Today marks the “livification” of The Great Canadian Yoga Stretch’s website. I’ve been dropping hints about it and you can finally go see what this campaign is about.

The Twitter version: “In support of CNIB, inspiring Canadians to stretch their perceived limits through the practice of yoga”. Well, I don’t think that does too swell a job of explaining how fan-flippin’-tastic this campaign is going to be, but while I am the Volunteer Chair, I’m not the copy writer (probably just as well…there would be über-professional non-words like “fan-flippin’-tastic”).
Here’s what I am truly excited about:

• The real mission of the campaign – it’s a national fundraising campaign during the month of May that invites all Canadians to declare their yoga stretch goal and raise $$ for CNIB’s programs at the same time. Could be a 30-day challenge for you OR finishing a 90-minute flow class by the end of the month. Your call.
• The inclusive nature of the campaign…it’s for all Canadians:  all levels of yogic abilities – from couch potatoes to seasoned yogis; all levels of vision -  from sighted to partially sighted to blind; all regions – from St John’s to Vancouver peeps will be joining in on the fun.
• Getting to work with my husband (he’s VP Fundraising, CNIB). Turns out, we DO work well together (this is good).
• Like all good work, it ends in good play: celebration events across the country on May 30^th will be well worth the sweat.
• THAT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT GOALS!!!! If you’ve been here before, then you likely know that I so adore talking about goals and how to make them smart. Goal setting is some of the work I do most often with my own clients and helping them to stretch themselves is the meat of it. So, getting to move away from that metaphor and into real physical stretching is kind of cool.
• My own stretch goal thrills me (it’s a SMART goal, after all!) – elegantly going into a full, unassisted head stand. Note the qualifier “elegantly”. I am an intermediate practitioner at best and so this is NOT something I am comfortable doing. Which must mean it’s right for me.

While the landing page is live, we’re not quite ready to invite you to register (technically, this is a “soft” launch…let’s face it, we’ve got to eeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase on into this whole waking-up from winter thing). The site will be fully awake on April 6^th…by then maybe you’ll have had the chance to consider your own stretch goal.

Until then, you can join us on Twitter and Facebook.

Namaste.

Bear with me.

This past Saturday, I tuned in to CBC’s Definitely Not the Opera. I always enjoy it and rarely have the radio on (living an iPod existence has seemingly eradicated the need for a stereo) so driving around doing errands afforded me this rare pleasure. I was pretty disappointed when I heard this week’s program title: “In Praise of Good Enough”. In fact, I had an almost visceral reaction when I heard that.  I mean, really: “good enough”? How lame. How pedestrian. How beige. Definitely Not the Opera was Definitely Not for Tanya this week.

But I persevered. Am glad I did.

It forced me to look at my own relationship with “good enough”. And why “good enough” has never been good enough for me. AND what the cost of that can be.

Let’s take this blog, for instance. I am no writer, yet I adore writing to my blog. It is for my pleasure (as I have discovered that I enjoy writing) and hopefully for others’ pleasure too. So why have I not written a post in over two weeks?

I have read somewhere and made a rule for myself along the way that each and every blog post MUST be truly profound, OR hilarious, OR transformative. And as such, this line of thinking has become a very compelling reason to NOT write when life is busier than usual. I mean really…how convenient is this?: “there’s no point in writing today…I have nothing to say that anyone will care about”.  So I don’t sit down and write, denying myself that pleasure AND feeling guilty about letting myself down in one fell swoop. Clever, huh?

This is a pretty common plight: our relationship with perfectionism is the very thing that can stop us from launching. And quite simply, stopping short is what keeps us stopped short.

In Linchpin, Seth Godin points out that he has written over a hundred books, most of which didn’t sell very well. And that Picasso produced over a thousand paintings, but most of us can only remember three of them. (Please do read the book for 236 pages of head-nodding goodness). He points out that the work is in creating and being fearless enough to launch. Whatever the outcome.

So today, I invite you to settle. Serve a dish that isn’t spectacular. Turn in a report that isn’t completely buttoned down. Assume your readers will forgive a less-than-transformative blog post and hit “publish”. Just this once, go for “good enough” with me.

And who knows? It may end up being the next Linchpin, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, or The Sound of Settling (wildly popular song by Death Cab for Cutie – ironically, the writer didn’t think it good enough to share with his bandmates and held on to it for a long time).

If this post helped even one person evaluate their own relationship with perfectionism and helped them to move forward, then that’s good enough for me. In fact, that’s fantastic.

As lovely (and outrageously overpriced) as it all was, we couldn’t wait to get home to slip into something more comfortable and get busy. No, not THAT kind of comfortable nor busy. I mean getting into our Lululemons and having at a blank canvas we’ve been meaning to tackle. Apparently, it’s what we do.

Inspired more by the restaurant’s abundant artwork than its food, we cracked open a bottle of MacLaren Vale and went to work, with no real plan in mind for what the finished piece would look like. After all, canvasses are pretty cheap and we knew we’d have fun regardless of the outcome. (Am really working on this non-attachment stuff).  I did my thing on one side and Greg did his on the other…and then we met sort of in the middle. An hour later, we were done.  We thought.

We stood back and felt pretty pleased with how it had come together. Here’s what we did.

Untitled 1

Then a funny thing happened.  I stood back to admire it as G held it against the wall, and then he rotated it 90 degrees. Huh. Different.

Untitled 2

Another 90 degrees.

Untitled 3

And another.

Untitled 4

Greg likes version number 2…something about it raining down happy goodness on the earth. Not bad.

I like version number 3. The upward motion feels aspirational. And somehow, 4 seems more pensive and sombre.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not really suggesting that this is art worthy of great discussion. We don’t purport to be artists (we didn’t even have palettes so we used a plastic cutting board and an unused cat litter pan to blend colours). But we like it and it looks good on the wall and that’s the end of that.

What I’m writing about here is perspective. One painting. Several iterations. Many different emotions. All good.

We strung the wire on the back so it can be hung any which way we like on any given day.

My Valentine’s Day gift to you, dear reader, is the reminder that you too are always at choice. You get to choose your perspective. It can be as easy as turning the canvas around if you so desire.

I hope that today you choose to have fun, play, laugh and love.

XO
T

The plan was as follows: do something fun and memorable on Saturday and integrate the learnings for a strategic planning session on Sunday. Sounds like a rip-roaring good time, don’t it? Yet, we trusted that it was exactly what was needed. The trick was to figure out what the “fun” could be on Saturday. We were on a budget and not feeling that a spa-fternoon would provide the inspiration that we were sorely lacking.

Given our love of food and cooking, we landed on a concept that was kind of like Iron Chef on speed. We were each to spend $50 on ingredients bought separately and come together to create a meal that night…giving no indication to the other party about what was being purchased throughout the day. My husband bought wine. Lots of it, just in case.

Our intention: non-attachment to the outcome. Easy, right? I could say we both trusted that it would be delicious, but that’s being attached to the outcome being delicious. It was perplexing as hell and made for some pretty complicated conversations all day.

In fact, it was hard enough to not be attached to my OWN shopping. I had a running internal dialogue like: “this speck bacon will be wonderful in a creamy sauce over pasta”. I knew all would go to pot (pun intended) once we mixed Lisa’s  ingredients with mine. So I had to shop based on inspiration alone and by selecting the ingredients that called to me….with no attachment to what they’d end up being a part of.

Hours later, we returned to my home, poured a glass of wine, surveyed our collective purchases, ooh’d and aah’d, and then started to make logical decisions. Four organized piles of delicious ingredients later represented four future dishes. We toasted our cleverness and donned our aprons, ready to cook. One problem. In our earnest to “get it right” and wrap this all up in a neat and tidy way, we had compromised the integrity of the exercise. The four to-be dishes were pretty much split down the middle…two dishes from Lisa’s pile of ingredients and two dishes from my pile. We were both creating our own dishes without REALLY integrating each others ingredients. We were playing the game with a tiny range of motion (as Seth Godin describes in Linchpin).  Damn.

Back to the drawing board. No more sensible dishes like mussels with wild mushrooms in a provençal sauce. No more sausage and mushroom tapas. Much to my husband’s chagrin, we deconstructed the piles and reassembled. This was much harder. And much, MUCH gigglier.

The culinary hits:

Try this at home

• Dates stuffed with double smoked bacon, morbier (one seriously stinky cheese) and cashews
• Frisée salad with blood oranges, tomatillos, mango stilton and curry vinaigrette
• Papaya, lemongrass, chutney, limes and  mussels
• Chutney citrus salad with oat cakes

The culinary misses:

Do NOT try this at home

• Farmer’s sausage in red wine and pink peppercorn chocolate sauce
• Dried big ear mushroom slaw with chilies (made worse by Lisa getting chili juice in her eye)

It was a truly enjoyable meal. What didn’t work didn’t matter. How about that?

As pre-arranged, we spent the next day applying the shopping/cooking experience to some future collaborations. We started to develop a new lexicon with phrasing like: “don’t be afraid of the chocolate sausage” and “don’t you start trying to make masterpieces with only your  ingredients”.  (Am glad for my husband’s sake that he chose to make himself scarce…we can be pretty insufferable, turns out). I’m also glad that Lisa and I took the opportunity to turn a phone chat that I’d booked with Dyana Valentine into a Project Intensive. She really helped us to synthesize what we were concocting. That is one gifted woman right there.

The lesson:

Truth be told, I am still digesting just how important this weekend was for me. But so far, here’s what I KNOW I’ve learned:

• Non-attachment is hard. And not being attached to outcomes can provide so much more expansiveness that the mind boggles at the possibilities.
• Collaboration only really works when you and your partner lean in to each other equally. Lean in too far and you push them away. Lean in too little and they topple you. Lean in equally and you can have a whole lotta fun.
• Playing in the middle range is weak. AND it’s work to not dwell there (it occurred to us both that our dishes really could have been far more experimental than they were…there is still farther for us to go).
• Don’t laugh at anyone for getting chili in their eyes…it’ll come back to bite you in the ass (or in the eye, as it happened to me).

Can’t wait to share with you what we are really cooking up (once it’s fully baked, that is).

PS – As a further challenge, Lisa and I have agreed to stay away from each other’s blogs for the next week so we don’t cross-contaminate our findings. Take a peak over at her site to see what she’s saying about the experiment. And if she accuses me of peaking in her shopping bag over lunch, don’t believe her. I really didn’t (though I really was tempted for a millisecond!)

* The title is a misnomer b/c I really don’t know what the “surprise” is. That the experience was hard and easy at the same time? Tasty and not? Still noodling that one around…

Making life-changing decisions without being armed with an awareness of your core values is about as much fun and constructive as going bra shopping with NO idea of your measurements. Uncomfortable, de-motivating and potentially debilitating (you just may throw your back out…or worse).

Values make us our unique selves. Like building blocks, they are fundamental to our essence. Take out a couple and the whole structure comes a-tumbling down. Without our values, we’d just be reasonably drawn facsimiles of ourselves. They define who we are at our core. Or at least, “core values” do.

Here’s what they are NOT. Values (noun) are not the thing that you might value (verb) like time to yourself, chateau-neuf-du-pape or accolades. Here’s the litmus test. Would you be yourself without those things? Most likely, yes.

I promised you in the last post that I’d share some values clarification tools from my coach’s toolbelt to help you go spelunking for your own. I didn’t create these…they were a gift from CTI (one of my core values happens to be acknowledgment…it means I can’t take credit that’s not mine).

One of the most important thing to remember as you start to compile your own handy dandy reference guide of values: they are neither right nor wrong. They just are.

Peak Experience

This one’s an exercise. Find a comfy spot, grab a pad and pen and find a way to get relaxed. Think back to a time when you were in flow. Your most “you”. Alive. Vital. You thought to yourself: “Time could stand still…I have never felt more myself than I do in this precise moment. I am invincible in my own skin and I feel FINE”.

(Don’t judge what comes up…it’s all good.)

Go ahead and do it. We’ll wait for you.

Once you have that moment in your mind, start to write. Notice who’s there, what the sights and sounds are and what feelings come up for you. Jot down as much detail as you’re able to.

Can you cull the values that show up in that story? What identifiers help to lock in how you were feeling?

My peak experience surprised the hell out of me. As I started to do the exercise a while back, I went into the process assuming I’d relive my joyous wedding day, or the exhilarating birth of my daughter. Nope.

(Remember…no judge-y)

Deep breath. Here goes:

It was 1990 and I was 17, on-stage in my packed high school auditorium and doing a (poor) riff on Bill and Ted in a student council campaign speech (written by my dear friend Nicole). I can’t quite recall if I was impersonating Bill or Ted (like it matters) but I do recall an inordinate number of “Party On Dudes” peppering the promissory language of an aspiring politician (albeit Social Convener)*. I felt exhilarated, alive and on fire. I couldn’t see the audience (blinded by the spotlight…holy metaphor, Batman) but I do recall the impression that they were on their feet. I rocked that mother out and won the election.

Exhale.

So, it’s not a huge surprise that performance, risk-taking, play, creativity and community are pretty fundamental values for me.

You may decide to bring someone else in on this cool and illuminating parlor trick. Ask your partner or best friend about a time when they’ve seen you in your flow (we do this in my Board of Your Life sessions …what shows up never ceases to dazzle me). I’ve been told that leadership, helping/healing and generosity are evident to the observer when I’m in my element.

Must Haves

While it is possible, it’s not likely that one single moment in time will capture ALL of your values in one peak experience. Hence, the “must haves”.

If the aforementioned time to yourself, chateau-neuf-du-pape and accolades are indeed essential to your sense of self, they may well point to the following core values: freedom, quality and recognition come to mind. But heck, these are YOUR values to validate.

Beyond the values already expressed, I need the following to be present for me to feel fulfilled: appreciation, partnership/collaboration, intimacy, trust and authenticity.

Suppressed Values

When you’re pissed off, frustrated or even just unsettled, often times this gives us some insight into a value being squashed. If someone being late for a meeting makes you insane in the brain, respect may be a pretty big deal to you.

I cannot tolerate injustice. When I witness it, I am beside myself. As such, justice is a core value…and not one to be trifled with.

Invisible Values

This one is a bit harder to identify…and not just because they’re invisible, smarty-pants. These are the values so very much ingrained in you that you’re barely aware that they’re there. They may show up in how you dress (are you super polished?) or in how you honour (or don’t) your commitments.

Obsessive Expression

What are you always insisting upon? If everything must always be neat and tidy, tidy and neat, perfection may be your thing (me, not so much). I’m always harping on transparency…being it and expecting it in others. How about you?

Future Self Visualization

I’ll not really touch on this here doozy of a values clarification tool. Not because I don’t think it to be powerful. On the contrary. My personal bias is that this works best when done with a Sherpa like a coach to guide the process. You can google it (“future self visualization” search yields 800,000+ results) if you like.

Now you have some of your core values all written down in one compelling list. It will expand and contract over time.  Check in with it often. Stick it on your wall. Maybe even dedicate a vision board to it.

One final thing. Please do an honest assessment of how present and alive those values are in your life right now. Rate that “aliveness” on a scale of 0 to 10 (zero being flat-line dead and 10 being, well, a 10). Now consider what would be going on for you in your life for all of your values were being honoured at a 10? What would you be doing? How would that feel? What needs to/wants to shift?

Mind blowing stuff, huh?

And now the surprise bonus. Guess what? Remember that choice that you want to make that’s been on your mind and keeping you awake? You now know what the right decision is for you. Go on and be your glorious self. We love you for it…and so will you.

* BTW, I did deliver on MOST of my campaign promises: dance-a-thon, MuchMusic video dance party (I SAID it was 1990, ok?). Integrity…also a core value.

On the rare occasion that this happens, my first step is to check in with what I’m DOING. Upon closer inspection, I’m doing everything I’m “supposed” to be doing. Everything I “should” be doing to lead up to some pretty big goals. Which is good. In hearing the air quotes in my own thought process, I figured it was time to pay attention to them and reevaluate some goals to see if they were SMART or not (that is, resonant and thrilling) and yup, they are. HELL YES, in fact. So, that’s not it.

Step two: checking in with what’s going on when I’ve been feeling really good. And lousy.

This week’s good:

• coaching clients through tricky spots
• contributing to design decisions for the campaign creative of a charitable event I’m chairing (more on this later)
• being fully present during family time

This week’s lousy:

• doing things that don’t feel like me in order to keep up with the Jones’s (oooh, those lousy Jones’s with their brilliant insights, fabulous style, crazy success…you can fill in any number of unrealistic attributes here)
• collaborating on a project that doesn’t have a really clear end result
• going through the motions of checking things off of my to-do…and worse, lacking focus to check off much
• being fairly judgmental about a situation in my personal life
• not having very much fun or many belly laughs

Not surprisingly, what’s felt good has meant that I’ve been honouring some fundamental core values: helping/healing, creativity, collaboration and connection.

What’s been lousy about my week is that I’ve been not only tripping over some other core values, but metaphorically starving them of affection and attention. My values of leadership, authenticity, clarity, recognition, play, empathy and risk taking are getting mighty pissed off and rewarding me with, you guessed it…a funk. And again, not the good kind.

It’s plain to see, laid out on paper like that. Being a coach and having a coach means that I am well aware of what my values are, and what needs tending to. I may not get my life to turn on a dime, but I can shift nimbly and start tending to some attention-starved values straight away….as in, THIS VERY MOMENT.  Luckily, they are as forgiving as my jade plant…once they get the right amount of loving, they’ll plump right back up and reward me in an infinite number of ways. They always do.

I’d like to same for you. Stay tuned for the next post…it will be chock-a-block full with tools to help you uncover your values….with or without a coach.

A beautiful thing is never perfect. – Egyptian proverb

The above quote circulated like wildfire in the twittosphere last week leaving me to wonder about my own relationship with perfectionism. I know it’s entirely futile and YET, I still bump up against it from time to time.

I succumbed long ago to the fact that I am a generalist through and through. I am good at many things and haven’t perfected anything. My risotto’s good, but I’ll not be writing any cookbooks any time soon. My garden is pretty, though admittedly, I ALWAYS prune the wrong things at the wrong time. Much like my words…I don’t always get them right (case in point…you may have noticed the made up word in the title of this post).  I am not perfect. Not by a long stretch.

In my five year old daughter’s eyes, however, I am perfect, and so’s her daddy. We are perched on a pedestal, bathed in love and light with rose petals at our feet and rainbows in our hair. This is lovely, warm and when I think about a time when she becomes a petulant adolescent who “wishes she were never born”, my eyes well up and I wish time could just stand still (more on the crying later).

The thing is, this devoted adulation, lovely as it is, has NOTHING to do with the parents that we are, or the job we’re doing and EVERYTHING to do with her entire sense of security depending on it.  It’s just a matter of time before she starts to see what we know to be true. We are fallible and flawed.  Oh, the inhumanity! In fact, the gilding has already flaked off of our cool-factor.

And that’s good. The moment she invites us down from the pedestal is the moment that she will be stepping into her own and truly on her path to her fullest. It means that she’ll be developing her own independence and brand of strong convictions. Starting to galvanize her own sense of right and wrong (rooted in some good ol’ fashioned values like respect, natch).

So I am fine with not being perfect (like I had a choice). In fact, I celebrate it from time to time…by laughing, a LOT. Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry. My overt sensitivity may well be one of my favourite personal imperfections. It serves me well in my work and in my love for others.

Feel like celebrating your favourite personal imperfection?

I also really love the library. I love the smell of yet-to-be-discovered possibility. I love the calm and hushed reverence of people deep in thought. I love the look of wonder I see in my daughter’s eyes when she realizes she can take out ANY book she wants…for three weeks (which is kind of like “for keeps”). I especially love that it’s publicly funded and will likely remain that way for a good long time.

And finally, I love to read….blogs, magazines, books. Love it all. Books on the go right now, depending on what my mood calls for: Water for Elephants, Good to Great and Things Fall Apart. All friggin’ brilliant.

What I DISLOVE (hate is SUCH a strong word) is my new-found knowledge that 836,000 blind and partially-sighted Canadians need to count on a charity (CNIB) for library services that us lucky ducks with decent vision take for granted. (Full disclosure…my husband works at CNIB…felt like sharing that).

And while CNIB is doing the best they can with the resources they have (i.e. fund-raised bucks), only 80,000 titles have been made accessible. It costs A LOT to convert to Braille, create audio CDs with accessibility features and manage various digital formats. And Water for Elephants, Good to Great and Things Fall Apart aren’t in the 80,000. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The blind and partially sighted aren’t deserving of reading about Collins’ pivotal Hedgehog concept that will help them become their BEST selves? What the?

Let’s be clear. This rant isn’t about CNIB not delivering enough. It’s about asking our federal, provincial and territorial governments to step up and shoulder the cost to deliver accessible library services for the blind and partially sighted – in much the same way they fund local public libraries. Sweden and the United States get it. Why don’t we?

You can help by writing a letter to your Premier and another to Harper. You’ll find template letters here as well as more information about CNIB’s Right to Read campaign.

I may not be overtly political, but injustices do not sit well with me. Reading ought to be an accessible right for all. Period.

Does it:

A) Frustrate you? Does it feel isolating, perplexing, and downright rude? Do you filibuster your point in an attempt to win over the other side?

Or, does it:

B) Annoy you but you let it roll away? Maybe your inner dialogue goes something like: “meh, she just doesn’t get it” and the implied “and she never will” isn’t required.

I have been a camper in cabin A for most of my life. Particularly in my personal life, I very much dislike people not getting it. I generally used to try a step-wise approach starting with reasoned articulation which would beget cajoling which would beget influence which would beget whining (am ashamed to say) which would beget strong-arming acquiescence. Attractive, non? I do not recommend this approach to everyone (read: anyone). On the plus side, I would “win” because people would EVENTUALLY see the point I was trying desperately to make…they may not have LIKED my stance, but connection was made and comprehension achieved, albeit begrudgingly.

The down side of this approach is pretty obvious, isn’t it? It’s exhausting for both sides…and I come off looking like a pill. A sweaty, spent pill who browbeat her way to a flimsy and tenuous victory.

Part of the problem stemmed from the fact that my need to be understood did not distinguish its audience. It did not care if you “get” ME (or are one of my peeps) or if I get you. This is the big, fat, ugly flaw in the approach. It’s an expenditure of energy that may well not be requited. So I stopped (or *mostly* stopped) doing it.

Here’s what’s helped me and maybe you too. See if you can connect with why it’s so important to be understood. Yes, it must be a strong value of yours and one that should not be trampled on, and there is a way to save this for those who matter. Discriminate! Go ahead…do it…just this once! Save your gift of persuasion for the big battles and for those whose opinions really matter to you. Anyone else and you’re just contributing to the hot air. And Lord knows, there’s enough of that goin’ ‘round.

Campers from cabin B…your turn.

If you’re a “let’s just drop it” kind of person and you really CAN drop it, kudos to you. Seriously…that’s impressive. If, however, you are able to drop it externally but internally aren’t cool with it, there’s some work here. Assuming we’re talking about someone who generally gets you but doesn’t get IT, by dismissing them in this point, you’re missing out on the opportunity to share and grow closer to them. You’re also missing out on the chance to help them “get” it with others too. Connectivity and communion…lost. You may also be dipping your toes in the pool of martyrdom…walking away from what you may well REALLY want on account of righteousness. Oooooh, sting-y.

Example:

Resentful Writer: “My family doesn’t get my need for quiet time so I can write. So I don’t get to write…fine.”  (hint: it is soooo not fine, but you, gentle reader, knew that, didn’t you?)

Me: “Have you been clear about that request?”

RW: “I shouldn’t have to. They should know it’s important. They should know by now that if I don’t let my creative juices flow onto the page and keep them bottled up that they’ll just turn to vinegar and I’ll be just as bitter.”

Me: “Uh huh. Great metaphor…you really would do well to capture that stuff on paper. But they don’t get it, do they? So help them. What else can you try?”

So, off goes our RW and says something along these lines to the family: “I’m asking that you respect my need to write. It’s not just important to me, it’s essential. I need 45 minutes a day. Maybe more. You’ll know when I’m in the zone because the door to my office will be closed. Respect it please and I love you”.

Now they’re in. They “get it”. It’s clear and so’s the ask.

All that’s left in your office is you, a wide berth of respect, the clickety clack of the keys and Mozart’s Symphony No. 29 (or K’Naan if that’s your thing).

Whether you unrolled your sleeping bag in cabin A or B, what wants to be noticed here is really the who, what and why.  To wit: “She doesn’t get it” = where the “who” (she) is someone whose buy-in matters, “what” is the “getting” (meaning comprehending and not necessarily agreeing) and “why” is the importance of “it” as the real issue, with no other baggage tossed in the mix.

And from that place of getting “it”, we can get each other and get what we want…clean and clear communication.

Whew.

All campers from both cabins can come on out now and gather by the fire now to sing “kumbaya”…it’s safe because we all get it now.

Like most citizens of the globe, I have spent the past couple of days feeling helpless, sad, angry, impotent and frustrated by the catastrophe in quake-ravaged Haiti. Each image we’re shown is more searing than the last and it’s nearly impossible to sustain the viewing for any amount of time.

Also like most citizens of the globe, I’ve texted money and made on-line donations…cash is needed badly.  After the donations are made, I then sit back and wait to feel satiated by this token effort. Nothing happens. No moment of calm, no moment of pride, no moment of relief.

So, I stew in my discomfort. So many lives, so many dreams, so many children. Fear, pain, uncertainty, and panic. What do I know of these? Blessedly little.

Flitting and fretting and drinking herbal tea, I’ve haunted around the house long after the babe and husband have fallen asleep, gentle snores reminders of comfort and full bellies.

I try to put on my pragmatic hat and am unable to bear it for any length of time. The magnitude of loss defies rational explanation. Then I try to don my coach’s hat and look for different perspectives. Also a poor fit in this moment.

So I sip the tea and I wait for the powerlessness to wane.

(On Boxing Day, 2004, the tsunamis in the Indian Ocean killed 230,000 people in 14 countries. My mother was dying in hospital at the time and passed away on the 27^th of December. I vaguely recall being saddened to hear the nurse who covered my mother’s face with linen had family in Indonesia but recall little beyond that. That is what happens in grief. We make it about us.)

Here I am, citizen of this world, seeing hundreds of thousands of lives shattered and what am I doing? Waiting to feel better…still making it about me. Normal, I suspect. And weak. So very very weak.

I’ve turned to Twitter for inspiration and have indeed been inspired by how that community has mobilized $$, creatively and compassionately. Beautiful to behold in its grassroots reach.

What I’ve also seen, is people saying “no” to feeling powerless and stepping into their power.

• Kelly Diels started the inspired Help Haiti Blog Challenge. Her words and her actions are her power. Clearly.
• Danielle is spreading the word and the love and is donating a firestarter session for cash to Haiti (her firestarter session will knock your socks off)…this is her power.
• Lisa is hosting a fundraising brunch. Her power is in connectivity.

There are thousands of others stepping into their power…going to ground zero, holding and nurturing. Healing and loving. Moving and digging.

My power lies in my ability to be grateful and capacity to love and be loved. This was a gift from my mother (she used to call me at my “important”  advertising job to tell me, no matter WHAT I was doing at the time of the call – in a client meeting, having/giving a review etc – to tell me that she just saw the most beautiful butterfly and thought of me).

So, in honour of my power of gratitude: I am grateful today. My husband, child and I live under one sturdy roof. I am doing the work in this world that I love and I have a fridge full of food, money in the bank and live in a country rich in resources. I will spread this gratitude around, continue to make donations as I feel so moved and speak to my daughter about empathy and disaster in the language appropriate for a tender-hearted 5 year old. I will be where my clients need me to be and help them to find their power.

I would hug each and every one of you (heart to heart, as my mother taught me) if I thought that would heal in some way the massive amounts of pain that are palpable in this moment. It wouldn’t, but I don’t know what else to give.

Please step into your power, whatever it is…our neighbours need you.