1. This magical summer. Beautiful weather and a lack of bugs – almost more goodness than a “proud-to-be-hardy” Winnipeger can handle!
2. My feet. Oh my – they have carried me so far this summer! Walking, walking, and more walking. Yesterday – 18 km. The day before – 14 km. I love my feet.
3. Discovery. Wandering around my city on foot makes for a lot of interesting discoveries – things I’d never seen in a car.
4. Work. More of it than I anticipated. So much that my calendar looks full from now until April.
5. Teaching. Oh how I enjoy being in a classroom and teaching and inspiring and helping people remember their own sense of wonder and delight!
6. Confidence. A sense of self-assuredness that my intuitive path is a better one for me to follow than the well-trodden path others are following (especially when it comes to teaching).
7. Support circles. People who show up when you want them to. People who let you cry when you need to. People who celebrate with you when that’s what you need.
8. Movies in the park. Popcorn, cold drinks, lawnchairs, a little Indiana Jones, and people I like to hang out with.
9. Iced tea. Especially the glass my husband brought me an hour ago.
10. An upcoming adventure. A road trip, a three day walk with interesting people, and some time to connect with my favourite people in 2 different cities.
11. Kites and swings and suction cup arrows. Or more specifically, the two evenings this week Maddy & I have hung out in the park making each other laugh, trying to fly kites with little wind and shooting each other with suction cup arrows.
12. Anticipation. The really cool & diverse people who’ve already signed up for my creative writing class and the fun things I’ve got in mind to do with them.
13. Wanderers, edge-walkers, fringe-livers, freaks, misfits – and all of those lovely souls who are wandering with me on the path.
14. Cheerfulness. More specifically, a shift in tone in my mom’s voice after the ravages of surgery and chemo have subsided somewhat.
15. A shift. More hopefulness in our family, even though not all of the hard things in life have been resolved (ie. the fact that Marcel’s job offer turned out to be a dud that he turned down).
16. Notes on the whiteboard in front of me, from sneaky visitors to my office. “Julie is boss. Nikki is gorgeous. Maddy is awesome. Dad is silly. Nikki rocks. Julie is a beautiful girl.”
It was 1992. I’d just gotten home from spending an evening with my boyfriend (who became my husband a year later).
“Your dad called,” my roommate said, as though it were just an ordinary every-day occurrence.
“My DAD called?!? Are you SURE?” My dad didn’t call. Ever. It just wasn’t his thing. In all my life, I got only a handful phone calls from him, and the other four were various Christmas Eves when he needed me to pick up a last-minute present for Mom. This wasn’t Christmas Eve.
“Yeah, it was your dad. I’m sure of it.”
What did that mean? Was I in trouble? Did something happen to Mom? My heart leapt to my throat.
“It didn’t seem urgent. He just wanted you to call him back when you were home.”
Phoning Dad back wasn’t an easy thing either. His farming lifestyle meant that he was rarely in the house, and he didn’t come in for meals at the times when normal people did.
Eventually, I made contact. “Dad? You called?”
“I heard from Mom that you were thinking of becoming a teacher. I just wanted to tell you that I think you should. You’d be a good teacher.”
And that was about the extent of the phone call. My Dad was a man of few words. When he spoke, the words were usually calculated and important.
At that time, I was in the early stages of my government career. After finishing an English degree, I was wrestling with what I should do with my life and was contemplating an after-degree in Education. That’s what my dad had heard.
He hadn’t heard it directly from me though. I wasn’t in the habit of discussing my life’s plans with my dad.
It wasn’t always easy being my father’s daughter. He was a stubborn man whose love for his farm often seemed more evident than his love for his children. And yet, he was a wise, astute man, and there were many things I greatly admired and respected about him. He was a lifelong learner who placed great value on education (though he had very little formal education himself). He had clarity of vision on some things like few people I know. And, despite his rather conservative worldview (and the fact that he never allowed me to do scripture reading in church because of my gender), he admired strong and eloquent women. (Canadians of a certain age will remember journalist Barbara Frum – one of my Dad’s hero’s.)
Though we didn’t often have heart-to-hearts, my dad saw things in me I didn’t always see in myself. He offered very few compliments in my life, but those he offered were golden. He didn’t exist in a world where women were supposed to be leaders (and he never overtly encouraged it in me), but he saw me as a leader. Once, after we’d had to move all of his tools out of the old house that was about to be torn down, he’d said to me “I felt better when I knew you were the one taking the responsibility. I knew I could trust you to take charge.” And he saw me as one of those strong women he admired. Once, after I’d gone through a really difficult personal valley, he said “I knew you’d survive. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
His recommendation that I become a teacher felt serious. I wasn’t sure at that point that I really wanted to be one, and yet if my dad saw it in me, perhaps…?
Despite my dad’s advice, I didn’t become a teacher – at least not then. I went through the process of applying for the after-degree program, but “forgot” to show up for my interview. Something about it didn’t sit right with me. I wasn’t sure I had enough patience to hang around with children all day every day.
I stayed in my government career at the time, and soon found my passion for communication and leadership. Before long, I was rising in the ranks and finding a place that fit.
My dad’s words never left me, though, and as the years evolved, I kept feeling a silent tug – my teacher heart wanting to emerge.
Last year, after several years of dreaming about being self employed and longing to leave my non-profit leadership job to work as a writer and consultant, I finally took the leap. I had no idea what was ahead, but the timing felt right. Within minutes of having a heart-to-heart conversation with my husband and deciding that it was time for me to quit my job, I got an email from the university, asking me if I would consider teaching a writing course. The message came completely out of the blue. Someone had recommended me for the position.
It was just the sign I needed to affirm that I was making the right move. I gave my notice the next day.
I taught that first course, and then I taught a couple more, and yesterday I was offered three new courses. Plus I have several one-day seminars lined up for the coming months.
From the first day I walked into a classroom, I knew I was where I belonged. I was energized, engaged, and happy. That first class full of students was just what I needed to affirm that I was doing the right thing. They embraced me and told me again and again how much they liked being in my classroom. I heard things like “you know how to build trust in your students” and “you taught us a lot about writing, but more importantly, you taught us how to live and work with integrity and boldness” and “you made us go deeper than we expected to go”.
Nearly twenty years after Dad gave me the advice, and eight years after he died, I am a teacher. I took a winding path to get here, but I don’t regret the path. I picked up a lot of the skills and confidence and wisdom and seasoning I needed along that path before I could stand fully in my teacher role.
Though I enjoy the courses I teach at the university, I know that this is not the end of the road. I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life teaching students how to write effective press releases or persuasive emails.
I want to teach people to write with passion, to live with boldness, to embrace creativity, to challenge themselves, and to dare to lead. I want to foster people’s imagination and help them re-experience the wonder they left behind with their childhood. I want to be a catalyst for positive change.
To start with, I’ll be offering an 8 week in-person course in “Creative Writing for Self Discovery“. (If you’re in Winnipeg, I hope you’ll check it out.) And in a few weeks, I’ll be opening registration for a few more online leadership workshops.
I wish you could see me now Dad. I am a teacher. Instead of taking the traditional route to get here, I’ve forged my own path. It’s been worth the journey.
At the beginning of this summer, I turned 45. It was kind of a big deal – a mid-way point in my life.
When I turned 45, I decided that, instead of getting all serious and introspective (like I am inclined to do), I would do something fun to honour what I like about myself.
And so I created the e-course “A Path for Wanderers and Edge-walkers” and started writing lessons about what it means to be a wanderer, a globe-trotter, an edge-walker, a gypsy, a gadabout… in other words, what it means to be ME.
And then I spent much of the summer wandering. I wandered through my city, I wandered on beaches, I wandered through the woods… I wandered on foot, I wandered by bicycle, and I wandered by canoe. While I wandered, I came up with lessons and inspirations and I TOOK GREAT DELIGHT IN MY WANDERING! Not only that, but I learned a lot from it and realized that my wandering edge-walking spirit is one of my greatest strengths. You can see a lot from the edge that people in the centre can’t see.
Now I have completed 12 lessons in the series (none of which I wrote at home – it seems I needed to be doing the wandering in order to write about it), and it is some of my very favourite writing ever. It’s writing that stretched me to think outside the box, to re-define myself, to dig into my spiritual self, to re-imagine the world, and to see other people differently. I hope it will stretch you too.
One of the things I learned this summer is that not only am I a wanderer and an edge-walker, but most of the members of the tribe I tend to gather around myself are wanderers and edge-walkers too.
Here’s a quote from someone who’s been enjoying the series this summer:
“Heather’s unique blend of practical wisdom, passion & creativity is reflected so eloquently here. She instinctively knows how best to inspire & encourage, capturing perfectly the deep yearning of every edge-walker & wide-eyed wanderer! The rich mix of personal story-telling (with corresponding photographs), a treasure trove of insightful interviews plus a wealth of probing questions, provides the reader with much to ponder. It is both challenging, hugely inspirational & deeply uplifting – a real treat! Thank you!” – Jo Hassan
Last week I spent a good deal of time compiling all 12 lessons into an e-book. When I wander, I like to take photographs, and this e-book not only has 115 pages of juicy, rich, inspiring content, it also contains 115 of my original photographs from my global wanderings.
I am so in love with this product that I want to share it with everyone.
Here’s a list of the lesson titles:
1. Permission to be a wanderer
2. What does your Wandering say about You?
3. Risk Making Connections
4. The Wanderer at the Edge – On Naming Ourselves
5. When Journeys Change us – Slowing Down to the Speed of Soul
6. Curiosity DIDN’T kill the cat – Life as a Learning Journey
7. At the Halfway Point – Self-care for Wanderers & Wandering as Self-care
8. Following the Thread – A Wanderer’s Journey
9. Like the Wild Prairies, Remember your Nature
10. The Blessing of the Pelicans – Guidance in the Wandering
11. Wander to the Right – Playing with your Brain
12. Wandering as Spiritual Quest
Each of these lessons includes an interview with another wonderful wanderer. Find out who they are here.
Since it’s nearing the end of summer, I’m in a good mood, and I’m in the final stretch of preparing for my 100 km. wander in early September, I want to give you the chance to buy “A Path for Wanderers & Edge-walkers” for half price.
That’s just $12.50 for 115 pages of juicy, fun, challenging content. (But only until the September 7, and then it goes back to its regular price of $25.)
To learn more about it click here. On that page, you’ll have the option of buying it as a set of emails that you receive each week for 12 weeks or as a complete 115 page e-book.
If you already know that you want the complete e-book, go ahead and click “Add to cart” below.
Picture it – 11 women, 5 canoes, 3 lakes, 2 portages, 5 tents, 1 remote campsite on the edge of the lake, 0 roads, 0 flush toilets, 0 electronic gadgets, 1 garden trowel to dig temporary toilets in the woods, and dozens of great conversations.
This wanderer’s heart is doing a little happy dance just thinking about it.
I have been very fortunate this summer to be able to thoroughly embrace my inner wanderer. Not that I’ve gone on any grand, expensive adventures, but with a trip to Columbus, a week at the lake, a weekend at the Folk Festival, a few days on a canoe trip, three days of walking with three other wonderful women coming up next month, and lots and lots of walking to prepare for my 100 km. walk, I have definitely fit the definition of Happy Wanderer.
Some of my favourite writing this summer has been the stuff I write for A Path for Wanderers and Edge-walkers. The piece I’m preparing to release today is about how wandering silences our logical left brains and gives our creative right brains space to play and imagine. My right brain will be having a hey-day on this canoe trip, and I just KNOW that I’ll come home with lots of creative ideas.
I love that several of the people who are receiving the weekly emails for A Path for Wanderers & Edge-walkers have written to say “Oh my GOSH! How uncanny your timing is! Just when I was wrestling with this issue, your email showed up and helped me find clarity.” There’s something special happening with that little e-course, and I love being a conduit for it. People are learning to embrace the fact that they love to wander and can often be found at the edge of the circle checking out the “road less travelled.”
Just for fun, I’d like to offer one of you a free subscription to the 12 emails (that culminates in an e-book compilation of all of them) that include my wandering wisdom and the wisdom of 12 other wonderful wanderers I interviewed.
To enter the draw for one free subscription (worth $25), either leave a comment about where your wandering feet are taking you this summer, or post a link to this on Twitter or Facebook. (If you’re canoeing, I suppose it’s where your arms are taking you rather than your feet. 🙂
So tell me… how are you feeding your wandering heart? Walks or bike rides through your own neighbourhood, camping trips, journeys to other countries… what’s your unique brand of wandering?
To inspire you, here’s a short slide-show of last year’s canoe trip.
The last three weeks have been full of so much… ummm… I hardly know how to describe it… BIGness. FULLness. GOODness. Happiness. Inspiration. Love. Fill-in-the-blanks-with-superlatives.
First there was ALIA, and then there was my annual (26th year!) trek to the Winnipeg Folk Festival with various members of my tribe. Both were amazing places to spend time, where I was surrounded with beautiful words, passionate people, shake-the-world ideas, take-my-breath-away moments of wonder, and so much inspiration I’ll still be writing about it for weeks to come.
I wish you all could have been there.
I feel so very, very blessed to have experienced so much goodness.
These are just a few of the random things that brought me joy in the last few weeks:
1. Sitting alone at the Little Stage on the Prairie, listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard lead the audience in a “Snake Farm” sing-along, while cotton ball clouds drifted by overhead.
3. “Nothing to do but hang out and listen to good music” moments with my family at the Folk Festival.
4. Standing on the roof of a beautiful victorian home with interesting new friends, watching fireworks on Canada Day (even though I was in the U.S, and they called it the Red, White, and Boom festival).
5. Eating a spinach, goat cheese, and balsamic vinegar crepe in the North Market in Columbus.
6. Wandering off the beaten track along the river (in Columbus) and discovering the most amazing skatepark someone had made by hand out of packed mud in the middle of the woods.
7. A brief but inspirational after-dinner conversation with Darcy Winslow that reminded both of us of the importance of personal stories, especially for women in leadership.
The last three weeks have been full of so much… ummm… I hardly know how to describe it… BIGness. FULLness. GOODness. Happiness. Inspiration. Love. Fill-in-the-blanks-with-superlatives.
