by Heather Plett | Mar 2, 2009 | Uncategorized
This morning, I feel the warm glow of gratitude after a comfy and relaxed weekend. Some of the things I am grateful for:
– A fun little Facebook chat with a friend who traveled to Ethiopia with me
– Coming to work on Monday morning knowing that I actually LIKE coming to work
– Hosting a lovely, relaxed evening with some easy, comfortable friends
– Having a basement family room that finally feels complete and livable again (and actually looks good too!)
– Watching my healthy, happy girls play soccer
– Enjoying smoked salmon that was caught by a friend on the west coast
– Hosting another visitor from Africa in our home
– Getting the chance to meet another incredible, strong and wise African woman (who made history by becoming the first woman to run her organization, in the first African country to elect a woman president)
– Watching my daughter’s eyes light up as she runs to get her book to show our African guest the piece she just read about Liberia’s (and Africa’s) first woman president
– Going grocery shopping and not having to worry whether I can afford to pay for it
– Going to the gym on Monday morning after a week away (traveling) and realizing that I am not a failure – I didn’t let myself sleep in, even though it would have been easy to
– Listening to Maddie giggle as she gets teased by her uncle
– Munching on Cadbury mini eggs with my kids
– Recognizing the honour it has been to stand on the shoulders of people who have mentored me
by Heather Plett | Feb 28, 2009 | Uncategorized
The thing about having kids is – they keep you humble. If, for example, you should come home one evening and say “hey – guess what? I just found out I’ve won the Communicator of the Year award for our province!” they will have a delightful way of turning to you with a look that says “yeah, so what?” And then, while you stand there waiting for the overflowing accolades and the hugs of approval, they will proceed to say, “ummm… Mom, it’s really not that impressive. I mean really – how many communicators do we know? One! So if nobody really knows any communicators and they pick you to be the best one, well that’s not really that much of an honour, is it?”
Getting a little defensive at their bucket of cold water on your previously swollen and rapidly shrinking head, you’ll say something like “yeah, but still – the best one in the WHOLE PROVINCE!” And they’ll just keep pouring with, “oh sure, it’s cool and all, but if you were the best SOCCER PLAYER in the province, then THAT would be something to brag about! You’re not exactly the David Beckham of the communications world now, are you?”
Harrumph. Perhaps I should have picked a career my kids could marvel at. But then again, I’m pretty sure David Beckham’s kids roll their eyes at him now and then too.
by Heather Plett | Feb 26, 2009 | random
Dear Mother Nature;
Come on REALLY?! Another day of -24 C? This isn’t funny anymore! Can’t we start talking about Spring? Crocuses? Buds on trees? T-shirts? Yes we’re hardy folk up here in Winnipeg, but you’re going a little too far just to prove it!
Dear Air Canada;
Didn’t you learn in Customer Relations 101 that it is not good practice to sell someone an airline ticket and then, when the passenger (who booked her ticket weeks ago) shows up at the airport, tell her you don’t actually have a seat for her and she’ll have to fly stand-by? Can you stop thinking about the almighty dollar and put an end to your policy of over-selling seats on airplanes? This is the second time it’s happened to me and I am not amused. It’s NEVER happened on West Jet and their flight attendants are SO much nicer, so you can guess whose plane I’ll fly on next time.
Dear friend who gave me and my colleague the free passes to the airport business lounge;
THANK YOU! I felt so pampered (after an intense couple of days) sitting in big-ass comfy leather chairs sipping free wine and munching on cookies while enjoying free internet (and feeling rather bourgeois and privileged all the while). Yes, I felt a little guilty participating in a system that perpetuates class distinctions, but the guilt passed by the second glass of wine.
Dear SAME friend who nominated me for communicator of the year;
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! You clearly did a good job of describing my accomplishments! I’m gonna owe you big time! May I buy you a glass of wine at the gala luncheon when I receive my award?
Dear friend who hung out with me over Indian food in Toronto;
It was a delight! Thanks for being my friend for 40 years! (Yes, we really have lived that long!) Thanks for trusting me enough to share your secrets. Thanks for being so damn likeable. And thanks for building all those lopsided teepees with me in the bush thirty some odd years ago.
Dear lovely B&B host;
You are a treasure! Thanks for giving me a home away from home in Toronto. I’ve been to all of the other lovely B&B’s but yours is my favourite, partly because YOU are my favourite host. I will be back – you can bet on it. Thanks for saying cute things like “righty-tighty and lefty-loosey”. Thanks for trying out your new recipe for coconut french toast for me. Thanks for pointing out the special towels “just for my feet”. Thanks for not being one of those cookie-cutter hotels.
Dear people who participated in the two day workshop I organized;
Thanks for being so cooperative and appreciative and for not making a big deal over the fact that I screwed up the two days. You made me feel like a leader again. It was a pleasure spending a couple of days with you. I really, really mean it. It is so comforting to know you’re among good people who “have your back” – especially ones who have such like-minded passions and values.
Dear husband;
You are a good teacher. Why else would all of your daughters’ friends beg you to be their substitute? Why else would you get calls from teachers saying that their students had INSISTED that you substitute for their class again? You will be a full time teacher some day, but for now you’re doing a damn fine job of being a substitute.
Dear daughters who made it into the soccer teams you were trying out for;
Congratulations. I’m so very proud of you. You’ve both worked hard to develop your skills and I delight in your accomplishments and your drive. Here’s to another summer of sitting on the sidelines cheering for you.
Dear Mother Nature;
Can we get back to you for a bit? You know all those soccer games I’ll need to watch? Yeah, well, I was thinking… Spring? Could you make it a good one? Please?!?
by Heather Plett | Feb 23, 2009 | Leadership, navel-gazing
I’m walking in downtown Toronto and I spot an art supply store. My heart does a little pitter-pat as I remember that I’ve been there before – it was one of my “stand and gaze and dream about being an artist” moments. I left the store with nothing. This time, feeling emboldened by my recent achievement, I walk in proudly, determined to buy at least a couple of tubes of watercolour. I feel like an artist as I peruse the shelves, looking for the right shades for my next project. I’m glowing with excitement as I lay my items on the counter and reach for my wallet. I feel powerful.
Then the cell phone rings. I find out that I messed up an important date – the facilitators I’d hired for a workshop on Wednesday are actually coming on Tuesday. I’d sent them the wrong date. Now I have a hoarde of people coming from across the country for a two day meeting, and the itinerary I sent out is all screwed up. And the handful of people who are coming (from the local area) just for Wednesday might not be able to come if their schedules aren’t flexible. My mood drops. I’ve screwed up. My self-talk has taken a drastic turn and I’m not an artist anymore. I’m not a leader either. I am a failure.
Wallowing in self-doubt, I leave the store and wander down the street. I enter another store and meander through the sales racks. The store clerk spots my art supply store bag. “Are you an artist?” he asks. I pause for a moment, ready to say “no, I’m really not,” but then something inside me rises up and I straighten my shoulders a little. “Yes, I am.” “What do you do?” he asks. “Watercolour,” I say. “So far.” “I’m an artist too,” he says. “Mostly I do Chinese form of art.”
I leave the store, and though not entirely recovered from the phone call, I feel at least a little buoyed by my first opportunity to call myself an artist.
I am constantly amazed at how quickly self-talk can whirl in an about-face direction.
How do you define yourself today? Or break it down to this very moment? Artist or failure?
by Heather Plett | Feb 21, 2009 | art, Creativity, fearless, painting
I used to visit art supply stores and stand and gaze longingly at the rows and rows of paint tubes and brushes. I’ve done that for years. I wanted to paint so badly, but it was completely overwhelming for me. I had no idea what brushes to start with (what if I used the wrong one?) or which kind of paint did what (what’s the difference between watercolour and acrylic?), and besides, I could barely draw a stick figure, so what made me think I could paint?
Friends would take up painting, and I’d be so jealous, but I never signed up for a course. “I’ll probably fail,” I told myself. “I’m not very artistic.”
That was before my year of living fearlessly. This year, I knew I couldn’t let those layers of fear and doubt stand in the way of something I’ve wanted to do since I was a child. This year, I would paint, even if I accomplished nothing more than a stick figure and a tree that looked like a 6 year old’s fingerpainting. This year, I wasn’t letting failure stand in my way.
I signed up for a class and started buying supplies. But every time I took my supply list into an art supply store, I got that overwhelming, choking feeling again. What was a #1 brush? Was I supposed to buy the paint in tubes or in little cakes like the kindergarten paints? I bought a few supplies, but put off most of it until the night before the class.
Then the worst happened – the night before the class turned out to be the night OF the class. I’d looked at the dates wrong. I had to rush to the only store within easy driving distance, grab whatever I could find, and show up at class 15 minutes late with only half of my supplies. My heart was in my throat. This was NOT the way to start something this scary!
The first 15 minutes of the class were horrible. Others had already started and I didn’t get the instructions right. Plus I had to borrow a few things from my seat mate. If Marcel hadn’t dropped me off and left me without a car, I might have packed up and gone home.
But then, when water mixed with paint and paint started hitting paper, a transformation began to unfold. The paper, the paint, the paint brushes – they all took hold of me, lifted me out of myself, and the stress began to seep out of my body drop by drop. How incredibly good the paint brush felt in my hand! How incredibly right! I almost started crying right there in that high school art room. This was what I had been waiting for all these years!
Even though we only painted in monochrome that night, and the result was hardly worth bragging about, I knew that I had fallen in love. For too many years this passion had been waiting for fear to loosen its grip so that it could be born – now it was time to let it see the light of day.
Five classes later (too quickly it passed), we were getting ready for the final class. “Bring in a picture to the second last class,” she’d said. “Something that is special to you. You’re going to paint your first masterpiece during the final class.” I selected a few that I thought I was capable of (some easy landscapes and silhouettes), and threw in the one I really wanted to paint but doubted that I could – one of my favourite photos from Ethiopia. “These are easy,” she said, flipping through the top of the pile, “you can paint these.” Then she looked at the last one – the special one. “You want to paint that?” she said, a little incredulously. I felt the doubt rise again. Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe she thought I couldn’t do it. Oh what was I thinking – of COURSE I can’t do it! I nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I think you could probably do that if you tried hard enough.” Really? “You probably won’t finish it in one day, and you’ll have to do the sketching before the class so you use the time in class well.”
Gulp. Was I really going to try? What if I failed? Would I want to come back for another class next session, or would I give up? Maybe I should just do the silhouette of the acacia tree from my Kenya pictures. It was so much easier.
But “easy” wasn’t what I’d signed up for. I decided to try regardless of how it scared me. I did the preparation work and showed up at class early this time. I was determined. This was not going to be the end of painting for me. I was not going to let fear hold me back. I was determined, but nervous, and almost positive I would fail.
And then, the minute I touched paintbrush to paper, I entered that zen-like state and got lost in the painting all over again. The hours drifted away while I let the paint carry me. Bit by bit, I watched the art unfold. First grey sky, then the landscape. That was the easy part. Would I be able to paint convincing people? The first one turned out not bad. The second was even better. By the third one, I began to believe that I could actually DO this!
I didn’t finish that night, but the next night, while Marcel was away and the girls got to watch a little extra TV, I finished the last piece – the baskets. When I was done, I stepped back and… well, it was GOOD! I had actually painted something I could be proud of!
I have been on cloud nine ever since. Who knew I could paint? Certainly not me!
(If you want to see my progress throughout the classes, you can see all of my attempts in a slideshow here.)
