by Heather Plett | Dec 15, 2014 | Africa, blogging, calling, Community, connection, growth, journey, Uncategorized
Note: Please read all the way to the bottom to find out how you can participate in a special anniversary project and be entered to win a prize.
Ten years ago, I started my first blog. It was called Fumbling for Words, because I am a passionate gatherer of words and am always fumbling for the right ones to articulate the complicated things that show up in my brain. And I really, really wanted to find the right words that would connect me with people because, even more than words, I love people. And I love meaningful conversations that connect me to those people.
In the beginning, there was a very particular reason for my blog. I was preparing for my first trip to Africa, a trip I’d been dreaming of since I was a child. I was traveling there in my role as Director of Communications for the non-profit organization I worked for at the time. Though I was delighted with the opportunity, the reason for going complicated the trip for me. I didn’t want to arrive on African soil as a “donor” meeting up with people who were “recipients“. That created too much power differential for me. I wanted to arrive as an equal, a story-catcher, and a listener.
I thought a lot about that, and when I think about things a lot I write about them. Writing is like breathing for me – it helps me exhale what doesn’t serve me and inhale what I need. Here’s an excerpt from my very first blog post.
Will African soil welcome me? Will the colours be as rich as those in my dreams? Will the zebras and lions gaze at me knowingly with eyes that say “we knew you’d come some day”? Will it make me feel hopeful or sad? Or both? Hopeful that this world is a vast and intricate thing of beauty and there is so much more space for me to grow and learn. Or sad that somehow I have hurt these beautiful people by my western greed and western appetite.
I won’t preach from my white-washed Bible. I won’t expect that my English words are somehow endued with greater wisdom than theirs. I will listen and let them teach me. I will open my heart to the hope and the hurt. I will tread lightly on their soil and let the colours wash over me. I will allow the journey to stretch me and I will come back larger than before.
You can read the rest of the post here.
That trip changed me, as did subsequent trips to other parts of Africa and to India and Bangladesh. Each trip cracked me open in both hard 
and beautiful ways. They fueled my love of stories and ignited my passion for meaningful conversations that connect people across the barriers of race, gender, language, and class.
When you travel with an open heart, you have an opportunity to look deeply into your own heart to examine your privilege, your prejudice, your preconceptions, and your understanding of power. Traveling to Africa caused me to question how the seeds of colonialism had grown, unbeknownst to me, in my own heart. What subtle things do I do in relationships because I assume I have a right to this privilege? What ways do I take for granted that I am entitled to power? And in what ways am I uncomfortable when people assume I have power that I don’t feel I have?
I did my best to walk on African soil with a posture of humility. It’s not always easy though, when they receive you as “rich donor who brought us food”. When I found myself in uncomfortable situations, such as the day we visited a food distribution site and the villagers had been sitting in the hot sun for hours waiting for us to arrive so that we could speak with them and help distribute their food, I dug through my history for stories that might offer some sense of reciprocity and connection.
When I came home from Africa with the responsibility of sharing stories with Canadian donors about where their money was going, I did my best to offer dignity and respect to each person whose stories I shared. I was determined not to use images that branded people as helpless victims, and the stories I told were always about their resourcefulness and ability to thrive even in difficult circumstances. But still… there was always a restlessness in that work, because I was always telling stories for the purpose of raising money rather than sharing stories as a way to build bridges, change paradigms, and find mutual healing.
That work served as a catalyst for me to dig deeper and deeper into what it might mean to build healthy relationships and host meaningful conversations across power imbalances and racial divides. My ongoing inquiry brought me to The Circle Way and The Art of Hosting. The circle, I am convinced, is the best place to start. The circle invites each person in each chair to bring themselves fully into the conversation, to serve as leader and listener, change-maker and healer.
As I reflect back over my ten years of blogging, it’s clear that I keep circling back to the same inquiry that ignited my first blog post and that brought me to the circle. In the 1521 posts I’ve written, and in the work I now do, this question comes back again and again.
How do I create safe space for meaningful conversation where barriers are removed and real growth and change can happen for all of us?
This question took me deeper and deeper into this work, inviting me into more and more challenging conversations and situations. It led me away from that non-profit job into self-employment, it helped me build relationships with people all over the world who are hosting conversations like this, and it led me again and again back to the circle. This blog became a kind of virtual circle, inviting people into the conversation. Collectively, those of us who have gathered here (and on connected social media) have been having meaningful conversations, removing barriers, and encouraging each other to change and grow.
Together we have been learning to live more authentically, more courageously, and more compassionately. We’ve stretched ourselves, we’ve shared grief stories, we’ve celebrated together, and we’ve grown our relationships.
As I look back over 10 years of blogging, I look back to where it all began – back to that place where my tender, open heart, was ready to be stretched and changed, and ready to be in relationship with people who would change me. You, my dear reader, have stretched and changed me, just like those people I met in Africa. For that I am deeply grateful.
Though I haven’t been back to Africa since I left that job, it continues to hold a place in my heart. It’s beautiful, yes, and I’ve met amazing people there, but I think the piece that keeps calling me back is the opportunity to peer into my own privilege and to dive in to relationships that help me grow.
These things are also possible here at home, and I’m finding more and more ways to engage with this inquiry right here where I live, where the most challenging issue is the way that we as descendents of the European settlers have separated ourselves from the First Nations people through colonization and margnalization. I am seeking to understand more about the intersection between power and love and how we can build bridges by understanding both.
When my business (and blog reach) was growing earlier this year (thanks to you), I knew that I needed to use whatever influence I have for good, beyond my own income. I wanted an opportunity to support people with access to less privilege than I enjoy without allowing my support of them to contribute to the power imbalance. The best way that I knew to do this was to let someone from within that community take the lead, someone who was stepping into her own power and was already working to serve a more beautiful world. I didn’t need to look far. My friend (who’d been a youth intern on my team for a year while I worked in non-profit) Nestar Lakot Okella had started a school in the village where she grew up in Uganda.
Because I already have a high level of trust in Nestar’s ability to lead and be a change-maker, it didn’t take much for me step alongside as an ally in support of Uganda Kitgum Education Foundation. I hosted my first fundraiser in celebration of my birthday in May, and with your help, my dear readers, we were able to send more than $2000 to the school. Since then I’ve been sending a portion of the proceeds from programs such as Mandala Discovery and The Spiral Path.
This past week, I received a set of photos from Nestar and they brought tears to my eyes. They were very simple photos of men making chairs, but they meant so much.
Nestar’s note said: “I wanted to share pictures we got from Kitgum. We are able to order 125 chairs and 125 tables and 1 bookshelf for every classroom. All the items are being made locally in Kitgum, so the local community can also benefit from our school project through the jobs created.
“Thank you for your contribution which has partially made this possible. No more learning on the floor for our students next year, YES! :)”
It delights me to no end to imagine the children returning to their classrooms after their winter break ends in January to find out they now have chairs, tables, and bookshelves in their classrooms!
Today, as I celebrate 10 years of blogging, it seems beautifully appropriate that what started as a way to capture my stories of Africa has brought me full circle to this place where I can use my blog as a platform to support the learning and empowerment of young people in Africa whose school was started by a leader from their own community. Some day I would love to be in relationship with the students of that school, not as a benefactor to beneficiaries, but as co-learners and co-creators, working to make the work a little bit better.
And that brings me to my special anniversary campaign.
I want to continue to support the education of children in Uganda AND I want to support my own dream of taking my writing to a broader audience.
I love the idea of us learning and growing together in separate parts of the world. I imagine myself sitting in one of those blue chairs in a circle with them, each of us stretching and growing into our capacity, reading books and writing books and learning to be loving, powerful change-makers and leaders.
This is where you come in. I want to invite you to support my 10th Anniversary Book + Books Project:
- The students at UKEF need textbooks. Nestar tells me that there are only one or two textbooks for each classroom and they want to buy more. A textbook costs approximately $12.50, so it wouldn’t take much for us to buy enough for every one of the 300 children at the school.
- I intend to publish a book in 2015. As many of you know, this has been a long held dream of mine. I completed what I thought would be my first published book two years ago, but I set it aside when my mom died and then it never really felt like it had evolved into what it was meant to be. The book is now evolving into one called “Circling around to this” and it will be the story of how I’ve been growing into the question above and how it has led me to circle, labyrinth, mandala, and spiral. (Who knows… I might even visit Africa on a future book tour!)
If we are able to raise $7500, there will be enough to buy textbooks for all of the students AND I’ll have most of what I need to publish a book.
If this blog (or my newsletters or any of my writing) has touched you in any way in the last ten years AND you believe all children should have access to education, there are two ways that you can support this dual fundraising goal:
- Make a donation using the form below. Half of all money donated will be sent to UKEF for textbooks (or for whatever else Nestar decides the money is best used for – I am determined to let her and the school leadership make the best decisions they need to make without this becoming donor-controlled). The other half will be set aside for the publishing costs associated with getting my book into print.
- Make a purchase of anything from my portfolio before December 19th and half of the proceeds will be donated to UKEF and half will go to my publishing fund. You can register for Mandala Discovery in January or for The Spiral Path in February, you can buy A Soulful Year or Lead with Your Wild Heart, you can sign up for coaching, or you can buy something from my Etsy shop.
To make this a little more interesting, I’ve put together a prize package. At 5 p.m. central on Friday, December 19th, I’ll pick a name from all of those who have contributed, and one lucky winner will receive the following (total value $204 + shipping):
Thank you in advance for making a contribution to the 10th Anniversary Book + Books Project!
Note: if you wish to dedicate your donation to only one of the two causes I’m fundraising for, indicate that in the comment box and I will honour your request.
by Heather Plett | Dec 9, 2014 | Uncategorized
There is Jian Gomeshi, who beat up women for sport and got away with it for years because we all wanted to believe he really was the charming and likeable man we heard on the radio.
And then there is Bill Cosby who drugged and raped possibly dozens of women who came to him for advice, and also got away with it because he was Dr. Huxtable, and he was the voice behind “NOAH!” and you just HAVE to be able to trust someone who’s that fun and likeable.
And then… different but still related… there’s Darren Wilson, a police officer who won’t be punished for killing Michael Brown.
And there is Daniel Pantaleo, who forced Eric Garner to the ground in a choke hold, listened to him say “I can’t breathe” repeatedly, and kept going until he was dead. He won’t stand trial either.
And there are countless other young black men dying. And countless young Indigenous girls dying. And their deaths barely warrant a mention in the newspaper.
And then there is the ferocious beast called the economy that gobbles up the earth and spits it out in its hunger for more, more, MORE.
All of these things are different and yet the same. All are about the damage done when force is left unchecked.
And I want to scream “How did we end up here?!? How did we get to this place where women can be beat up and raped by celebrities who get away with it? Where the police have the right to kill with impunity? Where pipelines are given permission to plow through sacred land? Where we turn a blind eye again and again to rape, destruction, and murder?”
And though I scream it into the wind, I know that the answer sits like a lump of toxic waste in my heart.
We ended up here because we have created a culture in which the conqueror is revered above the nurturer.
We ended up here because we placed power above love, hierarchy above collaboration, progress above community, and economy above conservation.
We ended up here because we consistently allow our leaders to build up our military might, and make decisions based in fear and protectionism.
We ended up here because we have allowed ourselves to believe that the financial economy in its present state is the only way an economy can be shaped, and if it doesn’t grow we are all doomed.
We ended up here because of patriarchy, a system rooted in fear.
Patriarchy is afraid of losing control, afraid of the unpredictability of a system not based in hierarchy, and afraid to give power to women or anyone who might upset the status quo.
You may say “but Michael Brown and Eric Garner died because of racism, not patriarchy” and I would argue that it’s all related to the same problem. It’s all rooted in a system that creates an imbalance of power and allows one race to dominate over another and one gender to dominate over another.
Patriarchy is not about men and women. Patriarchy is about dominance.
In a patriarchal system, where fear guides the decision-making, anything that does not comply with the established social order must be locked up or destroyed. So they create stronger police forces, they make it harder for women to control their own bodies, they create an image of God as a controlling masculine figure, and they justify the rape and pillaging of the earth. Patriarchy is the bully in the playground who must have everyone follow his rules or he mows them down.
Patriarchy is a monster hungry for dominance and afraid it will disappear if it gives up even a little bit of its power.
It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when the nurturers were revered along with the conquerors.
There was a time when women were revered for their ability to give birth, for their gifts of healing, and their deep connection to the earth. There was a time when religions were not dominated by masculine deities and the goddess held an equal place.
But then fear began to grow like a weed and the healers and goddess worshipers were branded as witches and the midwives were branded as charlatans. The weed grew, and millions of women were tortured and burned at the stake for knowing too much about the earth, for having too much power over the female reproductive system, and for adhering to a spirituality that could not be contained by those who sought control. (Some say as many as 8 million were tortured or executed in a couple of centuries.)
And so the weed spread, and patriarchy joined hands with racism to mow over anyone in their path and dominate all whose unpredictability made them uncomfortable.
And all those in its path remembered the burning times for generations to come and the memory of it kept us in our place.
How do we stop the weed from spreading further?
There is no simple answer to that question, but we each have to begin by opening our eyes and seeing the weed for what it is. And we have to begin the slow and sometimes painful work of plucking its roots out of our own hearts and our own communities. Because each of us, whether we know it or not, has been infected by this weed and each of us has been taught to be complicit in its growth.
We have been taught how to comply, how to stay in line, and how to not get burned at the stake. We have been taught to guard ourselves and our sons and our daughters. We have been taught to go underground with our deviant belief systems and our connection with Mother Earth. We have been taught to accept the dominant system because not accepting it may cost us our lives. We have been taught that rising up is too dangerous, accusing our rapists is too dangerous, and challenging those in authority is too dangerous.
But gradually we are waking up. Gradually we are rising up. Gradually we are finding each other and daring to stand together in a new power, a shared power. Gradually we are learning to replace dominance with collaboration. Gradually we are overthrowing power. Gradually we are returning to the wisdom of the earth.
Gradually we are releasing the power of the feminine into the world again.
Gradually we are returning to and honouring the nurturer, the healer, and the midwife that we once burned at the stake.
There are many days that feel discouraging, many days that feel like this is taking too long. There are many days when the weed seems to have been fed fertilizer and its grown is exponential. There are many days when those of us who are imagining a new world feel like our efforts are useless. Those days have come fast and furious in recent weeks when celebrities are found to be repeated sexual offenders and cops have gotten away with murder.
But we must not give up. We must continue to tend the new seed growing and trust that it will one day outgrow the weed.
It took centuries to burn the power out of women and it will take centuries for it to come out of hiding and rise up again.
Let us continue to dream of a day when both nurturers and conquerors will have equal power.
by Heather Plett | Dec 4, 2014 | Uncategorized
When Maddy was little, I took her to see Monsters vs. Aliens on the 3D screen. She sat on the edge of her seat in wonder, wearing her 3D glasses and trying to grab the things that came flying off the screen at her.
At one point, she turned to me and said with some exasperation “you’ve gotta reach out, Mom! It’s way more fun this way!” So I did. I sat there with her, near the front of the theatre where everyone could see us, our arms stretched out in front of us, grinning from ear to ear. We didn’t catch anything, but we sure tried. (Or maybe we did catch something and just didn’t know how to carry it home.)
Today I remember her wisdom, and once again, I do my best to reach out, though I’m sitting at the front of the theatre again and people may laugh at me for my childish wonder. I reach out because I know it’s more fun. I reach out because it’s the only way I know how to live. I reach out because it keeps me from drowning in this sea of despair.
I reach out to my friend across the waters who’s doing a brave thing in the way she rises out of her story of abuse and who needs to know there’s someone with a virtual hand on her back.
I reach out to my sisters across the border who are weeping for the loss of young black lives and the loss of the idealism that told them tomorrow would be better.
I reach out to new friends who, like me, have no idea how to live in the centre of their privilege when so many without privilege are hurting.
I reach out to the lovers and the givers who have let go of the hope that their work will radically change the world but they do it anyway because they need to.
I reach out to my Indigenous brothers and sister who continue to guard the earth they love even when the bulldozers tear her apart, because her blood is their blood and if she dies, they die.
I reach out to those who hang onto every bit of strength they have as their bodies fill with cancer or their loved ones fall by their side.
I reach out and I offer my hand, I offer my voice, and I offer whatever little bits of courage I can muster. But mostly I offer my silence. Because I don’t know what to say that will make a difference. I don’t have any words that will re-shape their world. I don’t have wisdom that will stem the tide threatening to consume us all.
My hand and my silence. That’s all I have. But I reach out anyway. Because it’s more fun. Because my daughter needs me to. Because it’s the only way to teach her how to live in a world where too many things are flying at us.
Because it’s easier to stay above the waves when I’m holding someone else’s hand.
by Heather Plett | Dec 2, 2014 | Uncategorized
On Friday night, we ordered Chinese takeout. A familiar pattern emerged. My husband and daughters advocated for what they wanted to eat, it got a little heated, and we went back and forth between ordering a family pack and each ordering our favourite items.
Where was my voice in all of the hub-bub? In the middle, trying to make sure everyone was happy. Everyone, that is, except me. I never expressed which option I wanted. My happiness was mostly wrapped up in whether or not everyone else was happy.
Yes, it’s a familiar pattern – me, stuck in the peacekeeping role, making sure everyone is happy, but rarely expressing what I WANT. When we’re on vacation and it’s time to pick restaurants, I make sure everyone else gets what they want. When it’s my turn to pick my favourite, I never pick my true favourite, but instead I compromise and pick my second or third favourite that has something on the menu for everyone.
Maybe you know that pattern too? Isn’t that what every mom does? I know it’s certainly a pattern I learned from my own mom.
I enjoyed the Chinese food, but after eating it, I wondered “would I even know what to order if I were to be truthful and insert my voice into this kind of conversation? Do I really know what I want, or am I mostly so accustomed to paying attention to what everyone else wants?”
Ironically, this came after I’d coached not one, but THREE clients last week on how to get more clear about what they want in life. It shows up a lot in my coaching work. Maybe that’s why I noticed it. Here I’d always thought that, since I’d followed my dream into self-employment and know how to teach this stuff, I must be pretty good at figuring out what I want.
But suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Perhaps I have some clarity in the kind of work I want to do, but am I willing to be assertive and express my desires even in the small things? Am I willing to risk other people’s happiness in pursuit of what I want? And am I willing to push through to the prize even when other people say I shouldn’t want what I want?
As women, we have a long history of being told to subdue our desires. “Don’t ask for too much. Your desires are sinful. You should only satisfy yourself after everyone around you has been satisfied. Be a good mom/wife/friend and make sacrifices for people you care about. Don’t be too big or too pushy or too demanding – people will call you self-centred, a bitch, a slut.”
Somewhere along the line, we’ve learned to stuff our desires so deep we hardly know what they are anymore.
Here’s a rather crude analogy… You know that moment when you’re getting ready to board a plane and you realize you have to go to the bathroom, but you’re not sure there’s enough time, and you don’t want to step out of line, so you hold it in? And then you get on the plane and you really don’t want to stink up the airplane toilet (and offend the people close to it), and so you keep holding it? And then the next day you realize you’re constipated because you ignored your bodily urges too long?
It’s the same way with women who stop expressing their desires – we become constipated with desire. We’ve ignored our urges for so long we no longer know how to satisfy them.
Another thing happened over the weekend that piled on top of the Chinese food incident. My daughters were talking about the Advent calendars I fill with candy every year and the only thing I was hearing from them was their complaints that they don’t always like the candy I choose and that I only buy about 5 kinds and so they get a lot of repeats.
I’m a bit ashamed to admit this… but I kind of lost it over the Advent calendars. Tears were shed and I let them know that I’m a little frustrated with having to satisfy their needs all of the time and receiving so little appreciation in return. This year, THEY CAN FILL THEIR OWN ADVENT CALENDARS!
Was I wrong to admit my frustration? Not really. They need to know that moms have feelings too and a little appreciation goes a long way.
But… suddenly I realized that I wasn’t so much upset about the lack of appreciation as I was angry at them for being better at expressing their desires than I am. AND… in showing my anger, I was teaching them the same thing I was taught – that they should shut down their own desires in order to keep other people happy.
In the book “The Shadow King: The invisible force that holds women back“, I was surprised to read Sidra Stone’s assertion that we adopt the inner patriarchy (the voice that tells women that they are not worth as much as men) from our mothers. It is primarily our mothers who teach us how to stay small, how to please the men, how to avoid getting hurt, and how to give up our own desires in deference to others in our lives (especially men). They do it to protect us, because that’s the only way they’ve learned to protect themselves. And so it goes, from generation to generation.
Here I was, passing my own stifled desires on to my daughters. Ouch.
I apologized to them for reacting as I did, and said I’d give them money to choose their own candy. I’ve tried not to shame them for wanting what they want. We’ve moved on, but there is still much for me to learn from this, and much more for me to teach my daughters.
By now you may be thinking “but… isn’t it better to be unselfish, to live a compassionate life of sacrifice?” Yes, I believe in compassion and sacrifice and putting others first, but I’m beginning to believe that we must first understand ourselves (and that includes our desires) before we can adequately understand and serve others. It’s a paradox – to know others, we must first know ourselves. To serve others, we must first serve ourselves. To teach others, we must first teach ourselves. Because in knowing ourselves and our own desires, we are able to give out of our generosity and love rather than out of our obligation and shame.
Put on your own oxygen mask first.
Here’s a somewhat parallel situation from my teaching experience… The more I teach, the more I am silent in the classroom, allowing others to explore their own voices and their own questions and come to their own conclusions. This, I believe, is the best way for them to learn. BUT… I could not get to this stage where I am comfortable with my silence and where I can teach from a place in the circle instead of the front of the room until I was comfortable with my own voice. I had to learn to express myself before I began to understand when it was best to hold back and let others express themselves. When I need to, I assert myself, but I do that from a place of confidence and self-understanding rather than from a place of needing to be heard and not trusting my own voice.
In the same way, I believe we need to learn to understand our own desires before we become really effective at helping other people understand and satisfy theirs. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” many of us were taught. I’ve heard that dozens of times from Sunday School teachers and preachers, but always they were focused on the do unto others part, and nobody taught me how to understand the as you would have them do unto you part.
What if we can only “do unto others” once we are clear about what we “would have them do unto us?” What if an exploration of our desires is what will heal us and then we will be strong enough to help heal others?
Our health depends on us releasing that which constipates us.
“If I’ve never been encouraged to think of myself as someone capable of making choices in the simplest matters – what tastes good to me, how I like my room to look, what kind of people I want to be around – there is a certain kind of fire and light that will quite possibly never ignite in my life. I won’t know how to reach out for what matters most or even, possibly, to recognize it when it comes – when it whispers to me, from the depths of my own being.” – Carol Lee Flinders, At the Root of this Longing: Reconciling a Spiritual Hunger and a Feminist Thirst
Another incident happened after the Advent calendars, and I am still processing the implications. An article was published in a local newspaper that features me and my work in The Circle Way. (You can find the article here, scroll to page 15.) I was excited. Though I’ve had quite a few articles published in various newspapers and magazines, and I’ve been mentioned and quoted in others, this was the first one that was all about me and the work I’m passionate about.
I took a photo, posted it on Facebook and said “Look! Look! A feature article about my work in The Circle Way featured in The Aquarian!“ And almost as soon as I’d posted it, I was second-guessing myself. Should I have been more subdued? Would people think I was bragging? Was the “look! look!” revealing too much about how much this means to me? Should I want this kind of exposure, or should I be more satisfied with staying small?
But then I went back to the Chinese food incident. Why shouldn’t I WANT this? Why shouldn’t I be delighted that the work I care so much about is getting exposure? What is wrong with having this desire?
When I’m completely honest with myself, this is what I want! I want to be teaching people. I want to be featured in interviews and articles about what’s important to me. I want my work to get bigger. I want to be featured in even bigger magazines and newspapers, because I want to reach more and more people with the healing potential of my work. That doesn’t make me arrogant, it makes me honest.
I WANT TO WANT THIS AND I DON’T WANT TO BE ASHAMED FOR WANTING IT!
Because when I admit that I want this, I can help other people get closer to what they want. When I put on my own oxygen mask first, I can help those still floundering. And I can do it from a healthy place of satisfied desires and deeper self-understanding.
That’s a powerful place from which to serve.
The more I work with women who are learning to express their desires, the more I am becoming aware that women’s desires will help heal the world. The women I work with have deep desires that are not selfish – they are for more equality, more community, more connection with the earth, more wildness, more peace, more love, more art, and more creative expression. These are all things that will heal the world.
And now I may just have to go and hide for awhile because I have a vulnerability hangover for admitting what I really want. Somebody please hug me.
P.S. You can follow your own desires in 2015 with A Soulful Year.
by Heather Plett | Nov 27, 2014 | Uncategorized
Last night my daughter Nikki came to my bedroom. “I broke your mug,” she said.
“Which one?” I asked.
“The orange and blue one,” she said.
“Too bad,” I said. “I like that one, but at least it’s not my favourite. I forgive you.”
A few minutes later she came back. “I was wrong,” she said. “It was the one that says ‘love more’ on it.”
“Oh dear,” I said. “That’s my favourite. But I still forgive you.”
This morning I went to the kitchen to survey the damage. Five pieces of broken pottery. Never to hold my favourite tea again.
I got out the Gorilla Glue to patch it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to drink hot tea out of it, but I thought I’d at least be able to use it as a pen holder.
And then inspiration hit. Kintsugi. The Japanese art of repairing broken ceramics with gold seams, believing that the piece is made more beautiful by its brokenness.
After the glue was dry, I coloured over the crack with gold paint. I showed Nikki. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! It’s like Japanese art now!” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “More beautiful for the wound.”
After repairing the mug, I drove Nikki to her art class at university and then headed to a coffee shop to work until meeting my client at noon. On the way to the coffee shop, I drove past the graveyard where my son is buried. Just as I was driving past, an eagle flew low in the sky over my head. Chills ran up my spine.
Since the eagle appeared to my sister and I just before Mom died, I have associated eagles with my mom’s ongoing presence in my life. When I shared the eagle story in a class I was teaching last year, an Indigenous student came to me at break and said “in my culture, we believe that eagles carry our prayers to the Creator.”
And so, in that moment in my van, I felt both my Mom’s presence and my son’s presence. And the presence of the Creator.
And my thoughts returned to my gold-painted broken mug.
“More beautiful for the wound.”
Yes, like the mug, I am more beautiful for the wound. I am more beautiful because I know the pain of grief. I am more beautiful because I have walked through deep valleys. I am more beautiful because I have learned the meaning of grace. I am more beautiful because I have let people crack my heart open. I am more beautiful because I have known deep love and immeasurable grief.
Sure, there are many days when I wish my mug were whole again, when I wish my mom and my dad and my son were still in my life, but I know the deep veins of gold their passing left in my life and for that I am grateful.
Yesterday, after I launched A Soulful Year: a mandala workbook for ending one year and welcoming another, I received one of the most beautiful pieces of feedback I’ve gotten since starting this work. Someone who’d worked through A Spiral Path recently had now purchased A Soulful Year, and said this: “Heather, I have to tell you how meaningful The Spiral Path has been for me. I find your writing so meaningful and honest – it goes way deeper than most of what I read and prompts I undertake. Thank you so much for your offerings.
Way deeper. Yes, that’s where I dare to take people who are willing. Deeper into love, deeper into their grief, deeper into lament, and deeper into life. Because I want them to experience those veins of gold that can only happen when you do deep work, acknowledging your brokenness and daring to drip molten gold into the cracks.
Early in this work, I had to occasionally fight with that voice in my head that said “If only your work wasn’t so deep, you might sell more of it and make a decent living at this. People are looking for quick fixes, easy answers, and shallow dives that make them feel good but mostly help them avoid the deep stuff. You’re always talking about grief and lament and shadows – how do you expect people to engage with that heavy stuff?”
Despite the voice of self-doubt, I stuck with it, even when it seemed my work was picking up little traction. I stuck with it because I believe in the deep work. I believe that to truly heal ourselves and heal the world, we need to be willing to take an honest look at our brokenness and to begin the hard work of making friends with our shadows.
Because the world will continue to be more and more broken if we stay in the shallow end of the pool. We’ll continue to over-consume because we’ll be looking for the quick fix that shopping gives us. We’ll continue to wound each other because we don’t recognize the way that wounded people wound people. We’ll continue to create divisions between races, between genders, and between countries, because we’ll be afraid of the kind of deep and honest conversations that are needed.
Yes, I’m willing to stay in the deep end of the pool, even if it never turns me into a millionaire. Because I believe in the transformational power of that deep vein of gold weaving through my wounds.
And I am so grateful that, now that I’ve been in this work for four years, more and more people are finding me here in the deep end. Because they believe in this work too.
Welcome to the deep end of love.
p.s. If you want to do your own deep work, check out A Soulful Year. Also, registration is now open for Mandala Discovery which starts in January.
by Heather Plett | Nov 14, 2014 | Uncategorized
Circle art, created on retreat last summer
Yesterday, as I contemplated whether I should revive/re-write the book I set aside over a year ago, a hit of inspiration came to me. “Circling Around to This”. That’s the new title for the book.
And this morning, this is what poured out…
I keep circling around to this.
This longing.
This gradual awakening.
This ache for that which has no words.
I keep circling around to this.
This desire for understanding.
This hunger for faith that fits my feminine shape.
This question that has no answer.
I keep circling and circling
And gradually I am finding
That the circling is the thing.
The circling is the ONLY thing.
This circling is what teaches me
What awakens me
What feeds me
What holds me in the darkness.
This circling is my path to the Divine,
My path to myself,
My path to you,
My path to all that is holy.
This circling is the ecstasy
The agony
The grief
The longing
The delight
And all that lies between.
This circling is the Goddess
Gaia
Earth
Womb
Life
Community
Me.
This circling is what’s shaking me
Out of complacency
Into the edge of my imagination
Out of fear
Into my primal courage.
I keep circling around to this
and the circle is guiding me home.
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and beautiful ways. They fueled my love of stories and ignited my passion for meaningful conversations that connect people across the barriers of race, gender, language, and class.
This question took me deeper and deeper into this work, inviting me into more and more challenging conversations and situations. It led me away from that non-profit job into self-employment, it helped me build relationships with people all over the world who are hosting conversations like this, and it led me again and again back to the circle. This blog became a kind of virtual circle, inviting people into the conversation. Collectively, those of us who have gathered here (and on connected social media) have been having meaningful conversations, removing barriers, and encouraging each other to change and grow.
This past week, I received a set of photos from Nestar and they brought tears to my eyes. They were very simple photos of men making chairs, but they meant so much.
