by Heather Plett | Jan 8, 2010 | Creativity, hope, Passion
A 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
This morning, after having a conversation with a good friend over a chai latte, and then reading the article that my friend Darrah 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.
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.
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.”
Today I wrote: “Every day gives us another opportunity to rise above the things that dragged us down the day before.”
What about you? Where is YOUR olympic flame these days?
by Heather Plett | Jan 7, 2010 | journey, travel
Today I am posting this picture simply because it made me smile yesterday when I came across it in one of our work publications.
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.
This is what I wrote on my very first post on this blog, when I was preparing for my first trip to Africa:
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.
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.
I’m looking forward to seeing what journeys will stretch me this year.
by Heather Plett | Jan 6, 2010 | Beauty
Do you ever stop and stare at the art on your window pane?
The endless variety?
The symmetry? The precision?
The delicate brush strokes mixed with bold connecting lines?
The way the sunlight changes each piece at different times of the day?
The bold and unorthodox lines? Sometimes balanced, sometimes not?
The soft edges mixed with dazzling sparkle?
The playfulness of the artist’s dancing brush strokes?
Some days, the best you can hope for is just one glimpse of beauty in the middle of the messiness.
by Heather Plett | Jan 2, 2010 | Uncategorized
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.
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.
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.
But the book is the golden prize that still alludes me. I want it. Badly.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
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.
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)
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.
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 honest 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.
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.
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.)
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.
So here I am, telling you my biggest dream, hoping that you will hold it gently in your hands.
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 became my word for the year, I couldn’t help but think a book might be part of that journey.
by Heather Plett | Jan 1, 2010 | business travel, journey
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.
I love the journey. 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.
And that, my dear friends, is my word for the year. Journey. 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.
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.
Here are some of my thoughts on what it means to focus on the journey:
1. I’m going to try to be in the moment more.
2. I’m going to learn to pack light and not weigh myself down with too much baggage.
3. I’m going to take time for conversation with interesting strangers, just like I did on that long train ride to Cleveland.
4. I’m going to let myself be inspired by the beauty that’s right here in front of me.
5. I’m going to forgive myself for not accomplishing grand goals.
6. I might even manage to forget about the destination now and then and just focus on the process.
7. I’m going to be open to adventure around the bend in the road.
8. I’m going to stop and stare at the wonders of the world.
9. I’m going to take lots of pictures and tell lots of stories.
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.
Here’s my dream board for the year.
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.
And, just for fun, here’s how I’ll be starting the journey – with brown hair!
