by Heather Plett | Apr 15, 2014 | Uncategorized
This post is not a completely thought-out post that feels clean in my brain like some of my posts do. It’s more like a conversation, a contemplation, a meandering through some questions that are on my heart.
I’m on a quest to understand more deeply what it means to live authentically. Almost all of my work – my coaching, workshops, writing, and teaching – is centered in that quest. I want to live authentically and I want to help other people do the same. I delight in those beautiful moments when someone sitting in front of me – in a circle I’m hosting, in a coaching conversation, etc. – admits something that emerges from deep in the vulnerable recesses of their heart, and in that moment takes a step into authentic living.
But… even though I’ve done so much of my work in this realm, I still find myself wondering what it really means to live authentically, why it’s so hard for many of us to do so, and what conditions best support authentic living.
With those questions (and more) on my mind, here are some of my random thoughts on authenticity…
1. Authenticity is a journey, not a destination.
I don’t think you ever arrive at a city called “authentic” and then set up camp there. All of your life, you’ll be on a quest to discover who you are and how you can live in that truth more fully. You’ll try new things, test out new ways of being in relationship, realize that some of those things work for you and some don’t, and then you’ll try again. At the same time, there will always be forces working against your quest for authenticity. Those forces – your own fear of failure and rejection, the voices of your ancestors, the oppression of your lineage, the judgement intrinsic to your religion, etc. – will try to convince you that it’s much safer living behind a mask.
Carl Jung used the term “individuation” to define “the process by which individual beings are formed and differentiated [from other human beings]; in particular, it is the development of the psychological individual as a being distinct from the general, collective psychology.” Essentially, individuation is our quest for authenticity. As we mature into adulthood, we individuate, separating ourselves from the worldviews of our parents, the teachings of our childhood, the indoctrination of our religion, etc. There is a risk inherent in individuation, and some of us never work up the courage to take that risk. (Living with three teenagers has been an immense opportunity for me to learn about the individuation journey. Each time they disagree with me, I try to remind myself that they are learning who they are apart from me.)
2. The journey to authenticity is not a linear journey.
Sometimes you’ll grow in authenticity and courage, and then something will happen to make you feel unsafe, and you’ll shrink back behind a mask (or behind the safety of the rules of engagement you learned in your youth). It might be a change in a relationship, a big move that finds you in a place where you don’t feel at home, or some kind of trauma that halts your growth. Or sometimes you’ll be part of an authentic community and you’ll feel at home there, but the relationships will change, betrayal will happen, you’ll grow in ways others in your community haven’t, or people who model authentic leadership will move away and the community will cease to show up in an authentic way for each other. This is not failure – it’s simply a detour along the journey and an opportunity to learn new things about yourself and/or your community.
3. Authentic living is supported by spiritual practice.
Authenticity takes a lot of courage, resilience, and self-reflection, and these things are best supported by a spiritual practice of some kind. Spiritual practice helps you peel away the layers of ego to reveal the authentic self underneath. It also helps you stay grounded, letting the waves of self-doubt and fear of rejection pass over you without destroying you. In mindfulness practice, for example, you are taught to simply label your thoughts and feelings as such and let them pass without attachment. They are not wrong, they just are. Let them come and then release them. When I find myself getting lost in an ego-place, with fear of rejection threatening my quest for authenticity, I go for a long walk in the woods and that helps me return to ground zero where the ego has less of a hold on my life.
4. Living authentically is easier when you are supported by people who make you feel safe.
When you fear judgement or rejection, it’s very difficult to stand in your truth and live authentically. Your ego will do its best to convince you that your safety is more important than your authenticity. When you’re alone in a crowd of people participating in an activity that runs contrary to your values, for example, it’s hard to find the courage to do otherwise. If you can find at least one person in that crowd who will stand by you when you buck the trend, your chance of success goes up exponentially. Growing up in a religious context that did not support women in leadership, for example, I found it difficult to speak out against what I believed to be oppressive. It was easier to simply go along with it and stay silent. Once I discovered there were other people asking the same questions as I was, however, I was able to find my courage and walk away from (or challenge) those places that did not honour me as a leader. When we create places of safety for each other, we all have the opportunity to live more authentically.
5. Shame is the greatest barrier to authentic living.
When you let shame control you, you hide. You convince yourself that you are unworthy and that nobody will love you. You don’t dare take the risk to reveal your heart to other people because you’re certain that your secrets will scare them away. As Brene Brown teaches, in order to let go of shame, you need to become vulnerable, to dare to share your shame stories with people who make you feel safe.
6. Authenticity doesn’t mean you have to “bear your soul” to everyone.
Sometimes people mistakenly believe that being more authentic means they have to share their deepest, darkest secrets on Facebook for all the world to see, but that’s not the case. You have to be judicious with how and with whom you share your most tender stories. If a relationship doesn’t feel like a safe place to be vulnerable, inquire into that feeling and ask yourself if it’s simply fear holding you back or a true sense that the person cannot be trusted. Sometimes the fear is unrealistic (and the person is ready to wholeheartedly accept you no matter what) and sometimes it’s well-founded (and the person really isn’t ready to see you in a different light). When my mom was dying, for example, I struggled with whether or not I needed to be more authentic with her and share some of the ways my belief-system and worldview had changed. In the end, I decided that the risk of wounding her was too great and I preferred to simply be present for her in the most authentic way that I could be without causing unnecessary pain or a fracture in our relationship.
7. Sometimes what appears as inauthentic is actually about respect.
Just as you don’t need to bear your soul to everyone, it’s not always necessary to offend people for the sake of your own authenticity. When you travel globally, for example, you may find yourself in situations where you’ll need to conform to the culture you’re visiting rather than risk offending people. Just because you cover your head in a Muslim part of the world, for example, does not mean that you’re being inauthentic about your belief that women have the right to choose how they adorn their bodies. Showing respect for people’s culture helps break down barriers that might keep you from meaningful relationships.
8. There’s a fine line between authenticity and over-sharing for the sake of getting attention.
I’m not sure what to say about this one. I don’t want to judge people’s motivation for sharing their stories. I simply want to suggest that sometimes people believe that being an open book is about authenticity when it’s really a cry for attention. (It’s a fine line and it’s hard to know when you’ve crossed it. If you find yourself on Maury Povich talking about your sordid affair, you may have crossed it.) If you’re seeking attention, you need to work on your self-acceptance first and foremost. If your quest for authenticity overpowers the conversation and means that someone else is silenced, then you need to step back and re-examine what it is you’re looking for and why you’re sharing. If you’ve found a loving, supportive community, they may help you recognize what it is you’re seeking and what is the most healthy way of having your needs met.
9. We are all responsible for co-creating Circles of Grace where people can live authentically.
As a citizen of the world, you are responsible for serving those around you and offering them safe places for vulnerability and growth. We do this together, all of us seeking healing, seeking truth, seeking grace, and seeking community. We do this by withholding judgement and allowing others to be fully seen in their weakness and their strength. We do this by holding space for each other’s courage. We do this by showing up in our own authenticity and modeling it for each other.
10. Authentic living is risky but it’s worth it.
You may lose relationships when you choose to live more authentically. You may have to stand up to people who don’t honour your truth or who threaten your safety. You may even need to quit jobs or leave communities in your quest for authenticity. These risks are real and your fear of them is not unrealistic. That’s why many of us choose to stay safe. BUT you won’t feel fully alive unless you take the risk to step more fully into yourself. Your freedom and your happiness depend on your courage to be authentic.
What are your thoughts on authenticity? I’d love to hear them. Be part of the conversation by leaving a comment, or sharing this post (along with your own thoughts) on social media.
If you are seeking a more authentic life, consider joining Pathfinder Circle, starting May 8, 2014.
by Heather Plett | Apr 10, 2014 | Uncategorized
I teach Creative Writing for Self-Discovery to help people discover themselves, but once in awhile, the tables are turned, and they help me discover myself. Last night was one such night. Krista dela Rosa, a participant, coaching client, and friend, gave me a rare gift. She gave me the gift of witnessing. This is what she wrote about me.
Shaman in the Woods
by Krista dela Rosa
Heather is a shaman in the woods.
It’s funny how everyone believes they will be able to find their way through the forest and everyone finds themselves lost before they’re even 100 yards in.
It was no different with me. I entered the forest of self-employment sure I would be able to stay on the path. It couldn’t be that hard to follow, could it? But by the time the curtain of trees closed in on me, I was tripping over roots, circling the same boulder and feeling incredibly panicked about my situation.
I stumbled into her glade pretty tossed around and torn up. Her tent is eclectic, patched together from bits of canvas, leather and fabric left behind from other travellers who have found her before. There’s a small group of people crashed on makeshift cots beside the tent and a few more are gathered around the fire, comfortably quiet and each meditating on their own far-off thoughts.
She smiled, brushed me off and gave me a cup of tea. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she tells me.
“How did you know I was coming?” I wonder.
She shrugs. “I collect wanderers. They seem to find me, anyhow.”
“Do you live here?” I ask.
“For now. Until I move again.”
We sit by the fire. The other people smile at me, but they don’t speak just yet.
“I need to get to the other side of this forest,” I tell her. “Do you know the way?”
“Nope,” she answers.
“But I’m lost. Can’t you help me?”
“Sure, I can help you. But you’re not really lost.”
“I’m not?”
“Of course not! Because wherever you go, well, there you are!”
I find it hard to laugh at her humor.
“But don’t you eventually want to leave the woods? Make it to the other side?” I press.
“I used to, once upon a time. When I first came in here, my goal was to get out as fast as possible. I got lost, like everyone does, but strangely, I felt more and more at home in the woods and less and less inclined to get out. And even though the forest seemed intent on beating me up – I managed to find all the swamps, cliffs, poison ivy and hornets’ nests in here – I felt such a kinship with this place, I had to seriously rethink my ‘end goals’.
“And then I met the deer.”
“The deer?”
She nods, taking a sip of her steaming tea.
“She and I stared at each other for what felt like hours. And then she turned and walked away. I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to go after her. I followed her for days – it might have been weeks, actually, and when I finally lost her, I found myself in a glade much like this one. I decided to stay for a bit – I had nothing better to do – fashioned a tent out of the supplies I had and the things I’d scavenged along the way. Almost immediately, the first wanderer found me.
“We talked a while, laughed, cried, created. I gave her a few of my tools and eventually she found the courage to leave and forge a new path for herself.
“The same thing happened with four or five more people and then the deer came back. I packed up and followed her again and found myself in a new glade. More people found me. We exchanged stories and tools. I had tools they seemed to need and they had tools or other items that I needed, so we would trade and they would move on.”
“And everyone who finds you wants your help?”
She chuckles wryly. “Of course not. Some people tear through, rip things apart, insult and defame me and spit in my tea. Not every wanderer is able to admit that they’re lost.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t really lost,” I challenge.
“You’re not – if by ‘lost’ you mean hopeless, weak, insecure, unable, unsuccessful or any other negative adjective you want to come up with. Lost just is. It has no intrinsic value. It’s simply a state of being in which you are given the opportunity to see yourself and your circumstances more clearly and possibly make new choices.”
The people around the fire nod thoughtfully at that. Perhaps this is what they have each been mulling over. I chew on that thought a bit, cupping my tea cup close and letting the steam waft over my face. Finally I ask, “Is it okay if I stay for a bit?”
She grins. “I’m pretty sure we can find some space for you.”
Over the next few days, I linger, at times crashed on a cot beside the tent, at times thinking quietly by the fire, at times in deep conversation with the other wanderers or Heather herself. Several nights I wake screaming from nightmares, but there always seems to be a hand nearby to touch my shoulder and ground me back into the earth.
Heather lets me rummage through her tent to try see if there’s anything she has that feels right to me – a backpack, an axe, a tinder box, a shawl. She speaks to me in the language of story – and it feels so achingly familiar. It draws me deep into myself and resonates profoundly with the child in me who loved story more than anything else in the world. Ego can’t compete and begins to thrash wildly in what I hope are throes of death.
And then one day I see it – the hawk perched on the lower-most branch of a giant oak at the edge of the glade. I recognize him. He hung around a lot when I was pregnant with my sons. We stare at each other for a while and I know that it’s time to move on from this place.
“I think I have to go,” I tell Heather.
“Of course,” she says. “Did you get what you need?”
“I think so. For now anyway.” I clutch the journal I found in her tent – the one that managed to deconstruct my brain and recall the storyteller in me.
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be surprised if you find yourself returning to the centre of the woods again. The path is rarely a straight line. It’s more like a labyrinth – you have to circle back several times to make your way out.”
“Will I find you again?” I ask, suddenly unsure whether I was truly ready to leave this safe haven.
“If you need me, just follow the deer. And there will be others along the way.” She leans in close and gives me a sly smile. “I’m not the only one in here.”
We embrace for a while and I turn towards the hawk on the tree. He’s flapping his wings, anxious to be going. I nod to him – to myself – and take a single step forward. He screeches loudly and takes off, alighting at the top of a tree about 50 yards further into the forest.
I look back at Heather for assurance. She hands me a travel mug full of hot tea and a warm biscuit.
“You’ll be just fine,” she says.
“I’ll bring this back when I find you again,” I tell her, holding up the mug.
She laughs. “You know, that is the one thing that never seems to run out around here.”
I do laugh at that. I have also found travel mugs to have the strange ability to reproduce when you aren’t looking.
I take another step forward. And then another. And then one more and before I know it, the forest has closed around me again, the camp swallowed up in its foliage, and all I can see is the hawk, waiting for me at the top of the tree just ahead.
I have no idea where I am going or what the path will look like or how I may have to forge it, but I’m less afraid now. I marvel a little at how it’s not thirst or hunger or even pain that will cripple a traveler – it’s loneliness. And now that I know that shamen like Heather, and even other wanderers like me, are in these woods, I feel a lot more confident in my ability to stick with this journey.
I fix my eyes on the hawk and carry on.
by Heather Plett | Apr 9, 2014 | Uncategorized
You’ve taken a big plunge, stepped into something scary, followed your heart, and made a big sacrifice. Now you desperately want to believe what Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams lead you to believe… “if you build it, they will come.”
But… when you put yourself out there and do that BIG SCARY THING (promote a workshop you’ve been longing to teach, apply for the job you are convinced is right for you, launch a new website, create a work of art, etc., etc.), well…
They don’t come.
Nobody registers for your workshop. The job is offered to someone else. The story you sent to a magazine is rejected. And your mom is the only one who watches your new Youtube video. (Twice, because she didn’t understand it the first time.)
What do you do next? Exactly what every other human being on the planet has done in the face of rejection… You second-guess yourself. Maybe you followed the wrong dream. Maybe you built the wrong “it”. Maybe you’re delusional. Maybe you’re not as talented as your mom thinks you are. Maybe you wasted all of your money on art classes that were useless. Maybe you’re just destined for failure. Maybe you should just be satisfied with a job at MacDonalds because you’ll never amount to anything else.
Let me tell you a little secret that the “success in ten easy steps” motivational speakers might not tell you…
Rejection is part of the journey.
You know all those “overnight success” stories you’ve been reading on the internet that have convinced you that following your dream should be easy and your path to riches should be smooth? They’re not telling you a story that’s worth paying attention to.
The stories you need to pay attention to are the ones where people poured their blood, sweat, and tears into something, stumbled repeatedly, learned a lot of valuable lessons in the stumbling, got back up and tried again, had a small success, stumbled again, had a bit more success, stumbled some more, and finally got to a place where their herculean effort paid off and there was a little ease. Then, just when things got easy, it was time for them to step into something bigger, and… guess what? They stumbled again.
The most important lesson I’ve learned since I took the big risk to quit my job and follow my dream is this…
A dream won’t get you where you want to go without resilience as its companion.
A dream is only half the story.
Dealing with rejection is not the kind of expertise I was planning to develop when I started this journey, but it happened anyway. For every article I’ve had published, I’ve received half a dozen rejection letters. For every workshop I’ve successfully hosted, I’ve canceled two because of low registration. For every e-course I’ve taught, I’ve dropped at least one that few people showed interest in. For every public speaking gig I’ve gotten, I’ve been turned down for two proposals I submitted.
Is it getting easier? Yes it is. I don’t face nearly as much rejection anymore and people are beginning to seek me out now more and more often. But that didn’t happen until I’d put in my time building relationships, taking chances, and picking myself up after failure.
If you’re not prepared to fail, then you’d better not take a risk. Stay safe. Tuck your dreams away. And live a mediocre life.
If – on the other hand – you can’t live with yourself unless you follow the nudging that’s keeping you awake at night, then get ready to fail, and get ready to pick yourself up off the ground and try again.
Here’s what I’ve learned about how to get through the rejection.
1. First, let yourself feel the sting of it. There’s no point in denying that rejection hurts. Even after years of it, it still stings when it happens. You’re better off letting yourself feel it now than stuffing it down deep and then having it resurface in less healthy ways later on. Grab some tissue, soak in a hot tub, and let yourself cry if you need to.
2. Next, do something that makes you feel good about the world. This is not about avoidance, it’s about finding a healthy way to transform the hurt. I usually go for a walk after the sting of rejection. The combination of nature and body movement helps me work through the hurt to a healthier place.
3. Remind yourself of all the successful people who failed before becoming famous. Stephen King’s first novel was rejected 30 times. Thomas Edison failed 1000 times before creating the light bulb. Van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime. For more inspiration, read the website 100 Famous Rejections. You’re in good company!
4. Ask yourself “is there something I could have done differently?” Do this only when you’re feeling better about yourself so that your answer is not about beating yourself up. This is an honest reflection of how you could tweak whatever you’re creating or offering to bring it closer to what people might be looking for. For example, the first couple of times I offered Mandala Discovery, I included conference calls and a more collective learning environment. Only a half dozen people showed up each time. I put it on hold for awhile and contemplated whether to quit offering it, or change it. Once I tweaked it and made it more of a personal journey through 30 prompts, with the option of sharing on a Facebook page, registration jumped considerably and 50-75 people signed up each time I offered it.
5. Remind yourself that you’re being faithful to your calling and the outcome is not your responsibility. This is not a cop-out (because you do need to take responsibility for your effort) but it’s a practice in trust. If you trust that you are meant to be doing this work, then the right people will show up at the right time. It might only be after you’ve invested a few years in building relationships with the right people, but consider all of the valuable groundwork you’re laying while you’re doing this work. It’s not wasted effort.
6. Trust that there are sometimes reasons why you’re not meant to succeed right now. I was once turned down for a job I was sure I’d get and was devastated. A few months later, however, I was offered a much better job that was even more suited for me. A year and a half ago, I put a lot of effort into developing a one-day retreat, and only one person registered. With great disappointment, I canceled it. Then my Mom’s health took a turn for the worse, and on the day I would have been facilitating the workshop, I was planning her funeral. The timing wasn’t right and it was much better that I’d canceled it early rather than having to reach everyone and refund their money in the middle of my huge loss.
7. Try, try again. Dreams can be hard task masters. They won’t leave you alone easily. If you give up, you’ll live with the regret for the rest of your life. Sometimes the right choice is to put a dream on hold and wait for better timing, but at least be faithful in showing up again and again with your best effort. Each time you try, take the lessons from the last failure with you. Each failure adds to your wisdom.
8. Find people to support you. Rejection is much easier to get through if you’re surrounded by people who believe in you no matter what. Look for places where you can connect with other people who are also pursuing their dreams. Create a circle of support. Consider joining a mastermind that will keep you accountable.
If you build it, they might not come. But keep building it anyway. Eventually, they’ll come.
Note: If you’re looking for support as you grow your dream, Pathfinder Circle can offer you that.
by Heather Plett | Apr 7, 2014 | Uncategorized
“If we all did the things we are capable of doing we would literally astound ourselves.”
Thomas Edison
In last week’s blog post, I wrote about daring to stand in the trembling. I first recognized the trembling a dozen years ago when I taught my first course on creativity and spirituality. Since then, I’ve experienced it many times. It’s the signal my body sends me that I am in my right work, serving my right people. It’s like a divining rod that lets me know that I’m standing above water.
How do you experience the trembling? All over your body, in your heart, in your throat, in your legs?
Sometimes we assume the trembling is only fear or insecurity and we do our best to stay safe and step away from whatever causes it. When we do that, we fall short of our calling and don’t serve the better world our hearts know is possible.
I want to invite you to step into your own trembling and to find the path your trembling is pointing you toward. I want to stand there, in the trembling with you, holding your hand if you need it, reminding you of your courage, and coaxing you to step forward.
I want to invite you into the Pathfinder Circle.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned since I first recognized the trembling in my life is this… It’s much easier to find the courage to stay in it when you are in community with supportive, like-minded people.
Pathfinder Circle is such a place. It’s an intimate circle that will meet for 8 intense and intentional weeks. The ten participants will be invited on a journey through Pathfinder: A creative journal for finding your way. You’ll receive encouragement, support, and guidance as they seek the calling that takes them deep into their own trembling.
If you feel yourself at the edge of something new, something scary, and something bigger than you’ve ever stepped into before, then Pathfinder Circle is for you.
Join us now and we’ll begin on May 8, 2014. Register soon to secure one of the ten spots.
If you’re curious about what Pathfinder Circle will be like, below is an excerpt and some journal prompts from Pathfinder that will help you find your courage.
A Basket of Courage
“When we look for what’s right, instead of what’s wrong, we are able to see the good in every situation and every person.” – Debbie Ford
Appreciative Inquiry is a system most frequently used for organizational change which also has a lot of value in personal transformation. Instead of asking “What’s going wrong and how can I fix it?”, Appreciative Inquiry asks the question “What’s really working well around here and how can we do more of it?”
What we focus on becomes our reality.
If we focus on our problems, we become mired in the problems and can’t see our way through to the future. If we focus on our gifts, we give our energy to those gifts and we nourish and grow them. We are more confident moving into the future if we are looking at the strengths that carried us through the past than we are if we focus solely on the places where we failed.
To do an Appreciative Inquiry on our own lives, we need to focus on what has life, meaning and value. It’s about collecting our personal stories, asking good questions, and imagining how the meaningful stories from our pasts can help shape our futures.
One of my favourite Appreciate Inquiry practices is something I call the Basket of Courage Stories.
Along your pathfinding journey, imagine that you are walking through an orchard. You’re carrying a basket and filling it with fruit that you’re picking from the trees as you walk. This is the food that will nourish you in the journey later on, so you want to pick fruit wisely.
There is some fruit that has already fallen to the ground. It is juicy and smells heavenly, but you know that it has fallen because it is over-ripe – past its prime. You don’t want to bring that fruit along, because it will rot before you have time to eat it, and there’s a good chance it will cause the other fruit in your basket to rot prematurely as well.
There are wormholes in some of the fruit still hanging on the trees, and you know that you don’t want to pick those either because there will almost certainly be worms destroying the fruit from the inside.
You’re looking for plump, nearly ripe fruit that will nourish you and fill you with strength later when your energy flags. You can only carry so much without weighing yourself down, so you don’t want to waste space in your basket with fruit that’s over-ripe, that has wormholes, or that won’t taste good.
Sometimes we waste a lot of our energy carrying the fruit that will never feed us well.
The just-right fruit in your basket represents the courage stories that you will carry with you into the future. This is your Appreciative Inquiry that will help you grow your life and use your gifts in even more beautiful ways. In your moments of weakness, further down the path, when you begin to doubt your ability to complete the journey or doubt that you have enough courage to face the dragons, the courage stories will nourish you and give you strength.
Let’s begin to collect some of those courage stories that you’ll carry with you as you continue this journey. First, let’s take a look at what courage is.
Courage is not the absence of fear, it’s the choice to step forward despite it.
Fear is a natural and necessary part of life. Without fear, we do irrational things – we hurt people we love and we never learn to recognize danger or the deep longings in our hearts.
Fear can be very useful to us. It keeps us from getting hurt when we spot an angry dog foaming at the mouth. It reminds us to lock our doors at night. It sends us physical signals – sweaty palms, racing pulse, trembling lips – when we need to protect ourselves. In this context, fear is a life-preserving reaction to a recognizable danger.
The problem is not that we HAVE fear in our lives, the problem is that we let fear CONTROL us and keep us from the things our hearts are longing for.
When we have courage, we feel the fear, we acknowledge it, and then we decide that fear is not in the driver’s seat. Fear may still be our companion on the journey, and it might even help us navigate some difficult terrain, but when courage is in charge, fear takes a back seat.
Courage is simply taking a step – even just a small step – in the direction our paths are calling us, even when fear tries to hold us back.
Courage is opening our mouths to speak when we’re sure nobody in the room will agree with us.
Courage is kissing our children good-bye when they leave the house to go places where we can’t keep them safe.
Courage is saying no when a friend asks us to help them when we know that we are in desperate need of self-care.
Journal Prompts
The last time I was courageous was when I…
When I was a child, I stepped into courage by…
The most courageous act in my life was…
Today’s simple small act of courage was (or will be)…
The area in my life that I need more courage is…
Creative Journaling
Draw a large basket full of fruit. (Or find a colouring book image online and print it.) On each piece of fruit, write a few key words from each of your courage stories. Imagine that you are carrying this basket on the journey with you, feeding on these morsels of courage when you need them most.
by Heather Plett | Apr 3, 2014 | Uncategorized
A dozen years ago, I taught my first class on creativity and spirituality. A small circle of women gathered each week to give themselves permission to play, to explore creativity as a spiritual practice, and to exhale deeply.
Each week, with our hands in clay or paint, we cracked open the vulnerable places in our hearts that held the shame of our unworthiness, the fear of our failure, and the resistance to allowing ourselves to do that which brought delight.
Almost every week, I found myself in the middle of “the trembling”. I’d spent most of my life ignoring my body, so I didn’t recognize at the time that it was sending me powerful messages. As I’d host the women’s stories of heartbreak, fear, shame, and triumph, my whole body would begin to tremble, like it was shivering from cold. I’d have to clench my jaw sometimes, or hold my hands under the table, afraid my shaking might be seen.
At first, I chalked it up to nervousness. This was brand new work – work I’d been longing to do for years – and I didn’t know if I would succeed.
But it wasn’t nervousness (or at least it wasn’t only nervousness). I’d done much scarier things in my career (like hosting press conferences for Prime Ministers) and none of those scary things had caused the shakes like that.
In the words of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the trembling came in those moments when I was in flow… “completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.”
This was so much more than nervousness. This was the message my body was sending me that I was in my right work.
That class led to other classes, to other circles, to other soulful conversations, to other art-making, and to other work that made my body vibrate. It was the beginning that eventually lead to everything I do now.
The trembling showed up again and again, while working with coaching clients who dare to crack their hearts open, while hosting women’s retreats where tears reveal the most honest truths of the heart, while inviting corporate clients to risk exposing themselves in meaningful conversations, and while writing blog posts that come from a deeper place of knowing than anything I’ve tapped into before. The trembling tells me I am on the right path, doing the right work, talking to the right people.
When I hosted the first call for the Idea Incubator, I invited people to share where in their lives they are feeling the trembling. As they shared what was cracking their hearts open, I felt my own trembling begin again. This is my work. These people with open hearts and brave dreams are my people. I stand here, trembling with them.
What if, the first time it showed up, I’d simply interpreted the trembling as fear and learned to shy away from it in the future? What if I’d never taught another class because I was too embarrassed to be seen with shaking hands? What if I’d been careful to stay in work that never made me tremble?
What if YOU ignore the trembling? What if you take the safe road? What if you never dare to let yourself be scared? What will you miss?
The trembling is our messenger. It’s trying to get our attention. It’s trying to wake us up and point us in the direction of our hearts’ longing.
Don’t ignore the trembling.
This post is not a completely thought-out post that feels clean in my brain like some of my posts do. It’s more like a conversation, a contemplation, a meandering through some questions that are on my heart.
