by Heather Plett | Feb 14, 2010 | Uncategorized
Insecurity. Confidence. Arrogance.
There’s a very thin line dividing these three things. Sometimes the line is invisible and sometimes there’s such a blur that one can’t be distinguished from the other.
Take writing for example.
I am a writer. I have always been a writer from as far back as I can remember. Writing comes almost as naturally to me as breathing. There are volumes of journals on my shelves, stacks of poems, and reams of essays, articles, and plays with my name on them.
I write when I’m happy. I write when I’m sad. I write when I can’t decide which I am.
I write about hate. I write about love. I write when I can’t decide which I feel.
Writing is my therapy, my hobby, my vocation, my spiritual practice, and – if you boil me down to my very essence – you’ll find “writer” etched on my dna.
When I was preparing to make a major life choice and commit myself to my husband, I wrote and wrote and wrote until (and after) I said “I do”. Whenever I’ve been on the edge of something big, I write it out until I recognize what I want and need. When I was raped, I made my way to a group therapy session, but changed my mind and ended up writing and writing until a play emerged and (a few years later) my therapy-writing had morphed sufficiently into literary writing and appeared on stage. When my children were born, I wrote about all the ways they changed me, and I haven’t stopped writing since. When my son died, I wrote until hope started to appear on the horizon.
You could say I’m pretty confident about my skills as a writer. I believe it’s one of my gifts and that I do it quite well, so I don’t hesitate to share my writing – here on this blog and elsewhere. I’ve gotten jobs partly because of my writing skills. I’ve had stuff published. I’ve seen my plays produced on stage. I’ve heard my words in the speeches of influential government leaders. I know I can write.
Sometimes, that confidence slips into arrogance. When I look at things that are poorly written (some government documents, for example), I have been known to scoff at them. When those government officials have butchered the beauty out of speeches I’ve written, I may have rolled my eyes a time or two. When my employees, co-workers, or even my boss write things that aren’t up to par, I don’t hesitate to edit them, and – gulp – I may not always be very gracious about it.
But then there are also the deep hurts – the insecurity. The time in grade school when my brother and friend both won a trip to Regina for a writing contest and I was pretty sure my writing was as good as theirs. The time my friend Ian – who began writing plays in university because I had and it seemed like a good idea – went on to win the Governor General’s award (the highest literary award in Canada) for one of his plays. The many times I’ve held rejection letters in my hand. The time my first government report was returned covered in red ink. The times I’ve been hesitant to sign up for writing classes because “what if I’m not as good a writer as I think and somebody better exposes me as a fraud?” The times I’ve wondered why this blog doesn’t attract the readers that some of the big blogs do.
We are all complex human beings, aren’t we? Full of complex – and sometimes conflicting – stories that we use to define ourselves, full of truths and untruths that we hold in our hearts, full of self-love and self-hate.
How much of how we define ourselves and how we present ourselves in the world is simply the result of long held stories that aren’t necessarily true? How much of what ends up being my confidence, arrogance, or insecurity is the result of the things I internalize because of what I think others think about me and my abilities? How much do I limit God’s ability to bring beauty to the world through me by believing that I am not good enough?
A few days ago, I watched a short documentary of Nelson Mandela (on the 20th anniversary of his release from prison). The commentator said that Mandela had gone into prison a bitter and angry man, but the years in prison changed him and he began to realize he had to tell himself different stories if he wanted to emerge healthy and impactful. He had to shift from bitterness and anger to hope and forgiveness. He had to believe in his own strength and giftedness and the capacity of love to change the world if he hoped to see a shift in justice. He had to rise above what the naysayers and bigots were saying about him, loosen the hold they had on his life, and believe a different story could be true.
As we all know, those new stories reverberated far beyond Mandela’s own life to impact not only Africa but the whole world.
Can we, like Mandela, share hope, justice, and beauty, if we let different stories shape the way we face the world? Can we be leaders of change if we refuse to let the naysayers sway us from the path?
by Heather Plett | Feb 9, 2010 | Beauty, Uncategorized
Sometimes you’re looking for magic
and then when it comes
you’re too busy to notice.
Sometimes when the clouds have moved away from the sun
and the light is just right
you’re distracted and looking the other way.
Sometimes you forget that miracles aren’t just the big life-changing moments
but the small life-pausing moments.
And then sometimes
you’re standing still
at the right place at the right time
with your eyes wide open.
And suddenly
you remember what awe feels like.
by Heather Plett | Feb 7, 2010 | art, Creativity, Uncategorized
Probably at least once a week, I remind my staff that we take a “wholistic approach” in our work. Some of them are fundraisers and others are educators (and some of us bridge the gap), and yet when we approach the people who support our organization, we invite them to give, to advocate, to see justice, to volunteer, to pray, and to consider how their lifestyles contribute to global hunger. We invite them through any or all doorways they are prepared to enter because the needs are complex, the reasons for hunger are complex, and people around the world are complex. Just one of those actions alone will not end hunger without some balance of the other actions. True transformation comes from wholistic commitment.
It’s ironic then, that I so often forget to take a wholistic approach in my own life. I focus solely on one area of my life or another, and then I wonder why I feel out of balance or I don’t accomplish what I feel I should be able to.
Sometimes I read a lot of books and feed my intellectual side. Sometimes I focus on exercise and/or rest and look after the physical side. Sometimes I spend time in a spiritual practice (prayer, yoga, meditation, etc.) and my spiritual side gets fed. Sometimes I seek out community and look after the part of me that needs connection and relationships. And sometimes? Well, let’s face it – sometimes I ignore everything and just indulge in all of the things that I know are unhealthy because I just can’t seem to get myself out of a rut.
At rare times, I make sure I seek balance in all of the areas of my life that need to be fed. I’m a slow learner. Or – more accurately – I forget easily and have to re-learn so many things.
Today I was totally out of whack – cranky, tired, over-stimulated, and downright miserable to be around. And forget about accomplishing anything meaningful – it just wasn’t happening. I could blame it on my hormones, but I knew there was something deeper going on. I was out of balance. I haven’t looked after myself well lately – not my physical side and not my spiritual side. I’ve let both exercise and spiritual practice slip from my day-to-day routines, I’ve been eating poorly and not making any real effort to connect with the God of my understanding. I haven’t really even worked on the relationships that help me find balance in my life.
Something’s got to change. I’m setting my alarm for a little earlier tomorrow. A little yoga, some time in prayer & meditation, and a healthy breakfast – maybe if I start my day off right, things will begin to shift.
If only we could figure these things out once and for all and we wouldn’t have to go back over the same territory time and time again. But day after day, we keep on fumbling and hoping that perhaps one day we’ll be a little bit closer to transformation.
__________
As a side note, tonight my spiritual practice consisted of an hour or two in the studio, making another attempt at a self portrait. The first experience was so meaningful that I decided to try again. This time, I went from a photo because I wanted to attempt a picture with a smile on my face. Like I said to my friend Stephanie when she interviewed me last week, “art has become one of the most meaningful ways that I connect with God.” It doesn’t even matter if it’s bad art, because it’s in the doing, not in the result.
Updated to add: I did it! I made it out of bed for yoga, prayer, and a healthy breakfast! Taking it one day at a time and celebrating small steps. 🙂
by Heather Plett | Feb 4, 2010 | journey, Uncategorized
The wonderful response to my last post reminded me of two really important things about human nature:
- We all want to find our tribes – those people who understand us and don’t turn us away for being different.
- We all (at least I think it’s safe to make a generalization) feel like mis-fits now and then. NONE of us fit cleanly into the categories, boxes, labels, etc. that the experts say we should.
Isn’t that the great thing about the internet, though? We get to find people who understand us. We get to put out tentative little feelers and have people connect to them. (Yes, I believe that they are real connections.) We get to form tribes that might not naturally happen in the circles where we find our real live bodies. (‘Course, some of my favourite readers are my flesh and blood tribe – lucky me – so I get the best of both worlds here.)
Judging from the response, many of the readers of this blog feel like they’re the same kind of mis-fit as I am. Which makes me wonder – are bloggers disproportionately scanners and/or creators, or is it just that we tend to attract like-minded people and that’s what drew you to my blog in the first place (or me to yours – whichever happened first)?
I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot in the last few days. First of all, when I re-launched my blog on its own URL last week I found myself thinking “What is this blog’s reason for being? What makes it unique or of any value? Is it just a place for me to sound-off about my life or is there a deeper reason for why I’m putting this stuff out there?”
Then yesterday I was interviewed by my friend Stephanie for an article on women in leadership and she asked me some fairly pointed questions about why I put my life out there into cyber-world in the way that I do. What do I get out of it as a woman in leadership?
With all this contemplation and the fun interaction on the last post, I came to the conclusion that I am here because this blog has helped me find my tribe. I have found people to connect with. People who understand my idiosyncrasies and connect with me because they have idiosyncrasies of their own. People who value my stories and support me through the tough spots. People who will be kind to me and share their own vulnerability when I talk about personal stuff like breast reduction surgery. People who will cheer me on when I try new things. People who will offer different perspectives when I develop a bad case of tunnel vision. And (perhaps most importantly) people who don’t mind hanging around and watching me fumble through new art forms, writing, parenting, etc.
And in the middle of all that thinking, I had an epiphany.
I have found a tribe of fumblers.
It’s true, isn’t it? We are all fumbling for words, fumbling for truth, fumbling for beauty, fumbling for wisdom, fumbling for art, fumbling for friendship, fumbling for peace, fumbling for significance, fumbling for faith, fumbling for connection, fumbling for meaning, fumbling for justice, fumbling for hope.
I have always been a fumbler. I like to try new things, explore new ways of doing things, take pictures, paint things, write stuff, go on adventures, offer friendship, teach people stuff… but most of the time, I’m just fumbling my way through. I’m not an expert on anything, and even when I get recognition for things people think I know, I feel like saying “hey – I’m just a fumbler like you! I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you can come and fumble with me!”
This is not an expert blog where you’ll find advice on how to live your best life, how to maximize your assets, how to find true happiness, how to move past the blocks in your life, or how to make a pile of money the easy way. You won’t find ten easy steps toward ANYTHING around here (unless it’s tongue-in-cheek).
But if you’re a fumbler, you’re more than welcome to join my tribe!
There’s a great line in a Bruce Cockburn song that says “come all you stumblers who believe love rules, stand up and let it shine”. Hopefully Bruce won’t mind if I tweak it a little for selfish purposes and say “come all you fumblers who believe love rules, stand up and let it shine!”
If you’re a member of my fumbling tribe, stand up and let it shine in the comment box! You are all welcome here!
by Heather Plett | Jan 31, 2010 | Uncategorized
At the ripe old age of five, I figured it was about time for my blog to grow up and get its own space, so I claimed my corner of the internet and here we are at fumblingforwords.com. Yay! Hope you like the new digs!
I’ve been feeling rather inspired lately, and have lots of writing and art ideas buzzing around the ol’ noggin’, so it seemed a good time to ramp up my blog a little.
There have been times when I thought I’d quit blogging, but I never did and the truth is, it’s become too important to me to abandon. This is the space where I do so much great exploration, make connections with great people, and practice my craft of writing, art, and creativity.
In honour of this new beginning, I want to offer you this little video that was inspired mostly by a quiet little moment when I was watching birds soaring overhead while waiting to pick Maddie up at a friend’s birthday party.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FY8bb0xPqKQ]
p.s. the music is by Josh Woodward. I found him on www.jamendo.com – a creative commons site. I think I may need to get more of his music!
by Heather Plett | Jan 20, 2010 | Uncategorized
Sometimes parenting wrenches your heart right out of your chest,
tosses it on the floor and stomps on it.
Sometimes you have to sit in the bathroom holding your daughter
and listening to her sob for half an hour
all the while knowing you can’t do a damn thing to FIX IT.
Sometimes those beautiful children who own a big piece of your heart
bottle stuff up forever and then one day it’s released
in a sudden outburst that results in a hotdog flying across the room.
Sometimes you have to live through the cruelties of life vicariously through your children
and sometimes that second-hand pain is almost worse
than if it were happening to you directly.
Sometimes you feel the weight of realization that you are the only safe place
where their deepest fears and troubled emotions can be unleashed.
And then sometimes you go to bed worrying about your beautiful daughter,
and through the basement floor you hear her humming along with her ipod,
a sure sign that the tears in the bathroom were just right for helping her carry on.
And sometimes you know that the best you can hope for is “carrying on”.
