Me & My Mom

Mother’s Day is fast approaching, and so a blog post about moms really does feel like the appropriate topic, don’t you think?  It’s timely, it’s relevant and in some ways cathartic, you know?

You see, my mom and I have an interesting relationship.  I can’t honestly say that it’s been all hugs and kisses all the time — can any daughter say that truthfully?  In fact, my mom and I went through a period of several years that were downright rocky.  At least from my perspective.  I mean, you’ve gotta love those years of teenage angst.  Granted, it was over two decades ago, but I can still feel the pain of it.  As I’m sure my mom can.  I remember feeling misunderstood, unappreciated, less than worthy — and in hindsight, my guess is that my mom felt the same way.  I can see that now, looking back on my life through my own lens of motherhood.

What I know now — now that I’m a mother twice-over –  is that being a mother is complicated.  My experience is that no matter what you do or how you do it, it’ll be less than perfect — even when it is entirely perfect.  You’ll be tired at times, you’ll be angry at times.  Just like your child feels misunderstood, so will you. Just as you are often taken foregranted,  so too will you take your child foregranted.  Sometimes you’ll say too much, sometimes too little, and sometimes you won’t know what to say at all.  Such is the role of mothers.

What I also know, however, is that through it all, a mother-child bond is absolutely indestructible.  No matter how angry, how hurt, how confused, how sad, how happy, how excited the parties in question are — nothing can really destroy the mother-child bond.  You might think it’s been destroyed; you might think ties have been severed; you might even feel that foundations have been rocked.  You might choose, for various reasons, to distance yourself from whatever energy you find toxic or otherwise debilitating.  Some would say this is wise.   And yet, when I look at all of the people in my life who have mothers (which, let’s face it, is everybody) and those who are mothers, I know this much is true.  Mothers are irreplaceable.  Mothers are like no other.

And so, from the right side of teenage-hood, having moved past much of the hurt and angst and finding myself in the place of “shared experience” with my mother, let me say, very publicly and sincerely — Mom, I love you.  Happy Mother’s Day to you!

Walking to the Edge

“When you have come to the edge of all the light you have

And step into the darkness of the unknown

Believe that one of the two will happen to you

Either you’ll find something solid to stand on

Or you’ll be taught how to fly!”

~Richard Bach

I woke up this morning wondering about “edges.”  Not sure why.  And the question really was around what they are — as in, what are the edges from which I’m holding myself back?  And what would happen if I pushed myself towards them, just a bit more?  This curiousity prompted me to do a google search about “edges” — which led to me finding the above quote by Bach.

I’ll confess:  I’ve never read Jonathan Livingston Seagull — and I understand that Bach is the author of said book.  I believe it’s a classic, and yet, I don’t really feel a call to read it — at least not yet.  I do feel a call in this moment to explore the edges of my world a bit.  To figure out what the edges are, and to get really close to them — if only to find out what’s out beyond them.

Now, I don’t think I’m completely unaware of the edges.  I don’t feel like I’m playing it altogether safe in my world.  And, I do have a sense that perhaps I’m playing it safer than I need to be.  I may well be closer to the edge than some, and I could go closer still — this is what I’m feeling in my core.

My sense is that moving to the edges of your life, whatever those edges might be, challenges you to be ever-so-slightly uncomfortable in your own skin.  And this sort of discomfort, I believe, is what will allow you to grow into all you’re meant to be, do all you’re meant to do.  So how do I move closer to the edge?  Believe it or not, I’ve actually got a physical experience of this — a couple of years ago I did a high-ropes course that required me to walk right to the edge of a very narrow plank — and jump off!  The plank was about 30 feet up in the air.  And while I was totally secured with ropes and harness, as I was walking, there was a very deliberate act of will that was required on my part.  There was one member of my group who was able to walk as naturally as if the plank was on the ground.  For me, I had to take one deliberate step at a time, reminding myself that I was held and safe, and then when I got to the edge, I chose to leap towards a trapeze (as opposed to into “nothing”).  So if I apply this learning to my current question of “how do I walk to the edge”, here’s what I extrapolate:

1. walk deliberately
2. one step at a time
3. remember that you’re actually safe
4. know that even when you can’t see what’s there, you’re jumping towards something
5. keep your focus — whether on the edge, or your feet, or what’s next — keep your focus

The edge is not a bad place to explore, when you know you’re held and supported.  Going to the edge is what will allow you to experience all of your life.  Going to the edge doesn’t have to be dangerous — and it will stretch you.  Find your way to the edge.  My sense is that it might even be fun.

Lessons from My First 10 KM Race

So, I did it.  Yesterday, I ran my first 10 km race.  This was an objective that I set for myself a couple of years ago.  It originally started with the statement “when I turn 40 I’m gonna run a marathon!!!”  I’m one of those people who can easily get swept away with an idea and aim pretty high.  Nothing wrong with that in and of itself.  And yet, as I started the process of learning to run and realizing what it felt like and what I enjoyed and didn’t enjoy, I came to the conclusion that what I really wanted to do was run a decent long-distance race.  More than 3km — but not a marathon (at least not yet).  And so, I settled on running a 10 km.

Last summer I ran a 5 km, with very little training.  It was fun — and fine.  And set the stage for me to aim for this 10 km.  I’ve got to tell you though, I had a hard time getting ready for this race and learned a LOT along the way, about who I am, how I perform optimally, what I’m capable of and what I really want.  In the training process alone, I re-learned that I really do much better when I align myself with someone.  As much as I work well alone, I work better when I’ve got someone to walk the journey with me, someone to laugh with, someone to push me when I want to sell out, someone who I can push back, someone I can lean into.  I also learned that I can actually get up early — I don’t like to, I prefer to sleep in — but I can.  And I really do work better in the morning, when I just get myself out of bed!

Race day itself taught me a lot.  There’s stuff I know on a cellular level that I didn’t know quite as deeply before.  Here’s a summary of my learnings (and wherever I say “I” you can substitue “YOU”):

1. I am capable of more than my brain would sometimes have me believe.
2. Both my body and my brain, when they work together, can accomplish great things.
3. Goals don’t have to be lofty — they just have to stretch me.
4. Any goal achieved is totally worth celebrating in a big way.
5. Nothing beats the support of family and friends.
6. Whenever I feel myself hitting the wall, all I have to do is look beyond it.
7. Focusing on my breathing will always allow me to go further and do more than I realize.
8. It’s okay to slow down for a bit before I sprint all out.
9. Staying hydrated is beyond important.
10. Connecting to someone else — having a conversation — can take me away from the pain.
11. Competing with others is good — competing with myself is better.
12. It really is about completing.

That’s what I know and can articulate right now.  What I know for sure is that each of these learnings has implications for the big-picture of my life.  And, I’m really proud of what I accomplished.  I had a vision, and I did what I needed to do to make it a reality.  Two months ago, I was on the verge of giving up on this dream, putting it on the shelf until the spring.  But I didn’t — and I’m glad.  Now, to savour the success.  Thanks to all who supported me along the way.

The Wrapping’s Not Very Pretty, But…

…it’s definitely a gift.  That’s what I’ve gleaned out of some of today’s experiences.  For example:  I had a meeting scheduled for this morning, and I was really looking forward to the productive brainstorming that I was envisioning happening.  Unfortunately, my colleague and I ended up at two different meeting places due to a misunderstanding as to location.  On the one hand, bummer — because I couldn’t share my ideas visually and receive ideas visually.  On the other hand, great gift — because I was out of my usual workspace and got two degrees closer in clarity as to what I’m trying to create PLUS I got to enjoy a white mochaccino, one of my secret indulgences, while I waited.

Then, I came home to deal with an ongoing blood sugar roller coaster (this one’s been going on for a couple of days now).  Bummer — because I couldn’t go for the run that I would’ve liked to experience — running when my blood sugar is wonky is just asking for trouble.  Great gift — because it allowed me to slow down and breathe through a very healthy lunch meal.

Finally, I hit a creative wall in the middle of a project this afternoon.  My brain actually stopped generating any ideas whatsoever.  Bummer — because I felt like I was on a roll.  Gift — because it forced me to reach outside of myself and enlist the help of some other folks in generating ideas, lean into community as it were.  And community is always a gift.

Bottom-line:  the day’s not unfolding as I might have envisioned it.  And I know that that happens sometimes — it’s part of the leadership game.  Heck, it’s part of the game of life.  I realize that I could get all bent out of shape about it.  Except that I also realize that the way it’s actually unfolding is better than what I originally envisioned.  I’m needing to step into a new vantage point to see the gifts; and the gifts are there nonetheless.  Pretty cool thing to remember, I think.

5 Steps to Dealing with Blind Spots

Yes, it’s true.  Even leaders have blind spots.  One of the things I’m discovering is that these blind spots are often self-induced.  Why?  Because it can be oh-so-easy to buy into the myth that, as a leader, you must somehow know it all.  Which means you can walk around with the idea that there’s nothing you can’t handle.  Which, in turn, can very quickly lead to the place of not admitting when you don’t actually know the answer to something.  In other words, you end up being actually unable to see when you’re floundering, or about to flounder.  Blind spot.

What is it about our society that puts this pressure on leaders?  What would become possible if leaders were allowed some latitude, allowed the opportunity and given permission to get things wrong, make mistakes like anyone else, admit to their shortcomings?  Would these in anyway diminish their leadership abilities?  My guess — and actually, my experience — is that it wouldn’t.  My guess is that having leaders own and acknowledge their blind spots — even allowing others to point out blind spots and support leaders in circumventing them — would actually enhance leadership ability in the long run.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  leaders who are allowed to be human — and perhaps more importantly, leaders who allow THEMSELVES to be human — are actually the leaders who lead effectively.

So, all this being said, how does one deal with blind spots?  What strategies can be used to acknowledge and then move around these areas?  Here’s my  5-step system:

1. Surround yourself with trustworthy people who will, in a non-judgmental, completely supportive way, point out when there’s something you’re not seeing (a blind spot).
2. Become familiar with your own voice of judgment so you can recognize when it starts speaking, and then turn your attention to the voice of reason which allows you to make mistakes.
3. Let go of having to be perfect — in fact, celebrate mistakes as learning opportunities.
4. Remind yourself that some of the greatest leaders in history made mistakes — and achieved victory by moving past those.
5. Once in a while, shut your brain off and act from the heart — the heart’s blind spots aren’t nearly as debilitating as those of your brain.  In other words, your heart will rarely steer you wrong.

Bottom-line:  blind spots exist.  That’s all there is to it.  Whether you’re a leader, a follower, or someone who hasn’t yet found your place in the game of life, you have blind spots.  Trust me.  And, owning them and knowing that they’re simply part of the deal is critical.  Once you’ve done that, you can take steps to navigate over, through and around them.