Cover of a Classic

Did you have a parchment paper version of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata (1952) on your wall in the 60′s or 70′s too? Re- re-discovered it. I love when something true is the same yesterday, today & forever!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

The Importance of the Cheap Art Manifesto

We lived for many years without art. I hung beautiful empty frames instead, refusing mass re-productions while eagerly and patiently awaiting to afford cheap and honest art that fed someone literally and otherwise. So glad we waited! Recently re-enjoying my collection…

ART IS CHEAP…. HURRAH!

Carpools and Potlucks are Two of my Favorite Things!

Before World Vision I had never carpooled. Working in the for-profit world I mostly had company cars that came fully equipped with company gas cards and I drove the corridors of the 400 series of highways and the back-country byways between Niagara and Nepean without much thought to the environment at all. Consider this a true confession of quite an honest-to-goodness tree-hugger born on the West Coast and raised by Prairie grandparents with sod-hut life experience who equipped me with a deep-seated frugality and enough practical skills to survive a deep depression nevermind these pesky recessions and rumours of recessions.

When a colleague came to my desk one day to expore a new ride arrangement for one of his carpool mates who was moving to the Hammer, I was secretly glad to be able to tell him “no, I can’t carpool because my husband and I drive together and we keep irregular hours”.  Now, to be clear, I’m pretty much an open and authentic book and I habitually engage strangers in fierce and deep conversations on planes, trains, and automobiles and I’ve hitchhiked across this country and back after all. But the thought of committing to a routine relationship of to and fro driving with a group of people I might not even like, randomly thrown together on the basis of geography? Not for me. At least public transit affords you the social right to privacy with the option perhaps of some consensual but small how-about-this-weather kind of talk, if the mood suits. My instincts told me that carpools came with a very different kind of social expectation at the least and a very different responsibility at the worst. I’m not a “joiner” if you know what I mean, and I don’t like small talk or shallow relationships and I certainly was not interested in joining a carpool.

But then I began to get home later and later because of Paul’s schedule and some of his SME staffing changes. And so one day I had no choice but to dive into the alien world of carpooling or I would have had to decide between a convoluted public transit or not going home at all (what, sleep in the first-aid room? It’s been done.) So, with great initial intentions and precautions, I attempted to keep the carpooling thing as transactional as possible. Paul dropped me to work in the mornings and so I could only ride one-way. Which meant I could not contribute fully to the carpool effort by being a driver, so I paid the standard fare of 5 bucks for each ride home and since I worked from home two days each week and wasn’t a ‘regular’, it was comfortable.

(I’m not a ‘regular’, nor your average Jane, I’m what you might call a “one-in-five” but that’s a whole other blog post!)

The trouble was, I was right- carpools do demand a different level of social, relational and conversational responsibility. I found that I liked each person in the carpool! Ride home after ride home under the daily invoked safety of the ‘dome of silence’ we shared adventures, games and great conversations wide-ranging from the serious to the sublime to the ridiculous and then back again (sorry, bound by ‘the dome’ & can’t share details). We hatched many innovative ideas (many manifested!) and solved several problems. I think that we could have come up with a solution to just about any problem except how to end world hunger- that’s a tough one.

To my surprise and delight, I found the carpool to be a stage for practicing the art of story-telling with humourous embellishments and dramatic twists. I think I forged bonds as well as fond memories that will last a lifetime. I know it was fun, fruitful and environmentally sound. We were the biggest and bestest carpool there ever was and I am grateful to be invited to the annual potluck tomorrow, especially since I’m no longer technically in the carpool. Spiritually- once a the member of the carpool, FOREVER a member of the carpool. Funny, carpoolers are like bikers that way (again, a story for another time).

For now, I’m looking forward to the festive potluck gathering of the WVC carpool at Pieter’s house tomorrow and seeing the gang all together again and with family in tow. And so I rehearse the story-telling (not fairy tale- that’s a horse of a different colour all-together) of the time I actually rode in the trunk of a car… one-in-five have you know!

Here’s to the courageous & authentic one-in-fivers & carpoolers out there!

The Ancient Art of Story Telling and the Importance of Living Yours

Once upon a time there lived a man who died suddenly and then the life he had lived was finished. Or unfinished. Who decides that? No doubt the storyteller in each of us would make our own meaning to fill in the gaps and then re-tell the story with our own story intertwined.

Non-sequitur: it’s a well-established fact that the three factors that make for satisfying work are autonomy, mastery, and purpose. 

My friend Dean died suddenly last week. Our stories have been intersecting over the long and winding course of 30 years in all sorts of interesting ways… I worked in his wife’s dress shop when I first moved to Hamilton and for many years after. He worked with my husband. We lived in the same apartment in the same building on different floors. For years the four of us spent expensive Friday night dinners together every week at one of the only restaurants worth the price in town. And shared the occasional frugal and comforting dinner of porridge and toast on a rainy Tuesday.  Over the years Dean helped me navigate the challenges (and there were many) of having rental properties. Furnaces, leaks, ceilings, roofs, windows, doors, the occasional rental and eviction, and many more leaks.

This fall Dean helped me spruce up a kitchen (mine) that anyone else would have replaced. But he got it, understood me and my assymetrical priorities (it’s an eyebrow thing that I have learned to embrace- indeed leverage) and purposeful frugality and he helped me make the right picks.

Dean was gentle man with a kind heart and skillful hands. He cared about what he did and did it with care. He had a natural appreciation of beauty and aesthetic sensibility and so when I asked him to replace my kitchen floor, counter and backsplash, I knew it also meant involving him in the choices.

Dean was a straight-forward enigma of a man (I know!). What I came to understand and fully appreciate about him recently was that he lived a simple life centred around the character and characters on Locke Street and he crafted a life of work that had autonomy, mastery, and purpose. Brilliant. And more so because it eludes so many.

Fast-forward. The last time I saw Dean was when he answered my call for help (always did!) to unload the set of the Other Side of the River, a youth musical I executive produced (I know!) to my now Narnia-like backyard. Thoughts and memories of Dean float through me and my home as I go about this daily business of living, wondering who is going to grout the backsplash and re-screen the door. Not Dean. Not now. And when my mundane thoughts plunge into melancholy or beyond into darkness, I am rescued by my own love of life and determination to be the present author of my own story and live happily ever after, in this case, the passing of a dear friend.

The “suddenlies” in life are inevitable. What matters is what comes after- the story you write and choose to live.

Once upon a time _____ , when suddenly _______ , and then ________. 

One of many wise men, Winston Churchill said, “It is a mistake to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time.”

Postscript: At Dean’s wake this past weekend a friend of mine and a dear friend of his told me, that he told her, that I made him eat peas. I did. It wasn’t a Dean thing,  it’s a Sherlock house rule that you have to have at least one bite and I make everyone eat peas (much to my children’s chagrin…but really, how can anyone not like properly cooked and seasoned peas?!). Apparently he enjoyed them and we shared a good laugh about that which reminded me that Dean also had a well-developed sense of humour which I also appreciated. And if the turnout at the wake was any indication- Dean’s life was touched and appreciated by many, many people.

Dancing Together

I’ve recently returned to writing a little, blogging a little, so you’ll be hearing from me more often on the topics that are important to or fascinate me - like trust. As I was looking for something in my home office files yesterday, I found a poem that I wrote a few years ago after a three-day team coaching gig. It was such a wonderful, rich experience that at the end of it I was just bursting and had to somehow express and capture the experience. I’m glad I did, because the memory of the work those execs did together was powerful and it was so great watching them come together in a whole new positive (and more functional!) way. Because there were 9 of them, I invited a colleaque to co-facilitate the process and help me hold the space. The experience of co-facilitating was great too (my first time and there’s risk involved!)- so now that you have the context, here is the poem, called Dancing Together:

We held our breath,

held hands and joined hearts, and we held the space

together, gently, firmly.

 

The respect and trust

between us

rock solid,

a firm foundation.

 

They danced around it,

nibbled at the edges

flirting with the notion of them

until they would settle for no less.

 

And then they joined us on the rock,

bathing joyfully, as in the sun.

(The truth shall set you free.)

Life Penetrated by the Marvellous

Today I walked the Bruce Trail for the first time since the “rains” here in Ontario. It was a marvellous walk on a marvellous day illuminated by marvellous company… and then it was penetrated suddenly by the marvellous appearance of two deer. First we saw the young buck. He burst onto the trail and then in an instant he was still. I was so pleasantly surprised. And then determined to get close to him. My trailmate, familiar with my audacious spiritual tenacity, realized it was better to follow along than chuckle when I commanded the beast to stay put until we could get a really close look and enjoy his presence. (Either you believe we have dominion or you don’t. I do. And I wasn’t about to miss this divine opportunity to target practice!). So my trailmate followed along as I made the calls: “keep walking and talking, slower now, but steady, slower now” and commanding the stag to stay. And he did. We got close enough to see his small antlers and realize he was a ‘he’… and then we got closer and closer. We kept the conversation up at a clip as casual as our walk when the doe lept onto the trail to follow her mate across. More marvellous! He remained still to ensure her safe passage and then walked of into the side wood as we came ever closer. And marvellous is the only word to describe the moment that we approached them within the 50-feet range and stopped. We talked to them and they stopped to gaze at us, lifting their tails, as curious as we were. We had already reached our 3 km mark and so it was time to turn around. As we did, we fell in line with their direction as they crossed the creek at Sanctuary Park and so we walked alongside them in a magical Narnia kind of world, with the sun offering golden spears of light through trees on the still-green grass on this first of December days. Simply marvellous!

(And then we saw - and heard-  SO MANY red-headed & ladder-backed woodpeckers on the way home… a great gift of a day on God’s green earth!)

Leadership from the Inside Out

As I prepare to coach the leader of an NGO I am revisiting some of the classics and highly recommend Kevin Cashman’s Leadership from the Inside Out. Kevin’s work is just like him- solid and authentic. His assertion that leadership is ”authentic self-expression that creates value” is both simple and profound. Every moment we lead, we lead from who we are. We just can’t help it!

http://leadershipfromtheinsideout.com/

Moon at the Window

It’s that time of year when the moon and the sun seem to be hanging low to the earth and shining down at the oddest angles! Very helpful for cleaning windows and clearing dust from places newly illuminated! This past full moon and I got to know each other quite well as she shone brilliantly through my bedroom window bidding me to get up much earlier than normal for two days in a row. So glad I heeded her beckoning, for I enjoyed those beautifully crisp and clear mornings, watching the sun rise  at the other end of the house while sipping fresh pressed coffee with cardamom. I am reminded of Joni Mitchell’s Moon at the Window which alluded to one of the most famous poems by the Japanese Buddhist priest Ryokan entitled “The Thief Left It Behind” :

The thief left it behind:
the moon
at my window.

My personal favorite in this genre of poetry is this one by 17th Samurai warrior & poet Mizuta Masahide:

Barn’s burnt down –
now
I can see the moon.
 

As we journey on it’s a good reminder that barns, windows and possessions are temporal, fleeting and can be taken from us, but not the light, not enlightenment, and certainly not the moon or music. We are rich indeed!

I Am

I Am

The two most powerful words in the universe, for whatever we put after them becomes our reality.

On Leadership

I recently led a series of teaching on leadership. There is much to be taught and learned on the subject and there are more books on this subject that almost any other. But John Maxwell boils it down to the very best essence I’d say- that leadership is about influence. Nothing more. Nothing less.