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.
by Heather Plett | Mar 25, 2010 | Uncategorized
Flip… I believe I am a good writer and that I have a lot to offer. This blog is an interesting place for people to hang out.
Flop… I am convinced I’m wasting my time and should just step aside and let the REAL writers do their thing. This blog is a boring waste of time.
Flip… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have so many good friends and connections with amazing, creative people all over the world.
Flop… I must be a horribly uninteresting person because everybody seems to be having fun with each other and forgetting to invite me.
Flip… I am a creative person and I have so many worthwhile ideas and the capacity to inspire people in their creativity.
Flop… There are way more creative people in the world than me and I shouldn’t waste my time trying to fit in.
Flip… I’m doing a good job at being a mother and I’m giving my kids a healthy space to grow into interesting, unique, and independent individuals.
Flop… I am such a lousy mother – my kids have to dig through laundry baskets for clean socks AND I feed them way too much trashy food. Every OTHER mother has a spotless home and wholesome goodies waiting for their kids when they come home from school.
Flip… I have a great idea for a book and lots of people will love it when they read it. It’s meant to be shared because people will be inspired by it.
Flop… Who am I trying to kid? This idea is stupid and that must mean that I am stupid because I fooled myself into thinking it was a good idea.
Flip… I’m intelligent and well-learned and I can carry on interesting conversations with almost anyone.
Flop… I’m not nearly as smart as most of the people I know and I really suck at starting conversations. No wonder people are ignoring me.
Flip… I have a great capacity for connecting with people in different cultures in other parts of the world.
Flop… I really screw up a lot of relationships and people find me rather unapproachable. They’re just pretending to like me because they’re so gracious.
Flip… I am a good leader. My authenticity, honesty, vision, creativity, and drive make me an easy person for a team to follow.
Flop… I’m screwing up big time and the fact that there is resistance from some members of my team must mean that I’m a failure at leading them.
Flip… I am good at finding balance in my life. I don’t stress out too much about a messy house when it’s more important to rest, and I find ways of fitting “me time” in between the time I give to others.
Flop… I am lazy and selfish and all of my relationships are suffering because of it. OTHER people have full time jobs and kids and yet their houses are still spotless and they don’t waste so much time reading and playing.
Flip… I am okay with my body, even though it’s not as slender as I’d like it to be. I live a fairly healthy lifestyle and get regular exercise.
Flop… I’m fat and lazy and should be ashamed of how little exercise I get. This ugly body should be hidden under baggy clothes.
Ever have one of those days?
by Heather Plett | Mar 24, 2010 | Uncategorized
If you hang out with me on Twitter or Facebook, you may have already seen this video, but I thought I’d share it here anyway.
At a recent staff retreat, I asked all of our staff to answer one simple question… “How can we make the world a better place?” We all put our answers on paper and turned them into the following video. (Watch for me around 1:49.) The musical background is a song that we commissioned from the very talented Mike Janzen for an annual campaign called Fast for Change.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMW4e5LNilg]
And… speaking of making the world a better, place… I can’t stop playing this song, written by K’naan (who, by the way, grew up in Somalia during the war, so knows more about the true meaning of freedom than many of us) and performed by Young Canadian Artists for Haiti. Just a few moments ago, when I was dropping my kids off at school watching all of the children in the playground, it came on the radio, and like a sentimental sap, I got all choked up. Something about all those carefree kids with this song in the background just warmed the cockles of my heart (whatever cockles are).
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nB7L1BIDELc]
So… the question I have to ask is… what would you put on your paper if you were asked how to make the world a better place? I’d love to see your answers in the comments.
by Heather Plett | Mar 23, 2010 | beginnings, calling, dreaming, fearless, journey, Leadership, navel-gazing, Passion, Uncategorized
Not long ago, I wrote about how Maddie loves to build magical worlds under the dining room table. Recently I found her there, lying on her back, staring up at the bottom of the table. When I asked her what she was doing, she said “oh, I’m daydreaming. I have to do it here because Madame doesn’t let me at school.”
Now, I’m a big fan of daydreaming, so I told her to go ahead and do it at school – just hide it by pretending she’s reading! (I got away with that many times when I was in school! I still do!)
Well… what do you think I did this morning? I climbed under that table, where Maddie has her boxes, her magical stool, her stuffed toys, and now her Little Lovely painting from Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio, and I daydreamed! Because what’s a better way to spend a morning when you’re still hiding in your cocoon waiting for your energy to come back?
About five years ago, I worked my way through a book called The Path, by Laurie Beth Jones. Laurie believes in daydreaming too (though I think she calls it “visioning” – a grown-up version of the same concept). She suggests that you sit down and write a vision for the future, a fairly specific “day in the life” of the person you dream of being in five years. She says that in her experience, a lot of people who do that kind of visioning end up very close to what they write about – maybe not in five years, but somewhere along the way.
Yesterday I pulled out my five year old daydream. There are a few parts of it that have come true – like the part about my husband coming home after teaching in his first classroom and feeling good about having gotten through to at least one student. He’s finally got a full time teaching job and I don’t remember when I’ve seen him happier. It’s a pretty tough school, but he’s in his element, helping inner city kids realize the value of education.
There’s a big part of the vision though – the part that’s mostly about MY dreams as opposed to my husbands – that hasn’t been fully realized yet. If I wrote another “five year vision” it would probably contain essentially the same thing. It’s the long held dream of making my living as a full time writer/speaker/consultant.
It’s closer to coming true (now that Marcel has a full-time job), but I’m not quite ready to quit my job yet. I’m not in one of those “just putting in time to bring home a pay cheque” jobs, so it’s not one I have to run away from. A few of the blogs I read are about people who are excited about quitting “the man” and launching their own businesses. Well, I wouldn’t really be quitting “the man”. I did that six years ago when I left a secure, fairly high level job in federal government for non-profit. For me it would be more like quitting “the woman” – by which I mean the marginalized, impoverished women who are being supported by the incredible organization I work for.
I keep wrestling with it, in fact. There are times when I can hardly WAIT to walk away from a 9-5 job and sink my teeth into a life of writing, speaking, traveling, and teaching leadership and creativity workshops. But then there’s that little voice that pipes up and says “Hello!? Remember how lucky you are to have a job that gives you such a great opportunity to use your gifts in leadership, creativity, writing, etc., that fits so well with your passion for justice, and that lets you travel to some of the most interesting parts of the world in search of a good story and photograph.” And lately I’ve been excited about the new staff I’ve hired who bring lots of great energy and ideas and who are a pleasure to lead. There’s a lot of exciting potential going on that I would be sorry to leave.
The truth is, though, when I lie under the table and daydream, that old familiar dream comes back to me every time. I’ve got a book (or two) published; I’m traveling to conferences and retreats to speak to people on topics related to leadership, beauty and justice, and leading a creative life; and I’m writing, writing, writing.
The past six years at my job have been truly incredible. I’ve stretched in incredible ways, I’ve met some of the most amazing people in the world, I’ve slept in a tent on a farm in a remote part of Kenya, I’ve held hands with a young teacher with a beautiful soul on a tiny island in India, I’ve taken incredible photos all over the world, I’ve gotten to write lots of stories, I’ve learned more about leadership than I could have imagined possible, I’ve lead film crews through Ethiopia, India, and Bangladesh, and I’ve been reminded time and time again that some of my greatest lessons come from my failures.
I remember six years ago, when I first got the job, I said to a friend “this job will stretch me” and I couldn’t have been more right.
I don’t know for sure when the time will be right to leave this work I love. I’m not really in a rush. But I can’t let go of the idea that the past six years have been preparing me to step even more fully into my calling. The possibilities are endless, and I’m ready to ride the wave wherever it takes me.
What about you? I’d love to hear what would be in your daydream if you sat down and wrote about a day in the life of the person you want to be in five years.
