by Heather Plett | Oct 17, 2013 | Uncategorized
There’s a delight that fills you when you dream up a new idea – a piece of art, a script for a play, a dance routine, a poem, a delicious meal, a kid’s birthday party, a course… anything. The delight grows as you entertain the idea and begin to give it shape. You fashion it in your mind, you play with the details, you start gathering the pieces that you need to build it. You lie awake at night dreaming of what it will be when it grows up. You fantasize about how happy it will make you feel.
There’s a little skip in your step as you grow it from a seed of an idea to a real thing. You love it dearly and you know that it will be beautiful. It’s your baby, your work of art – you will love it no matter what.
You sweat over it, cry over it, pray over it, fill it with your longing, sadness, and deep love. You pour everything you have into this creation. It gives you life and joy, but it also asks a lot of you. In between the laughter and the delight, you sacrifice, you bleed, and you ache.
When it’s complete, you gaze on it with delight and so much love for just a moment… and then… the ego shows up uninvited, fear pokes its nose around the corner…and… you start to second guess what you have created.
“Is it good enough? I’m really not an artist. I can’t trust my own opinion.”
“Is it really worth anything? Maybe it’s useless and I’m fooling myself.”
“What if people hate it? What if nobody buys it? What if it just sits here on my shelf and gathers dust and I grow to hate it and I never create another thing as long as I live?”
“What if I am a fraud?”
You do this horrible dance – going back and forth about whether or not it’s actually worth sharing this creation of yours with the world. One moment, you’re determined to barrel through and ignore the voices of fear and ego, and the next moment you’re hugging your pillow in the corner, certain that the only course of action should be to destroy the thing you’ve created before you expose yourself to certain shame.
One day, though, you finally work up the courage to share it. You clench your teeth as you do so, holding the fear tightly at the back of your throat. Part of you wants to dance with delight at this moment of triumph, and part of you wants to weep with the agony of the release.
Lots of people ignore what you’ve put into the world. Some people turn their noses up at it. At first, that’s all you notice and you’re convinced that those are the only kinds of reactions you’ll get. You consider yanking it off the shelf and taking a hammer to it in your backyard. This agony isn’t worth it. You shouldn’t have taken the risk.
But then… in the corner, you see someone crying, and you recognize those tears. Those were the same tears that coursed down your eyes as you poured all of your love into the thing you created. Those are the tears of a person who’s letting her heart crack open just a little. They’re the tears of someone watching their own story unfold, and realizing – perhaps for the first time – that their story has found a safe place to exist.
The person approaches you. Her eyes tell the story even before she whispers “Thank you for this beautiful gift. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for creating something that makes me feel a little more whole. Thank you for cracking me open.”
And suddenly all of those other people – those who turned up their noses or paid no attention – don’t really matter, because you know you didn’t create it for them. You created this thing for the woman standing in front of you, and you created it for yourself. Because both of you needed this little bit of healing that the creation offered. Both of you needed a place where your story feels safe.
You know, in that moment, that you will continue to create. You’ll take all of that pain again and again, you’ll fight with your ego, you’ll risk the failure – you’ll do it all as often as it is required, because you KNOW that you were put on this earth to create and to give and to love.
This isn’t just YOUR story. It’s my story, and to be specific, it’s the story of Mandala Discovery. I have been in love with this program since it began to grow as the seed of an idea a couple of years ago. I knew that I held something magic in my hands, and so I kept pouring my love into it, even when that felt hard to do. I put it out into the world in one form last year, and then – when not very many people paid attention – I let it sit on a shelf for awhile, not sure that it was worthy.
But something kept telling me that the magic I’d seen in it – back when it was only the seed of an idea – was true and good and that I shouldn’t abandon it. Something told me that people needed this little gift that would give them a safe place for their stories to unfold. And so I took it down off the shelf and started polishing again.
When it was ready, I put it out into the world again, and people showed up. Not only did they show up, but they honoured the gift in the most beautiful ways imaginable. They honoured it by creating their own mandalas and sharing them and then telling the stories of how their mandala journals are changing them. They let their hearts crack open and then they stood in front of each other and said “Here. Look deeply into my heart. It may be wounded, but there is a lot of love here.”
The stories that were shared floored me and made me realize that this gift was not mine – instead I was simply serving as a catalyst, a vessel, the pot in the hands of the Potter, creating what had been breathed through me and then offering it to those who most needed it.
One woman shared how the mandalas have become part of her own recovery and how she will use them in a drug and alcohol recovery program on a First Nations Reserve. Another woman told the story of how she’d used one of the prompts with a group of second grade students who hardly knew any English, but were able to articulate something through the mandalas where words had failed them. Others shared how they had found themselves opening up to new truths about themselves. One woman plastered her walls with her mandalas – a road map back to herself.
I was reminded once again that when we let our egos get in our way, when we keep ourselves from doing that which is closest to our hearts, when we cower in fear of failure and rejection, we not only cheat ourselves, we cheat the world out of what it needs for healing. We cheat people out of what makes them feel less alone. We isolate ourselves and we isolate others.
I would like to get Mandala Discovery into the hands of more people who need it, not because my ego says “it must be big to mean something”, but because I know that it has transformative value. I would be honoured and pleased if you would help me do that.
Please share a link to Mandala Discovery (and/or this post) with your friends, followers, fans, family, and either use the hashtag #mandaladiscovery on social media so that I know that you have done so, or leave a note at the end of this post letting me know that you have.
Two people will be selected from those who’ve shared to win one of the following:
1. A free one-on-one coaching session with me.
2. Free registration for the November offering of Mandala Discovery.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for honouring this gift.
by Heather Plett | Oct 13, 2013 | Uncategorized
It’s Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s the first without my mom, so there is some sadness in the midst of the celebration. Two days ago, for example, the grief snuck up on me when I was at my favourite fair trade store and an elderly volunteer was talking to me about the christmas gifts she was starting to buy for her grandchildren this year, and suddenly I found myself resenting her simply for having the audacity to still be alive to celebrate with her grandchildren. My children (and I) should be so lucky. After the encounter, I went to the van to have a good cry.
The grief comes and it goes, it shape-shifts into anger and resentment occasionally, and then it subsides once again into a gentle whisper of remembrance.
Today, though, as I prepare to feast with my family, I am feeling mostly gratitude. Grateful for:
- a blissful two week journey that opened my heart in new ways (see the video below)
- opportunity to sit in the physical presence of so many of the people I’ve grown to love in the online world (Skype just can’t replace the value of a hug)
- authenticity, vulnerability, and all of the beautifully imperfect ways people dare to show up in the world
- the community of friends whose gifts made my journey possible
- circles – whether they show up as mandalas or labyrinths, or the way we sit together and look into each others’ eyes
- the opportunity to step onto the stage and share the story of how I learned to reclaim the pieces of my heart and step into the courage it took to lead differently
- the gold and green and brown, set againts the blue, outside my living room window right now
- the many people who have embraced Mandala Discovery in this first offering, who are sharing their transformation stories, and who are affirming my belief that there’s something magical about this process of mandala journaling
- the new people who are already eager to step into the November offering of Mandala Discovery (registration opening tomorrow)
- the nine new coaching clients who are opening their tender hearts to me and trusting me with their old stories as they step tentatively but courageously into their new stories
- my three daughters and the faltering but courageous ways they are growing into their beautiful, authentic selves
- the team of people with whom I will have the pleasure of co-hosting the upcoming Art of Hosting training – they make teamwork so easy
- my mom and dad who taught me so much about humility, grace, gratitude, and God, and who loved me so much I can still feel it after they are no longer physically here
- the undoubtedly delicious food I am about to feast on at my sister’s house
- you, my readers and clients, who make this work possible, who share your own vulnerable stories, and who send me lovely notes of gratitude and grace that make it all worthwhile
Happy Thanksgiving! May you find much to be grateful for.
Here’s a video compilation of the pictures I took on my trip…
by Heather Plett | Oct 9, 2013 | Beauty, circle, Compassion, Uncategorized
I am carrying a huge basket of stories that I gathered on my trip. Each day I added new stories emerging from the deep conversations I had with people in my travels through Reno, Lake Tahoe, Oakland, San Francisco, Atlanta, Asheville, and finally Lake Lanier. I want to share all of those stories with you, but some of them need to ripen in the basket a little longer before they’ll be ready to be harvested.
First of all, let me tell you that this trip was all about love. Here’s what I posted on Facebook when I first got home…
After all of my travels in five states, after all of the deep and soulful conversations, after the early morning sunrises over the lake, after the sharing circles, after the ziplining, after the skinny-dipping, after the wandering in the woods, after the cracking open of many hearts, after my talk about the courage to lead differently, after bountiful feasts from the hands of many farmers, after the laughter, after the tears, after the deep body hugs and the tenderhearted kisses… after it all fades into memory, my learning can be boiled down to the words on the mug I brought home… Love more. Love fiercely and deeply. Love courageously. Love ridiculously. Love the sky and the earth and the dogs and the caterpillars. Love the wine and the music. Love the brave hearts and the fearful hearts. Love the ones that are easy to love and those who are more difficult. Love with wild abandon. Love until your heart cracks wide open and we all see the fleshy softness inside. Love more and let yourself be loved. Don’t be afraid of love.
It might sound rather pie-in-the-sky, but it’s the ground on which I stand. Love is what let me go on this journey when so many of you supported this dream. Love is what let me connect with beautiful people all along the way. Love is what inspired me to share from my heart on stage. Love is what gave me the courage to believe I had something to share. It’s all about love.
Almost as soon as I got home from my journey, reality smacked me across the face. There’s a huge crack in our basement wall that will probably cost us thousands to fix, my aunt died of brain cancer while I was away and her funeral was yesterday, I’m dealing with a nasty bug bite that I got in Atlanta that seems to be infected and I spent yesterday evening in urgent care, and there’s a little heartbreak in my relationship with one of my daughters. Any of those things individually could have sent me into a tailspin of despair, but they didn’t. I’m okay. I’m more than okay. I am feeling strong and courageous, and – more than anything – loved.
LOVE has made me resilient. LOVE has given me courage. LOVE has given me hope.
At Patti Digh’s Design Your Life Camp at Lake Lanier last week, Maya Stein and Amy Tingle did something so breathtakingly beautiful and full of love, I found my heart breaking wide open. First of all, they’d brought their vintage trailer MAUDE (Mobile Art Unit Designed for Everyone) along to camp and they were inviting everyone to visit to make art tags to hang in a tree. Secondly, they each had vintage typewriters, and if you offered them a single word, they would each write a spontaneous poem on an index card made especially for you. They did both of these things with beauty, grace and generosity, not asking to be paid or flaunting their brand in anyone’s face – simply offering this gift to anyone who would receive it.
The first time I saw them with their typewriters, I felt a little overwhelmed – not sure I could step forward and feel worthy enough of the gift. I was intrigued, but it felt somehow vulnerable and tender to give them a word and then simply receive. I had already received so much on this journey (and even before the journey in order to make it possible) that the gremlins were saying “You’ve received enough. You had the AUDACITY to ask people to help pay for this trip. How DARE you think that you are worthy of another gift?”
When I came out of the session the next evening, though, and saw them with their typewriters again, I knew I just had to do it. I knew I was worthy. I knew, deep down in my bones, that I wanted this gift and was ready to receive it.
I stood in line and waited… and agonized over what word was the right one. I wrote one word down, but then it didn’t feel right, so I scratched it out. Just before I got to the front of the line, I knew what my word was. Resilient.
Resilient is how I feel these past couple of months as I emerge into my work in a bigger way after the hard, hard year of losing Mom, watching my husband have a heart attack, breaking my foot, and then finding out my brother has stage 4 cancer. Resilient is what I’ve been in the past, after losing dad very suddenly, having a stillborn son, and watching the man I love wrestle with depression so powerful he attempted suicide twice. Resilience is one of my strengths and it’s one of the gifts I give to my clients in this work of being real and courageous and hopeful in this broken world.
And so I stood there, tenderly and anxiously, waiting to see what they’d do with the word resilient.
What emerged floored me and broke me open.
Here’s what Amy wrote:
The Amy she mentioned is Amy Dier, who had just shared a very personal story from the stage about learning to love and trust herself and allow herself to be seen. She was a former police officer who’d gone into law enforcement partly because she’d been raped when she was a teenager. She said she’d only shared the story of her rape with 8 people before saying it aloud in this room full of 150 people. After sharing the story, she invited us all to stand in a circle and she walked around the circle, looking into our eyes, and saying to each of us one at a time “I see you.”
What Amy the poet had no way of knowing was that Amy Dier and I do indeed share a story or two – the story of surviving rape, as well as the story of learning to believe we are worthy of being seen.
The second poem, from Maya, was the perfect addition, in a way that neither poet could possibly have known.
The day after I was raped by a man who climbed through my bedroom window, I was supposed to take part in a triathlon relay race. I was going to ride 40 kilometres on my bicycle, while others did the running and swimming legs. This felt like a courageous and fierce act for me at the time, given the fact that I’d never believed I was athletic enough to be in any competition of that sort.
I never completed that bicycle ride. My body was too sore after the abuse it took at the hands of the rapist. Plus I felt a strong urge to drive home to the farm to be with my Mom and Dad.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t get back on the bicycle, again and again and again. My whole life has been an act of getting back on that bicycle, each time I fall down. Through all of the deaths, disappointment, and tragedy in my life, I keep getting back on my bicycle – both literally and figuratively. (Ironically, I was actually on my way into the garage to go for a bike ride with my daughter when I broke my foot in Spring. Another metaphor, perhaps?)
And that brings me back to love. I get back on my bicycle because of love. I stay in a marriage that has been challenging because of love. I keep showing up for funerals because of love. I drive across the country to be with my brother after cancer surgery because of love. I sit beside my mother and watch her die because of love. I show up for my teenagers even when they’re snarly because of love. I travel across the country and sit in circle with myriads of beautiful people because of love. I coach my clients and host retreats because of love.
I do what I do because I have been given a lot of love and because I have a lot of love to give.
I pour love into everything I do. And love is what sustains me and gives me courage for this work. Because love is worth it. Love has made me who I am, and that is a beautiful thing.
The next time you need courage or resilience, remember that it starts with love. Give love and receive it and you will be able to get back on that bicycle, no matter how many times you fall.
Go ahead, love more.
by Heather Plett | Sep 20, 2013 | Uncategorized
Tomorrow begins my epic journey to Lake Tahoe, San Francisco, Asheville, and Atlanta. During that time I’ll be participating in 2 incredible gatherings with beautiful people with beautiful dreams for the world, I’ll be sharing some of my own beautiful dreams for the world, and I’ll be having meals, chai dates, and sleepovers with some of the most big-hearted people I know. I am a lucky, lucky girl.
There was a time when my suitcase was much more well-used than it has been in the last couple of years. When I was in management in government and non-profit, I usually traveled at least six times a year, mostly in North America but sometimes to far away places like Africa or Southeast Asia. When I first started to travel for business, I traveled like almost every business traveler, but then I realized that that kind of travel was rather soul-sucking. So I adjusted and learned to be a more soulful traveler.
Here are some of the things I learned about being more soulful in my traveling:
- Choose your accommodation wisely. Trust your heart on this one. Big-box hotels on airport strips where there are no green spaces to wander in are soul-destroying places that make you feel more like a commodity than a human being. Find a Bed and Breakfast or classic Inn in a quaint neighbourhood, and you’ll feel more alive, healthy, and happy. The bonuses are that you meet the most interesting people over breakfast, you’ll have places to wander in the evenings, and you’ll be supporting local business. Plus B&B owners are usually passionate about their neighbourhoods and can recommend the best restaurants and shops.
- Learn to use public transit. When I worked for government, I took the taxi all of the time, because I was entitled to it and it seemed easier. When I worked in non-profit, I was more intentional about saving money for my employer, so I started taking public transit when I could. I soon discovered that it’s much easier to get to know the soul of a place when you are among the people on a city bus, subway or train. It’s a great place to people-watch, and you can strike up the most interesting conversations with local people. When I was in Dallas, I found out there was a vintage trolley car that would take me to the conference centre every day for free (or for a small donation). It was a great deal more fun than the big ugly bus the conference attenders were taking from the big-box hotel, and I met the most fascinating trolley car enthusiasts who were volunteer drivers and conductors.
- Bring a little comfort with you. I always travel with a portable candle (in a tin cup with a lid) in my toiletries bag. Sometimes it’s the best way to relax in the evening after a harried trip. Plus I usually travel with a light-weight silk shawl that’s wonderful to wrap around my shoulders when I get a little cool and/or sleepy on the plane. And when you’re dealing with jet lag, one of your best friends may be your music player – at least if you’re lying in a bed in Bangladesh in the middle of the night trying to sleep while geckos are having a conversation on your wall.
- Talk to strangers. When public transportation isn’t a very good option and I have to take a taxi, I usually end up having a great conversation with a taxi driver. Many of them are over-qualified immigrants with fascinating stories of their countries of origin and of the many people who’ve sat in the taxicab. Some of the wisest and most interesting people I’ve met in my travels are taxi drivers.
- Trust people. This is a biggy. I’m not saying you should be naive and let some strange man take you home in his car (you still have to use your discretion about who’s trustworthy and who’s not), but almost every single time I decided to trust the person who was willing to take me under his/her wing and help me navigate their city turned out to be a good thing. I have only once gotten scammed by a person (and really, it was pretty harmless – he just got a little more money out of me than I should have parted with for helping me get to the market in Addis Ababa, but I was never in any danger), and on the flip side, have had some truly exceptional experiences when I’ve chosen to trust. One of my favourite travel moments was when a family in Ethiopia didn’t want me to have to eat alone and invited me to eat at their table. They ended up taking me out on the town to see some great Ethiopian performers.
- Walk in the rain. I’ve discovered that one of my favourite ways to see popular tourist attractions is in the rain while fairweather travelers stay dry and warm in their hotels. One of my favourite experiences while at a conference in Chicago was a rainy evening when I wandered all over Millennium Park. My feet were soaking wet by the end, but I loved seeing all of the outdoor sculptures tourist-free from under my umbrella.
- Pack light. I made a few mistakes early on and packed way more than I needed, but now I just bring the bare essentials. You never know when your flight might be delayed and you have to run from one gate to the next. When you’ve got nothing more than a small roller bag and a backpack, you’ll be thanking me for the advice. Plus it’s a lot easier to take public transit when you’re not overloaded. I spent three weeks in Africa with a suitcase that was small enough to be a carry-on bag and I didn’t miss anything – trust me, it can be done.
- Learn to adapt. No matter how well you plan, now and then, things will fall apart. The best you can do is learn to roll with it. Sometimes the best surprises come when your plans fall apart. I flew to the other side of the world with a film crew minus a videographer (he’d jammed out at the last minute), and without a film permit or visas for India. I had to hire local videographers in both India and Bangladesh AND hope that the Indian consulate in Bangladesh would treat me better than the one in Canada had. In the end, I hired the most amazing videographers (who are both now my Facebook friends) with all kinds of local knowledge I wouldn’t have had otherwise, and my hosts helped us navigate the consulate and everything fell into place beautifully.
- Slow down. The pace of the world we live in is moving far too quickly and the ease of air travel is making that worse. Our souls long for a slower pace, so we have to be intentional about finding slowness where we can. When I was a business traveler, I used to feel the pressure of having to rush in and out of places, flying into a city the morning of a meeting and sometimes flying home the same day. It didn’t take long to figure out that didn’t work for me. Soon I began insisting that I needed at least one night after business was done to go for a long walk and relax in a hotel (or B&B) before I was ready to hop on a plane again. Now that I’m self-employed, I take that even further, taking the train instead of plane when I can, and building transition time whenever possible. It’s much healthier for me, my family, and the people I’m doing business with if I’m a little slower and more contemplative in how I move in the world.
- Practice gratitude and sink into joy. After all of the travel I’ve done, I still love it wholeheartedly. I love seeing new places, meeting new people, and having new adventures. I love building community with people all over the world, and sitting in deep conversations with interesting new friends. Sometimes, though, I find the gremlins in my mind trying to tell me that “this is too good to be true” or “I don’t deserve this kind of joy”. Brene Brown talks about this “fear of joy” in her book Daring Greatly. She says that joy makes us feel vulnerable, so we protect ourselves against it by telling ourselves it won’t last. The antidote, she says, is to practice gratitude. (You can watch her talk about this in her interview with Oprah.)
Want to be more soulful in your whole life and not just your travel? Consider registering for the Fall offering of Lead with Your Wild Heart.
by Heather Plett | Sep 11, 2013 | Uncategorized
I knew I wanted to include a lesson on grace in Mandala Discovery, but whenever I tried to write that lesson, I ran into a problem. I don’t know how to define grace.
I’ve had lots of experiences with it, and in my heart I know what it was, but that heart-knowing doesn’t translate into language. So I went to the dictionary.
- elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action
- a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment
- favor or goodwill
Hmmm… Close, but not good enough. I went to another source.
- mercy; clemency; pardon
- the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the bestowal of blessings.
Much closer, but still missing something intangible. I finally wrote this:
I think the clue is in the word “unmerited”. We never deserve grace, it just shows up – a gift from the outstretched hand of God.
Grace is one of those words where nothing but the experience of it can fully inhabit its complex meaning.
Grace is the woodpecker that arrives at the bird feeder moments after your mom dies reminding you that the world is still beautiful in the midst of pain.
Grace is the soup your friend brings to your sickbed.
Grace is your daughter offering to do the dishes even though it’s not her turn.
Grace is the father who lets his son move back home after he’s messed up his life.
Grace is that quiet moment in the woods when a deer stops to look deeply into your eyes.
Grace is the realization that you are beautiful despite your wounds.
Grace is the friend who sits down on the floor with you when you’re too weary to stand up.
To that list, I want to add one thing… Grace is a circle of friends and blog readers who rally around you and generously provide you with over $2000 so that you can travel and grow your work.
Grace is all around us. It is offered to us as unexpected blessings, tiny miracles, moments of mercy, and undeserved kindness.
What moments of grace have you experienced today?
by Heather Plett | Sep 3, 2013 | Uncategorized
Less than a week ago, I asked for my readers’ help in achieving my dream of a trip to two events that I want to participate in. Yesterday I booked my flights. I’m going because many generous people made it possible. A combination of gifts and new business has helped me raise enough money for the trip.
It’s been a humbling experience to be the recipient of so much generosity and positive response to the work that I do. Here are some of the things I learned:
1. People want to help and they want to be asked. This is something I have to be reminded of again and again when I get stuck in my self-sufficient patterns. We are wired for living in community. We want to be of service to each other. It gives us a sense of value and belonging when we are able to help other people. It can’t be a one-way street, though – if you don’t give other people opportunities to serve you, you can’t live effectively in community.
2. It is possible to live in a gift economy. I have been intentional about including elements of the gift economy into my business – I give coaching sessions and workshop registration to up-and-coming leaders, and I’ve traded coaching sessions for editing services and other offerings because I believe that it’s time for us to stop relying so heavily on a financial economy that – when it runs rampant – contributes to a lot of greed, injustice and destructiveness. I also believe that entering into this different way of being in the world of business has opened the door for me to receive gifts from others to help me grow my work. It’s not based on direct exchange the way the financial economy is (the people I give to aren’t necessarily the ones who give to me), but when we give good things out into the world, it comes back to us in surprising ways. We CAN change the system! (For more on the gift economy, I highly recommend Sacred Economics by Charles Eisenstein.)
3. It takes courage and vulnerability to ask for help. I had to think long and hard before I hit send on that request, and even after I sent it, I had moments of fear and trepidation. My pride and shame got in the way. “What if people think less of me? What if people think I’m not very successful at business if I can’t afford this trip? What if they write me off as a charity case rather than a serious writer/coach/facilitator?” All of those things went through my head, but then when I sent it, I got a LOT of emails from people saying “I am so inspired by the courage it took you to ask.” or “Thank you for your vulnerability – you have inspired me.”
4. People are surprised when we dare to step out of what the capitalist system teaches us about “every man for himself”. Though all of the emails I received were kind, some were quite surprised by my “audacity” and said they’d never have the courage to do it. To be frank, this makes me a little sad – that we have become so self-sufficient in our culture that it is surprising when people step out of that pattern and admit they could use help. How can we move back into the kind of community living where there is no shame in getting help from your neighbours?
5. There is a difference between asking for support in growing your work or asking for support to pay the bills. I think one of the things that made this easier for me to do was the fact that I wasn’t asking for money to buy groceries to feed my children. I do believe that people would still have responded to that kind of request, but it would have been much harder for me to ask because of the shame it would bring up in me. That’s something I still need to process further.
6. There are good people everywhere. Sometimes we get stuck in flawed belief systems that tell us most people are more interested in our destruction than our success. That is simply not true. There are many, many good people in the world, and, though there are some whose own broken stories cause them to do damage to other people (my husband works with some of those in prison), most of us want to serve the cause of good. I was quite surprised by the range of people who reached out to help – people who’ve known me for most of my life, people who’ve only read my blog a few times and feel connected to me through my words, people who’ve been participants in my courses and workshops, and people I’ve met at conferences or other places. I tried to find a pattern to who was giving (e.g. mostly people I’ve met in person, or mostly people who’ve received my services at some point), but there really was no pattern. There are good people everywhere and I feel deeply blessed to have encountered so many!!
The stories that were shared floored me and made me realize that this gift was not mine – instead I was simply serving as a catalyst, a vessel, the pot in the hands of the Potter, creating what had been breathed through me and then offering it to those who most needed it.
