by Heather Plett | Jan 11, 2012 | Uncategorized
One of the great blessings of this past year has been the many opportunities I’ve had to partner with other people and to contribute to some beautiful products. Here’s some news about a few products I’ve contributed to, and a few other things you might like to know about:
I’m honoured to be a contributor to Shahrzad Arasteh‘s lovely book Nourish Your Career. Shahrzad is a holistic career counselor and a beautiful person who’s been gracious enough to share her wisdom with the students in my communication classes a couple of times. Her book is full of great tips not only about your career but about your life. One of the fun things I love about it is that she asked contributors to share career tips AND a favourite recipe, so you get lots of good advice, and then you get to nourish yourself with great food. You can order it on her website or on Amazon.
I was thrilled when Ariane Hunter (a talented photographer and lovely person) invited me to contribute to this beautiful free e-book. It’s full of inspiration and insight that began with the question, “What is the key ingredient to living an inspired, purpose-driven life?” My contribution is about two of my favourite things, mandalas and questions. You can download it for free here.
As many of you know, I walked 100 km. with Cath Duncan, largely because we became bonded through our shared grief stories. Cath and I have had a lot of conversations about the journey through grief and about how we can help other people through their own unique journeys. Together with Kara Jones, Cath has created the Creative Grief Coaching Certification and I’m thrilled to be one of their faculty members. I’ll be sharing a lesson on body art journaling and will be interviewed about some of the creative processes that I’ve developed for walking through grief. If you work in any helping professions (coaching, healthcare, therapy, chaplaincy, etc.), I’m sure this course will be immensely helpful for you.
I’ve been streamlining my products a little and decided to offer all of my e-books for the same low price ($15), or $35 for all three of them as a package deal. All three books are labours of love and I’m quite proud of them. Click “shop” to check them out. (And… please let me know if you have any trouble with the purchasing process. The first person who made a purchase after I made the changes found a few glitches – I hope they’ve been worked out.)
I’d really love to have a few more people sign up for my upcoming creative discovery class, so if you’re in Winnipeg and you need a creative boost, some life-changing self-discovery, and a whole lot of fun, come join us.
I put together a list of all of the topics I’ve developed workshops, classes and keynote speeches for, and the length of the list was a surprise even for me. If you’re planning an event, retreat, conference, etc. and you’d like to include any of these topics (or anything else I write about on my blog), I’d love to talk to you about how I can be of service to you.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – Teach Now is one of the best investments I’ve ever made. The wisdom I gained from it is put to use every time I teach (and I’ve been teaching quite a lot since I first took the course). The people behind it (Jen Louden and Michele Lisenbury Christensen) are some of the most beautiful, authentic people you’ll find online. I like the course (and the people) so much, in fact, that I signed up twice and then was a teaching guide the third time it was offered. It’s being offered again, and if you do any teaching, or dream of doing any, I’d encourage you to check it out.
by Heather Plett | Jan 9, 2012 | Creativity, mandala
This past week, I have been mired in discouragement.
It’s not uncommon for this time of year. The holidays are over and the dull days of winter are settling in.
It hit me hard this time – right after the excitement of the labyrinth at New Year’s Eve. Add to the seasonal blues a few pieces of bad news, some dreams that didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped, an argument or two, some money stress, and a little rejection I hadn’t anticipated, and I was stuck in the middle of a serious case of the doldrums.
There was a big ugly cloud hanging over my head and I wasn’t pleasant to be with. It’s not completely gone yet, but it’s getting better.
A silver lining to that black cloud turned out to be the mandala practice I’ve committed to for 2012. Despite my lack of energy or enthusiasm, I was committed to making a mandala every day. When I made that commitment, only a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t anticipate how much I’d need it so soon. It turned out to be my saving grace.
Yesterday, in the middle of one of my darkest moments, when I was questioning my worth because of the rejection I was taking way too seriously, I snuck away from my family, put my head on my desk and cried.
After the tears dried up, I picked up my mandala journal. And then I did something I’ve never done before – I made a mandala completely void of colour. If you’ve seen my other mandalas, you know that colour is important part of me, so this felt like a significant departure – and yet it was one of the best things I could have done.
I made a lament mandala. Lament is one of those old words that we should reclaim in our vocabulary. According to dictionary.com, a lament is “a formal expression of sorrow or mourning, especially in verse or song: an elegy or dirge”. Laments feel too depressing to celebrate or honour, and so we mostly ignore them or hide them in our own private journals. Unlike the writers of the Old Testament, we rarely publish our laments for the world to see. Our discouragement is kept in the closet.
And yet, because I know that many of you suffer from the same kind of discouragement that attacks me now and then (we’re all wonderful flawed humans), I’m going to share my lament mandala. I love the process and I love the result. I think it’s a powerful tool for anyone who needs to find a path through their discouragement.
I started with the word LAMENT in the centre, grey on grey, and then drew a winding path, representing my journey through discouragement, loss, sadness, pain, etc.

After my lament mandala was complete, something significant happened. I fell in love with it. I fell in love with it as a piece of art, but more than that, I fell in love with the big ball of humanity that is my discouragement, my sadness, and my rejection. I felt like a mother, nurturing her own child through the dark places.
And then I wanted to make another mandala. It felt like an unfinished process. My lament child was urging me to birth something else.
I opened another page and drew a circle. Inside the circle, I started writing my thoughts in random colours all over the page. At first, the things that were coming out were quite dark. “Why so much pain?” “Why so many road blocks?” “How do I deal with rejection?” and “Do I need to find a job again?”
But then, almost like magic, the words started shifting. The mandala-making was shifting my mood. I started to write more hopeful things, starting with the things I need, like “I need a miracle, Sophia”, and then moving on to a recognition of the importance of what I’m doing, “my work is important” and “I need to keep doing this work” and “I want to teach creative people.”
When it felt like there were enough words, I picked up the pencil crayon that felt the best at the moment. Surprisingly, it was orange – bright, cheery, hopeful orange. And in the centre, a glowing circle of yellow.
While I finished it, my observer-self showed up, looking on as if from above, witnessing myself doing my creative practice, recognizing the shift, and knowing how incredibly important it is and how much I need to continue to share it.
Like I said in my last post, THIS is important – this doodling, this mandala-making, this creative practice. THIS is my gift to share with the world. This isn’t just something I’m doing for fun – it changes people. It changes communities. It changes paradigms. It helps people enter the chaos, disappointment and lament, follow the paths where they lead us, and eventually emerge into new light.
This is too important not to share.
And so I will do my best to share it, starting with my upcoming workshop, Creative Discovery. (This one is an in-person class in Winnipeg, but I’ll create future online versions.)
If you want to learn more about mandala-making, laments, and other forms of creative practice, let me know in the comments. I want to hear what you need. I want to know how I can serve you in this work. I want to offer things that will help people work through whatever they need to work through.
Because THIS is my “original medicine” (in the words of Gail Larsen).
If you want to join me in this journey, please sign up for my newsletter (on the right side of the screen) to stay informed about future offerings.
by Heather Plett | Jan 4, 2012 | Creativity, mandala
Yesterday while making a doodle mandala (above) I had a flashback to all of those lengthy board meetings where I used to sit doodling through endless discussions about program parameters, policy adjustments, partnership agreements, and balance sheets.
Back in those board meeting days, I felt a little silly doodling – like I was an oddball at that table full of highly intelligent people with my pages full of childish scribbles – and yet I was management so I was expected to be present and the doodling helped keep me awake and semi-engaged.
It’s not that I wasn’t good at my job or that I didn’t fit at the table – I was and I did. I was really good at communicating about hunger and I knew how to lead people in doing the work of fundraising and educating. What I wasn’t very good at though, was feigning interest in programs, policies, and financial columns.
And so I doodled. At the very least, my right brain thanked me for keeping it happy.
Yesterday while I doodled and remembered those board meetings, I had a sudden epiphany. “What if THIS is the important stuff? What if the doodling – the stuff we all tend to dismiss as silly and trivial while the more important work is being done – is actually just as valuable as the programs and policies?”
Maybe we’ll get further if we throw doodling, art, play, and silliness into our conversations about policies and programs.
Maybe the world really needs coloured markers and vision boards as much as it needs perfectly balanced financial columns.
Maybe we’ll get better at solving the world’s big problems if we bring artists and dancers to the table along with the economists.
Maybe I would have served the board of directors as much (or even more) by teaching them to play and doodle than I was able to serve them with my carefully written reports and proposals on fundraising and social marketing.
Maybe the corporate world needs as many play sessions as there are board meetings.
Maybe the experts and decision-makers at every organization need to pair up with children and play games and have story time in between work sessions.
And that, my friends, is why I no longer sit at those board meetings. At first I thought it was because I wanted to make a living as a consultant, peddling those same skills that convinced that board of directors I was competent and worth what they were paying me.
But the truth is, I’m not there anymore because I chose doodling over policy discussions, creativity over branding, play over work, art over strategic plans, stories over annual reports. Not that those other things aren’t necessary – I just knew I could serve the world better if I followed my true passions and taught people how to make mandalas or tell stories instead of managing another strategic planning session.
Now, if I were to be hired as a consultant by a board of directors like the one I once worked with, I would hand them coloured markers, make them sit in a circle, and tell them to play, create, and imagine themselves into new stories. I wouldn’t sit through endless discussions about the way things have always been done – I would pass a talking piece around the circle and insist that they tell me their real stories. I wouldn’t make an action plan, I’d get down on the floor and paint a growing tree.
I don’t wonder anymore – I KNOW that doodling is important stuff.
by Heather Plett | Jan 1, 2012 | circle

Yesterday I had this crazy idea: “Since CIRCLE is my word for 2012, wouldn’t it be perfect to usher in the new year with a small circle of women at the centre of the labyrinth?”
Almost as quickly as the idea popped into my head, the gremlins tried to shut it down. “It’s too last minute. Everybody already has plans. You’ll look like a loser for not having plans on New Year’s Eve. Nobody will show up and then you won’t have the courage to walk through the dark woods to the labyrinth alone. And besides, if anyone sees you carrying candles in the labyrinth at midnight, they’ll think you’re foolish.”
Fortunately, I have a lot of practice wrestling gremlins, so I was able to silence them fairly quickly. Within moments of having the thought, I posted my idea on Facebook and sent an email to a few friends. Before long, three of them had said they’d be there (and several others wished they could). That was enough for me!
Just before 11, I gathered a few candles, a lighter, and our camping lantern and headed out the door. Except for one of my daughters (who has as many crazy, spontaneous ideas as I do), everyone in my family thought I was a little off-my-rocker. (One of them even said “what if a pedophile attacks you in the woods?” And I said “well, a pedophile won’t be looking for someone as old as me, so I’ll be safe!”)
Pulling into the all-but-deserted park, my heart did a little skip when I recognized one of the cars parked there and saw two women standing and waiting for me. They came! I don’t have to be crazy alone! A few minutes later, another car pulled up and two more women joined our little tribe.
It was a magical night. It was warmer than I’ve ever remembered New Year’s Eve being. The clouds in the sky glowed with the reflected light of the city, which in turn made the snow glow under our feet. I carried the lantern through the woods, but we never needed to turn it on.
I was nervous and a little giddy when we reached the labyrinth. It felt a little surreal that this was actually happening – that I had managed to manifest this with a crazy brainwave and a quick email.
Without much introduction, we began to walk the path of the labyrinth, one by one. It wasn’t easy to see the path in the snow, but I’ve walked it often enough that I could almost walk it blindfolded. At first, two women walked in front of me, but when they lost their way for the second time, they stepped aside and waited for me to lead the way. It felt like a little metaphor – accepting my place as leader when I have wisdom about the path that will help keep others safe.
Once, a woman behind me stumbled and fell into the snow. The woman picking up the rear stopped to help her back to her feet and the two of them enjoyed a giggle together. Another lovely metaphor for life.
The walk was as beautiful as I’d hoped. Snow crunched beneath our feet. Far off fireworks reverberated in the air. Occasional airplanes lit the clouds above us. It felt magical. It felt sacred. As I walked, I welcomed Sophia to walk with me.
At the centre of the circle, I took the candles out of my bag. “Even though we don’t need these for light,” I said as the other women joined me in the centre, “it’s important to have a flame at the centre of the circle to give us warmth and light and to hold the centre as we around the edge hold the rim. Imagine a bicycle wheel – there are invisible spokes holding each of us to the centre of the circle.” I handed the candles to the women and lit them. One of the women had her own candle in a glass candle holder.
There was only a tiny breeze, but it was enough to blow the candles out soon after we lit them. We huddled closer and re-lit our candles from the flame in the glass candle holder. Soon we learned that the best way to keep the candles burning was to hold them together and create a common flame, and then lean in, with our heads nearly touching.
“There are two questions I’d like to ask,” I said. “First, what do you wish to leave behind in 2011? If we had pencils and papers here, I’d ask you to write it down and then offer it to the flame to be burned.”
“And the second question is, what do you wish to invite in for 2012?”
One by one, we shared our secrets. I said that I wanted to leave behind my attachment to the outcome. “I want to let go of always feeling responsible for the results. When I offer up the gifts I feel called to offer, I want to do that with faith and confidence that I am doing the right thing whether or not the result feels ‘successful’.”
And then when it was my turn again, I said “I am carrying two things into 2012. Circle and light. I want to bring the healing power of circle to more people. And I want to be a light-bearer, helping people navigate in the dark.”
After we had all shared, someone looked at a watch and we discovered that it was past midnight. We’d ushered in the New Year with the flames we held in our hands, helping each other to keep a common flame burning, leaning in to protect it from the breeze. A circle of support and light. It was pure magic.
“Before we leave the circle, I’d like to offer you a blessing,” I said. “In 2012, may you find the path you need to walk on. May you continue to follow it even when that feels difficult. When you falter, may there always be someone there to help you get back on your feet and find your way again. May you hold your light boldly in the world and may you find a circle of friends who will help you protect that light from the forces that want to extinguish it. May you have the courage to lead when you need to lead and follow when you need to follow.”
And then we blew out the flame and wished each other a Happy New Year. Each of us left when we were ready, either along the direct path out, or along the same meandering path we’d taken to get in. I chose the meandering path. I needed a little more time to process what had just happened and to dream about what was to come.
Around the outer edge of the circle, I thought about all of the connections I’ve made with people who are bringing similar work into the world – people who are boldly carrying their own light and leaning in to join it to mine to create a stronger flame together. People who are holding the rim of the circle with me. With each footstep, I spoke the names of those people and offered them a silent blessing.
It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. Circle, light, labyrinth, wisdom, hope, support, women… all of my favourite things.
The blessings I spoke for others returned to me a hundredfold.
by Heather Plett | Dec 29, 2011 | circle, mandala

the labyrinth in winter
First came fearless in 2009. I challenged myself to step more boldly into my life. I overcame my irrational fear of paint tubes, took a painting class, started doing yoga, exposed my vulnerability to the team I was leading, and got a few bruises.
Fearless was followed with the journey in 2010. I got breast reduction surgery and journeyed into a new way of living with my body. I took up running. I journeyed to hell and back with my beloved. I took a trip to Halifax that changed my life. And, most importantly, I left my full time job, started this website, and journeyed into self-employment. What a journey it was!
After two intense years, I wanted something lighter for 2011, so I chose joy. I sought out my joy people and made connections with incredible people all over the world. I traveled to Columbus, Ohio for another life-changing week at ALIA. I walked a painful 100 km and was reminded that pain is part of the path to joy. I taught my first Creative Writing for Self-Discovery class and had more fun than I’ve had in a long time. I fell in love with mandalas. I purposefully sought out work that brought joy to my life, instead of simply that which paid the bills. It was an incredible year.
And now it’s time for a new word.
The word that came to me around the time of winter solstice is… circle.
Circle means so many things to me.
Circle is as old as the world itself. In fact, circle IS the world.
Circle is sacred.
Circle is labyrinth.
Circle is the dismantling of hierarchies.
Circle is mandala.
Circle is community.
Circle is equality.
Circle is the seasons.
Circle is completeness.
Circle is play.
Circle is feminine.
Circle is an invitation to Spirit.
Circle is womb.
Circle is birth.
Circle is art.
Circle is conversation.
Circle is storytelling.
Circle is ritual.
Circle is social practice.
Circle is indigenous knowledge.
Circle is covenant.
Circle is council.
Circle is social movement.
Circle is dance.
Circle is learning.
Circle is strength.
In 2012, I want to seek circle in every way that I can.
I will teach the elements of circle in my upcoming group facilitation class, I will use it in my Creative Discovery class and other classes, I will draw it in my mandalas, I will nurture it in my relationships, I will welcome it into my rituals, I will invite it into my upcoming offerings, I will continue to study it, and I will honour it in all of the work that I do.
In honour of this choice, I am also making this The Year of the Mandala.
It is my intention to use mandala-making as my primary spiritual/creative practice, to remind me of circle’s place in my life. I will try to work on mandalas every day, and hope to have completed 300 mandalas by the end of the year. Most mandalas will be in my mandala journals, but some will be on my body, some might be in the snow or sand, and some might be made of random objects I come across.
I invite you to create mandalas along with me this year. I’ve created a Flickr group where anyone is welcome to share mandalas they’ve created.
p.s. If you want to learn more about circle as a path for leadership and community-development, I highly recommend the books Calling the Circle: The First and Future Culture
, and The Circle Way: A Leader in Every Chair
. If you’re interested in making mandalas, I recommend The Mandala Workbook: A Creative Guide for Self-Exploration, Balance, and Well-Being
.