Ordinary Life, Extraordinary Living

2012-01-25T09:34:42-07:00

Great advice from management guru and well-known curmudgeon, Tom Peters, on "Living Life to the Hilt": http://www.tompeters.com/dispatches/012224.php

Yes, yes, and yes!

Especially appreciate the point about "throwing yourself headlong and without reserve into what you were most passionate about—and then riding the wave you created wherever and at whatever speed it carries you." Crafting a big new experiment for 2012. Stay tuned.

2012-01-24T21:06:27-07:00

Just had a client ask when our next appt is, because she didn't want to log on to her work email. Hooray for disconnecting from work and taking time to reconnect to other things that matter in our lives. I'm convinced that if more people did more of this (myself included) there would be a spike in productivity as well as happiness.

Three Books (and More) for the New Year

2012-01-08T14:10:03-07:00

Fresh start. Clean slate. Literally a new year. I recently read three books that seem oh-so-appropriate for the start of a new year:

The Art of Possibility by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander. My third time reading this book, you would think I would tire of it. Yet it continues to inspire me. Written by an executive coach/family therapist and a conductor of the Boston Philharmonic, the Zanders draw from their respective worlds to illustrate life practices that will serve you. Here's what I wrote about the book after reading it the second time: "It's a great guidebook to living well. Full of personal stories, the authors give insight into the best of human nature. Take away: Change your mind, change your world. We have the ability to create different outcomes by shifting perspectives." Photo by Ugg Boy, Ugg Girl

Bottom line: Change starts with how we think about things. Read this book to start thinking differently. One other resource that relates to change:

How to Make a New Year's Non-Resolution. In this blog post by Dan Pink, he highlights a new approach, based on scientific research, to creating personal change. A quote from the blog post: "Force yourself to view every individual choice as a commitment to all future choices. So instead of asking, “Do I want to eat this candy bar now?” (while lying to yourself that you won’t eat another candy bar all week), ask yourself, “Do I want the consequences of eating a candy bar every afternoon for the next year?” Intriguing, to say the least.

3 MPH: The Adventures of One Woman's Walk Around the World by Polly Letofsky. Letofsky's tagline is "Little Steps, Big Feat!" She walks the talk (literally) after having navigated on foot over 14,000 miles through 22 countries to encircle the globe and raise over $250,000 for breast cancer education. The book is not just about tackling a huge endeavor, step-by-step, but the author's keen insights into the best and worst of cultures around the world. In the process, she discovers more of what it means to be an American. This book had a paradoxical effect--it made me want to see more of the world AND appreciate exactly where I live today. Letofsky's journey will inform you of what's needed to achieve a big goal--a clear purpose, a little seredipity, a lot of chutzpah, continually following your instincts and putting one foot in front of the other. It also helps to stop and ask for directions.

Bottom line: Life-changing transformation comes from taking a life-changing trip. Read this book if 2012 is the year of your trip. Two other resources that relate to taking on new endeavors:

Guitar Tricks for a Middle-Aged Dog. In this Wall Street Journal article, the author provides two crucial tips: Take baby steps and always target your weakest skills. Adult learning requires breaking things down into tiny steps and deliberate practice. A quote from the article: "[S]tudies show that we learn new information most efficiently if we spread our practice out rather than trying to cram it all into a short period."

One Small Step Can Change Your Life by Robert Maurer. The main message from this small but powerful book: Avoid the lizard brain (the one that's driven by fear) by taking a step that feels doable. Then continuously stretch into the next step. For example, the author talks about standing on a treadmill as the first step to getting in shape. The next day, stretch into walking on the tread mill for a minute. The next day,...well, you get the idea. Bypass the fear and resistance that would typically be interjected into a big change by creating ridiculously small milestones.

Great by Choice by Jim Collins and Morten Hansen. Let's face it. For many people, the last few years have not been easy, especially if you were running a business. In this new book, management guru Jim Collins and his collaborator Morten Hansen examine a critical question for all of us: "Why do some companies thrive in uncertainty, even chaos, and others do not?" It's not just companies that should be interested in the answer. It's anyone who wants to manage their destiny. With his typical rigorous research (a third of the book is devoted to details on the research methodology), Collins and his co-author turn on its head who we typically think of as winners and losers. Risk-takers, fast movers and innovators aren't necessarily winners. People who hold back aren't necessarily losers. Winners aren't more lucky than losers. The book introduces concepts that I immediately was able to apply to my business, and which I've incorporated into my strategy for 2012. Photo by kevin dooley

Bottom line: Those who thrive in uncertain times are individuals who expect and prepare for the worst. Read this book if you want to manage uncertainty better in your life. Two other resources that relate to managing chaos and uncertainty:

Unexpected Turbulence. In his usual pithy style of writing (that's pithy, not pissy), Seth Godin reiterates in this short blog post the bottom line of the Great by Choice book. I can name that tune in .....

Watch this video of Pam Slim interviewing Jonathan Fields about his new book, Uncertainty: Turning Fear and Doubt into Fuel for Brilliance.

Have a book to recommend for the new year? Share in the comments below...

Healthy Wholeness

2012-01-02T08:56:00-07:00

Happy New Year! At the beginning of each year, I pick a theme for myself, as a way to set my intentions. In 2011, my theme was "Letting Go to Grow". While painful at times, it was exactly what I wanted and needed. Picking a theme helps me stay on course throughout the year. Photo by Koshyk

In 2012, my theme is Healthy Wholeness. After recovering from burnout in 2011, it seems appropriate that what I want and need is a more balanced life, one with more laughter, joy and spaciousness. It also means doing more work that falls into my sweet spot and is at the same time, building a sustainable business. It is about pace, pleasure, and profit.

Healthy Wholeness is physical health, emotional health, mental health, spiritual health, and financial health. For the last couple of years, I've sacrificed progress in one area to the detriment of another area. In hindsight, I can see that the "whole" of me was slowly eroding. Going forward, I'd like to be better about seeing the whole as well as the piece parts.

I spent time on New Year's Eve answering Six Questions for the New Year. If you haven't yet spent time reflecting on 2011 before jumping into another year of doing, I highly recommend carving some time out. I was surprised at how much I actually accomplished last year and how much I am grateful for.

What's your theme for 2012? I would love to hear.

2011-12-13T18:36:43-07:00

How well are you listening to your inner voice? I received an email from a friend this morning with just the words I needed to hear:

"It’s so easy (too easy) to get swept away in the momentum of a thing and end up taking your cues from external forces/expectation/desires rather than listening to what you need – both intellectually and emotionally/spiritually."

Thank goodness for friends.

The Voice of a Friend

2011-11-30T12:19:43-07:00

Yesterday, I was talking to a new blogger about "finding your voice" and the ability to "put yourself out there."

When I am doing my best writing, it's personal. I am having an honest conversation with myself. I'm comfortable having "a few flies on the wall", listening in, taking notes, and hopefully, chiming in as well. Photo by ktylerconk

The conversation holds some truth for me. And if I'm lucky, I get a "two-fer." The same truth resonates with others. I am serving myself and others at the same time.

In this truth-telling process, my "voice" emerges. How could it not? That voice is the purest, funniest, wisest part of myself. It speaks with the authenticity and kindness of a best friend. It can also be blunt, just like your best friend can be. Photo by mdanys

Last night, I was in the mood to read in bed before falling asleep. I went down to my home office to look for something good to read. I came across Improv Wisdom, by Patricia Ryan Madson, a book that I've read more than once. I read about thirty pages before getting sleepy. What I noticed as I put the book on my nightstand, and turned off the light is this:

Reading a good book is like spending time with a good friend.

It leaves you nourished, because you have connected with another human being, through their imagination, wisdom, and best self. They have revealed something noble about themselves. It may be humility. It may be kindness. No one ever writes their best stuff from their crappiest self. Photo by Easa Shamih (eEko)

Which brings me to two final questions:

If you are a writer

What part of yourself have you been reluctant to reveal to your audience?

If you are a reader

What's the last good book you read and how was the author's voice like the voice of a friend?

Gratitude

2011-11-23T21:49:38-07:00

This has been a hard year, one of the most difficult personally and professionally, since I started my business nearly 9 years ago. Others I've talked to have had a hard year as well.

The irony is that I'm more grateful than I've ever been. When things are going well, my focus is not so much on what I have, but what I can acquire or do next. After hitting several low points this year--emotionally, physically, mentally--I can now appreciate the parts of my life that have been solid, for so many years, and which I've barely given a second thought to over the course of my lifetime. Photo by juliejordanscott

Tonight, the night before a holiday designed to express thankfulness (and you thought it was all about food!), I am filled with gratitude.

I am grateful for my health, after experiencing days when I could not get out of bed without back pain, was ready for a nap by 9am, or didn't have the energy to exercise. My body has served me well over the course of five decades. It heals itself, despite being neglected or worn down over long periods of time. It does (mostly) what I want it to do, whether it's standing or sitting or walking or biking or yoga stretches or bending down or reaching up. Photo by BozDoz

I am grateful for my husband, who supports me in the work I do, and never second guesses the professional path I've chosen. We both work out of home offices every day, and 99% of the time, we are each other's best friend and confidante. Our home life is largely peaceful--filled with joking, thoughtful conversation, and laughter. I have friends for who this is not true.

Recently, I re-connected with someone who I had met at a conference in April. A few weeks after the conference, her husband died suddenly. He was 48 years old. She spent the summer grieving. Her story makes me remember to be grateful for every day that I wake up and see my husband's face.

I am grateful for my sons. Tonight, my older son flew home from Dallas. He is home for the holidays, the first time since he left for college in August. I have experienced the longing that comes when a mother sees a bedroom that has not been messed up in months, a bed still perfectly made, an empty chair at the dinner table, a shoe rack with fewer shoes. I am grateful for time with him over the next few days.

And my younger son? He, too, is growing up far faster than I ever expected. I am grateful that I have the opportunity to see him sing in the school choir or compete at a robotics competition. I am grateful that he is mature enough to tell his dad to stop buying soda, because he knows drinking water is better for him, and that he cheerfully pitches in with household chores when asked to. I'm grateful for our time in the car, while he logs hours for his driver's license. Photo by aussiegall.

I am grateful for friends and extended family, having experienced their love and support through a challenging year. I tweeted a few months ago, after hitting bottom, that being vulnerable means allowing yourself to be loved. I am grateful to be loved. I know people who have outgrown their friends and who dread the family tensions that come with the holidays. I am grateful that I truly enjoy the company of those around me, day to day, on the weekends, during the holidays. I'm grateful that the friends I've chosen are ones who nurture me, who I admire and respect, who help me be a better person. Photo by Lel4nd

I am grateful for clients and colleagues who have the highest integrity and who value the work I do. I know people who yearn for appreciation and respect at their workplace, disappointed and frustrated by interactions with those they serve. I am grateful that my clients and colleagues often become my friends.

I am grateful to live at a time and a place where I am free to pursue my dreams. I live in a country where formally starting a business is as easy as applying for a credit card, in an age when sophisticated technology and tools, previously only available to large companies with IT-sized budgets, are now accessible by individuals, for next to nothing. I live in a state known for beautiful landscapes, sunny days, and clean air. I live in a city rated by Money magazine as the best town to live in for its size.

I am grateful to have come back from burnout, now living at a pace that is nourishing, instead of draining. Throught personal challenges, comes wisdom. I know people who are on the brink of burnout and those who are in denial, forever tired, irritable, and frenetic. I am grateful for those who I've connected with through shared experiences--friends and strangers alike--and the clarity and focus that comes from going to the edge, stopping, and returning to firm ground.

Recently, I started re-reading the book, The Power of Now. I received it as a gift, nearly a decade ago. The premise of the book is that the only real thing is this moment. Now. Thoughts of the past or the present are just that, thoughts in our head. They are no more real than the thought of aliens landing on Earth or the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Photo by sarniebill1.

So whether it's a hurt back, a longing for my son at college, discouragement or frustration around my business, it helps me to think about the Now, this moment and what's here. I may have a lower back that is volatile, with temper tantrums of pain throughout the day, but in this moment, I'm pain free. I may be missing my son on a daily basis, but in this moment, I know that he is safe and sound and that my love for him will endure, wherever he is. I may wish that my business results for the year were better, but in this moment, I'm able to pay my bills, I have a well-stocked fridge, and I am comfortable and warm in a house that has plenty of room and is paid for. On some days, I may wish that I was still in my forties, before my eyes got worse and my hair was not full of gray, but in this moment, being 50 feels just fine.

There is nothing I need or want in this moment. For that, I'm grateful.

For my US-based readers, enjoy our national day of Thanksgiving. For everyone else, create your own day of gratitude. Ground yourself in the only thing that is real, this moment.

What All the Money in the World Can't Buy

2011-11-17T10:26:00-07:00

Q: What can take months, even years, to achieve, less than a minute to lose, can hit like a bulldozer when you don't have it and is worth more than gold when you do have it?

A: Trust.

Photo by covilha.

I keep hearing stories about trust in business--how important it is to establish, how devastating it is when it's not there, how hard it is to give. A few examples:

When you work with someone you can't trust, it can suck the life out of you. A friend, "Mary", was brought into a company as part of a turnaround. Six months into the job, she could tell things were off track. Promises for financial incentives were shelved. Mary was asked to do things that didn't feel ethical. She eventually left the company, drained to the core, and relieved to cut her ties. Soon after, Mary was offered a job leading another start-up. She negotiated several months off to recover before starting her new job. If she had to do it over, Mary would have left the old company sooner. Her parting remark: "I couldn't trust the people I worked with."

Establishing trust can be a long, painful process. Another friend, "John", received an email from a colleague, who complained about John's staff and their lack of communication. John had many reactions, including this one: "This person doesn't trust me or my staff." He felt offended, given he had recently redoubled his efforts to partner with this colleague and keep her in the loop. John was frustrated that over months of working together, trust had not been established with his colleague.

Undermining trust can happen quickly. Recently, I was surprised to hear about Zynga's CEO, Mark Pincus, with an adult version of a "backsie". According to the Wall Street Journal, Pincus has been giving select employees the option of surrendering stock options (presumably given to compensate for a lower salary in the early days) or be fired. This is sure to create a wave of distrust that will last for years, not just at Zynga, but at other Silicon Valley start-ups. These are the kinds of stories that are permanently etched in employees' psyches. Photo by birgerking.

Giving trust is not as simple as it seems. While coaching, I was struck by the similarity in two clients' stories, one a manager in a large company and the other, an independent consultant. Both were having trouble delegating the day-to-day stuff, either to a subordinate or a subcontractor, to make time for more strategic activities. Both felt it was often easier to do it on their own, rather than risk an output by someone else who didn't live up to their standards. The core issue for each is trusting others.

Trust = Dignity + Respect. At a large company known for purposely creating high turnover (I know, it sounds crazy, right?), I'm told that employees are clocked in/out and checked for whether they spent a full eight hours a day at the office. Getting fresh air in a company courtyard doesn't count as "being in the office", as a card reader clocks employees in and out of the courtyard. At a smaller company, an assistant to the CEO made the rounds to all of the employee desks at 6pm each evening. This was jokingly referred to as "The Bedcheck." We're not talking about teens flipping burgers. We're talking about professionals who are being treated with less respect than we give our pets. Photo by IDenticardimages.

Having said all this, my intention is not to whine about how bad workplaces can get. There's plenty of that already. My intention is to draw attention to how important trust is in making businesses work well, whether you are an employee, self-employed, or lead a business.

The wonderful thing about trust is that when it is well-rooted in the culture and work relationships, it yields incredible results. A friend who is a seasoned manager and leader wrote to me recently:

"To the dismay of my HR Directors, I have never, NEVER, tracked vacation time for my employees. Not since I first became a manager at GE more than 15 years ago. Instead, each of my employees have very specific goals, targets, and deliverables. I trust them enough to let them determine how they get to these goals. That being said, I have very high expectations and with the help of my employees, we set very challenging goals.

Unfortunately, this environment doesn't work for everyone. Some people h ave not been able to deliver the goals we established and they have moved on either voluntarily, or have been asked to leave with dignity. The vast majority however have thrived in this environment. The result is that my organizations have the been the among the strong performers in every business I've been a part of.

I've found this to be so successful, that in my latest business I have a formal policy for all managers and above of "unlimited PTO". What I've found is the when the employee knows what they need to get done, and are free to get it done when and how they want, they are so much more committed to the business and their peers. Some employees take time out during the day to go on a bike ride, others take a yoga class. Either way, they come back energized and ready to achieve their goals."

Like my friend, I'm convinced that most people want to do great work and will do so if they are treated as professionals--with dignity, respect, and trust.

Photo by DrewbieDoo

Letting Go, Part 2

2011-11-09T12:50:41-07:00

This is nothing more gut wrenching for me than letting go of my offspring, and trusting that they will find their way in the world.

I did that this past August, when my son left for Dallas to attend college. My husband drove him more than a thousand miles to school. As they left, I saw him wave, as if to reassure me that things would be alright and not to worry. Photo by rutlo.

A thousand miles away, a two-hour plane ride or two days of driving. He may as well be on the other side of the world. We established a weekly Skype call to check in, as a way to stay in touch but not be smothering with daily calls. It's my time to see in his face how things are going, whether he's eating and sleeping enough through bright eyes, whether he has the chipper look of someone still enjoying the adventure of a new environment, or whether he's lackluster and getting tired of the grind of being at college and away from home. Each week is different.

Men communicate differently from women and introverted men are especially sparse in providing the detail that women hunger for. Emails to my son are rarely replied to and if so, with just a few words. I don't get sentences, just words--"Sure" or "Fine" or "Not yet". This, too, is part of letting go.

My husband, who is also an introvert, is less able to avoid me when I go into my twenty questions mode. For my son, it is simply a matter of turning his attention elsewhere. Photo by Jimmy_Joe

I have come to the conclusion that letting go is allowing someone to make their own choices, with the repercussions falling squarely on the person who is meant to learn from his mistakes. There is a saying from a mediation class that I go to occasionally: "We are the heirs of our actions."

To embrace this fully, for yourself and for others is a gift of trust and faith. Trust that you and the other person are strong enough to survive the result of one's actions. Faith that in the process of learning, we become stronger.

So, when my son comes home for Thanksgiving, I will be giving thanks for his presence, as well as the journey that he is on. I will also be giving thanks for my own journey of letting go to grow. Photo by kevin dooley.

Who Were You in High School?

2011-10-31T09:40:00-06:00

In doing research for a blog post (really!) I was looking at my high school yearbook. Like all great adventures, I didn't find what I was looking for, but I found something else that was just as valuable, if not more.

I gained insight into who I was, over thirty years ago, and I found parts of me that I had forgotten about with age.

Let's face it. At 18 years old, the die is largely cast. Sure, you may have been known for things that only a teenager would do. Now that you are a mature adult, with a well-paying job and a mortgage, you wouldn't think of such behavior. But deep down, the kernel is still there.

Reading what my peers and friends wrote in my yearbook, here's what I was known for:

I was kind to others. This is not so surprising, as I try to be kind as an adult as well. I did, however, take this as commentary on how teenagers can be abusive to each other and lack sensitivity towards their peers. I think the perception of my kindness was due to my unwillingness to partake in common teen behavior.

I was fun and funny, even goofy. This surprised me, as it's not how I think of myself today. Yet I do remember taking risks as an adolescent in the name of fun. "Teepeeing" a teacher's house and throwing a shaving cream pie in a teacher's face as a prank both come to mind. Now, my moments of rolling on the floor are usually when I'm with my sister, while providing droll commentary on life. Note to self: Try to have more fun. Don't be afraid to let my sense of humor rip, especially while blogging.

I was a good flute player. Not much revelation here. I still play occasionally, but it doesn't hold the same creative satisfaction and milestone of achievement that it did as a teenager. Creativity gets expressed through other means, including blogging. Achievement is still important to me, but as I've gotten older, I'd like to think that I've gained a more balanced perspective.

No one talked about my ability to get things done, or being a logical thinker. No one mentioned good listening skills or being a thoughtful writer. isn't it funny how who we think we are today isn't who we've always been?

What people say about you at different phases of your life (think performance reviews) is a snapshot in time of who you are being at that stage of life. Hopefully, over the years, you bring the best forward and evolve to integrate in life's lessons. I like to think that now, I'm more reflective, compassionate, and intuitive than I was as an adolescent. I also want to make sure I bring out the more playful attitude that was part of those early years.

Several years ago, one of my high school friends sent a photo of me at 18 years old. We had just graduated from high school. I made a copy of this photo and stuck the following words above it: "note to self: remember to play today."

Who were you in high school and what parts have you forgotten that you want to bring forward? Do tell.

2011-10-26T11:48:12-06:00

First snow of the year always makes for an interesting picture. Here's a photo of a crabapple tree in my front yard. It doesn't know whether it's fall or winter. It's both!

What Was I Thinking?

2011-10-24T10:45:00-06:00

My friend and one-time writing coach, Deb Cooperman, recently challenged me to blog about the half-written blog posts that I've let lay fallow, sometimes for over a year. To which I replied on Twitter, "The gauntlet has been thrown down!" Photo by Sean MacEntee

So this is a blog post to stretch my creativity (how does one make a blog post about blog posts interesting and relevant?) as well as a look back in time as to what was on my mind on different days, in different seasons.

Here's what I'm noticing:

I love reading books and have an urge to share the best parts on this blog. So I have unfinished blog posts about several books that I've read over the last year, with specific quotes that caught my eye. Instead of waiting for me to finish these posts, go to my LinkedIn profile and take a look at my reading list. There, I've done mini reviews of over a dozen books.

Political commentary has a short shelf life. Enough said.

Some posts were meant to be unfinished, in that I can see my thoughts were not well-formed. More distance, more research, or more creativity were needed. Photo by cambodia4kidsorg

I have a half-written post about teaching my sons to drive this past summer. That one may need to wait a few more years, until my kids are out of the house. (Boys, if you are reading this, just kidding.)

I wrote two posts with the exact same title, months apart. The title? Gratitude. Being grateful makes life better.

I have posts that show my pride in being an American citizen, my search for the meaning of my life, my frustration with resistance to change, and my reflection on how the best of times and the worst of times overlap. Blogging is a mirror for my emotions on any day. Photo by Leonid Mamchenkov

Some blog posts were pretty darn good as is. Note to self: Don't let the perfectionist self-sabotage.

So thanks to Deb, I've uncovered a bit more about myself.

What are you thinking about these days and what's stopping you from blogging about it?

Are You Fulfilling Your Destiny?

2011-10-19T12:39:15-06:00

While journaling recently, I wrote the following question:

"Have I fulfilled my destiny?"

Have I met the promise of what others saw in me at an early age? For many, family and teachers are the first ones to see our talent, encourage us and see who we could become in the future--for example, a fine musician, a brilliant scientist or a gifted communicator. I see that with my own son, at college for the first time this fall. My husband and I have hopes and dreams for him. We know what he is capable of and where his gifts lie. We have told him as much. Photo by Casey David.

But how many of us take the time, decades later, to assess whether we lived up to our potential?

When I was in high school, I worked hard enough as a flutist to be in top youth orchestras and bands. Sometimes, people would ask me if I wanted to be a professional musician. I knew back then that music was not my destiny. I remember two girl flutists who were destined to be professional musicians. Amy and I took lessons from the same teacher and I would hear her playing as I arrived for a lesson. She had a sureness in her playing that seemed to spring from somewhere deep inside of her. Her fingers flew over the keys, never missing a note. The other flutist, Jane, was someone I met at a music camp. Jane had an ease and grace with the flute that I had never seen in someone our age. She was meant to play the flute. Music was her first language.

I went to college thinking my destiny was to be an engineer and solve hard problems. I didn't really know what it was like to be an engineer other than it required training in math and sciences. I did become an engineer, first a chemical engineer and then a software engineer. But I know now, that was not my destiny. Photo by Seattle Municipal Archives.

How did I know that? Not because I changed careers, but because it wasn't something I would have done for free. I didn't have the curiosity or the love. It was not my purpose in life to solve hard engineering problems. I know people who are like that, but that wasn't me.

It was my destiny to fulfill my immigrant parents' dream of having all their offspring graduate from college.

It was my destiny to get married to a wonderful man and raise children who are caring and capable and creative.

It was my destiny to go through experiences that taught me compassion, from developing a painful condition in my jaw over several years called TMJ, to taking care of two toddlers on my days off while my husband worked on weekends and holidays, to being laid off twice.

Although I wasn't conscious of it for many years, it was my destiny to speak about what I see and to be the scribe for the human experience. I write what is true for me, whether it's good times or bad. In doing so, I make the human condition more accessible, and honor it. The biggest bonus life has given me is the ability to help others through my writing. Photo by Metro Centric

It has been my destiny to uncover wisdom in unexpected places. In 2006, I started a project with a friend who was dying of Lou Gehrig's disease. We called the project, which turned into a podcast, Conscious Living, Conscious Leaving. I interviewed her during the last six months of her life, through 10 hours of phone calls and many emails. That work was the purest I've done, in that it was labor of love. I couldn't not do it.

It has been my destiny to continually find ways to learn what I wanted to know and in the process, create a structure for others to learn. In high school, I rallied fellow student council members around a mission--convincing administrators to set aside three days before spring break for an alternative schedule of classes for every single student and then making it happen. All 1600 students had four periods of new classes, taught by volunteer instructors. It was a student run, student organized effort called Unique Week. Students took classes in topics as diverse as CPR, cake decorating, fencing, and unicycling and took field trips to local businesses. Photo by matthewcornell

When I was going through coaching training, I created The Coaching Studio, a forum to hone my coaching skills and educate the public on coaching. The format consisted of three coaches, doing 12-minute coaching demonstrations with volunteers, followed by feedback from an audience. Over time, The Coaching Studio spread to coaches across the U.S.

I'm not sure I was destined to teach others how to network but it has been my destiny to show others how giving first comes back to you many times over.

It has been my destiny to become more of who I am throughout my lifetime. Not just an analytical engineer, but also an intuitive coach, a compassionate interviewer, a creative entrepreneur, a playful collaborator.

If I were to ask my teachers, childhood friends and family if I've lived up to the promise that they saw in me decades ago, my hope is that they would be surprised. I have not climbed to great heights in society. What I did do was this: I took my gifts and did something more meaningful and unique than they had ever imagined. One's destiny is much deeper and more magical than what can be grasped at the beginning of the journey. That is what awaits each of us.

Julia Cameron is a favorite writer of mine. I ran across this passage in her book, The Sound of Paper and it immediately made me smile:

"It is very easy to forget our divine origins. It is very easy to see ourselves as the products of our birth families, shaped and colored only by those transactions. We are much larger than that. We are each a soul, unique and distinctive, bringing to bear on life a rich legacy of spiritual gifts if we but open ourselves to the possibility that we are not merely the products of our conditioning. We are spiritual beings with spiritual business to transact here on this earth. We have a destiny to fulfill."

Maybe the question to reflect on is not whether I've fulfilled my destiny, but how I am fulfilling my destiny. Instead of a yes or no declared through the logical mind, the heart is better equipped to answer this new question. It's a feeling thing, not a thinking thing.

How are you fulfilling your destiny? I'd love to hear from you.

Creating Crap 80% of the Time

2011-10-16T19:25:17-06:00

I love this video of Ira Glass, host of This American Life, talking about how your best work comes from doing your craft over and over. 20% will be great work and 80% will be crap. The 20% will make the rest of it worth it. While this video is part of a four-part series, I found this segment to be the most interesting:

I particularly like the part on being ruthless to get rid of a lot of material. I think this is where the saying, "Murder your darlings" comes from. Lately, I've been writing a lot, but only a small portion gets published on this blog or my other blogs. I'm exercising my writing muscles, after letting them atrophy over the last year. It reminds me of a wonderful book, Do the Work by Steven Pressfield, that is all about conquering resistance and the need to be perfect.

I also like Glass's point about making your work equal to the level of your taste. In the early days, and maybe long after the early days, there is a gap. You have to keep doing your craft in order to close the gap. Honestly, I hope my aspirations are always higher than my skill level, so that I have something to strive for.

When It's Time to Fire Yourself

2011-10-07T14:08:44-06:00

A 2010 study by consulting firm, BlessingWhite showed that just 31% of employees are engaged at work. That leaves a boat load of people who don’t want to be at work. My experience is that a majority of professionals hang on to a job when they should be walking away.

Think about your current position. Now think about you in that position—not just skill set, talent and experience, but also enthusiasm, attitude, motivation. Now imagine that your current position is an open job post, and you are the hiring manager.

Would you hire yourself?

If you answered no, it’s time to fire yourself. Photo by 28misguidedsouls.

I’ve been where you are.

In 2002, I was in a job that made me miserable. I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until I was in a leadership development program. I had to assess how much I was in alignment with the organization—in terms of values, interests, goals. After filling out the form, I remember thinking, “That bad, huh?” I had been in denial.

But I still wasn’t willing to take action. In my mind, I assigned a half-hearted timeframe of 18 months to leave my job. Of course, there was no plan, preparing me for this milestone.

A few weeks later, a friend called at the end of the day. She was a couple of levels up from me at the same company. While she didn’t say it out loud, I knew she was giving me a heads up that I was on a list of people to be laid off. I didn’t have the courage to fire myself, so the company did it for me. They took the choice away from me and guess what? It was a relief. Someone had the wisdom to give me my freedom, because I wasn’t brave enough to claim it for myself. Photo by Sean MacEntee.

On my last day at work, my manager came to my office. She said quietly, “You are leaving too soon.” And I replied, “No, it’s not too soon at all.”

Many years ago, at that same company, I remember a VP who talked about his career as part of a career development program for employees. He had recently arrived from a competitor and was known as a hatchet man at his previous company. So it came as a surprise when he confessed to having gotten poor performance reviews during his career. To him, a poor review meant that he had gotten stale in his job. It was a sign that he needed to move to another job. He fired himself.

Why is it so important to be able to fire yourself?

As a career coach, it’s sad to see professionals who have stayed on the job too long. The personal toll is significant, including:

Energy drain. A poor fitting job—whether it’s a mismatch in values, skills, talents, or interest—takes more energy than one that fits well. It’s a constant uphill battle. And these days, no one has energy to waste. Photo by sapiensolutions

Erosion of self-esteem. Often, a poor fit includes an unsupportive manager, or at least one who doesn’t appreciate your contributions. Over time, you begin to doubt your abilities. You yearn for respect and dignity again.

Inability to produce your best work. Sometimes, a poor fit results in a mediocre performance review. If you are someone who has lots of experience in your role, you might be able to pull off good reviews. But deep down, you know that you could be producing not just good results, but stellar results.

Snuffing out of life force. In extreme cases, staying in a job that doesn’t fit can mean losing your mojo, the thing that keeps you healthy, resilient and vibrant. You’ve seen people like this on the job. These are the walking dead. Their faces are lifeless. It’s hard to get a laugh out of them. They’ve been beaten down. Photo by PopCultureGeek.com

Still not convinced?

I know. You can’t leave your job. You have kids to put through college, a large mortgage, and that expensive summer vacation to pay off. Plus you’re due for a new car. Not to mention that the economy is terrible.

This is called stonewalling. It’s a tactic that a lot of people use. In their minds, it’s a question of leave now or not at all. But that’s a false dilemma.

It’s not a question of whether to leave. It’s a question of when.

With adequate planning, most people have more financial options than they think. One of the first things I advise someone in this situation is to create a financial plan. Know the bare minimum you need to live on. Develop a reasonable budget. Figure out how long you can go without a paycheck. Take stock of your assets. And be willing to trade off short term income for your long-term ability to earn a living, not to mention having a satisfying life.

Once you make the decision to leave, you’ll notice an immediate spike in your energy.

That’s because you have something to work towards that’s meaningful. This is energy that can go towards networking, upgrading your online presence, and attracting opportunities by building a body of work that is distinctive and valuable.

I once had a coaching client who decided she would leave her job in six months. On the day that she made that decision, she took control of her destiny. She stopped complaining about her work situation. She became excited about the future. And she showed up differently with others. Several months later, she was approached for a COO position at a non-profit that she had volunteered with for over a decade. Within a week of her deadline for being in a new job, she accepted the COO position with the new company.

Sure, change is scary.

And if you weren’t scared about the kind of change I’ve been talking about, there’s probably something wrong with you. But I’ve never met anyone who felt they left a poorly fitting job too soon. Have you?

The commitment to change is about valuing your self-worth. It's the first step to having a rich career, not just a job. Things won’t change overnight. But by putting one foot in front of another, you’ll soon find yourself in a much better place.

A Place of No Answers

2011-10-05T10:12:00-06:00

In our everyday life, we yearn for answers. A solution to a sticky relationship problem, a confirmation that a project will be completed on time, a knowing that the new hire will work out, a tip on where to find the special ingredient for a new recipe. Photo by dannysullivan.

Recently, I told a colleague, "I'm in a place of no answers."

Two months ago, I was a mess. I had taken four weeks off from work, only to jump back into my startup, My Alumni Link, and feel even worse than I had before the hiatus. More time off was what I knew was needed.

Since then, I've done a lot of crying, sleeping, and exhaling into a new rhythm of life. Untethered like an escaped helium balloon, not sure of my work in the world, with no schedule to tell me who I really am, this is a place of no answers. Photo by josephpetepickle.

I have gotten clues to what lies ahead. But if I push too hard for "the answer", I know I'm screwed. The biggest questions in life demand that we not only carve out time to focus, but that we have the patience to let things unfold, in their own time. Gentle attention is probably more like it. Process is more important than getting to the end result quickly.

What I hold on to from day to day are the things I know I find joy in--writing, coaching, yoga, hiking. I have had moments of wonderful flow, when thoughts, ideas, and feelings burst through me. I'm in my full power. There is no gap between potential and reality. And other times, I can feel myself drifting back to "working" in a way that is hard. Photo by gnuckx

This place of no answers is typical of most transitions. Many years ago, I found William Bridges' work on transitions. With every change, there is a psychological process that everyone goes through--when the "old thing" has ended and the new beginning has not yet started. This is the Neutral Zone. It can be both confusing and time of great creativity.

I am in the Neutral Zone.

In the place of no answers, it helps to admit that you are there. It helps to ask for help. It helps to surround yourself with people who love you and believe in you. It helps to give yourself a break.

After all, we're only human. Or maybe what's more apt is to say, this is a time when being human is more important than anything else.

Letting myself be vulnerable has meant letting myself be loved. I have been cheered on and touched by the love of those close to me and people who I've never met. A friend called the other day to see how I was doing. He had noticed that I looked tired a couple of months ago when he had been at my house, not to visit but to clear out our gutters. He knew to give me space before contacting me again. My college roommate emailed me last week, to tell me how much she appreciated my blog posts about burnout. It brought tears to my eyes. These are sweet moments in life. Photo by Lel4nd

With the worst of times, comes the best of times.

I have a friend who had a stroke last year. She started back at work early this year and has slowly been adding to her schedule as her capacity increases. My friend knows about moving into a different pace of life, a more human pace. We have had intimate conversations, over the phone and through email. We talk about when our egos want the old thing that we know and when our soul gently tells us, "Honey, trust me. You don't want that. What's to come is even better. Just be patient."

On my good days, I listen to my soul. On my bad days, my ego is riding me hard.

With a post about no answers, there is no tidy conclusion. Only more questions.

For you, what question is better left unanswered right now?

On Being a Writer

2011-09-28T13:53:23-06:00

I have been writing for the last eight years, ever since I left my last corporate job and went off on my own.

I found out quickly that to be a good writer, I needed to do three things:

Read good writing. This was not hard to do. I love to read.
Write a lot, on a regular basis. Initially this was not hard to do. Over the last few years, it has gotten much more difficult as I crammed more into my life, including a new startup.
Feel and reflect. This comes only when I have grounded myself, slowed down the pace of life to one where I can hear my inner voice. At times, this has seemed nearly impossible to do.

When I write, I am connecting back to that inner voice, giving it full expression, rather than a slight inkling that it can only muster in the noise of daily life. If I am writing well, I am connecting to the reader. This is a side benefit. It is never a direct outcome that I'm going after. All writers write for themselves first.

I have been reading a lot of my favorite authors--those known for the discipline of writing. Julia Cameron, Natalie Goldberg. Anne Lamott. What I notice is that even they have some books that I don't care for. Some of it is pedantic. Some of it is too introspective and mimicking parts of their life without admitting it. Some of it is self-absorbed. Even fine writers have not so fine moments.

But mostly, I admire their simple and honest words. Phrases that make me want to read them more than once. Sentences that are worth tweeting.

Lately, I have gotten back into space of hearing my Muse--the one that literally dictates in the middle of the night or when I'm waking in the morning, or at the end of the day. I can hear my Muse put together entire paragraphs on topics that have recently coalesced in my mind. She laughs at the funny parts and oohs and ahhs at the insightful parts. She smiles at the turn of a phrase.

In those moments, I know that my job is to be the butterfly catcher. To catch the words swirling above the crown of my head and put them into my computer, to be archived and reviewed at another time. Oh, to be a butterfly catcher, in the middle of winter, because inside, it is summer all over again.

On Being Fifty: Lost in the Wilderness

2011-09-21T09:55:00-06:00

I am trying to make peace with being fifty years old.

When I turned fifty last May, I moved into a new Nielsen demographic, as if I was suddenly a less avid viewer, more resistant to buying certain products, and not as quick to tune into the hot new show. Actually, I've been that way for years. It didn't start with being fifty. Photo by Wonderlane

When I turned thirty years old, it was a celebration of maturity for someone who has always looked ten years younger than her age. I was no longer the new kid on the block. I could claim a certain amount of experience that came with being a working professional. It felt great.

When hit forty, I knew that I was coming into my own, not just as a professional, but as a person. I turned the corner from being a competent engineer to that of a whole person, with talents and skills that moved beyond the technical, to something more meaningful. Forties were the decade for blossoming. Photo by jmurawski.

Now that I'm fifty, I'm not sure what to feel other than lost in the wilderness, stripped of my favorite blanket and pocket knife. Society doesn't encourage the fifty somethings like they do the twenty somethings or thirty somethings. The forties are the time of claiming the trophy, harvesting the crop, stepping into the coveted position. But fifties? In your fifties, you are expected to already "be there", not still striving for being there. Who ever heard of an "up and coming" fifty-year old? If you haven't already "arrived", it's unlikely to happen.

At fifty, I'm struggling for role models who aren't trying to look younger, or wiser, or something other than who they are.

At sixty and seventy, you find people who joke about being older. Nora Ephron wrote the book, I Feel Bad About My Neck, when she was in her sixties. At fifty, I don't hear jokes. I see scurrying and hiding. Find me a fifty something who proclaims loudly in a bar, "I'm in my fifties and loving it!" and I'll find you a woman who delights in finding the next crevice-producing wrinkle in her face. Photo by 85mm.ch.

Many of us in our fifties have kids in college. It's a reminder of how we are not young anymore, that we aren't hip new parents with small children. On Parent's Weekend, we are the old people visiting the young people. Our kids are just hitting the parties at 11pm on a Saturday night, while we are getting ready for bed.

I'm trying to make peace with being fifty years old.

Last year, I started a fitness routine, Fit by Fifty, that led me to the gym several times a week, had me eating salads for lunch and enjoying it, and losing part of the tummy that had expanded into new territory (a la West Bank settlement) over the last decade. It's been my way of turning back the clock. But let's not kid ourselves. I feel it in my half decade old body, the one that doesn't move as gracefully, heal as quickly, or bend into a yoga position like it used to. At fifty, my body complains more loudly.

In my fifties, I must make a fateful decision--whether to go down the road of dyeing my hair for years to come or let the gray hairs overtake my head, like a patch of prarie land being returned to natural grasses. The first time I applied dye on my "virgin" hair, it looked great. I wondered why I hadn't done so sooner. When I looked in the mirror, I saw myself as I looked ten years prior. The next application was not so pretty, literally. And now, I'm wondering if over time, the results will only get worse. Photo by L. C. Nottaasen

I'm trying to make peace with being fifty years old.

My husband is fifty-five. Age does not seem to bother him. In fact, it might be something akin to what my sixty-ish girl friend describes as the "why bother" syndrome. By the time you are fifty-five, you are too far away from your forties to complain or yearn for something different. Growing older is a fait accomplit.

In my fifties, it's up to me to create the roadmap, to define what the decade is about, to set the standard for myself internally and externally. That's the beauty and the curse. Ambiguity provides an opening for playing it my way, instead of society's way. So here's what I want my fifties to be about:

Deepening my work. Career guru Pamela Sli m likes to talk about one's "body of work". This next decade is time to shape my body of work, whether it's in the form of writing about the human experience, coaching professionals through career transitions, or doing an Internet talk show. The theme of my story comes into sharp relief through my body of work. While I tried lots of different things in my forties, including starting three LLCs and completing countless projects, I want my fifties to reflect an overarching vision, where years later, someone can say, "That's what her life was about."

Opening up options for how work is done. This is a time to discover a gentler rhythm in life, where a moment of patience turns into a moment of savoring. The drive to finish a project will be balanced with the enjoyment of the experience. I want my work schedule to be best friends with the rest of my life.

Taking more risks. I want my fifties to be a time when I have nothing to prove, other than the fact that my work in the world is what keeps me alive and fresh. Stepping out is a way of doing that. Looking back on this time should engender pride in doing things differently, not to be contrary, but because the situation was ripe for experimentation and innovation.

Finding grace in a changing body. Not to get squeamish, but menopause will be here before the decade is out. I don't expect to become pear-shaped or grow a third head, but I do expect that my body will feel a lot different. I want to navigate these bodily changes with grace (and a few hormone supplements or whatever medical science deems appropriate at that point.)

I feel better already. I'm starting to make peace with being fifty. (This picture was taken the day I turned fifty.)

Lessons Learned From Being Fried, Part 2

2011-09-14T12:18:30-06:00

This is the second installment of a two-part series on burn out. In the first installment, I talked about making the decision to step away from my start-up, My Alumni Link, for three months. I went through a period where I resembled a human version of a sloth--minimal movement, lots of naps, and limited sensory input. Thank god, nothing lasts forever.

Here are my tips for traveling the road back to joy:

Rekindling your life force has no roadmap. A colleague asked me about my time off. "What will you do?" I immediately responded, "I don't know." In a world where we want answers and certainty, not knowing and ambiguity can feel like falling through the sky, with too much space and a gazillion places to land. But that's exactly what is needed. It feels odd that my work is to serendipitously re-discover what brings me alive. Armed with the blank canvas of a new day and the question, "What should I do today?", I follow my internal impulses. That is enough. Photo by mollypop.

There is a time for reaching and achieving. This is not it. It's been hard for me to stay out of this mode. I've had to monitor myself. When I'm depleted, going into "achieving mode" smothers any joy that might be bubbling up. It looks like attending teleseminars that will teach me the seven secrets of XYZ and pushing myself to get to the top of a hiking trail, just so I can finish a loop. I have to remind myself that I'm loved for who I am, rather than what I accomplish.

Who is that stranger? Finding joy is about being joy. That means re-connecting to all parts of myself--not just the engineer or coach or entrepreneur who I have gotten to know all too well over the last two years. During my time off, I've rediscovered the life long learner who devours several books a week, the food lover who savors a corn and tomato salad made from the bounty of a Saturday morning farmer's market, the aspiring flower arranger who places buds from a Rose of Sharon bush in bowl of water, and the bargain hunter who delights in finding a one-of-a-kind electric green skirt appliqued with beaded flowers, for less than the price of lunch out. In the comimg months, I hope to unearth the musician, the improvisor, the goofy girl who can laugh at her own jokes (over and over and over) and yes, the writer.

How do I know who is inside, waiting to get some much needed attention and air time? I'm noticing the quiet "voice" or feeling that tugs at me throughout the day. "Ooh, wouldn't that be fun!" or "I like this. I could do more of this." Photo by Eva Cristescu

Visit other worlds to refresh the soul. Books and movies throw me into new scenery. Afternoons are for sitting on the back patio, reading about the U S Memory Championships or about a writer's time in an ashram in India. Evenings are for hunkering down with a movie set in another era, whether it's Frost/Nixon in the 70's, The Young Victoria in the 1800's, or Julie and Julia right after 9/11 and World War II. Yesterday, I spent the morning at the Denver Botanic Gardens, walking through their tropical greenhouse. For you, visiting other worlds might mean getting out in nature, picking up an old hobby, or leaving town. (I was inspired by the book, Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, Indonesia.) However you do it, immerse yourself in new surroundings.

Fill your psyche with light. You would think stories of redemption would be just what I needed to hear. But I found out that these kinds of stories first have to show the hard side of life before the hero can find happiness. I felt terrible after watching on DVD the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness. I stopped in the middle of the book, Unbroken, even thought it is written by one of my favorite authors, Laura Hillebrand. When I got to the part where the main character is shot down in the Pacific during WWII, surrounded by sharks, I couldn't bear to keep reading. In both cases, the protagonist comes through his ordeal stronger and is a model of resilience. Trudging through the darkness to get to the light, even if it was in somebody else's story and not my own, was enough to throw me into disequilibrium. Photo by Jeff Hunter.

If I had a year to do anything....it would be to write. In a conversation with a high tech serial entrepreneneur, he said, "I would love to spend a year, just coding. I get immersed and lose track of time. And when I'm done, I've created something of value." I feel the same way about writing. It's one of the things that I know will "rehabilitate" me, from half dead to fully alive. Most people know what makes them truly happy. Think about what you would do if you had all the time in the world. Then make time for that, even if it's only thirty minutes a week that moves you in that direction. Photo by Sean MacEntee.

Create your toolkit. To stir my creative juices, I've returned to the practice of Morning Pages and Artist's Dates, read books by writing guru Natalie Goldberg, and set aside time to blog each day. I'm working through exercises in the book, The Sound of Paper, by creativity expert, Julia Cameron. I have returned to yoga classes, after a month off. You might have something completely different in your toolkit. The point is, by developing a structure for your creativity to blossom, it's more likely to happen. Make the ground fertile for the seed to sprout. Another book that speaks to this point is The Creativity Habit: Learn It and Use It For Life, by the famous choreagrapher, Twyla Tharp.

Leave space for stillness. Empty slots on my calendar can easily get filled with activities that sound fun. But I found that joy overscheduled is no joy at all. I've learned that making time for stillness is vital for a joyful life. It's the cleansing cracker during the wine tasting, the rests between the musical notes, the pause in a rousing speech. Stillness, on a regular basis, allows me to enjoy the rest of my life that much more. Photo by MinimalistPhotography101.

The road back to joy is more than replenishing my reserves or re-connecting back to myself (although those benefits are great.) This path gives me a glimpse of the life I saw nearly 9 years ago, when I left the corporate world to strike out on my own. The creative freedom was exhilarating and the "shoulds" and "have to's" of life were suddenly gone. My life force was bursting forth. From that place, so much more is possible.

I have to stop myself from asking, "What's next?" Sitting in a coffee shop, on a cool, overcast day, cloaked in autumn, it's enough to enjoy the change of seasons, to tap internally to the beat of music on the radio, and to be present to the moment. Photo by Muffet.

Making Meaning of It All

2011-09-12T12:33:48-06:00

The 10th anniversary of 9/11 has given a collective pause to our fast forward society. The reflections range from the scope of the tragedy and how it changed the world to whether we are any safer today to individual recollections of a day that no one can forget.

It's triggered in me a reminder of how precious life is and how life goes on, in spite of deep sadness. Photo by PeterJBellis

Over the weekend, I saw two friends. One seems to be on the other side of pain, after going through a divorce and now, selling the family home. She's looking forward to new, smaller digs. Two years ago, I bumped into her after a school function. She seemed to be at a low point, in the middle of divorce proceedings and recently having lost a parent. My friend is a reminder of how life's journey undulates, never staying in one emotional place for too long. We are taken down the river, to a different, and hopefully, better place.

The other friend is in the midst of pain, having met with doctors last week about her husband, a man who has been in ICUs and acute care facilities continuously since April. His body is a shell of his former self, with failed kidneys and damaged lungs, and no signs of rejuvenation. My friend has decided to end life support for her husband. I wonder, "What must it be like to make such a decision, for someone you love?" I can only guess. She's looking forward to the time when she can think of him as he was in the past, when his spirit fully inhabited his body, when she can push aside the image of the man lying in the hospital bed. Life will go on, past the frozen images at the end of life.

Juxtaposed next to pain and suffering is meaning. This morning, I heard on National Public Radio a piece about "dignity therapy", used with terminally ill patients to help them make meaning of their life. This process results in "a formal written narrative of the patient's life — a document that could be passed on to whomever they chose. The patients would be asked a series of questions about their life history and the parts they remember most or think are most important. Their answers would be transcribed and presented to them for editing until, after going back and forth with the therapist, a polished document resulted that could be passed on to the people that they loved." Photo by MAMJODH

Making meaning about our life, at the end of our life, is a way to tie up loose ends, and to leave with a sense of peace.

Another friend told me about a sci-fi book, Speaker for the Dead, which introduces the idea of a dead person's life being told by a third party--more objective than a eulogy and more multi-faceted than an obituary. According to Wikipedia:

"Speakers research the dead person's life and give a speech that attempts to speak for them, describing the person's life as he or she tried to live it. This speech is not given in order to persuade the audience to condemn or forgive the deceased, but rather a way to understand the person as a whole, including any flaws or misdeeds."

Pain and suffering do not disappear with meaning. But the journey becomes tolerable, even purposeful.

Which brings me back to the preciousness of life. Each day, we have the opportunity to make meaning, to live out 24 hours in a way that weaves a coherent story. We don't need to wait until the end to tell the story.

One of my favorite quotes is by Mary Oliver:

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

I plan on making meaning. How about you?

Photo by donjd2