by Heather Plett | Dec 28, 2011 | birth, mandala
This morning’s mandala started with a dark circle at the centre. A black hole with no highlights and no intricate designs to lend it beauty… just void.
It felt odd to start that way. Usually my mandalas are infused with bright colours. Almost immediately, I found myself wondering how I could lend light to the darkness, beauty to the ugliness. I felt uneasy, not wanting the darkness to take over.
Around the edges of the circle, I started adding smaller circles in increasingly lighter, brighter colours – trying to redeem the darkness, trying to edge it toward light, trying to move on to colour, variation, and hope.
And yet, when I neared the edges of the paper with bright yellow bursts emanating outward, it didn’t feel right. The uneasiness continued. I closed my book. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the place I’m in right now – neither the darkness, nor the feeble attempts at bringing in light.
After a bit of time, I opened my book again. Almost without knowing what I was doing, I picked up the black crayon and started shading over the coloured circles. This mandala was calling for darkness, not light. The light looked too garish against the dark – unwelcome in it’s boldness.
And then I knew what was emerging. Not a black hole, not a void, not an ugly place at all. Instead, a womb – a safe warm place for gestation, growth, and waiting for birth. Not unwelcome shadows, but rather the beginnings of growth. I thought back to the circular name-tags we were given in childbirth classes sixteen years ago – 10 centimetres; the amount our cervixes would have to dilate before we’d be ready to give birth.
This mandala was my birth canal, readying itself for the birth of something new.
It occurred to me how pertinent the birth metaphor is at this time of year. First we celebrated Winter Solstice, the emerging out of darkness into new light.
Then, in close succession, we celebrated the birth of Christ – the birth of hope, the birth of new life. Surrounded, quite appropriately, by our own families of origin, and, in particular, the women who birthed us into the world, we celebrate the hope of Jesus bringing grace and redemption through His birth. It’s a birth that changes us all, that shifts our paradigms and overturns our power structures.
Next weekend, we celebrate the birth of a new year – the turning of the calendar, a chance to start fresh.
Always, something is waiting to be born, and born again, and again. Sometimes we ourselves are in the birth canal, sometimes it is our dreams and vocations. Sometimes we are waiting, gestating, growing, and sometimes we are dilating, pushing, emerging.
The season of Christmas and the dawning of the New Year offers us an opportunity to reflect on what is waiting to be born for us now.
What has been gestating?
What is ready to emerge?
What will die if we don’t let it out of the birth canal?
How can we prepare ourselves for the birth?
As you prepare for the New Year, consider asking yourself these questions. Pick up some crayons and markers, create a mandala, and see what emerges. (And then come back and share it with us.)
by Heather Plett | Dec 22, 2011 | Uncategorized
On January 1, 2011, I finally started writing the memoir that had been percolating in my head for a few years. It’s about loss, growth, spiritual transformation, grief, pain, and the everyday beauty of life. I finished the first draft some time in the summer, and last month I decided that I wanted to finish the re-write before the end of the year. Yesterday, I finished it!
You know what else? That’s only one of the many things I’ve done this year. When I look back, I realize that I’ve done a LOT!
– I wrote a guest post for Magpie Girl, Rachelle Mee-Chapman (which helped inspire the thread for my book).
– I took a painting class and learned to use acrylics.
– I taught 5 classes and 1 seminar in the University of Winnipeg’s Professional Development program. I marked a lot of papers and exams. (And I just signed another 6 contracts for the next few months.)
– I worked as a story midwife for three people bringing books into the world.
– I created an art journaling workshop for the Spring edition of Connie Hozvicka’s 21 Secrets.
– I went on a solitary writing retreat.
– I spoke to a local business club about creative leadership.
– I produced a free e-book, Sophia Rises, with contributions from 21 wise friends.
– I launched my monthly newsletter in March and have sent out an edition each month since. (Sign up in that box on the right if you’re not already a subscriber.)
– I hosted an interview series called “Let go of the ground” about surrender and transformation, and interviewed Jen Louden, Desiree Adaway, Julie Daley, Barbara Winter, Cath Duncan, Chris Zydel, Tara Sophia Mohr, Amy Oscar, Christine Claire Reed and Connie Hozvicka.
– I created an e-workbook and course called How to Lead with Your Paint Clothes on and I led a circle of emerging leaders through the first offering of the course.
– I facilitated a workshop at a local leadership learning institute about How to Lead with Your Paint Clothes On.
– I interviewed 14 ALIA faculty members and created videos about what three words they believe contribute to change for good.
– On my 45th birthday, I launched an e-course called A Path for Wanderers and Edge-walkers. While I wrote the weekly emails and gathered interview responses, I did a lot of wandering.
– I attended ALIA Summer Institute in Columbus, Ohio, participated in their harvest team, did some graphic facilitation and story hosting, and was inspired in my leadership journey.
– I did some freelance writing for a variety of clients.
– I led a couple of leadership workshops for the Prairie Leadership Development Network, including one on community building vs. team building.
– I volunteered for a young feminists gathering.
– I went on a canoe trip with an amazing group of women.
– I created a free e-book full of tips from 26 writers on writing to impact change.
– I wrote a guest post about the benefits of walking for Dumb Little Man.
– I walked 100 km. on the Kidney March with Cath Duncan and Christina Greenway. I helped raise a lot of money for the Kidney Foundation.
– I was featured on the front page of our community newspaper in a story about the 100 km. walk.
– I taught an 8 week course in Creative Writing for Self Discovery.
– I created an e-book on Meaningful & Mindful Engagement in Social Media and helped a few clients expand their social media circles.
– I wrote a guest post for Oh These Wild Women: Stories from the Tribe on Roots of She.
– I taught a workshop on Emotional and Social Intelligence.
– I attended a workshop on Narrative Coaching with Dr. David Drake.
– I launched Global Listeners together with Desiree Adaway and together we hosted two learning calls about deep and soulful listening and community-building.
– I visited Occupy Toronto and was very moved by the experience.
– I started making mandalas more regularly and developed a process for question mandalas.
– I served on the board of UNPAC, a local organization committed to women’s equality and empowerment. I designed their annual report.
– I gathered a circle of local creative women entrepreneurs.
– I contributed to three books (two e-books and one hard copy – due out early in the new year).
– I became a faculty member for the Creative Grief Coaching Certificate program.
– I wrote 162 blog posts.
– I cooked a lot of meals, comforted crying children, went to a lot of sporting events, worked on keeping my marriage alive, spent a lot of time with friends, sat by my mom’s bed while she recovered from cancer surgery, went on a vacation to the beach, walked all over the city, washed a lot of laundry, connected with new friends, took a lot of photos, and did all of those other ordinary, beautiful things one gets to do in this one wild, precious life.
One of my challenges in the full time jobs I’ve had in the past is that I couldn’t always find enough variety to satisfy my curious, wandering, passionate heart.
Judging by this vast list of interesting things I’ve done this year, I’ve found the right path for me. More to come in 2012!
by Heather Plett | Dec 17, 2011 | Sophia, writing
This morning, I had the sudden urge to watch the sun rise over Matthew’s grave. I’d been working on the re-write of my book and was thinking about him in the early hours of the morning. And so, before anyone else was awake, I headed to the graveyard.
Something caught my eye when I got there. A statue of a woman, only about 50 feet from Matthew’s grave. Though she stands about 15 feet high, I’d never really noticed her before.
I carried my camera across the snow and took a few pictures of her. I wasn’t sure who she was. Mary was my first thought, but then I puzzled over why she was holding a book and standing in front of a globe and a stack of books.
It wasn’t until I started walking away that I had a sudden realization… she’s holding a BOOK! I came here (like I’ve done many times) for guidance about a book. She’s holding MY book! Only, what came out of my mouth was…
“She’s holding MY FUCKING BOOK!” (Yes, I swore. It was one of those moments.)
What I wrote in my journal was: “Sophia God is holding my book. I guess I’d better trust her with it then.” And with that thought came a huge sense of release and comfort.
I don’t have to worry about my book, or about how I’ll get it published or whether people will want to buy it. It’s in God’s hands. All I have to do is show up and finish it.
I don’t know what the statue is meant to represent to other people who visit the grave, but I know what she means to me. And I can’t help but be amused at the way she remained hidden from me all these years, until now, when I’m standing on the precipice of finishing my book and getting it into print (my hope for 2012).
Sophia God has a sense of humour. And a lovely way of bringing surprise and wonder into our lives.
UPDATE: After I wrote this post, I opened my daily email from Fr. Richard Rohr. At first I skimmed it, thought it didn’t interest me, and ignored it. But then I opened another email from a friend who’d quoted Rohr’s email, so I re-opened it. Wouldn’t you know it… December 17th is the day associated with Sophia, feminine wisdom. Don’t you love synchronicity?
Today, December 17, (according to the Antiphons) begins with the letter S for sapientia. Wisdom—sophia in Greek, sapientia in Latin, sabiduria in Spanish—was the feminine metaphor for the Eternal Divine, as found especially in the books of Proverbs and Wisdom. One might partner or compare Sophia with Logos, which is the masculine metaphor for the Divine. It is interesting that Logos was used in John’s Gospel (1:9-14) and became the preferred tradition, but Sophia was seldom used outside of the monasteries. On December 17 we invoke the feminine image of God as Holy Wisdom. – Richard Rohr
by Heather Plett | Dec 16, 2011 | Joy
1. The lacy pattern the sun is painting on the wall right now, aided by the tree outside my window.
2. The eclectic, chaotic Christmas tree decorated by my daughters with the ornaments they have hand-picked each year from the local fair trade store.
3. The miles of prairie roads that held hours of conversation between my friend Randy and I as we drove out of the city to explore.
4. Having a friend like Randy whose eyes light up over many of the same things that make my eyes light up – a good bookstore, books that deepen our spirituality and mindfulness, any opportunity to wander to a place we haven’t seen before, a glass of wine in the evening, deep conversation, art, etc.
5. A husband who loves to cook delicious food when friend visit.
6. More opportunities to teach than I expected would come my way when I started this journey a year ago.
7. The way creativity is showing up in unique ways in each of my children.
8. A day of Christmas baking with my mom, sister, niece, nephew, and daughters. And all of the tasty eating I’ve done since.
9. New ideas that keep popping up and inspiring me.
10. Partnerships with talented and wholehearted people that will result in some wonderful offerings in 2012.
by Heather Plett | Dec 15, 2011 | Uncategorized
The past couple of weeks, my energy has been consumed mostly with the two effective written communication classes I’m teaching at the university. That path has taken me through some interesting terrain lately, with a lot of ups and downs.
Discovering plagiarism… DOWN.
Having to create and administer an exam when I’m not convinced exams have value for this kind of learning… DOWN.
Spending nine hours marking that exam… DOWN.
Listening to students make their final presentations about pieces of writing that impacted them… UP.
Witnessing the courage of some of the students when they spoke closer to their hearts than they’re used to speaking in class… UP.
Seeing the looks of disappointment on the faces of international students who struggle in English when their exam marks were lower than they’d hoped… DOWN.
Receiving genuine apologies for the plagiarism… UP.
Hearing several students say “I’m glad you’ll be teaching us another class after Christmas.”… UP.
Yesterday was a particularly interesting day that saw both ups and downs within the span of a few hours.
After lunch (of a full day class), I walked into a classroom full of angry, frustrated students. They’d just received some bad news about their program and the certification many of them hope to apply for after graduation. I’d planned to spend the afternoon playing a lighthearted game that fit with the day’s topic on writing persuasively, but with so much negative energy in the room, I knew there wasn’t much point… DOWN.
I set aside my plans for the afternoon, and offered the students the space and time to work through some of their frustration. Some strong words and a lot of emotion (including some tears) showed up in the room. I let it surface, and then (playing the role of facilitator rather than teacher) I tried to gently guide them in the direction of some positive action. They talked about how they could use the persuasive writing skills we’d talked about just that morning to try to change the situation they were in.
In a little over half an hour, they seemed ready to move on. Knowing it was a risk to move into a game with so much raw emotion in the room, and yet believing that it might be just the right thing to help diffuse the situation, I introduced the game. It was a version of the Dragon’s Den, where teams of 4 were each given a brown paper bag with a random item in it. They had to come up with creative ideas and persuasive language to convince the panel of “dragons” that they should invest in bringing that item to market. (I have my daughter Julie to thank for the idea.)
The game was more successful than I could have imagined. We laughed – a LOT. One group turned a seashell into an all-natural shaver. Another group had a frog business card holder that doubled as a cookie maker. A third group had a bag of incense that could calm your holiday stress and work as an aphrodisiac once the stress was gone. Another group had a small wooden container that worked as a weight loss device called “Fit it and eat it” – whatever you could fit into the container, you could eat. The last group had a toy that worked as a top, a stress reliever, or a hair accessory… UP
By the end of the day, students were leaving the class laughing and full of new resolve and maybe even a little bit of hope. One thanked me publicly for the afternoon, and several thanked me privately as they left the classroom.
It was one of those days that helped me remember what a privilege it is to be in a classroom with people as they learn and grow. I have no doubt that they learned more from the conversation that took place and the game that was played than they could have possibly learned from any lecture I might have done. (And certainly more than any exam they’ll write.) I also have no doubt that the group has become a stronger community than they were before.
The experience helped solidify my core values as a teacher. I value outside-the-box thinking. I value conversation. I value integrity. I value play. I value community. I value wholeheartedness. I value laughter. I value stories. I value transformative learning. I value risk-taking. I value collaboration. I value the unique wisdom and journey of each person in the room.
Though I sometimes resist the program restrictions placed on me, I am grateful that I have the opportunity to create space for the kind of learning and growth I believe in. It is an honour and a privilege to serve as a guide for the students who come to learn in my classroom.
