by Heather Plett | Apr 5, 2010 | Uncategorized
Yesterday Marcel was talking about how he needed to put together some Spring collages and/our video montages of photos to help inspire the students in the photography elective he’s teaching at school. Maddie jumped up and said “I can help you Dad!” Shortly thereafter, Marcel and I went out for coffee/chai and didn’t think much more of it.
When we got home, Maddie bounded out of bed because she HAD to show Dad what she’d created for him before she could drift off to dreamland. Here’s her work of art. (She wanted to add talking bubbles to the geese, but ran out of time.)
I just love how little hesitation there is in her when it comes to creativity. She never questioned whether or not she knew how to create a collage, never hesitated when it came to using software she didn’t really understand, never worried that the photos she was selecting were good enough, and never doubted that her dad would love the final product.
It seems I have a lot to learn from the bold creativity of an eight year old.
by Heather Plett | Mar 31, 2010 | beginnings, change, journey
There are knots trying to untie themselves in my stomach. Big decisions trying to get made. Big ideas trying to find space to grown. Big worries trying to overshadow those big ideas. Big questions. Big doubts. Big and dangerous transformation trying to happen.
The other day I tweeted: “Holding this phrase in my heart today: ‘In the fullness of time.’ When the time is right, the shift will come.”
Honestly, though? I suck at “the fullness of time”. I’m really, really impatient. When I decide I want to take a certain path, I want to take it NOW, not six months from now when the timing is better. You’d think I’d have learned this lesson by now, after so many times in my history when I’d wring my hands hoping for something to change IMMEDIATELY and then – when it changed at a later time and turned out in a better way than I’d even dreamed – I’d realize “oh THAT’S why it was better to wait”.
But, alas, those lessons seem to be lost on me whenever I’m chomping at the bit waiting for a new story to unfold. Like an unruly child, I squirm and shout “Now! I want it NOW!”
I’m not quite sure what this post is for. No great wisdom or revelation here. Just the wrestlings of a restless soul.
BUT… if I were to write myself an advice column, I would tell myself:
1. Change is inevitable. Embrace it, dance with it, but don’t try to rush it.
2. Slow down. Transformation takes time. The cocoon will be broken open when the butterfly is ready to be released. Break it open sooner and the butterfly dies.
3. There is a force greater than you at play in the world. Trust it. Spend time with it. Let the Spirit hold your hand and whisper in your ear.
4. You have good friends who understand things about the world. Share your secrets with them and they may just whisper words of wisdom you didn’t let yourself believe to be true.
5. There are lessons to be learned in the waiting. You NEED these lessons. Take time for them.
6. Sometimes you need to let things go – some really GOOD things – to step into a new story. Don’t worry, you’ll find new things in the new space and they’ll probably be just what you need for the person you’ve become.
7. Be gentle with your family. They may not understand what you’re going through. But they want to see you happy.
8. Sometimes, the people who love you the most are the ones most resistant to seeing you change and grow. It’s probably because they want to keep you safe.
9. The “road less travelled” sometimes has scary shit on the path – monsters and falling trees and huge crevices – tread carefully, but don’t give up. It’s still the right path.
10. That ugly feeling of restlessness and worry and doubt and angst all balled up in the pit of your stomach? This too shall pass.
Now if only I were good at following my own advice!
by Heather Plett | Mar 29, 2010 | Uncategorized
Today was my first day back at work and this is one of the first things I read…
???“A World Bank report found that gender violence was the cause of more ill-health among women and girls than malaria and traffic accidents combined.
“Another WHO report showed that, in some countries, up to nearly 70% of women report having been physically assaulted, and up to 47% report that their first sexual intercourse was forced. Surveys of villages in India showed that 70% of women had suffered at least two forms of physical violence in domestic abuse, and 16% of all deaths during pregnancy are from domestic abuse. Studies from Peru report that about 40% of girls will be victims of rape or attempted rape by the age of fourteen. 70% of HIV infected women and girls in South Africa report having been forced to have sex. AIDS education does little to help women and children who are contracting the virus from forced sexual encounters.” (From a lecture by Gary A. Haugen at the University of Chicago)
We still have so far to go.
by Heather Plett | Mar 28, 2010 | calling, Giving
A couple of people have sent me links to some videos of very cool rube goldbergs lately. (You know the game Mousetrap? That’s a small version of a rube goldberg.)
I love rube goldbergs for the lovely “non-sensical fun” of them. Someone spent all of this time, collected all of these random objects, just for the fun of seeing all of these chain reactions.
Perhaps it’s the writer in me looking too hard for the “deeper meaning”, but it struck me that rube goldbergs are great metaphors for life. Just one small action causes another small action which causes another small action, etc., etc.
Sometimes we get caught up in believing that we have to do something BIG to be meaningful in the world – write a bestseller, win an academy award, cure AIDS, irradicate poverty – but that may not be our calling. Yes, somebody has to do those things, but not ALL of us.
Or maybe all of us have to do some of those things collectively, just one small act at a time. Just like a rube goldberg. You roll your ball down the hill, I’ll swing my arm to activate this windmill, etc., etc.
Just do the small thing you’re called to. Or the big thing. Either way, DO IT. And you’ll enable the next person to do THEIR thing, and eventually, we’ll change the world.
“And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8
Here’s the link to one of the rube goldbergs, and here’s the other:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w]
by Heather Plett | Mar 26, 2010 | journey, navel-gazing, Uncategorized
I’ve been feeling a little tender these past few days. In more ways than one.
After a surprisingly quick healing process the first week after surgery, I was expecting to stay on the same trajectory, but, sadly, that didn’t happen. I guess I hit a plateau. I can’t say I feel much better today than I did a week ago. Sigh.
Part of the problem is that feeling as good as I was a week ago, there started to be a few too many reasons to leave the cocoon on the couch. Buying a van, visiting the bank to finance that van, picking up that van, doing the taxes (which was about 2 hours of weeping – those forms make me feel stupid at the best of times and this was definitely NOT the best of times), driving kids places, taking daughter to a follow-up appointment with her surgeon, going to my own follow-up appointment with the surgeon, going to a band concert, taking daughter shopping for panty hose for that concert, cooking meals … the usual expectations of being a parent. It’s hard to set them all aside, even when you’re trying to heal. I thought I was getting enough rest in between, but I’m not sure that was really the case. I’m still feeling some pain and the exhaustion isn’t going away very quickly.
Last weekend, I’d honestly thought that this would be a lovely, relaxing week, in which I’d have the energy and space and emotional presence to do some writing and painting. I thought the creative muse would visit, but she didn’t. Instead, it’s been a week of frustration – of trying to hang on to stability with my fingernails.
The emotional tenderness was the most unexpected. The concerted effort it takes not to snarl or weep when someone says the wrong thing (or almost anything at all, for that matter). The ache in my heart when my husband told me I’d been rather mean to him the last few days. The flipping and flopping of yesterday’s post.
This morning, after driving the kids to school and rescuing my husband who’d left his keys at home, I climbed into the bathtub. Before I knew it, the tears were flowing. I wept for about half an hour – for no particular reason I could put a finger on.
It’s possible that this is just the residual effect of being under a general anaesthetic for over three hours, but I have a feeling it’s combined with a few other things.
Perhaps the body simply needs to grieve the pieces it has lost.
Perhaps the soul still needs to heal from the rawness that this past year of challenge has brought.
Perhaps the chrysallis, changing from caterpillar to butterfly in the cocoon, is not simply resting but is experiencing the pain of change.
It’s hard, isn’t it? When there are people in your life expecting you to be present in their lives and kind to them and doing the laundry and giving space to their pain – to find enough quiet space to let healing and transformation happen.
In the meantime though, I can hardly express how good it felt to have so many of you say “me too!” in yesterday’s post. Thank you for being tender with me in my tenderness.
p.s. I can’t stop listening to “It’s been a long day” by Rosi Golan, thanks to a recommendation from a Twitter friend, @newagejalopy. It’s perfect.
