by Heather Plett | Mar 24, 2010 | Uncategorized
If you hang out with me on Twitter or Facebook, you may have already seen this video, but I thought I’d share it here anyway.
At a recent staff retreat, I asked all of our staff to answer one simple question… “How can we make the world a better place?” We all put our answers on paper and turned them into the following video. (Watch for me around 1:49.) The musical background is a song that we commissioned from the very talented Mike Janzen for an annual campaign called Fast for Change.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMW4e5LNilg]
And… speaking of making the world a better, place… I can’t stop playing this song, written by K’naan (who, by the way, grew up in Somalia during the war, so knows more about the true meaning of freedom than many of us) and performed by Young Canadian Artists for Haiti. Just a few moments ago, when I was dropping my kids off at school watching all of the children in the playground, it came on the radio, and like a sentimental sap, I got all choked up. Something about all those carefree kids with this song in the background just warmed the cockles of my heart (whatever cockles are).
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nB7L1BIDELc]
So… the question I have to ask is… what would you put on your paper if you were asked how to make the world a better place? I’d love to see your answers in the comments.
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 22, 2010 | Uncategorized
I always enjoy it when I’m doing public speaking and I get introduced by someone who knows me fairly well. You find out new things about who you are when you hear yourself described by someone else.
The same is true when someone writes an article about you. My friend Stephanie used to be a work associate but is now a freelance writer, and she recently wrote a profile piece about me (and two other women in leadership) for an International Women’s Day feature in a small Christian publication. Here’s her take on me… (if you click on it, you should be able to see a larger version.)
by Heather Plett | Mar 20, 2010 | Uncategorized
It’s been just over a week since surgery, and I am feeling remarkably good. Still a little tender, and I tire easily, so I can’t do much yet, but I am in good spirits and can at least leave the house now and then. On doctor’s orders, I’ll be taking another week off work, but I have to admit that it feels a little like guilty pleasure to be sitting around doing nothing and feeling this good rather than working. But hey – why would I disobey doctor’s orders? This week I’m hoping to do some writing and painting, now that I can sit up for longer periods of time.
As much as I’m feeling good, I’ll be honest with you – there are some things I’m really, REALLY looking forward to:
- Sleeping on my side again. Oh my – this sleeping on my back thing is really getting old!
- Movement. Almost any kind of movement. Too much rest is not good for the body, and I swear my back and joints scream at me every morning “PLEASE MOVE US! SOON!”
- Getting the stitches out. Friday. Yay!
- Going for long walks in the Spring sunshine.
- Running. I was really starting to enjoy the treadmill, and now that I have less flopping, I think I’ll buy some good runners and try running outside!
- Buying a new bathing suit! Yes, it’s true – that is the FIRST time I’ve ever looked forward to something that has always been a pure but necessary evil. Bathing suits just aren’t made for women with watermelon jugs.
- Shopping for pretty bras! No more ugly functional over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders! Woot! I’m going to Victoria Secret and buying the prettiest, most frivolous bra I can find! Polka dots, frills, whatever! Just because I can.
- Riding my bike. It’s been lovely Spring weather around here and I am envious of people who ride past my window. I want to be on my bike in the worst way.
- Buying button-up shirts. When the “preparing for surgery” note told me to wear a button-up shirt so that it was easy to put on afterwards, I had to really dig for one. When the buttons have a tendency of popping, you just give up on button-ups and wear a lot of t-shirts and sweaters. But I’m buyin’ some! Soon!
- Yoga, dance – any kind of movement that will no longer be restricted by the extra weight I was carrying in the front.
- Having a bra burning party! I don’t know when or where yet, but I intend to burn those babies and I want my friends around cheering me on! If I can make it work, it may even be a pajama party. Any ideas?
- Less self-consciousness. Less self-criticism. Less disappointment when I look at photos of myself.
- Better posture. Marcel has already commented that I’m holding myself straighter and that will only get better when there’s no more discomfort.
I’m still overweight, and I’m not foolish enough to believe that this will resolve all of my body issues, but I already feel so much better now that I’m at least a little better proportioned. The best is yet to come!
by Heather Plett | Mar 18, 2010 | Uncategorized
(not the river I stood by this morning, but another river I've learned from)
This morning I went to see the river. I’d barely left the house all week and needed to sit with Mother Nature for awhile. Water calls me. Always.
This time it wasn’t the mighty Red River that flows close to my house. It was the smaller Seine a little further away.
A week ago it was frozen. Today it was surging with Spring thaw. I stood on a small man-made water weir, mesmorized by the churning water a few feet below me.
The nature of a river can be boiled down to one word. Flow. If it didn’t flow, it wouldn’t be a river. To fulfill its purpose – its calling – it must flow. At all costs. It might sit frozen for a few months (just like the cocoon in yesterday’s post), but when the Spring comes, it returns to the only thing it knows – flowing.
The water weir presents a challenge for the otherwise sleepy little river. How will it get past this barrier? By rising, that’s how. By building up enough volume and strength to flow over top of the wall in front of it.
If the river ceased to follow its very nature and let the obstacles win, it would become a stagnant pond, no longer able to sustain life. Or it would flood the farmland and wreak havoc with the life forces around it that depend on its reliability.
“What about me?” I thought. “How do I respond when the Spring thaw calls me to come out of hibernation and bring forth life? And what do I do when obstacles get in the way? Obstacles like fear, uncertainty, or criticism? Do I cease to follow the path I feel called to? Do I stagnate and forget how to sustain life? Do I flood the land with negative energy and disappoint the people whom I’m called to help? Or do I gather my strength and rise even higher than I was before?”
Just before I walked back to my car, I heard the river whisper “Flow, baby, flow.”
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.
