Snow Days

It's been snowing for days now.

We are, what you might call, snowed in.

Our road is half a mile long, and in order to get out to the highway, the road has to be plowed almost every day. Thankfully, we have wonderful neighbors who show up and plow the road, often without being asked. They might come as late as midnight or as early as 6AM. Without their help, we would be up a frozen creek without a (useless) paddle. To get out of our house at all requires constant shoveling. Thankfully, we have a couple of good snow shovels and the wherewithal to shovel. 

Blessed to have a roof over our heads, a warm house, plenty of wood to keep a fire blazing, and food in the pantry, we are safe, comfortable, and able to enjoy all the magic that comes with a snow day. We forgo the gym, and head out the back door on x-country skis for a killer workout. Shoveling snow replaces the need for free weights. Strapping on snow shoes, we track a small herd of elk, spot a squirrel popping up through the snow to grab a snack at the bird feeder, and watch wild turkeys march through the woods.  We nap in front of the fire, catch up on reading, play endless games of backgammon, and cook hearty comfort food. Tucked in front of the fire, conversations slow down and go deep. These are the treasures of being snowed in. 

But.

It isn't all snow globes and magic. Meetings and social gatherings get canceled, plans have to change, and eventually, in spite of the outdoor adventures and indoor coziness, cabin fever sets in. When the snow falls for days, so does the pace of life. Everything slows down, and when things slow down, our anxiety usually speeds up. We find that we suddenly have to sit with the discomfort of whatever it is we try to avoid by getting out and getting busy, or by distracting ourselves through binge watching our go-to series (again), or by losing ourselves in the blackhole of cyberspace. But that same discomfort is calling for our attention. It is the souls way of getting on our radar screen, inviting us to dig deeper, venture further and climb higher. It might be asking us to step fully into our untended pain, our unaddressed issues, or our unresolved inner and outer conflicts. It might  be urging us to step over our fears and out into the world. It could be imploring us to stop playing small and start imagining something larger. Finding ourselves snowbound is a summons to become free of whatever binds us up. It is a call to step onto the trail,and hike our way through whatever it is that blocks our way to living as fully and wholeheartedly as we can. And the trailhead is always, always, always, squarely beneath our feet, even if buried under three feet of snow. The next good step is there to be taken. 

Snow isn't required to get snowed in. We all know the feeling of finding ourselves stuck inside and unable to get out, with drifts so high that we can't see the sky. Who shows up to "plow our road" without being asked? Do they know we are snowed in? If not, time for us to ask for their help. (And as much as I hate to admit it, that almost always proves to be a next good step.)  What "shovel" do we reach for when our way is blocked? Don't have one? Time to go find one and learn how to use it. 

The next time we are snowed in, will it be a call to settle in and sit with whatever we find there?  Or, will it be an invitation to strap on our snow shoes and step out to discover the life that is waiting for us outside our door? Either way, answering the call is our next step. 

Go Forth and ...

It is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in this broken world.

Mary Oliver

It's time to start writing again.

At our house, Christmas has been "put away" for another year, the Christmas decorations and nativity scene all (somewhat) carefully tucked away for a long winters nap. Family and friends have departed, and a new year has begun. I've been away from my desk for a month, and a new year always beckons me back to the page, and the need to put words down on the clean white space. I'm not much one for resolutions or goals, strategic plans or strict timelines. I am one, however, for marching orders, for a call to action that helps direct my steps in a meaningful way. We are all here, alive together, on this beautiful and broken planet, to make a difference for the good in the world that is within our reach. Making that difference is a serious thing indeed. 

What are my marching orders for 2017?

What are yours?

As I pondered what to write about, and how to connect my writing with my marching, I kept drawing a blank. I have a book coming out in February (BLUSH: Women & Wine), so I could write about that, expanding on the message in between the covers of the book. But that didn't seem to quite cut it. Last year, my marching orders were to finish that book and get its message out. But them's old marching orders. My business name is Trailhead Coaching and Consulting, so I could write about "adventures from the trail" and the importance of connecting who we are with what we do and how we do it. Nope. Not that either. One evening I decided to just get it done, and with lots of determination and a wee bit of aggravation, I sat down to brainstorm a list of themes for the year. It turned out to be a short list. As in, there was nothing on it. The harder I thought the bigger the blank I drew. So, I did what I usually do, when I can remember to do it. I quit thinking about it, and trusted that new insights and information would  rise to the surface in due time. And sure enough, it did.

The next morning, as I have every day since she gave it to me, I put on the necklace that my daughter Lauren gave me for Christmas. A small gold tag with two small words that pack a big punch. Go Forth. And just like that, those marching orders appeared. The necklace sits squarely between my head and my heart, reminding me to use both as I move through this new year, a day at a time, a moment at a time. Reminding me to be mindful and wholehearted in all that I do. 

This year, perhaps more than any in recent memory, needs our help. 2017 is a year in which we all have important work to do if we are ever to live side-by-side in the midst of our differences. This last year has taken a toll on everyone I know, and on people I will never meet. 2017 is beckoning us, it is begging us, to Go Forth, and bring all we've got to the new years party. What that means for each of us is particular. The need for it is universal. Whatever your calling, whatever your gifts, whatever your passions, whatever your deepest values, Go Forth and do. Go Forth and be. Go Forth and give. Go Forth and lead. Go Forth and serve. Go Forth and create. Go Forth and work. Go Forth and play. Go Forth and learn. Go Forth and speak up and speak out. Go Forth and listen. And no matter who you are, Go Forth and love. 

On your mark, get set...Go Forth and ... 

When NO means YES

My new issue of Real Simple just came in the mail. It is one of my favorite magazines, as it really does provide ideas for keeping life both real and simple. Especially during the month of December when living up to the holiday  hype feels unrealistic and complicated. The theme for the issue, as we head into a new year is "Say Yes To Saying No." Those sound like marching orders a lot of us could relate to. And, the theme reminded me of an earlier blog I first posted on Matters That Matter. It takes a slight twist on the Real Simple theme, and, as one year winds down and a new one is about to begin, it seems like an idea worth a bit more reflection. What is waiting for your resounding YES? What could use a quiet but firm NO? The answer is usually real simple, but rarely real easy.

In the spirit of keeping life real simple, here was my take a couple of years ago.

My cell phone rang as Kristine and I walked back to the conference center to facilitate another workshop at the retreat. Gathered at a beautiful resort in Woodstock, NY, the woods ablaze with fall colors, it had already been two days of connection and inspiration, new friends and new ideas.  The workshop was one of our favorite topics, a best seller with clients, always a crowd pleaser, resulting in powerful insights for all.  Starting of course, with us. Since as everybody knows…”You teach what you need.”

With a few minutes to spare, and seeing that the call was from a client, I decided to answer. “Hey Molly. We’re in a big bind.  The person who was going to facilitate the Leadership Experience can’t make it.  Would you be able to do it?  It starts the day after tomorrow.”  Immediately I knew the answer to that question….

A vehement “No!”

As in…

Hell No!

Never!

Not on your life!

That kind of No.

While certified to facilitate the experience, I had yet to actually do so.  Not only that, it was going to be with a senior global team, and the facilitator they had really wanted was obviously not me. He had more experience, and was clearly their first choice.  Stepping into a big arena, trying to fill big shoes, coming in at the last minute, with people who expected someone else, felt like a recipe for disaster all around. Besides that, getting an earlier flight out would be almost impossible due to our commitment to the current retreat.  There was one other tiny little detail. I was terrified.   Afraid that I couldn’t do it, wouldn’t meet the high bar set by the group, and couldn’t measure up to their expectations, I respectfully declined, politely thanked him for thinking of me, wished him the best of luck, and hung up the phone, filled with relief.  Except the relief kept getting pushed down to make room for something else.

Regret.

My reasons for saying no were logical.  It  made perfect sense.  Still, I had the sense that I had just let myself down.  Imperfect as my facilitation might be, was it possible that I was the perfect person for the job, and it the perfect job for me?

It was time for the retreat workshop to begin.  Stepping up to kick it off, I couldn’t get that phone call out of my mind. Thankfully, Kristine stepped in and masterfully led the group through the first exercise, allowing me to clear my head of my swirling thoughts.  In saying No to the request, I was saying Yes to my fear.  In answering No to a big challenge, I was opting for a Yes to playing it safe.  Just then I heard Kristine as she continued leading the participants through the exercise, asking them to complete the statement: “If I had the courage, I would………

Oh, did I forget to mention that the topic of our workshop was COURAGE? Oops.

Heads bent over their journals, the participants began to write down as many ideas for completing that sentence as they could.   As they finished writing, I stepped back in front to lead them through some reflection on what they had just discovered. Looking into their faces and seeing their courage, they led me back to my own.

As soon as our workshop was over, I called the client back.  “Yes.  I’ll be there.  To be clear, this will be the first time I’ve actually facilitated it, and I won’t have time to review any of the materials.  If flying by the seat of my pants is ok with you, I’ll change my flight and be there.”  It was a powerful Yes that began as an overwhelming No. Rather than disaster all around, it turned into a blessing for all concerned.  Starting of course, with me. Instead of a miserable failure, it was a mighty success. Starting of course, with me.

Now when I experience a knee-jerk “No!” and want to run the other direction, I pull up my boot straps and start walking the scary trail toward Yes.

When our first response is No, can we find the courage to search for the deeper Yes?

When desperate to scream No, can we find the strength to whisper Yes?

When it feels safer to say No, can we brave the waves to Yes?

Yes.  We can.

No.  it isn’t easy.

And Yes. That means we are on the right track.

Small Step(s) = Big Shift(s)

Close your eyes for a moment. 

Imagine yourself at the trailhead. (Hint: If you need a little help, open one eye and peek down at your feet. It's right there. The trailhead is always right there.) With your feet pointing straight ahead, think about your trajectory. Over time, if you keep heading in that direction where will you end up? If you are on track, heading where you want to go, then by all means keep on keeping on.

However, if your direction could use a bit of adjustment, you've drifted off course, or find yourself stuck in a familiar rut, imagine stepping your feet ever so slightly to the right or left so that they are pointing in a slightly different direction. You don't have to do an about face (unless you know that you actually do) or make a ninety-degree turn.  I'm talking just a smidge here. While this very small adjustment changes your trajectory in a very small way today, over time your path will gradually diverge from your current course, and that small step to the left or right will lead to a big shift in direction.

What is one small step, in a slightly different direction, that might shift your course to point you in the direction that is calling to you? 

Begin With The End In Mind

No matter what it is, ending well matters. 

Whether a much needed vacation, retirement from a meaningful career, ending a relationship, navigating a courageous conversation, saying goodbye to a parent, or the last line in your manuscript, ending well there starts right here. By now we have hopefully learned that absolute control over anything is...well..a joke. However, mindful consideration of a desired outcome can help us better order our steps from here to there.  But while we can work mightily to achieve a goal, make things go our way, craft a specific outcome, influence another person, or take all the right steps, there will always be an element of "it's a crap shoot". If we focus solely on exactly how we would like things to turn out, we've missed the deeper issue. What matters even more than how it turns out, is who we are in that moment. The essence of beginning with the end in mind can be summed up in one question: When the end of whatever "it" is comes, who do we want to be? 

Examples of endings are everywhere. Some that end well, and others, not so much. Whether you are an NFL fan or not, this years Super Bowl is a prime example. The Carolina Panthers, led by their talented, brash young quarterback Cam Newton, were the hands-down favorite. Expected by everyone, including themselves, to win. They didn't.  By a long shot.  An hour after the game, Cam Newton stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation.  Hoodie pulled low over his face, he sat in a chair, eyes down, gave short sullen answers until getting up and walking out mid-interview. Did he want to win?  Of course!  Why else would he play the game?  Had he given thought to who he wanted to be, win or lose?  Apparently not.  Compare that to last years Super Bowl when the Seattle Seahawks, led by their talented, humble young quarterback Russell Wilson, experienced an even more devastating loss.  Expected by many, including themselves to win, they didn't. Within seconds of winning the game, with that ill-fated, still debated call.... they lost.  An hour later Russell Wilson stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation.  Suit and tie, he stood, faced the camera, expressed appreciation for his teammates, took responsibility for the loss, and praised the winning team. Did he want to win?  Yes!  Why else would he play the game? Had he given thought to who he wanted to be win or lose?  Apparently so.

One of the greatest lessons in ending well came for me personally when my mom passed away.  Her name was Ashby, and the word that best describes who she was and how she walked through the world is 'grace'. There was nothing Asbhy loved more than what she liked to call a "good visit".  Whenever you showed up on her doorstep, announced or not, whatever the task at hand was set aside and replaced with a cup of tea, served in her best china.  She was short on advice and long on understanding. She loved by listening. The last week of her life we brought her back from the hospital to the home she loved and tucked her into the bed she still shared with my dad.  Every day was filled with her grace, along with a constant stream of friends and family who came by for one more good visit. They would sit on her bed and talk to her, sing to her, laugh and cry with her. No longer able to speak, she did what she did best.  She loved by listening. After she was gone, I realized that I had been given the opportunity to stand at the end of her life, and look back on my own. From that vantage point I understood that ending her life with grace wasn't the result of some grand decision, but rather is an accumulation of choices. That realization reminds me of a quote from Mr. Carson, the butler of Downton Abbey.  "The business of life is the accumulation of memories.  In the end, that's all we have."  The way in which we end things is either the accumulation of a memory or a regret.  To gather more memories, begin with the end in mind.

What endings are on your radar screen? When the end of whatever "it" is comes, who do you want to be? What would ending well in those situations mean? Now is when ending well starts. Here is where it begins. This present moment is what you have to work with.

Also published on Matters That Matter