-1185803957597143432009-12-14T06:46:00.000-06:002009-12-14T06:46:13.711-06:00Fumbling toward Imperfection (guest post by Christine C. Reed)<em>I had the pleasure of meeting today's guest blogger when I went to Cleveland a few months ago for the Creative Dig Workshop. The first thing I noticed about Christine was her big welcoming smile that makes you feel like you will be safe with her. Christine is a deeply spiritual person, and she shares her wisdom and her struggles over at <a href="http://www.blisschick.net/">BlissChick</a>. Christine is on her own amazing journey this week, to a magical place called Kripalu where she's dancing and dreaming and following her calling.</em><br />
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</em>For far too long, I have been trying to keep a lid on my soul's most precious dreams. This lid is sturdy, made of things like "practicality" and "realism."<br />
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To be more specific, this lid is made of stories about what I "should" want or "can" have.<br />
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The first thing I did to construct the lid, many years ago, was tell myself that as I age, yoga would be better for me than dance. I would be able to do yoga for my whole life. It would help me to age gracefully.<br />
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Who knew it would simply age me? I wanted to dance, and there is no substitute for your soul's work that will not age you. Your soul's work will keep you youthful and vital. Infinite, as you are meant to be.<br />
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The second thing I did to create and tighten this lid was to tell myself that I have always wanted to be a writer.<br />
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I am a good writer. I have an excellent relationship with that particular muse; she is generous with the ideas.<br />
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That does not mean writing completely fulfills me. Only your soul's work will truly fulfill you. Yes, you can do many other things, but your soul will still ache and cry out for what it needs.<br />
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Eventually, if you keep this lid screwed on tightly enough, your soul will shrivel and you will join the ranks of the Walking Dead. You know them. You've seen them in your daily life. Perhaps you see one when you look in the mirror.<br />
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Their eyes lack luster. They martyr themselves to the needs of others. They are exhausted all the time.<br />
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I have no idea by what Grace I was freed of this fate, but one day I danced and the lid popped off and my Soul got the fresh air she needed.<br />
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I have been dancing ever since.<br />
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I cannot not dance. No matter what, I know I would find a way to do this work.<br />
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There are days that I struggle, still, because I am human.<br />
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Yet...there is one giant clue that I am home, that I am finally free.<br />
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I am no longer encumbered by a desire for Perfection. I am in love with Process. I am in love with the day to day of dance.<br />
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My body tells stories -- true stories -- when I allow her to fumble and to falter.<br />
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When I loose the bridle of perfection that has kept me tied to a life of lies and settling, I shine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-51238693156078028972009-12-13T20:58:00.001-06:002009-12-13T20:59:41.912-06:00Leaving the coast, going back to the prairies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHfa6ISBXBjknYw8twDjK4g8jvGtwDeWjsm16NXNJbmeu89e5tZ0CrSZvegdqGcnl7mIkQEKP1nfvPryoqFpQlnqUYPNQjUqwVREZARQAFDLM3_GgYWUNoboxQXUZN_1noosW/s1600-h/IMG_6734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rs="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHfa6ISBXBjknYw8twDjK4g8jvGtwDeWjsm16NXNJbmeu89e5tZ0CrSZvegdqGcnl7mIkQEKP1nfvPryoqFpQlnqUYPNQjUqwVREZARQAFDLM3_GgYWUNoboxQXUZN_1noosW/s400/IMG_6734.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>I'm done. REALLY done. SO ready to be home. Tomorrow, after a couple of airplane rides, I'll be there, hugging my family. Not soon enough. I want to be there now.<br />
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It has been such a good, good trip. Every bit of it has been better than I could have expected. The art show, the speaking engagements, the meetings with people, the hours driving down roads that wind around coastlines, the moments of deep connections with beautiful people - all of it.<br />
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It was good, but I definitely reached a point of saturation today. I'd stayed 6 nights in the homes of people I mostly didn't know (at least not very well) before this trip, and though they were all such gracious, kind hosts who made me feel at home and welcome, I found myself desperately craving some alone time. So - instead of spending a second night at the home of my fourth and final hosts - I indulged the introvert side of me and booked into a hotel close to the airport. I'm so glad I did. I didn't realize just how much I needed this until I nearly burst into tears when I stepped into the room.<br />
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There are so many things that I will savour about this trip.<br />
<ul><li>Making new friends with kindred spirits.</li>
<li>Eating the bounty of the sea - lobster, haddock, and scallops.</li>
<li>Shopping in a lovely little bookstore with a delightful name that was something like "A Box of Magic"</li>
<li>Being inspired by not one but TWO talented artists who made me believe that I really should make more art. And share it.</li>
<li>Hanging out with a friend who connects me on such a deep level of understanding that I walk away feeling known, loved, and strengthened.</li>
<li>Being introduced at a speaking engagement as someone who "is not easily intimidated... and does not easily intimidate others." Smile.</li>
<li>Visits to a few beautiful galleries, gift shops, and studios - especially the pottery studio/shop with the eccentric green-haired potter/artist.</li>
<li>Being offered simple kindness by the toll booth guy who wrote me an I.O.U. when I didn't have the right cash.</li>
<li>Hearing stories of humanity and compassion - like the people in a tiny community who get up early to sell fair trade coffee to raise money for hungry people.</li>
<li>A wintry walk in the woods.</li>
<li>A night out at a delightful community theatre watching "Bingo, the Musical".</li>
<li>Driving, driving, and more driving... oh how I love the road! Really.</li>
<li>Moments of sparkling belief that I am in the right job - inspiring people and living my calling.</li>
<li>Tonight. Quiet. In a hotel. Processing and preparing for the re-entry point.</li>
</ul>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9629687.post-50727590552409954242009-12-12T05:23:00.000-06:002009-12-12T05:23:53.631-06:00Choices - sometimes there is no right or wrong (guest post by Sandy Dempsey)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2546/4091757612_444657d8c6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" ps="true" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2546/4091757612_444657d8c6.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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<em>Today's guest blogger, <a href="http://thedreamingcafe.com/">Sandy Dempsey</a> (above left with Connie Hozvicka), is one of the kindest and most gentle people I've met online, and she's just as kind and gentle in person. I had the good fortune of spending time with Sandy in Cleveland and I consider her a dear friend. When she heard I was considering coming to Cleveland, but had to do it on a very tight budget, she offered to share a hotel room with me, even though it was outside of her comfort zone.</em><br />
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I met Heather online this past summer on Twitter. I followed her and she followed me. I was looking to connect with a group of artist when I discovered her. I loved reading about her personal journey and the many stories she posted and shared on her blog. She was creative, open, courageous and kind.<br />
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When I had the opportunity to meet her in person at the Creative Dig workshop in Cleveland in September I was even more impressed. She is a true artist. Her artist soul shines through in the way she dresses, holds herself, interacts with others, in her photography, her words and her ‘real’ art, such as painting. <br />
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When we talked I realized we were both in an ‘in-between’ place, struggling to find our own way, a way that allowed us to express ourselves more fully in our work lives while also meeting the obligations of our families and our selves. We talked about our jobs, working for ourselves and what each path meant to us. <br />
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Since September we have both gained greater clarity in our personal and professional lives. The one thing we have in common is writing about and sharing our journey and I watched as Heather’s unfolded. <br />
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As I moved away from my corporate job to begin working for myself, Heather found a new way of being in her day job and began to blossom. She is a creative, visionary leader with a heartfelt desire to make the world a better place. I’ve watched her. She does this on a small scale, with one person, one group, and on a big scale, in a large, non-profit organization that strives to bring awareness to issues and people from around the globe. <br />
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At first I though our paths had crossed and we had chosen different directions, but now I know that is not true. We are on similar paths, heading in similar directions, not opposite or opposing. <br />
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We both strive to authentically express ourselves every day, wherever we find ourselves and with whomever we are with. We care deeply about helping others and about making a difference. <br />
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I am choosing to do it by working for myself. This is the choice that works for me today, where I am. Heather is choosing to do it within the organization that she has worked for many years. It is a choice that works for her, where she is, today. Neither choice is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. <br />
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Whether you choose to work for yourself, or to work for someone else, there still remains a very big opportunity to express your unique gifts and make a difference. You can make a difference in other people’s lives just by being you, just by interacting with others from a place of authenticity, respect and honesty. It begins with you, and flows out to your co-workers, then your customers, then your community, then the world. <br />
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You may decide to go out on your own, like I have. Or, like Heather, you may decide to redefine your role in your existing organization and go after what you want and do what you think needs to be done to make it better for you and those around you. You may decide to keep a less than ideal job because for now it provides for your family and your family is your number one priority. Or, you may decide to seek new opportunities; something that more closely aligns with who you are and what you want to do. <br />
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For example, you may be a single, working Mom. Your priority today may be working your ass off in a less than ideal job so that you can provide for your children. You express yourself by authentically being who you are day in and day out, showing up and doing the best job you can and by being there for your children, providing for them, loving them and raising them. <br />
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Or, you may go to work each day, treating others with kindness and respect, but escape in the evenings to write or to paint, selling your work on Etsy.com, or sharing your journey via a blog. Either way you are expressing and sharing your gifts with the world around you. <br />
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The point is, regardless of who you are, or where you are in life today, you can make a difference. There is no one-size fits all choice for any of us. We all have to show up, do the hard work, and do what is right for us. It is that simple and that difficult at the same time.<br />
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<em>Sandy Dempsey is the founder and creative director behind the Dreaming Café, a free online resource dedicated to providing information and inspiration for people striving to live a creative life of self-expression based on their own personal vision. You can find her online at http://thedreamingcafe.com and via email at sandy@thedreamingcafe.com.</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1