This morning I’ve been working on the latest email for the e-course I originally called “A Path for Happy Wanderers”. Today’s email is all about how I’ve recently come to call myself an edge-walker and how claiming that name has been kind of revolutionary for me.
Ever since I started using that word, I have had quite a few people say “me too!” There seems to be a sense of relief and deep understanding in the people that I’ve talked to – I have named for them their restlessness, the sense that we don’t really fit in with the status quo, and the endless craving for more wisdom, more experiences, and more truth. (Is that the case for you as well?)
As I was working on the email, it occurred to me that a re-naming of the course might be in order. Instead of “A Path for Happy Wanderers” it is now called “A Path for Wanderers and Edge-walkers“. It’s a subtle change, but I think it’s important. I wanted to acknowledge that many of us who are wanderers are also edge-walkers, prophets, truth-tellers, artists, change-makers, and intuitive-thinkers. Wandering isn’t just something we do to kill time – our place at the edge offers us a unique perspective on the world that is vitally important. (By the way, you can sign up any time and start receiving the emails. It’s only $25 and there is a LOT of good content as well as interviews with some pretty amazing people.)
The interview that’s included in the latest email is with one of my favourite fellow-edge-walkers, Connie Hozvicka of Dirty Footprints Studios. A few months ago, when I was working on the series that I’ve since put on hold (Let go of the Ground), I did a different interview with Connie about what it means for her to let go of the ground and surrender. Because the story she shared fits so well with the theme of wandering and edge-walking, I thought this was a good time to share it.
On an related note, I am delighted to be one of the artists in Connie Hozvicka’s art journaling course, 21 Secrets. Because of the big and beautiful response she received to this latest offering of art journaling secrets, she decided to keep it open for several more months. You can still register for the course and learn all kinds of delightful secrets that will fill your art journal with colour, depth, and some pretty profound truth. (In my workshop, I teach you to use paint to explore your relationship with your body.)
The above image has become my most powerful metaphor this Spring. I discovered it a few weeks ago and have made a couple of pilgrimages back to it since then. Last night Maddy and I braved a swarm of mosquitos to finally take photos of it. (We tried to do a video too, but Maddy was too busy fending off mosquitos to hold the camera still long enough.)
This simple sapling, taking root in the middle of an old rotten stump, has taught me more than many of the teachers in my life.
Out of the rot of the old, the new will grow.
Nobody understands more about transformation than the Creator does. Look at nature, read the story of Easter – it’s all about transformation, and its all intertwined.
Life happens in cycles. Birth, growth, maturity, death, decomposition, regeneration, new birth, and so on and so on.
It’s the same for every one of us. In order for new seeds (ideas, projects, businesses, etc.) to find places to take root, we need other things to die.
When we fail, we need to have the grace and dignity to let those failures sit and rot and become compost for new ideas.
When a project has reached the end of its value, we need to be willing to kill it, watch it decompose, and then watch what new things emerge out of the space it creates.
It’s human nature to want to hang onto the old “tree” (project, lifestyle, career, home, relationship, etc.), because it offers safety, familiarity and strength. But sometimes that tree has already begun to rot from the inside (the places we keep hidden from each other and even from ourselves) and holding onto it is only serving to hinder the growth of the young seedlings lost in its shadow.
Death is hard. Decomposition is excruciating. I know it – I’ve been through more cycles than I care to count. Rot is ugly, painful, and demoralizing. Some days it feels like it will never end. Some days it feels like there is nothing but rot in our lives.
This past year has been that way for me. Lots of ugliness. Lots of wading through rot. Lots of letting go.
Sitting with rot seems counterintuitive, especially in a culture that values productivity and success and climbing social ladders (with sturdy rungs that never succumb to rot). And yet the rot is an important part of the process. The rot creates the nutrients for new growth, and that takes time – LOTS of time. Compost isn’t created out of freshly killed trees. The tree stump in the photo, for example, was probably dead for about ten years before a new seed found enough nutrients there to sustain its growth.
For each of us, it’s the same. When something old has died, we need to give sufficient time for the transformation before we can expect new growth to happen. Patience is the most valuable part of the process.
Don’t rush your way through transformation. Let rot happen.
Note: If you are currently going through a transformation process, you may want to consider working with me as your Transition Guide. Contact me if you have questions.
As I prepare to travel to Columbus for ALIA (Authentic Leadership in Action), I find myself playing with the word “leader”.
Who are the leaders of the world? What do they look like? What makes them unique? What makes us want to follow them?
For a lot of us (especially for women), the word “leader” is a huge block. It feels like too much. Too bold. Too cocky. Too self-assured. Too “I don’t have my OWN shit together – how can I possibly lead other people?”
I’ve heard every excuse in the book. Heck – I’ve USED every excuse in the book. “I’m not smart enough. I don’t have enough knowledge in this subject area. I don’t know how to motivate people. I don’t have all the answers. I’m not confident enough. I don’t like having people depend on me. I don’t know how to fix my own problems – how can I possibly fix other people’s problems? I don’t want people to think I’m too big for my boots. I’m in too much pain.”
We let those limitations block us, because we’ve accepted the wrong paradigms for leadership. Ask any circle of people to name leaders in history or in their own lives, and they’ll talk about people like Nelson Mandela, Obama, Mother Teresa, or the executive director of the organization they work for.
Well no WONDER we get intimidated by the word leader if that’s our paradigm! Very few of us will ever be THAT kind of leader. The world only needs a few of those.
Until they’re coaxed, NOBODY in the room will mention the first grade teacher who opened the world of language for them, the guy who swept the floors in the gymnasium with a smile on his face and a kind word for everyone, the little girl in the playground who made sure everyone got a turn on the slide, the drummer in the high school band who wordlessly kept everyone on beat, or the waitress at the local coffee shop who listened to their stories and made them feel heard.
I’m on a personal mission to bust us all out of those old paradigms of leadership. I’m on a personal mission to make you see the leader in the janitor, the drummer, the waitress, and yourself.
Let’s ask ourselves some new questions.
What if the leader is the person who:
– asks the right questions, instead of knowing all the answers?
– remembers that play is the best way to learn?
– makes a lot of effort to make other people feel seen and heard?
– believes in the power of crayons and dance shoes?
– invites people to wander through possibilities instead of looking for the most direct path?
– creates a container where our feelings and ideas are safe?
– delights in the opportunities that arise out of mistakes?
– invites our bodies and souls to every gathering along with our brains?
– celebrates curiosity?
– believes that the collective wisdom in the room is greater than her own?
– intuitively understands when to say “stop” and “rest” and “walk away“.
– trusts that the most beautiful things often grow out of failure?
Sit with these questions, and then ask yourself “if I can hold this new paradigm, can I then call myself a leader?”
At ALIA, leaders of all shapes and sizes learn about leadership from jugglers, painters, aikido masters, dancers, jazz drummers, meditation teachers, dramatists, doodlers, floral arrangers, etc., etc. The incredible tribe of people who gather at ALIA believe that leadership lessons come from everywhere, and every person in the room holds some of the wisdom. It’s an awe-inspiring experience to sit in a large circle of paradigm-shifting leaders and know that your wisdom is welcome there.
Which piece of the wisdom do you bring to the circle? And what is stopping you from bringing it?
Note: If this new paradigm for leadership excites you, challenges you, or affirms you, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy How to Lead with your Paint Clothes on. The first learning circle has drawn together a fascinating group of people and I look forward to gathering the next one soon. (Dates to be announced.)
My taxes have finally been filed. As it turns out, I’m not really late (since small businesses have until June 15 to file), but it feels late since I’ve been putting them off for way, way too long.
I have a confession to make – one that I’m only now fully admitting to myself…gulp… I have some major shame issues around money. They’re pretty deeply rooted in my psyche.
It all started so long ago, when I was growing up the daughter of a poor farmer, wearing hand-me-down clothes, never quite sure I’d be able to pay for the $2 field trip fees or the cost of the skirt that was mandatory for choir, and always afraid that I was “less than” because our car was always breaking down and we just couldn’t afford the nice things other families had. Shame, shame, shame. (My sister told me recently that she even thought the fact that our cats were always grey or black must be because we were too poor to be able to afford the multi-coloured or orange cats. The day we got an orange cat was a lucky day for her.)
I tried not to admit to myself that I still carry those shame stories. I’ve made a decent living in my life and I no longer drive a broken-down car and I’ve always been able to pay field trip fees and soccer fees for my kids, but… still the shame. “I’m not good enough because I don’t know how to manage my money properly. I’m a failure because I have credit card debt. And so on. And so on.”
The shame is always worse at tax time. I fret and I fuss and I beat myself over the head with lots of old stories. The day I finally do the taxes is usually one of the ugliest days in our house and I warn the family to stay out of the way of my snarly self.
This year was even harder. Since I’d started my business last year, I felt totally incompetent when it came time to figuring out what to deduct and all that other stuff. And yet I kept telling myself that I had to do them myself and couldn’t hire anyone because there was no way I could let someone inside the mess of my finances. Shame, shame, shame.
After a couple of failed attempts, though, I had to admit defeat. I couldn’t do them myself. What did I do then? I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I pushed them aside and played the avoidance game for a few more months. “Maybe if I don’t think about them they’ll go away and I won’t have to deal with the shame.” Of course, we all know that those are fools’ games and the shame ends up eating us for much longer than it would otherwise.
Finally, I swallowed my pride and called the accountant that our kind and supportive financial advisor had recommended. I arranged a meeting with him, and then I started to fret big time. “He’s going to think I’m a fool for quitting a good job to launch a silly dream. What will he say when he sees I hardly made any money in the last few months of the year after quitting my job? He’ll laugh at me when he sees I don’t have a business accounting system and I walk in with a file folder full of receipts.” Shame, shame, shame.
But then I met with him. And it turned out the fretting was for nothing. He was kind. Just like the financial advisor who had recommended him. And he didn’t judge me. And he told me that for a business like mine, he wouldn’t recommend anything more complicated than what I’ve done – just a big envelope full of receipts. (“Leave the complicated financial management systems for big businesses. It’s overkill for what you’re doing.”)
And now the taxes have been filed. He made it SO EASY! He took away the painful snarly don’t-bug-mom-on-tax-day stress. And he made the I’m-too-incompetent-to-run-a-business shame disappear with his friendly smile and non-judgemental advice.
Paying for his service was some of the BEST MONEY I have ever spent!
Here’s what I learned from the experience: (You can feel free to point me to this post the next time I need a reminder.)
1. It pays to hire something for those things that cause you the most stress and aren’t part of your giftedness.
2. Most people won’t judge you just because they shine in the areas you don’t. In fact, they’ll probably be happy to use their giftedness to help you.
3. If you hire someone who DOES judge you, it’s time to cut ties and find someone supportive instead. Life is too short to feel judged.
4. People don’t expect you to make a lot of money when you first start a business. Those that DO make a lot of money at the start are either lucky or they’re lying. Get over it and move on.
5. Limiting ourselves with our shame stories instead of letting someone step in to help will burn a lot of unnecessary energy. It will take energy away from those things that we are gifted in and that we are called to share.
6. God made some people accountants and some people writers. If you’re the writer, don’t expect yourself to be the accountant. Let people shine in their areas of giftedness and then get busy shining in yours!
The interview that’s included in the latest email is with one of my favourite fellow-edge-walkers, Connie Hozvicka of Dirty Footprints Studios. A few months ago, when I was working on the series that I’ve since put on hold (Let go of the Ground), I did a different interview with Connie about what it means for her to let go of the ground and surrender. Because the story she shared fits so well with the theme of wandering and edge-walking, I thought this was a good time to share it.
