by Heather Plett | May 17, 2010 | beginnings, birthday parties, fearless, growth, journey, Leadership, Passion, personality, Uncategorized
My birthday is coming up on Thursday, and since my dear friend Michele is throwing a little celebration in my honour tomorrow night (if you live close enough, YOU are welcome – at least, if you fit the “ladies only” profile), I’ve decided that this year I’m going to celebrate a whole BIRTHDAY WEEK instead of just one day! Yes, I’m feeling horribly narcissistic about the whole thing, but I figured I’ve done a fair bit of sacrificing in the past month or two, so it shouldn’t hurt to have a little balance in my life. Giggle.
Seriously though, I feel like this birthday week marks some pretty big growth for me. Those of you who are regular readers will know about some of the big challenges that have forced me to plunge a little deeper into my heart to find out just who it is that resides there and what the source and shape of her strength is. When we open ourselves to it, challenge and struggle will usher in growth and acceptance, and that’s what I’ve seen happening in my own life.
There have been some pretty significant breakthroughs for me in the last two weeks, in my relationship with my body, my relationship with my loved ones, my relationship with food, my relationship with the divine, and my relationship with the core of who I am created to be. As I wrote a few months ago when I was recovering from surgery, I’ve been feeling like a caterpillar who has to give up the life she knows, commit herself to the cocoon, and wait for the transformation to come.
I just learned recently that in the cocoon stage, caterpillars actually break down completely into a gooey gel-like substance that has no resemblance to either caterpillar or butterfly. We have to give it up – whatever we believe ourselves to be – in order to emerge into the beautiful creature we are meant to be.
It’s true, isn’t it, that we are never finished growing? I feel like a sculpture that is forever being molded in the Sculptor’s hands.
There’s a bubbling energy in me this week that feels a little like what the butterfly must feel when she has the dawning awareness that it’s time to break out of the cocoon. I feel strong in ways I didn’t expect to feel strong – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I’ve been running, biking, praying, doing yoga – and a bunch of other little things that feel like they are helping me step into a new strength. The beautiful life-giving thing about it is, the more I step into this strength and share it with people around me, the more it is returned to me in affirming ways – like a lovely note from a cousin who’s heading out on a solo trip to the Grand Canyon and says it was partly inspired by what I write on this blog!
A month ago, when Marcel was in the hospital, I began to describe myself as a warrior because of the battles I had to fight as his advocate. And in a few weeks, I’ll be in a workshop at ALIA about “leaders as Shambala warriors”. I’ve never really thought of myself as a warrior before (maybe it’s my pacifist roots), and honestly, I often doubt myself as a leader because of some of the struggles I’ve had in this job that usually end up leaving me feeling like a failure. But something is shifting, and I’m trying to step into whatever it is that’s emerging.
No, this week is not about “look how great I am”. It’s more about “there is something powerful in what God is shaping my life to be and I want to celebrate the way I’m growing into it”.
Tomorrow night, our little celebration will include a bra-burning ceremony to mark the transformation to my body (through breast reduction surgery). In a strange and unexpected way, the surgery marked a turning point for me – a moment when I finally gave myself permission to want a new story for my body. It’s all been part of the metamorphosis process – letting go of old stories I tell myself and embracing new truths and new possibilities. I have learned to love myself in a new way since I let go of the weight that was cut off. I have learned to treat my body with new respect and gratitude (thanks in part to Geneen Roth’s book) and I am slowly becoming healthier for it. (I realize that might sound a little twisted – having plastic surgery to learn to love yourself – but it’s working for me.)
What I would really love is this… even though you might not be able to make it to the celebration tomorrow night, I’d be delighted if you would consider marking this week with me, on your blog, on Twitter, or just in the privacy of your own home.
Here’s what I’d like you to do… have a virtual “bra-burning” party! No, you don’t have to burn your bra (unless you want to!), but think of some old story you’re telling yourself about who you are (who you’re supposed to be by other people’s standards, what limits you, what you’re lacking, why you’re a failure), and burn it! Write it down on a piece of paper, light a candle, a lantern, or a big ol’ bonfire and BURN THAT SUCKER! Let it go! Give it up to the fire!
Do it in honour of my 44rd birthday, but more importantly, do it for you!
And take pictures, ’cause I’d love to see all that burnin’ energy!
by Heather Plett | May 10, 2010 | fearless, Leadership, Uncategorized
About 10 years ago, I picked up my first Margaret Wheatley book and knew fairly quickly that there was something unique about the wisdom I held in my hands. She wasn’t just spewing out old ideas about leadership and organizational structure – she was daring to paint a different picture.
This past weekend, I finished reading A Simpler Way, and can I just say – Wow. I don’t know if there’s a single page that doesn’t have something underlined on it and/or notes in the margins.
If you haven’t spent years of your life working in various organizational structures that have the ability to drive you up the wall with their bureaucracy, short-sightedness and lack of beauty, you might not find this book particularly interesting. But if you’re stuck in a system that regularly makes you think “isn’t there a better way?”, then this may be the book for you.
Meg Wheatley and her co-author believe that there IS a better way – a simpler way. She believes that if we look at the scientific order of things, we can see that nature draws us toward organization and structure BUT it does not draw us toward the kind of organization most of us are stuck in. It draws us toward organization that is mutually beneficial, creative, organic, messy, and beautiful.
Wheatley believes that much of the way we organize is based on a flawed view of evolution. If we base our world view on “survival of the fittest”, then much of the way we structure our organizations (and our lives) is bounded by fear. Build an organization (or a life) based on fear, and you need to put rules, policies, procedures, and strategic plans into place to keep people in line. Spend most of your time keeping people in line, and you’ll lose their creativity and passion.
If, on the other hand, we recognize that nature’s true way of evolving leads species to co-exist peaceably (and often in mutually beneficial ways), we begin to realize that our own innate desires and movement is toward positive growth for us and our organizations. We begin to fear less and create more.
In the book, the authors share a story of some scientists who made some new discoveries on Galapagos Islands that didn’t fit with Darwin’s theory on survival of the fittest. When there was a limited food supply for a few different species of finches, the finches evolved so that some with longer beaks learned to source food that was deeper in the cacti that they all fed on. Instead of fighting for the same food source, they worked it out so that they could co-exist in the same space.
That thought was revolutionary for me. We are MEANT to work together, to create together, to evolve together. It just makes so much sense! We are not meant to feed off each other’s failure or to compete for limited resources.
This morning, while the ideas of the book were still fresh in my mind, I got an email from our HR manager, reminding the managers that we need to submit “annual performance appraisals” for all of our staff. I have always chafed at this responsibility, and after reading the book, I started to understand why. It is based on a negative framework. Rather than starting from something positive, we put boxes around our staff and tell them they have to meet these standards of performance.
I replied to the email suggesting perhaps we could re-name them “annual growth reviews”. (Any better ideas?) Sure, it’s just a simple word change, but it will help me change my perspective. (After all, I work in a non-profit organization that’s all about helping people get access to food – seems like we should forge a different path than most organizations!)
It’s time to kick fear to the curb and see what we are cabable of creating together.
by Heather Plett | Mar 23, 2010 | beginnings, calling, dreaming, fearless, journey, Leadership, navel-gazing, Passion, Uncategorized
Not long ago, I wrote about how Maddie loves to build magical worlds under the dining room table. Recently I found her there, lying on her back, staring up at the bottom of the table. When I asked her what she was doing, she said “oh, I’m daydreaming. I have to do it here because Madame doesn’t let me at school.”
Now, I’m a big fan of daydreaming, so I told her to go ahead and do it at school – just hide it by pretending she’s reading! (I got away with that many times when I was in school! I still do!)
Well… what do you think I did this morning? I climbed under that table, where Maddie has her boxes, her magical stool, her stuffed toys, and now her Little Lovely painting from Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio, and I daydreamed! Because what’s a better way to spend a morning when you’re still hiding in your cocoon waiting for your energy to come back?
About five years ago, I worked my way through a book called The Path, by Laurie Beth Jones. Laurie believes in daydreaming too (though I think she calls it “visioning” – a grown-up version of the same concept). She suggests that you sit down and write a vision for the future, a fairly specific “day in the life” of the person you dream of being in five years. She says that in her experience, a lot of people who do that kind of visioning end up very close to what they write about – maybe not in five years, but somewhere along the way.
Yesterday I pulled out my five year old daydream. There are a few parts of it that have come true – like the part about my husband coming home after teaching in his first classroom and feeling good about having gotten through to at least one student. He’s finally got a full time teaching job and I don’t remember when I’ve seen him happier. It’s a pretty tough school, but he’s in his element, helping inner city kids realize the value of education.
There’s a big part of the vision though – the part that’s mostly about MY dreams as opposed to my husbands – that hasn’t been fully realized yet. If I wrote another “five year vision” it would probably contain essentially the same thing. It’s the long held dream of making my living as a full time writer/speaker/consultant.
It’s closer to coming true (now that Marcel has a full-time job), but I’m not quite ready to quit my job yet. I’m not in one of those “just putting in time to bring home a pay cheque” jobs, so it’s not one I have to run away from. A few of the blogs I read are about people who are excited about quitting “the man” and launching their own businesses. Well, I wouldn’t really be quitting “the man”. I did that six years ago when I left a secure, fairly high level job in federal government for non-profit. For me it would be more like quitting “the woman” – by which I mean the marginalized, impoverished women who are being supported by the incredible organization I work for.
I keep wrestling with it, in fact. There are times when I can hardly WAIT to walk away from a 9-5 job and sink my teeth into a life of writing, speaking, traveling, and teaching leadership and creativity workshops. But then there’s that little voice that pipes up and says “Hello!? Remember how lucky you are to have a job that gives you such a great opportunity to use your gifts in leadership, creativity, writing, etc., that fits so well with your passion for justice, and that lets you travel to some of the most interesting parts of the world in search of a good story and photograph.” And lately I’ve been excited about the new staff I’ve hired who bring lots of great energy and ideas and who are a pleasure to lead. There’s a lot of exciting potential going on that I would be sorry to leave.
The truth is, though, when I lie under the table and daydream, that old familiar dream comes back to me every time. I’ve got a book (or two) published; I’m traveling to conferences and retreats to speak to people on topics related to leadership, beauty and justice, and leading a creative life; and I’m writing, writing, writing.
The past six years at my job have been truly incredible. I’ve stretched in incredible ways, I’ve met some of the most amazing people in the world, I’ve slept in a tent on a farm in a remote part of Kenya, I’ve held hands with a young teacher with a beautiful soul on a tiny island in India, I’ve taken incredible photos all over the world, I’ve gotten to write lots of stories, I’ve learned more about leadership than I could have imagined possible, I’ve lead film crews through Ethiopia, India, and Bangladesh, and I’ve been reminded time and time again that some of my greatest lessons come from my failures.
I remember six years ago, when I first got the job, I said to a friend “this job will stretch me” and I couldn’t have been more right.
I don’t know for sure when the time will be right to leave this work I love. I’m not really in a rush. But I can’t let go of the idea that the past six years have been preparing me to step even more fully into my calling. The possibilities are endless, and I’m ready to ride the wave wherever it takes me.
What about you? I’d love to hear what would be in your daydream if you sat down and wrote about a day in the life of the person you want to be in five years.
by Heather Plett | Mar 16, 2010 | Beauty, beginnings, fearless, journey, Uncategorized
I’m writing this from my little cocoon on the couch. The big picture window lets me catch glimpses of the outside world, but until I am sufficiently healed from my breast reduction surgery, I remain mostly indoors, in this position, with a few good wisdom books, some green tea, my journal, my laptop, and a box of tissues within reach.
The last time I remember cocooning like this was in September 2000. I was in the hospital for a few weeks hoping the baby I carried would remain in his little cocoon long enough to emerge a beautiful strong butterfly. He didn’t, but that doesn’t mean a butterfly didn’t emerge. It was a transformative time for me, Marcel, and our family. Transformation that was brought on largely because of those three weeks I sat in the quiet little retreat space that my hospital room had become, holding space for the son who would never breathe but would change my world.
During that time, my friend Stephanie gifted me with a story about how a butterfly had become a beloved symbol for a woman who had gone through the loss of her dad. She also gave me a butterfly clip that I wore until I left the hospital. Amazingly, after that day, butterflies started showing up everywhere, including my 5th floor hospital window.
Even after I left the hospital without Matthew, butterflies served as a regular reminder of my son and the way that he had changed me. The following Mother’s Day, while we ate lunch outside with our family, an amazingly friendly butterfly, with one flawed wing, landed on the heads of almost everyone at the table. It was my son, coming to bless us on Mother’s Day.
This week, I’m cocooning again. I was resistant at first, wishing for the time to pass, wishing for friends to visit, wishing I could at least accomplish something. But then I listened to Jen Lee’s simple but wise podcast about how sometimes, when it looks like nothing’s happening, the truth is that everything’s happening. When Jen talked about the transformation that happens when she’s busy taking a nap, it triggered a deep, resounding “YES!” in me, and soon I was relishing my quiet little cocoon on the couch.
The thoughts that came after Jen’s podcast sent me to my bookshelf for an old friend. More than 20 years ago, a beloved teacher/mentor I had at the time, gifted me with “Hope for the Flowers“, a transformative little picture book about a young caterpillar who, after trying repeatedly to “reach the sky” by climbing to the top of a “pillar of caterpillars”, learns to give in to his true nature, climb up on a branch and spin a cocoon. Only once he is willing to take that risk and just be still is he ready to be transformed into the butterfly he is meant to become.
Re-reading that book for the umpteenth time reminded me of how valuable it had been, nearly 10 years ago, to pause from clamouring up my own “pillar of caterpillars”, and rest in my little cocoon with my unborn son as my spiritual guide.
With rather uncanny timing (isn’t that often how these things happen?) I stumbled on Lianne’s lovely (and free!) e-book that asks the provocative question “What is dying to be born?” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that question since I read through the book. (It’s beautiful and full of so much goodness!)
Wow! What is it that has to die in me in order to let something else be born? What do I have to be willing to abandon in this cocoon in order to emerge the butterfly I am meant to become?
Last year was a restless year. Despite a great job and lots of goodness in my life, I was full of some deep dissatisfaction. Try as I might, I couldn’t find the right way to FIX it. I tried some new things, took some new paths, restled with demons, but still the dissatisfaction lingered.
Until… well, until I was willing to do two of the things I’d been avoiding. Rest. And wait.
I haven’t quite figured out what is dying to be born in my life, but I know that I won’t figure it out with restless clamouring, trying to reach the sky.
I’m giving in, and spinning my cocoon. Some day soon, the body that I chose to transform through surgery, will carry me through the deeper transformation into my butterfly life.
by Heather Plett | Dec 30, 2009 | fearless
A year ago, I was feeling the need to let go of some of the fear in my life. I claimed “fearless” as my word for 2009, and to kick it off, I made a little video about it…
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_vLDSJnNh8&hl=en_US&fs=1&]
It’s been an interesting year. I took yoga for the first time, despite the fear of letting my clumsiness show. Yes, there was the odd time when I went left when the rest of the class went right and the teacher had to gently correct me, but I loved it none-the-less.
I took a watercolour class and fell in love with painting. In September, I went to Cleveland for a little more creative digging. I practiced calling myself an artist. Next week, I’m starting a drawing class, and I CAN’T WAIT.
I entered an international photo contest and was named one of the runners-up, I won a Communicator of the Year award for taking some chances and launching some big ideas, and – when a film project started hitting the rails – I stepped in and took over much of the leadership.
I launched a new website, held a big launch party, and then got a bunch of interesting people to write guest posts for me. But then I realized that I’d bitten off more than I could chew and this really wasn’t the direction I needed to take right now, so I swallowed my pride and shut it down. That probably took more courage than starting it in the first place.
It turned out, though, that the biggest lessons I had to learn about fearlessness were in the area of leadership. I wish I could tell you that I’ve conquered that mountain, but I’ve still got lots of climbing to do. And some of the climbing seemed to take me in the wrong direction.
There were a lot more leadership challenges this year than I’d anticipated. Almost a year ago, with great intrepidation, I bared my soul to my team and challenged them to be more honest with me and with each other. It was scary, but there were positive results that made it worthwhile. (I have the same retreat coming up in a couple of weeks again, and I’m approaching it with a healthy mix of hope that we’ve moved forward and fear that I’ll fall flat on my face.) A little later in the year, I put forward a huge proposal to the board for more funds and more staff, and though there was resistance, it was approved and I could move forward. I’ve hit lots of roadblocks since then, though, and some days I wish I’d kept those big ideas to myself. Some of the resistance came from within my team, and oh… I just get so weary of having to drag people forward when they don’t want to carry the vision. Plus, on top of all of that, there’s a never-ending court case that I can’t say much about, but that has caused a lot of stress (and way too many conversations with people who’ve heard lies about me) in the last 4 years.
I got a little more hopeful in the fall, when I started hiring new staff, but I’ve hit some major roadbumps since then, so the hope seems a little questionable right now.
What can I say about trying to live more fearlessly? Well… it has definitely opened me up to new experiences and new delights. I don’t regret the new things I’ve tried, especially in the area of exploring more art.
But with each step we take toward courage, there’s bound to be some force trying to push us back to where we were before. There’s no doubt that I am a stronger, more bold leader than I was a year ago, but the journey to get here has been fraught with rough patches, challenging relationships, road blocks, and snarls. I’m feeling pretty beaten up by it all right now. There have been many moments this past year when I’ve wanted to throw in the towel and just find a job where I didn’t have to carry the weight of responsibility.
But I will carry on, because, despite the challenges, I feel called to this role and I believe that I am making a difference. Last week, in the middle of one of my hardest days, a co-worker stopped me in the hall to say “I believe you’re doing the right thing.” She has no idea how much those simple words have carried me since. I believe I’m doing the right thing too, but it was so good, at that low point, to hear some affirmation.
For 2010, I’m chosing a word that results in less bruises. More on that tomorrow.
p.s. If you have a leader who’s working hard to do the right thing, PLEASE stop them in the hall to tell them you’re noticing. Leaders (especially middle managers) are usually the most under-appreciated, over-stressed in an organization. I speak from personal experience.
by Heather Plett | Dec 22, 2009 | art, fearless
At first, I hesitated to share this picture from my travels last week, even though it’s one of my favourite moments of the trip. Why did I hesitate? Because you can see just how much weight I’ve gained in the past six months, and… well… ugh. I hate that I’ve gained weight, but even more, I hate that it matters. Double ugh.
But here it is, none-the-less, because I like it, and it’s beautiful, and I’m trying to move past those issues. Really – I am. Look closer at the picture – past the size of my imperfect body, up to my face, and you’ll see a tiny smirk on my face. I was so happy in that moment – so full of what gives me pleasure in life.
This post is only partly about the weight thing. More than that, it’s about chipping away at things. I was in the magical studio of Regina Coupar and she was teaching my friend and me how to chip away at glass and stone to make tiny sparkly tiles for mosaic art. None of them were symmetrical or perfect, but each piece was just right. Blended together, these imperfect, assymetrical pieces make the most beautiful works of art.
It’s what I’m doing in my life too – chipping away at it. Trying to find the beauty at the centre of what looks like rough and ugly rocks. Trying to make the broken pieces into a work of art. Trying to trust the pain of the hammer and anvil. Trying to be brave enough to reveal what I’ve kept hidden under layers of protective covering.
I’m chipping away at what it means to be an artist too. Breaking off pieces of fear and hesitation. Revealing the shiny bits underneath. Taking chances and making mistakes. Trying new things. Risking failure. Learning from others… but in the end, trusting my own way of seeing and being.
This year has been full of so much “hammer and anvil” work. Chipping away at growth, change, pain, renewal, and fear.
I am artist and I am art, all wrapped into one imperfect package. I strive to create beauty and trust my own beauty to shine.
