by Heather Plett | May 26, 2014 | Uncategorized
These are my three daughters, Nicole, Madeline, and Julie. I don’t talk about them very often on my blog, because I want to respect their rights to be the owners of their own stories, and because I don’t have any aspirations to be a mommy blogger.
But today I want to tell you a little about them because they inspire me and give me reason to do the work I do. I want to make the world a better place not only for the women of my generation that I work with, but for the women who come after us, who will step into their own leadership roles, serving the world as they feel called.
My daughters are far from perfect. They fight – with each other and with their dad and me. They have insecurities and make bad choices sometimes. Like all teenagers, they’re finding their own paths in the world and so they have to make their own mistakes and stumble over their own weaknesses.
This morning, though, I want to focus on their strengths.
My oldest daughter, Nicole (on the left), has spent hours and hours working on a big history project that she’s presenting in class this morning. She chose to make her hour-long presentation on the history of feminism, and in the process has dug up all kinds of interesting stories of trailblazers and truth-tellers in the feminist movement. Every day she shares new tidbits that she has learned and I’ve been learning a lot vicariously through her. (Sadly, I can’t read the whole presentation as it’s in French.) Most of the girls in her class are hesitant to call themselves feminists (and she anticipated that some might even put up resistance to what she’ll be presenting), but she doesn’t care. She’s passionate about history and human rights and she’s choosing her own path.
My second daughter, Julie (on the right), left this morning on a three day back-country canoe trip. She’s an adventurer and a leader, and though she hasn’t done much canoeing, I know that she’ll take to it naturally and I’m almost certain that she’ll step into her natural leadership ability at the campsite and will be teaching less-experienced people how to set up tents and how not to freak out when wood ticks show up. If they run into challenges on the journey, her friends will (as they always do) look to her for direction on how to stay calm and resolve the problems. She will step up to the challenge.
My third daughter, Madeline (in the middle) had her year-end synchronized swimming show yesterday. She is passionate about being in the water and she loves the challenge of being able to hold challenging poses while staying afloat. She is not a slender child (like many of the girls in the pool), but that doesn’t seem to bother her at all. She would live in a bathing suit if she could and I’ve never once heard her complain about the way her body looks in a bathing suit. None of her friends or sisters like synchronized swimming, but that never affects her love of it. She’s found her own path and she’s following it.
Though they face the normal angst and self-doubt of teenage girls, they all seem to have a strong sense of who they are. My husband and I have tried hard to let them know that whoever they are is fine with us – we’ll love them unconditionally.
As I watch my daughters blossom into amazing young women, I can’t help but wonder…
What if they learn to trust in their own power and never develop a fear of it?
I know that’s an idealistic question, and I have already seen evidence of them shrinking from their own power, when they’re afraid to do things wrong, when they’ve been made fun of by friends, when they pay too much attention to how the media tells them they “should” look or act, or when they haven’t received the right support from me or other family members. But I can still be hopeful that they won’t learn as many self-destructive habits as so many of the women I work with in my own generation have developed.
We have learned to be afraid of our own power.
I see it again and again. Women (myself included) have picked up a lot of messages (both external and internal) that tell them they shouldn’t be too confident, too powerful, too mystical, too shiny, too large, too expressive, too bossy, too strong, too creative, too dark, too wild, etc., etc. Just this past week I had a coaching conversation with a woman who’d seen evidence of her own power and was struggling with what to do with it. So many old stories are getting in the way of her embracing the power she knows she has. And she’s not alone. I have conversations like this nearly every week.
Why? Because women’s power is a dangerous thing. Women’s power is mystical and unpredictable. Women’s power is fierce and it upsets the natural order of things. Women’s power is wild and full of passionate love and it defies logic and order. Too many women stepping into their own power would cause the world to shift and women themselves are afraid of holding that responsibility. Those who currently hold power are afraid of it too.
The patriarchy has worked long and hard to control and contain women’s power. They have kept women silent by using religion, rules, force, and fear tactics. They have tethered women’s strength by convincing us that “logos” has more value than “mythos”, force has more value than love, science has more value than art, hierarchy has more value than collaboration, analysis has more value than spirituality, structure has more value than wildness, and consumption has more value than ecology.
We see evidence of the patriarchy’s fear of women’s power every time we turn on the evening news. When men shoot a young woman, or kidnap hundreds of other young girls, just because they dared to go to school, it’s evident that they know that educated women are dangerous women who might challenge the power of the patriarchy. When Hollywood makes it difficult for women to get acting roles that show them as intelligent and independent of men, it’s evident that they’re afraid if women are allowed to say what they really want to say, the world might have to change. When churches don’t allow women to step into pulpits or make their own choices, it’s clear they’re afraid that women’s stories might shift the shape of religion.
It’s often said that “women are their own worst enemies” and that is true and untrue all at the same time. It’s true in the sense that a lot of our battles are internal and it’s often the stories that a woman carries that convince her that she is not worthy. But it’s not true in the sense that she is solely responsible for the existence of those stories. Those stories were planted there over generations of women being repressed and silenced. Something that has been collected over generations and centuries cannot easily be outdone, and so women need to stop beating themselves up over not being able to let them go easily.
I know, for example, that these generations of stories have been implanted into my daughters’ hearts, even though I’ve done my best to keep them from taking root. They can’t help but be impacted by what they see all around them in the media, in the education system, and even in their home. They still will have their own work to do to really learn to trust their own power and to be courageous in the face of apathy and resistance.
My own journey to power has been a long one (and it will continue for years to come).
Nearly fourteen years ago, I landed on my back in a hospital bed in the middle of my third pregnancy. Due to a complication and a botched surgery attempt, my pregnancy was suddenly in jeopardy and I had to put everything in my life on hold to try to save my unborn child.
During the three weeks leading up to my son Matthew’s death and birth, I had a lot of time for silence, contemplation, conversations, and personal reflection. Those three weeks became a time of spiritual awakening and an awakening to my own power and calling. It shifted everything in my life.
For one thing, I had a rather frightening and awe-inspiring spiritual experience in which I became aware of a spiritual force that was directing me toward bigger, bolder work in my life. For another thing, people in the hospital started being inexplicably drawn to my room (doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors), and would sit and share their stories with me and look to me for guidance and/or spiritual direction (very much the kind of conversations I now have in my coaching work). It was surprising and a little overwhelming.
After Matthew died, it took me a long time (years) to process what had happened in the hospital. I was afraid of it. I knew that I was being asked to step into bigger, more powerful work as a teacher, spiritual guide, and leader, but that terrified me. What if I screwed up? What if I disappointed people? What if I was delusional? What if I was “too big for my britches”? What if I fell on my face?
I was unworthy. I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t have the right education. I didn’t know how to talk about the thing that happened to me in a way that wouldn’t scare people or make them laugh.
It took nearly ten years before I was ready to begin to accept this invitation into my own power. I say “my own power”, but really I need to say that it is “a power that is gifted to me from the Divine”. Even after ten years, I felt scared and unworthy. I was afraid of what people would think, I didn’t know how I’d make any money, and I was pretty sure I’d fail and make a fool of myself.
Each time I had to cancel a class or workshop because not enough people would show up, I’d have to fight the voices that were saying “You’re just not good enough. Give up and get a real job.” Each time I’d face resistance or criticism, I’d shrink a little and step back into self-protection mode, afraid to speak of what I really felt called to speak of.
Last week, two things happened that reminded me that I’m on the right path and that I am gradually learning to accept the power available to me.
Firstly, on my birthday I invited my readers and social media contacts to support my fundraiser to educate more girls through the Uganda Kitgum Education Foundation. In just four days, we raised $2269! Wow! I was blown away that the work I’ve done in building relationships and sharing stories with people had built a community of people who were so willing to step up and support a good cause. That’s powerful! Now the wheels in my head are turning… if we can raise that much in four days with just a simple invitation and the help of friends, how much more can we raise if we organize a bigger fundraising campaign?
Secondly, over the weekend, I hosted a women’s retreat together with my friend Jo-Anne (who’s passionate about food and ecology) and the sixteen women who showed up dared to be vulnerable and authentic. The stories they shared in the closing circle (and the emails I’ve gotten since) showed how they had been transformed by what had been awakened for them in just a short time through meaningful conversations with other women, personal reflection and creativity. As I always am at these gatherings I host, I was blown away at how powerful it is to simply create intentional space for exploration, contemplation, conversation, and meaning-making. I always feel like I do so little, and yet I am reminded again and again how powerful the right kind of hosting can be.
I share these stories not out of arrogance, but out of humility. I am humbled that I have been chosen to do this work. I am humbled that God has gifted me with the power to impact change. I am humbled that people show up and engage with what I offer.
When we stop being afraid of our own power, amazing things can happen.
If you’re still carrying around stories that are keeping you from being powerful, it’s time to do the work of excavating those stories so that you can turn them into something of value and you can access what is being gifted to you.
Imagine you’re carrying around a backpack of old stories that feel heavy on your shoulders and keep you from dancing down the path. Imagine that each of those stories is a large, rough stone, and buried under the roughness is a beautiful diamond just waiting for you to chip away the ugliness to unearth the beauty. Imagine that, with the right work, you could find the diamonds and wear them proudly on a string around your neck instead of carrying them like a burden on your back.
If you’re ready to do this work, you might want to start with a journey through Pathfinder or Mandala Discovery. If you need a guide while you do the work, I will have some coaching spaces available over the summer and would be happy to work with you.
You are powerful. You are beautiful. You are worthy.
I invite you to step into the courage it takes to discover the power available to you.
by Heather Plett | May 14, 2014 | Uncategorized
As I mentioned in this post, two weeks ago, I was on Whidbey Island, gathered with 25 other people to work on the building of The Circle Way Initiative, an extension of the circle work of PeerSpirit. I’ve wanted to write a follow-up post ever since, but sometimes the experience of something feels too important to try to put it into words right way. Sometimes it simply needs to sit for awhile in the heart space before it can enter the head space where language resides.
As I mentioned in the earlier post, I fell in love with the idea of The Circle Way when I first encountered the work of Christina Baldwin and Ann Linnea thirteen years ago. It took awhile before I had fully embraced it and could use it confidently in my work, but now it is central to everything I do. I use it in the classroom, in retreats, in group consultations, and even in online spaces.
The Circle Way is both simple and complex. In fact, I would say it is the “simplicity on the other side of complexity” that Oliver Wendell Holmes is talking about in this quote… “For the simplicity on this side of complexity, I wouldn’t give you a fig. But for the simplicity on the other side of complexity, for that I would give you anything I have.”
The Circle Way helps us cut through complexity to the simplicity on the other side.
By gathering people into a circle where we can all look into each other’s eyes, using some simple structure, principles and practices to help hold the conversation, and being intentional about the way we engage with each other, we can dramatically shift our conversations. I’ve seen it happen again and again. People engage more intentionally than they normally do, conflict is resolved in constructive ways, and there is honesty and authenticity in the way we show up for each other.
If you’d like to learn more about how to host your own circle, you can download PeerSpirit’s Basic Guidelines here, or you can buy the book.
Here are some of the things I love about The Circle Way:
1. It gives each person a voice. Circle council always begins with a check-in and ends with a check-out, where a talking piece is passed around and each person has an opportunity to speak. Whoever is holding the talking piece is the only person who can speak, giving respect and reverence to whatever each person chooses to speak of.
2. It cuts out distraction and holds focus. I’ve sat in many meetings and classrooms where only half of the people in the room are engaged and the other half are in side conversations or checking their smartphones. That rarely happens in a circle, and if it does, it will be called out by the others in the circle and rarely needs to be addressed by the host. People are much more attentive when they know they are being witnessed and when they are invited to witness each other.
3. It calls out the best in each of us. In circle council, we talk about each person in the circle “holding the rim” for each other. That means that the circle is not complete without each person taking his/her seat and committing to being part of that circle. Together we hold the container, giving each other space for growth, grief, courage, and fear. If people in the circle take that seriously (and they usually do, because it feels like an honour to be invited into this sacred space), remarkable things can happen and people can step into their own greatness. In our gathering on Whidbey Island, for example, each person stepped forward, offered their gifts, and took on the work of making The Circle Way Initiative a reality. When you’re invited into a space where there’s a leader in every chair, you’re much more inclined to contribute what you have to offer.
4. It allows us to be more intentional and listen more deeply to what is being said. By using things like a talking piece and a bell, the conversation is slowed down, there is less interruption, and there is intentionality in how we listen to each other. The talking piece is used to give each person our undivided attention. The bell is used to create pauses in the conversation when something particularly profound is said, or there is conflict or a need for a shift in energy. In addition, the circle creates a space where we are all looking into each other’s eyes instead of turning our backs to each other.
5. It invites people to step out of judgement and into grace. When you are invited to listen to people’s stories with openness and intention, not interrupting or giving advice, you learn to practice grace and non-judgement. Each person has value and nobody’s contribution is worth more than another’s. I have seen people enter the circle with resistance and judgement toward others in the circle, and before long things shifted and they were listening to each other in a more intentional way.
6. You can get lots of work done without feeling overly constricted by too much process. In some facilitation processes, there is so much complexity or restriction in the way the process unfolds that there is less room for creativity and spontaneity. The circle creates a more intuitive space, with just enough gently applied structure to keep things from going off the rails. At our gathering, we were all divided into work groups, and each group used the circle principles to guide their conversations. A great deal of work was accomplished and a lot of creativity showed up. There was just enough structure to hold it and not too much to limit it.
7. Conflict can be held in the container without destroying the circle. At the centre of the circle, there is always something in place which acts as the hub of the circle – a candle, flowers, a bowl, or something that represents the intention of the circle. When we gather in circle, we speak to the centre, rather than to individuals at the rim of the circle. This helps to hold the conflict in a safe way. Rather than directing our anger or frustration at a particular person, we offer it into the centre and the circle helps to hold and dissipate it. I have seen conflict almost miraculously evaporate when everyone in the circle feels heard and witnessed, and there is not the intensity of a one-on-one attack.
8. There is space for intimacy and community. I have been to a lot of conferences, retreats, and other gatherings, and without fail, the ones that are held in circle always result in the most intimate conversations and new friendships. Something special happens when you gather in circle, look into each other’s eyes, listen with intention, and hold space for each other. It spills out into the coffee breaks and lunch hours, and you take it home with you after the gathering has ended.
If you’d like to be in circle with me, there are a few upcoming opportunities:
1. Create & Connect: A day retreat for women
2. Circles of Connection – Wasaga Women’s Weekend (where I’ve been invited to be the guest speaker)
3. Gather the Women – Annual Gathering (where I’ll be an active participant)
by Heather Plett | May 6, 2014 | Uncategorized
It’s no secret that I love circles in many, many forms. I love to walk labyrinths, make mandalas, and – most of all – gather people in circles. I’ve just spent four days at Aldermarsh on Whidbey Island together with And & Christina (and their lovely dog Gracie) and 25 other openhearted people at the 2nd Fire Gathering for The Circle Way Initiative. Circle was at the heart of EVERYTHING we did. In between gatherings, I processed all that was going on by walking the labyrinth and making mandalas.
Circle keeps swirling around my head, and it won’t leave me alone. All of these patterns are coming together in my heart for a reason, and something new is emerging in my work. So far, I’m not quite sure what form(s) it will take, but I know that I am creating something called The Circular Woman, which will be all about helping women re-connect with themselves, their hearts, their communities, the earth, and the sacred through circle in its many forms.
Stay tuned. Good things are spiraling up out of my heart! (p.s. I just bought the url thecircularwoman.com!)
In the meantime, if you need a circle to help you grow the things spiraling out of your heart, you have until Thursday morning to join Pathfinder Circle. Come into the circle with us!
by Heather Plett | Apr 29, 2014 | Uncategorized
I’m writing to you from beautiful Whidbey Island near Seattle. I have finally arrived here after what feels like a 13 year journey.
Thirteen years ago, I was working as a Director of Communication at a federal lab. It was one of the hardest times in my life. I’d done all the right things to grow my professional career, climbed the corporate ladder successfully, and was in a senior leadership position that afforded me the privilege of traveling a lot and sitting at influential tables. I was running press conferences for Prime Ministers and the like, dealing with media from all over the world… and I was miserable.
I was completely disillusioned with leadership. I’d loved the early days of my leadership journey when I had a great mentor/boss, but now I was stuck at leadership team meetings where everything revolved around science and nobody knew how to speak the language of the heart.
I started to look for inspiration and some hope that there was another way to lead. That’s when I came across the work of Christina Baldwin. I devoured her book Calling the Circle, and everything else I could get my hands on.
Sitting in my office in the lab, I had one of those trembling moments I’ve talked about before. I knew there was something really important about the work Christina was doing with her partner Ann, and I knew I had to be part of it. I set an intention there and then that I would learn all I could about leading from a place in the circle, and that I would study and work with Christina some day. Along with that intention was a little dream of spending time on Whidbey Island with them.
The next ten years were full of lots of darkness, growth, and stretching. I didn’t let go of the dream, but I often doubted that it would come true.
And then, finally, when I quit my job to jump into self employment, it was finally the right time to live out part of that dream. I traveled to Ontario to study with Christina. When I told her, in the opening circle, that her work had lit a candle in a dark place for me ten years earlier, tears filled her eyes.
Over the next three and a half years, circle became central to my work. Christina and I stayed in touch, and I kept dreaming of visiting Whidbey.
Well by now you know the rest of the story. I have come to Whidbey at Christina’s invitation, to sit in circle council with her and others, to sense into how circle can grow in the world and change conversations everywhere.
I feel deeply humbled and blessed by this incredible journey that has brought me here.
It’s the way of the heart, calling us to places we need to go. Sometimes it takes much longer than we want to get to the new place, but the journey is worth it. I wouldn’t have been ready for it thirteen years ago. I needed some seasoning and stretching. I needed to befriend grief in a deeper way. I needed to get lost and then find myself again.
I am ready now.
Are you on a similar journey, doubting whether you’ll ever get through the darkness? Take heart. Your heart will lead you where you’re meant to go.
If you need some guidance and support on that journey, consider joining Pathfinder Circle. It starts May 8th.
If you want to spend a day in circle with me and other amazing women, join us at Create and Connect. It’s happening in Winnipeg on May 24th.
by Heather Plett | Apr 18, 2014 | Uncategorized
“Because we realised that the person who left us did not take the sun with them or leave darkness in their place. They simply left, and with every farewell comes a hidden hope. – Paul Coelho
Three years ago, on Easter weekend, we found out my mom had cancer. It was a sombre Easter meal we shared at my brother’s house that Sunday. Mom did her best to be upbeat, playing with the grandchildren, making sure everyone was well fed and giving us all as much love as she could. We all tried to do the same, to pretend that everything was going to be okay and that we didn’t risk losing the only parent we had left.
We didn’t do a very good job of lying to ourselves, though. Beneath all of the smiles and the laughter was a river of worry that none of us could deny.
Once you’ve met death and watched it take away a member of your family, you no longer have the luxury of hanging onto the lie that “everything is going to be alright”.
Something else happened that weekend. On the two hour drive home from my brother’s house, my marriage unraveled. We had a big fight (as quietly as possible so as not to alarm the children in the back seat) and I had to speak out loud the unhappiness that was growing in me like my mom’s cancer was growing in her. It was time for drastic measures. We had to either slice out the cancer in our marriage and subject it to months of chemo (in the form of therapy) or it would die.
By now you probably know what happened to my Mom. She had surgery and months of chemo and the doctors thought they had been successful in arresting the cancer. But only three months after she’d gotten the “all-clear” (which happened a year after her diagnosis), they discovered that the cancer was still growing and was now beyond treatment. Three months later, with all of her children gathered around her, she left us to join Dad in eternity.
As for my marriage, a rather similar pattern took place. We went for months of counseling, worked on the baggage we were both carrying, learned to talk to each other with more honesty and less anger, and thought we had the cancer licked. We were happy again.
But then the cancer came back. I realized that the anger that had infected me was growing in deeper places than I’d at first admitted to myself. A deeper excavation was necessary. And so we went under the knife again, followed by more chemo.
Our marriage is still alive. Like doctors, we are using every procedure and medicine we can think of to keep it alive. We are trying – like the Japanese artists who mend broken pots with gold so that the break becomes part of the art and history of the piece and adds to its beauty – to mend our marriage with even stronger and more beautiful material than was there when the break happened.
It seems fitting (and perhaps somewhat ironic) that this year, at Easter, I am feeling hopeful again. There is resurrection, there is transformation, there is hope. The gold is beginning to set deep into the cracks and there is beauty emerging out of our brokenness.
In Pathfinder, I wrote about the value of getting lost, of tearing up the map, and trusting that the path will unfold in front of us as it should. That’s a lesson that I have to learn again and again. I want so badly to control the outcome, to fix the cancer in my mom (and now my brother), to find a simple solution for our marriage, or to, at the very least, feel like I’m holding a map in my hand that will show me the topography that’s up ahead. But I don’t get that. I never get that.
I have to let it go and lean further into trust.
In order for real transformation to happen (as we learn in Theory U, which is also shared in Pathfinder), we have to let go of the outcome and our desire to control it, let go of our preconceived notions, let go of the lens through which we view the world, and learn to sense into that which wants to emerge. Along the journey of letting go, we open our minds, open our hearts, and open our wills. Only once we’ve reached the bottom of the U, when what needed to die has been released, can the new thing emerge and begin to blossom.
My friend Laurie Foley was recently told that her cancer is in remission. As she explores what this means and what she is meant to learn from her long months of struggle, she is re-framing remission as re-mission. She’s wondering how this period of her life – the journey through the valley of the shadow of cancer – has changed her life’s mission and what God is asking of her now.
I wonder the same thing. If the cancer in my marriage is in remission (as I hope it is), then what is our re-mission as a couple? What is emerging for us that we couldn’t see before when we were blinded by the struggle? It is our hope that the three year dive into the bottom of the U has allowed something new and beautiful to grow out of the brokenness.
I share this story with you not for any sympathy or advice. I share it simply that you will know that you are not alone. If your marriage feels broken, if your community is falling apart, if your business is failing, take heart.
There is beauty that grows out of the brokenness. There is hope even in loss.
Yes it’s true that sometimes there is no stopping the cancer and someone or something dies. Your marriage may end, your best friend may die, you may lose your job or your home. We can’t change that, no matter how hard we try.
But that doesn’t mean it’s the end. It doesn’t mean you’re finished. It means that you’re finding yourself at the bottom of the U and someday, when you have let go and opened yourself up to some new possibility, the light will appear again and a new seed, planted into the compost of what has died, will begin to sprout.
In the Easter story, Christ had to give up his life on the cross before he was ready for his own re-mission. Only when his surrender was complete and death had taken him could he rise again and live out his calling to be fully God.
That story always makes me think of butterfly metamorphosis. A caterpillar must give up its caterpillar-self in the gooey mess of the chrysalis before it can emerge as a butterfly. In the same way, we have to release that which no longer serves us – let it fall broken in a heap at our feet – before we can emerge into the beauty that calls us forward.
It is my hope this Easter (whether or not the Easter story is part of your faith tradition) that you will find beauty in the brokenness, that you will recognize the value of getting lost, and that you will learn to see the light that peeks into your shadows.
And if you find yourself lost, somewhere on the journey through the U, consider joining us in the Pathfinder Circle. Your brokenness, your questions, your growth, your curiosity, and your grief will be held in a circle of grace.
If you’re ready to do this work, you might want to start with a journey through Pathfinder or Mandala Discovery. If you need a guide while you do the work, I will have some coaching spaces available over the summer and would be happy to work with you.
