In just 45 days, I will turn 45. It doesn’t really scare me, or depress me. In fact, I feel quite good about it. I’m enjoying my 40s. It’s a beautiful middle ground. You’re old enough to be taken seriously, but young enough to be forgiven for still making foolish mistakes.
I’m more relaxed in my skin, comfortable with who I am, and confident in my own wisdom than I ever was in my 20s or 30s. I’m no longer dealing with the stress of early parenthood or all of that self-doubt when you just can’t figure out what you want to be when you grow up. (Not that I’ve mastered either of those things, but rather that I’m more comfortable with the not-knowing).
Just before I turned 40, I wrote a post called “40 days ’til 40” (on my old blog) about the ways that I wanted to spend 40 days in preparation for my 40s intentionally seeking out more opportunities for contemplation, creativity, spirituality, and physical activity. I’m happy to say that those 40 days helped set the tone for this decade – I’ve done more of all of those things (and been more intentional about them) in my 40s than I ever did before.
After those 40 days of preparation, I did two big things to mark my 40th birthday – I got my nose pierced and I went skydiving. Those two things ushered in a more fearless decade than I’ve ever had (as you saw in the last post). Jumping out of a plane made me feel like I was capable of doing almost anything. (Incidentally, for my last birthday, I had a bra-burning party to celebrate my breast reduction surgery. I have this thing for marking major milestones.)
Now that it’s 45 days until my 45th birthday, I’m contemplating how I should mark the midway point in this decade. Once again, I want to do something that challenges my fear and teaches me new lessons in my current theme… letting go of the ground. (By the way, I hope to release my e-course by that name on my birthday!)
That’s where YOU come in.
I’m hoping to come up with 45 ways of turning 45. In other words… 45 ways of being fearless, 45 ways of letting go of the ground, or 45 ways of embracing my feminine wisdom and growing my creativity.
Can you help me? Leave your suggestions (on any of those themes, or come up with a way to combine them ALL) in the comments or email me. I’m not saying I’ll do them all, but I’ll at least do one or two that feel like a good fit.
Keep in mind that our finances are not abundant right now (as I struggle to build a new business) so if your idea is expensive, you’ll also have to come up with an idea for financing it.
Give it your best shot… how can I become a more FEARLESS 45?
p.s. one of my plans is to run my first half-marathon a few weeks after my birthday.
The language of business and government is largely the language of men. It’s language that’s been shaped by sports and warfare – masculine arenas.
Think about it for a moment – strategic planning, performance reviews, bite the bullet, fast track, jump the gun, keep your eye on the prize, rally the troops, ball park figures – they’ve all been influenced by sports or warfare. Even coaching, though it has developed softer edges, is still a word that comes out of sports, where performance is everything.
Language is not only shaped by the culture in which it is formed, it also helps shape the culture. When you enter a new workplace, you learn to speak in the local lingo. Before you know it, you’re not just talking in those terms, you’re thinking in them too.
Case in point: Not long ago, in my Writing for Public Relations course, we were talking about communications strategies, and I was telling the students how important it is to evaluate after the work is complete. “Even if you don’t have time for a full-fledged evaluation,” I said, “at least do a post mortem with your planning team.”
The students wanted to know what a post mortem was, and I explained that it’s a meeting held after work has been completed to discuss what went well and what needed to be improved next time. I was so used to using the word, I didn’t even think about what I was saying, until a student raised his hand and called me on it.
“Remember how you were saying that language in the world of business is too often based on sports and warfare?” asked the student who’d spent time in the army. “Well, ‘post mortem’ is an excellent example. Interestingly enough, the army no longer uses that term. They now refer to it as ‘after action review’.”
Needless to say, I was sufficiently humbled by my student who’d caught something I didn’t even recognize in my own language. That’s how language is – it becomes so embedded in our psyche, we don’t even recognize how it influences us anymore.
I’m on a personal mission not only to change my own language, but to influence the language of the corporate world. I think it’s time for more feminine language – the language of art and intuition added to the language of sports and warfare.
This morning I delivered a speech to a local business club. I spoke on “How to Lead with your Paint Clothes On.” I talked to them about how to think more like artists, how to incorporate creativity and pauses and white spaces and practice in their business planning. I encouraged them to allow for mistakes, open themselves to possibilities, and trust their intuition. I handed out markers and doodle pages and told them to doodle while I talked. I encouraged them to hold art parties with their staff.
I don’t think the business club (mostly men) knew exactly what to make of my talk. A few of them offered stories of how creativity had shaped what they did, but most of them simply thanked me politely and then left.
It’s a new language for many people – not one that’s particularly comfortable in a business world. Speaking a new language into an old culture can be intimidating and downright scary. But change doesn’t come without a bit of risk. If we want things to shift, sometimes we have to be willing to be the oddball in the room.
Here’s the handout I used this morning. On the back of the page it said “Go ahead and DOODLE!”
Almost every time I do a vision board, I think “ooooh… this one is my favourite so far!” That’s how I felt last night when I completed this one. I love it. It’s the biggest one I’ve done so far (I wanted to think BIG for 2011), and it’s colourful and beautiful and MINE.
There is something so gratifying about seeing your vision appear in this way. I think it works for me for a number of reasons:
I’m a visual thinker. Give me images and vibrant colour and I’m a happy girl. I can get lost in an image without necessarily needing an explanation.
BUT I also love words. (I’m a writer, after all.) I like to flip through magazines to see which words jump out at me and offer me some frame for my life at the time.
I love to combine images and words and then watch what the combination evokes. AND I love surprises, and there are always a few of those when I put words and images together in new ways.
I am comfortable with ambiguity. I don’t need to know what every image or combination of words means when I glue it on the board. Sometimes it just speaks to me and the meaning appears later.
I like evolving, fluid structures. I don’t enjoy being hampered by boxy things like “strategic plans” or “business plans”. I prefer to watch the way my vision boards evolve, with changing colour themes, imagery, words, etc.
Some of the things I see so far in 2011’s vision board are:
running – this is the first time I’m whispering it aloud, but I really want to run a half marathon!
joy – my word for the year
growth – exceeding my limits and expanding my horizons
travel, adventure, journey (those things always seem to appear on my boards)
leadership, sacred space, wisdom
variety, options
This type of visioning speaks volumes to my Sophia heart. It’s the wisdom that flows from me when I am true to myself.
For years I tried to fit in a world where strategic planning and corporate vision statements and agendas and action items and objectives and goals felt like stiff wooden boxes that didn’t fit the soft curve of my heart. Though I became adept at adapting to that world, it never felt like my full truth.
Not that those things aren’t necessary – it’s just that they weren’t fully balanced with the wisdom of the feminine.
Now I’m looking at the world differently. I’m looking for the curves and circles, the organic ways of growing, the spaces in between the cold hard facts, the colour behind the black and white, the softness in the structure, and the joy factor.
This year, as I look ahead to my first full year of self-employment, I’m focusing on the joy factor. Instead of a business plan, I’m working on a “joy roadmap”. Instead of a vision statement, I’m creating a “joy image”. Instead of goals and objectives, I’m asking “what things will make my heart feel alive?”
Do it with me! Here are a few tips to get you started:
1. List five moments from the past year when you felt deeply joyful.
2. What was it from those moments that contributed to your joy and how can you replicate that in 2011?
3. Who were the people who surrounded you in those moments and contributed to your joy? How can you continue to surround yourself with these joy people?
4. Create a vision board, adding images and words that make you feel joyful.
5. Answer these questions:
I am joyful when…
I can bring joy to other people by…
Now go back and read your answers to the questions in #5. Are there intersections? Is it possible that the things you do that bring you joy are also the things that contribute to other people’s joy? I suspect so!
Joy is contagious. Go out there and find some. And then pass it on.
I’ve been having lots of fun making some very cool Christmas gifts in my little studio, plus I’m working on launching a creativity workshop in the new year, and so my thoughts have been on creativity. In that spirit, I made this little video to share some of my fun tips for being more creative.
PLUS if you watch the video, you’ll find how who won the “name my elephant teapot” contest.
Sometimes it feels like we have gotten stuck in too many broken systems, failing institutions, and flawed structures that are not serving the purpose for which they were designed. We know things are broken – we can see it plain as day – and yet we feel like those villagers who were too fearful or complacent to tell the emperor he has no clothes.
I am teaching a public relations course in a brand new building that was completed the month before my class started. It was touted to be an innovative, interesting building. “How exciting to teach in a space that’s been created with innovative learning in mind!” I thought, naively.
I can only say this – it is a remarkable disappointment. The first thing you notice is the institutional look of it. Bare concrete floors, stark white classroom walls, and nothing that looks warm and inviting – anywhere. The next thing you notice is the noise level. I’m not sure what the walls are made of, but when a siren goes by (which it does, often, as we’re on one of the busiest corners in the city), I have to wait for it to pass before I can speak again. Don’t even get me started about the jack-hammering on my first day.
As you look a little deeper, you notice the more subtle things. The lack of coat racks or lockers, for example – students (and teachers) have to lug heavy backpacks and winter clothes with them everywhere they go. And then there’s the lack of common spaces, lobbies, or even a cafeteria. Neither students nor faculty can gather in common spaces in comfortable chairs. It feels remarkably like they don’t want people to be communicating with each other. (After all, isn’t that how revolts form?)
As a teacher, my greatest issue is with the lack of flexibility in the classroom. I am a creative person teaching a writing class – I need a creative space. And yet there are essentially no options for innovative use of space whatsoever. I can’t even fall back on the oldest method in the books – gathering in a circle – because the desks are too rigid to permit it. And forget trying to put anything colourful on the walls to try to foster creativity – it’s against the rules.
I could go on and on (and sometimes I do), and you might think I’m just a complainer looking for a sympathetic ear. (After all, haven’t teachers been teaching in much worse conditions than these for years?) But I believe this goes deeper than simple complaints – I believe this is a symptom of an illness that we’ve allowed to run too rampant in our culture. I believe that we are failing our students by letting them know that this is the best they can expect in life. I believe we are stifling their imagination, and the work force that they will soon be part of will suffer for it.
“Look at these stark white boxes, students,” we’re telling them. “This is your future. Fit into the boxes as best you can and don’t dare leave your mark on the wall.”
Here’s the thing – institutions should not mold US to serve THEM. WE should create institutions that serve US. And when an institution ceases to serve us, we should abolish it, or at least do some serious reconfiguring.
This building is only one of the flawed institutions I’ve witnessed lately. One of my daughters is gifted academically, and yet she is completely bored at school, falling through the cracks in an education system that is teaching to mediocrity. And when it comes to health care, I could write a volume on the many ways that our health care system has failed various members of my family, mostly because there are lots of disillusioned people “just doing their jobs” in a broken system.
The question is, who tells the emperor he has no clothes? As a contract teacher, do I risk being seen as the “complainer”, or even worse, the “trouble-maker” because I believe we are doing a disservice to the students by not offering them more? As a parent, do I work my way up the school division hierarchy to find someone who will pay attention to the fact that the education system is doing our gifted students a disservice by boring them to tears? As a caregiver and family member of people suffering at the hands of the health care system, do I march into the halls of power and say “This is NOT GOOD ENOUGH!”
It’s easier just to pretend the emperor has on a beautiful handwoven coat.
And yet there’s a tiny voice inside me saying “SPEAK UP! Somebody HAS to!”
And so, this week, I’m letting that voice speak. It’s time to write some letters, speak some truths, and run the risk of offending the emperor.
In just 45 days, I will turn 45. It doesn’t really scare me, or depress me. In fact, I feel quite good about it. I’m enjoying my 40s. It’s a beautiful middle ground. You’re old enough to be taken seriously, but young enough to be forgiven for still making foolish mistakes.
