by Heather Plett | Jul 27, 2010 | journey
in my rearview mirror
It occured to me yesterday that my bike ride home is a pretty good metaphor for the journey we all take in our lives.
I can choose the fast track that zooms along one of the busiest streets in the city, where I have to dodge cars driven by impatient commuters trying to rush home to cook supper for their kids, cross a busy freeway where I usually have to compete with a city bus or two (full of more impatient commuters), and risk getting squeezed to the curb on a couple of bridges that are too narrow to accomodate both cars and bikes (and we all know who wins THAT tussle).
I can choose the slow zone where I meander along an out-of-the-way river pathway, cut through a park with a fountain and lots of curious squirrels, weave through various side streets that lead me on an indirect path with lots of stop signs, and duck under the freeway on a small shadowy graffiti-covered bike tunnel.
Or I can choose the mixed bag which takes me halfway home along the busy thoroughfare, and then – just when I’ve had enough of the crushing, rushing traffic – juts off into the residential area, past a golf course, and through the tunnel to my own suburban neighbourhood.
Last summer, feeling tender and vulnerable and in need of the healing energy of the river, trees, and silence, I mostly chose the slow zone.
Only occasionally, when I am feeling particularly “don’t-mess-with-me” powerful (sometimes after I’ve kicked some proverbial butt at work) do I take the fast track all the way home. When I do, I arrive home with an adrenalin rush that’s exciting but a little unsettling.
This summer, with a healthy mix of tender and strong going on, I’ve mostly been choosing the mixed bag. I enjoy the rush and challenge of the fast moving traffic that pushes me to be alert, strong and fast, but then I usually need the quiet and the trees to help me wind down and feel more relaxed when I get home to my family.
Which lane are you in these days?
by Heather Plett | Jul 26, 2010 | Beauty, body, journey
See this overweight, big-butted, 44 year old woman? She has become a RUNNER!
It’s true. It’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks. A couple of months ago, I bought a fancy new pair of shoes (that fit my orthotic insoles), checked out this Learn to Run program (thanks to Jamie for the link), and started running. And… surprise, surprise… I love it!
I mostly just run on the weekends (during the week I ride my beloved bike to work – for a total of 22 km/day) and when on vacation (I can tell you a great running path in Maple Grove, Minnesota), so I’m taking my own meandering journey through the learn to run progam. As of this weekend, though, I’m able to run for 4 minutes, walk for 1 and then repeat it four times for a total of 20 minutes of running time. Woot!
As you probably know if you’ve been following this blog for awhile, I had breast reduction surgery back in March. One of the reasons I’ve never run before is that… well… how do I say this? Flopping sucks. As does the sore back from carrying that excess weight. And… have you ever tried to find a sports bra in a double H? Nope, you won’t find one of those on the racks at Target. It seems bra manufacturers rightfully assume that few people with boobs that big will have “sports” in their vocabulary.
With everything else that’s been going on in my life since then, I haven’t talked much about my post-surgery thoughts. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I finally made the agonizing decision to go through with it. Would it feel like I’d betrayed my body? Would I feel like a bit of a fraud, especially since I’m not really fond of the plastic surgery trend in North America these days?
Well, let me tell you, there have been NO REGRETS! I feel great! My body is far from perfect, but it finally feels like it is in balance!
I’ve had several people tell me that my posture has improved, and I know that it’s true. My back feels stronger and less weighed down. The bra strap indents in my shoulders are disappearing. Plus there’s the psychological side – I think I was probably hunching my shoulders partly because I felt some self-conscious need to draw less attention to my breasts.
And then there’s the running. I’ve had a bit of a yearning to try running for quite awhile. Being a wanderer at heart, I’m always happiest when my chosen form of exercise includes the opportunity to see things and meander through the neighbourhood. Cycling’s good, but the truth is, I can be a pretty lazy cyclist when I want to be. I wanted to push myself a little harder, sweat a little more, so it was time to try running.
Well, who knew that I’d enjoy it so much? This weekend I even found myself thinking “I need to figure out what equipment/clothing I need to get in order to do this in the winter.” (Time will tell if the love affair lasts through the brutal winters we get.)
I haven’t lost any significant amount of weight since I started running, but the beautiful thing is, I don’t care! Really, I don’t! I’m learning to love this big ol’ body in new ways, I’m finding clothes that fit my new curves, and I feel healthy and strong.
When I dragged my daughter outside yesterday morning to take a post-running photo, it was with the thought that I would post it in a “look at me, not ashamed of showing myself at my worst – in all my red-faced sweaty glory” attitude. (The pictures really don’t do it justice – my face turns BEET red when I exert myself. And MAN do I sweat!)
But then I looked at the close-up and thought “Wow! I look so alive!”
by Heather Plett | Jul 20, 2010 | beginnings, Creativity, journey
vacation feet at dusk
After a week and a half of vacation, I’m trying to give my brain the “get back to work” pep talk today. So far, I’ve had only limited success. Sigh.
I quite intentionally spent little time online while on vacation. It was family time, and so I did fun family things, like hangin’ out at the Folk Festival, going on a road trip, chillin’ by the hotel pool, shopping in big America shopping malls (mostly for the teenagers in the family), watching soccer games, riding a few rollercoasters, floating down a lazy river on an inner tube, eating too much junk food, and watching silly movies. I also managed to squeeze in a few fun things just for me, like sipping chai latte at a couple of bookstore coffee shops (on both sides of the border – yup, books & chai – my two addictions), reading a couple of books, and going to an art fair.
Yesterday was one of my favourite days of the vacation. I spent most of the afternoon reading a book in a lawnchair in a shady spot on my front lawn. About the only activity I did all day was get up now and then to refill my glass with iced tea. And make a ridiculously unhealthy lunch of hashbrowns and bacon. Awww… the luxury!
One of the books I finished reading while on vacation was Artful Leadership by Michael Jones. Yes, I actually read a book on leadership while on VACATION! Go figure. It was just that good! I had the pleasure of hanging out with Michael at ALIA last month and I find his thoughts and ideas to be really, really inspiring. His book hit the spot for me in so many ways at just the right time.
There are lots of thoughts bubbling in my mind after reading this book. One of the things that stuck with me was Michael’s suggestion that, given the amount of clutter and external influence we allow into our brains and hearts, it is extremely difficult to have an original thought that does not become shadowed and distorted by what others say and think. It is even more difficult to trust that original thought and give it life.
Think about it… how often have you had a thought or idea that came to you from whatever original source you believe in (God, muse, self) that you entertained for even just a few moments without quickly negating it because “so and so would think it’s a bad idea” or “it doesn’t fit with conventional wisdom” or “it’s just silly” or “market research would certainly tell me it would never fly”?
I’ve had some of those ideas lately, and there’s a part of me that JUST KNOWS they are the right ideas to follow. BUT… well, you know the “buts”. Every day a few more of them pile on top of me when I let myself be influenced by the “experts” or “well-meaning people” or “my own ego”.
That’s part of the reason I spent this vacation mostly away from some of the influencers – social media, etc. Sometimes it’s best just to sit with an idea and let it evolve in its own good time before we hold it up to any litmus tests other than our own gut feelings. To be honest, I let myself be influenced more by a chance encounter with a horse (more on that later), and an exhilarating ride on a rollercoaster than any other person’s ideas or suggestions.
What about you? How do you guard and nurture those original thoughts so that they have a chance to grow before resistance cuts them off at their tender little shoots?
by Heather Plett | Jul 7, 2010 | fearless, journey
I made a big scary decision this week about something I’ve been thinking about for a long, long time. (More on that in the weeks to come.) Since then, I have been waffling between excitement and pure unadulterated terror.
I was cycling to work yesterday when one of those terror moments struck. “What do you think you’re doing?” said the voice of fear. “This won’t work, you’re foolish, you’ll fall flat on your face and end up regretting this decision for the rest of your life… blah, blah, blah.” You know the gig – I don’t have to spell it out for you.
But then another voice showed up. A more gentle and yet bold voice. “Remember whose shoulders you’re standing on.”
When I was at ALIA last month, Meg Wheatley asked us a question that has stuck with me since. “What are the fearless things your forbears have done? On whose shoulders are you standing?”
As I pedalled my bike, my fearless forbears lined up in my mind. My Mennonite ancestors who faced martyrdom for their faith and their commitment to pacifism, justice, and community. Those who’d left Russia to come to Canada because they believed in non-resistance and wanted to live in a place where they could claim conscientious objector status in times of war. Those who’d fought the harsh elements to build homes and livelihoods for themselves in Canada. And then my parents who’d uprooted their three small children (I was one year old at the time) to move to a small town where they knew no one but felt a calling to reach out to people there (and I can tell you oodles of stories of the people whose lives they touched).
Suddenly, my decision didn’t feel so risky anymore. “If these people can risk life and livelihood for what they believe in, then I can take a few chances too,” I thought. “They have paved the way for me – cleared some of the rubble from the path long before I even came along so that life could be smoother and more free.”
The fearlessness didn’t end with my forbears. Later that day, I was amazed at how many stories started showing up (randomly, through links forwarded by friends, people’s blog posts, newspaper articles, etc.) about people doing fearless things that surely gave them many, many moments of terror and self doubt. One of my favourites is the story of the family that sold everything to spend three years biking from Alaska to Argentina. Imagine!
And so I ask you today… on whose shoulders are you standing? What brave things have been done in your lineage that make it easier for you to follow your path and face the things that scare you? Or what stories outside of your lineage have inspired you to be a little more fearless?
by Heather Plett | Jul 5, 2010 | Beauty, journey
Sometimes, one doesn’t know what one needs until that elusive thing has been found. And then, when the unrecognizable hunger has been satiated, the soul sings with delight.
That’s how it was yesterday when I arrived at King’s Park on my way to the labyrinth. Even before I reached the labyrinth, I felt the resounding “Yes!” ring through my body. I walked through the flower garden, smelled the roses, heard the twittering of birds, felt the warm sun and the cooling breeze on my face, and knew that I had come to that place where my soul meets God.
This place – the labyrinth and park that surrounds it – has come to mean so much to me. It opens my heart and my mind. It lifts a shadowy veil from my eyes. It helps me see the world anew. It gives me hope and restores my faith.
It is like an anchor – a safe place in the storm.
I have been reading Artful Leadership by Michael Jones of late, and I have been reminded of how crucial silence and solitude are in the work of a leader, artist, or, frankly, anyone who wants to live more deeply and mindfully. We all need to find our places of stillness where our hearts can sing and we are silent enough to hear God speak.
If you haven’t found one of those places lately, what are you waiting for? Go, seek, and find. Rest, be still, wander, breathe deeply, take pictures, write in your journal, pray, listen, whistle – do what you need to do to feel alive and whole.
And then, when you feel that surge of energy and hope in you anew, whisper a prayer of thankfulness for the beauty that surrounds you and the beauty that is in you.
And don’t forget to read between the lines on the petal of an iris – you might be surprised what secrets lie hidden there.
p.s. if you are new here, you might enjoy this little video I made about the labyrinth last year.
by Heather Plett | Jun 21, 2010 | journey, Leadership
Michael Chender, ALIA
“Bring your vulnerability, your tenderness, your fear. Bring your questions – bring the things that puzzle you. Be prepared to hold ambiguity – to sit with the ‘not-knowing’. Open your heart and your mind to yourself and to the other people in the room.”
That may not be exactly what Michael Chender (one of the founders of ALIA) said in his opening speech, but it’s the way that I remember it. I wrote this in my notebook: “Wow! An opening speaker who welcomes our vulnerability!” His speech has stayed with me ever since.
How often have you sat in any workshop (especially one focused on leadership) and been told that your vulnerability is a valuable place to start? The leadership training I’ve received in the past tends to focus on strengths, confidence, vision – certainly not vulnerability. That’s for weaklings.
I think it was about that time at ALIA when I felt the tears well up in my eyes and they stayed pretty close to the surface for the remainder of the day. In the past, when I’d followed my intuition and used my vulnerability as an asset in my leadership, I had almost always been faced with resistance and blocks and my own fearful gremlins. And almost every time, I’d tucked my courage and convictions away and gone back to putting on my “confident and unshakeable leader” face.
The challenge didn’t stop with Micheal Chender. Later that same day, at the beginning of our “Leader as Shambhala Warrior” workshop, Meg Wheatley’s first question to us was “What breaks your heart?” Really? What breaks my heart? This is the starting place for a journey toward warriorship? Indeed it was! The things that break our heart are the things that drive us forward – that give us purpose, vision, and strength to carry on.
During the week at ALIA, the term “strong back, soft belly” came up often – especially during meditation practice. When you sit in meditation, you are taught to sit with your back straight and strong and your stomach relaxed and vulnerable. This is not just a statement about posture – it’s a statement about how we are encouraged to live. Every day. Our strong backs remind us to have courage and strength in the face of adversity and fear – to hold firmly to our values. To be warriors. Our soft bellies remind us to make ourselves vulnerable to each other – to show compassion and extend understanding and forgiveness to ourselves and others. To open our hearts.
Today was one of those days when my “strong back and soft belly” were put to the test. In more than one situation, I was in the position to extend compassion to people who needed it, and yet at the same time was required to establish boundaries and to maintain an unwavering commitment to protecting and serving as a warrior for other people who were being negatively impacted by the same difficult situations. If I said I was completely successful, I would be lying (I had to fight hard not to let fear and anger play the parts they wanted to play), but I did my best and, with a combination of prayer, meditation, and turning to other people for support, I made it through the storms to the other side.
Sometimes, we choose either strong back OR soft belly and forget that we can hold both at the same time. Sometimes we treat people with too much kindness and forget that they also need us to hold firm to the boundaries in our relationships. Other times, we put up strong walls to protect ourselves or others and forget that compassion is also necessary.
I say this to you… Bring your vulnerabilities. And bring your strength too. It’s what every good warrior (and a true “Sophia leader”) does.
(Yes, in case you’re wondering, I’m thinking that the next step in the journey is taking me toward “Sophia Leadership”.)
