I've decided to use the library like it's never been used before, slowly working through a list of books that I've been meaning to read for years. Management theory and community building type stuff, which, I will admit, I tend to devour like they were romance novels. Three days and I'm halfway through Dee Hock's Birth of the Chaordic Age. I first came across this book when I was studying systems theory at Antioch and its a welcome find at this point in my life. I'm most hit by his personal story, feeling out of sorts with institutions and a bit out of step with his family growing up; and I'm particularly moved by his realization that VISA was not where he was supposed to be and abruptly leaving for no good reason, because some voice inside him told him he had other things to do. All of this feels like a crackling fire and a cup of cocoa right now. I needed Mr. Hock and his story of scrambling and struggling to make sense of it all. I was looking for a mentor to help me push forward on my non-linear path, which at this present moment feels like I just took a side trail into brushy woods, never to be heard of again. Every transition in my life resembles chaos while I walk it, but order when I reflect back, and I'm incessantly puzzling how I can better balance these two poles in order to stay more present in the journey.
How to recognize that chaos is the natural order of things ... it's a call to the wild. We forget this natural order when we're not exposed regularly to nature. And reading back over this post, the answer is sprinkled throughout in my language. So off I go, today I will go for a walk in the woods and reflect.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
See? It's that easy ...
I came across the website of a friend's business in Seattle and the tagline resonated with me: connects brands to tribes
by telling stories that matter
I recognize this language, so similar to community foundation taglines across the country: connecting people who care with causes that matter. People and stories and connecting ... it's as simple as loving life and sharing that passion by injecting it into whatever work you do. And the words that matter are very significant because they get to an authenticity which is core to the everyday philanthropist.
What matters to you? It's probably a lifelong pursuit, to discover this thing that matters to you. And certainly what matters changes as we transition from student to professor or vice president to mother. But at our core each of us holds an answer to that question. Sometimes the voice is soft, hopefully it is also persistent. How do we dig deeper into our stories of what matters and make every simple gesture a word in that novel? How do we breath more passion for life into what we're doing?
It can feel so immense, trying to be a good person every day, trying to do good things in the world. Yet in a nugget, people and stories and connecting ...
by telling stories that matter
I recognize this language, so similar to community foundation taglines across the country: connecting people who care with causes that matter. People and stories and connecting ... it's as simple as loving life and sharing that passion by injecting it into whatever work you do. And the words that matter are very significant because they get to an authenticity which is core to the everyday philanthropist.
What matters to you? It's probably a lifelong pursuit, to discover this thing that matters to you. And certainly what matters changes as we transition from student to professor or vice president to mother. But at our core each of us holds an answer to that question. Sometimes the voice is soft, hopefully it is also persistent. How do we dig deeper into our stories of what matters and make every simple gesture a word in that novel? How do we breath more passion for life into what we're doing?
It can feel so immense, trying to be a good person every day, trying to do good things in the world. Yet in a nugget, people and stories and connecting ...
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Creativity and Education
I've been asked to join the board of directors of a nonprofit I've worked with in the past (details to follow). It's an opportunity for me to network and use my brain for something I'm passionate about; because, if I've learned nothing else this past year it's that, although I am passionate about my baby, I am not passionate about diapers, yams and picking cheerios up off the floor like it's groundhog day. I have always been drawn to the idea of working with the educational system, but in a systemic, recreate it kind of way. And I'm a strong believer, based on my first hand experiences in theatre, music and film, that creativity is a key component in educating intelligent, gusty and compassionate young people. Needless to say I'm excited that I'm being given an opportunity to explore these topics with other adults who care deeply about these issues as well.
So after attending a board meeting as a guest this week I stumbled across this talk given by Sir Ken Robinson at TED. A lot of the points he makes were familiar to me, and are things I inherently agree with, but there was a simplicity to his argument that got me fired up again.
Plus, I can't resist wry.
So after attending a board meeting as a guest this week I stumbled across this talk given by Sir Ken Robinson at TED. A lot of the points he makes were familiar to me, and are things I inherently agree with, but there was a simplicity to his argument that got me fired up again.
Plus, I can't resist wry.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I took the summer off. Obviously.
It's hard for me to not constantly be doing something. If I'm not in process with something I feel like life is passing me by ... like, quite frankly, my existence is meaningless. My therapist has asked me over the years to ask myself why this is, and it's an ongoing conversation I have with my head. "If you were to slow down, to not make plans or start businesses or create projects, what would you have?" I know it's an attempt to pinpoint the fact that if I peeled away the layers of 'doing' I would have to just 'be'. Who am I? What is my purpose? Very zen, I get it. Much harder to act upon than to pontificate about however.
So the fact that I set up this blog thingy, with every intent over the last year to write a couple times a week and use it as the backbone to starting a consulting business and whatever else that might bring, and then struggled to keep up with it and just stopped writing altogether last spring ... well, I consider this a huge success. Here's why:
My goal this year, the one that was hidden in my heart, was to truly let the experience of the first year of life wash over me. To live in the moment with my newborn. To catch all the precious little changes and monumental awakenings that happen to a human being as they move from completely helpless to walking and talking. It has been fascinating and it has completely absorbed me. And even though I've still beat myself up periodically for not 'doing enough' this year, in reflection I can see real progress. The infrastructure was being built, the steel girders on which I can now apply concrete and glass. And things are again moving along. Networking has started, ideas are percolating and I have the energy to apply myself beyond myself again. I realize, one year out, that a year is such a short time. It is just one season in and of itself. This year was about sowing - and truth be told I think I've got another solid year of sowing ahead of me, not to mention if we have another baby. But all of that energy and seed is going to come to fruition and there will be plenty of time to create.
And even as I type that it cracks me up. Because what have I been doing this year if not create. A little person rose up onto his own two feet because I've been here nurturing him. What better foundation could I have been building this year?
So the fact that I set up this blog thingy, with every intent over the last year to write a couple times a week and use it as the backbone to starting a consulting business and whatever else that might bring, and then struggled to keep up with it and just stopped writing altogether last spring ... well, I consider this a huge success. Here's why:
My goal this year, the one that was hidden in my heart, was to truly let the experience of the first year of life wash over me. To live in the moment with my newborn. To catch all the precious little changes and monumental awakenings that happen to a human being as they move from completely helpless to walking and talking. It has been fascinating and it has completely absorbed me. And even though I've still beat myself up periodically for not 'doing enough' this year, in reflection I can see real progress. The infrastructure was being built, the steel girders on which I can now apply concrete and glass. And things are again moving along. Networking has started, ideas are percolating and I have the energy to apply myself beyond myself again. I realize, one year out, that a year is such a short time. It is just one season in and of itself. This year was about sowing - and truth be told I think I've got another solid year of sowing ahead of me, not to mention if we have another baby. But all of that energy and seed is going to come to fruition and there will be plenty of time to create.
And even as I type that it cracks me up. Because what have I been doing this year if not create. A little person rose up onto his own two feet because I've been here nurturing him. What better foundation could I have been building this year?
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