I originally wrote this post in November 2015.  I saw a picture of this trip in my Facebook memories and wanted to share it again.  Please enjoy this recycled piece.

Jim, I, our daughter, Kaitlyn, and her fiancé, Matt went on an incredible one-day adventure yesterday.  We flew from Calgary to Churchill, Manitoba for a one-day, once in a lifetime, Polar Bear Safari! Ok, maybe twice for me as I’d love to go again!

There is wisdom in everything.  Here is a tidbit from what I learned yesterday. 

As we made the short bus ride from the charter plane to the place where we boarded the tundra buggy along the beautiful coast of Hudson Bay, the bus driver, Paul, told us a bit about living in Churchill and about the bears.  He pointed out a building that he called Bear Jail.

He explained that in the 1970’s and early 1980’s, if a bear wondered into town, it was shot.  Everyone had a gun.  Bears were seen as a nuisance, and they absolutely were a threat.  At that time, people simply didn’t understand very much about the bears, and they certainly did not consider the implications of shooting them.  Many were killed each year. 

Flash forward almost 40 years.  Now, bears are almost never killed in Churchill if there is any feasible alternative.  One such alternative is Bear Jail.  When a bear presents itself as a problem now, the bear is captured and placed in Bear Jail until it can be sedated and then airlifted away from town.  Sometimes the bear has to be in jail for many days until resources are available for air lift.  While we were there, there were 18 bears in the jail.  They would soon be relocated as the ice was ready to come in, thus allowing the bears a way to get out to their winter home.

Paul told us when they first started Bear Jail, they fed all the bears sentenced to jail.  This seemed humane and appropriate.  They later noticed however, these well-fed bears, realizing the jail was a good and easy place to get food, returned to town year after year.  They would get into trouble in town and be put into Bear Jail, where they would be fed, and then released when resources became available.  And so, the cycle was created.  The same bears kept showing up in Bear Jail year after year.  Keep in mind at this time of year, the bears are waiting to go out on the ice to hunt seals.  They have not eaten since springtime, and they are hungry; Bear Jail was quite appealing.  In the wild, they would have very, very little food to eat. 

With this as their insight, Paul told us they changed their practice.  Currently, the bears in Bear Jail are given ice and water, but no food.  Paul reminded us that even though this might seem cruel, a hungry bear is much better than a dead bear.  He reminded us that bears in the wild go months without food at this time of the year.  He knows people might criticize this practice, but it is definitely best for the bears.

There are times in all our lives when we have to deal with a person with a bad behaviour.  Often our reaction is to do something that makes us feel better.  We justify this by telling ourselves we are being kind.  For instance, if we deal with a person who gets upset when things don’t go their way, we tend to avoid having that happen.   We adjust our behaviour, so we don’t have to watch them, or deal with them, being upset.  We give them what they want even when we know it is not the best solution, and we disguise it as being kind, or avoiding conflict, or de-escalating a situation.  We might even begin to foresee what could upset them and start planning to avoid having it happen at all. They never have to change their behavior because in the end they get what they want by doing it.  When we do these things, we are simply reinforcing the very behaviour that we do not want or like.  We stop their bad behaviour for the moment, but soon they are back, doing the exact same thing, knowing how we will respond.   And we ‘feed’ them again.

In the dark, on the way back to the airport, our bus had a flat tire.  Paul had to radio for a new bus.  We were transferred onto it very carefully, as Paul’s wife had radioed the bus and warned him there was a huge polar bear at Paul’s house, which was near to where we were.  Paul removed the rather large gun he carries on his bus and brought it with us onto the rescue bus.  When we got to Paul’s house, the new bus driver dropped Paul off at the end of his driveway and we watched him trudge up the driveway with his gun, in the dark, making plenty of noise to warn the bear.   He said he wasn’t afraid, that this was just life and he was very glad that he and the rest of the resident’s of Churchill, were learning to live in relationship with the bears.  The bears did not have to be shot, nor did they always have to get what they wanted.  They have learned to co-exist. 

I’m going to offer that we stop feeding the bears in our lives.  If you notice yourself responding to a colleague or friend in a way that does not stop an unwanted behaviour, but simply reinforces it, try responding in a new way; take away their proverbial food.  It will be uncomfortable at first.  In fact, their behaviour might escalate for a bit as they test you to make sure that you are really serious about not ‘feeding’ them anymore.  But, gradually, they’ll figure out that they need to change their behaviour, or go find someone else who is willing to feed them.

Thanks Churchill, Manitoba.  I had the most amazing day in your backyard yesterday.  I’ll treasure it for a long time to come.
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to stop feeding the bears in your life.
 

Jim’s brother, Rob, and his wife, Dawn, were in town this past week.  Rob’s been receiving medical treatment in Calgary every few months and we’ve been lucky to be able to host them and have some wonderful visits.  There are so many really nice parts to this; Rob and Jim have, for most of their adult lives, lived far away from each other so having them within a day’s drive has allowed for more visits and for a chance to reconnect.  Another part of the fun of these recent visits is they’ve been able to connect with our children, who they haven’t seen in decades, and they’ve been able to meet their great-nephews, Ben and Andy.  Ben is enthralled with Rob’s keyboard, and Rob loves to share it with Ben.

Covid has reminded us all that simple pleasures such as this, in-person visits with brothers and sisters-in-law are precious events indeed. 

As Rob and Dawn were making the long drive home after their visit this week, they occasionally texted as they went.  One of Rob’s texts mentioned they’d love to leave a little gift for Ben and Andy for Christmas.  I thanked them, adding while it wasn’t necessary, it was very kind.  Rob texted back, ‘It’s so nice to reconnect with your family and throw some love around’.

Throw some love around. 

I smiled reading it.  Rob and I have a very similar sense of humour.  This slightly flippant remark hit the right note with me.  And it also really made me think we could all stand to throw some love around.

Later that same evening I sat down to watch the Canada-Mexico soccer match.  I love watching soccer and this game did not disappoint; it was a thriller with Canada emerging victorious after a heart-pounding final quarter.  The fans in Edmonton braved the freezing temperatures to sit outside, in NOVEMBER! to take in the game. Celebrating the victory, they were cheering and clapping, and remained in the stands long after the final whistle was blown.

One incredibly Canadian moment that has graced every manner of social media since the game ended was the photo of player, Sam Adekugbe, jumping into a snowbank in celebration of the win.   We may never again see such a sight.  Considerably less viral, yet perhaps even more magical, was another eye-catching moment, occurring once the mayhem on the pitch settled, and the fever of the fans slowly grew.  One player, whose name I cannot remember, went to the end of the field, and started to raise his hands in a clapping motion to encourage the crowd to join in.  Join in they did.  As more and more fans waved flags and cheered and clapped in unison, this player threw handfuls of snow into the air.  It glistened and danced like stardust under the night lights, so fitting for the incredible victory.

Literally, he was throwing some love around.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around, but Christmas is just over a month away.  It’s often considered the Season of Love.  In normal times, we’d exhaust ourselves with parties, gatherings, family get togethers and feasts.  Although I long for those days, I do recognize sometimes I didn’t approach my commitments with the grace and love I could have.  At times it felt like pressure and stress mixed in too.

This season we are still far from our old Christmas normal, but we’re much closer than we were a year ago.  We’re in a bit of a sweet spot.  We can plan a few activities with people we feel safe around, and yet we don’t have to exhaust ourselves with too many activities.  I think this could be the year when we can perfect the art of throwing some love around.
 
I’m planning to start early and do it often.  I’m refusing to make it feel like work.  There are so many ways we can throw love around.

Just this week we all watched the devastation in British Columbia, caused by the extreme rainfall, 250mm in 24hours.  Unbelievable.  My goodness, British Columbia needs all the rest of us to throw some love around.  All around.  To all of them.  They need love in the form of supplies, food, shelter, manpower and emotional support. They need to know we’re with them.

Even if we don’t have a direct way to help our cousins in British Columbia, every single one of us can find someone or some organization, ready to catch the love we throw.  I’m going to start with some small warm-up love throwing.  Like smiles.  Perhaps I’ll strike up a little conversation with the radiologist taking my x-rays next time I go.  Or maybe I’ll let someone know exactly what it is about them I appreciate.  Maybe I’ll knit another toque to add to our knitters group donations.  Maybe I’ll do some baking for Jim’s mom to put in her freezer for Christmas time.

And maybe, just maybe, if we REALLY want to throw some love around, Dawn and I will go wild and let Rob and Jim win the next Euchre game.    

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where can I throw some love around?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to throw some love around.
 
 

When I get repeated hints about something from the universe, I know it’s what I should be writing about.  This week, it’s cows! 

Cows!

In one of the areas where I hike, in the spring, ranchers bring their cattle to graze on the grasses of the Foothills.  There are cattle guards along the road to prevent the cows from leaving the area.  However, the area is vast, and over the five or six months they are out there, the cows can wander quite a distance.  Brenda and I have seen several cows while out hiking.  A month ago, I actually had to stand my ground and wave one off as it charged toward us.  I laughed, recalling how I had done this as a young girl.

Usually around the end of October, or earlier if the snow arrives before it’s welcome, the farmers organize cattle drives and herd the cows back to the lower land, to the ranches where they will winter.   

This year was no different.  One Tuesday, toward the end of October, as we drove out to start our hike we commented on the absence of the cows.  We knew the cattle drives had happened; a sure sign winter was soon approaching.

Two weeks ago, both Brenda and I were nervous as we hiked along.  We had seen a black bear the previous week, so every sound made us a bit jumpy.  A trail runner came up behind us at one point and almost scared us off the path.  The fright from the runner, and all the other little sounds, were short lived and replaced with us laughing at our own jumpiness.  As we made the descent from Powderface mountain however, we stopped in our tracks when we heard an ominous roar.  We looked at each other and paused for a minute, listening.

A cow?????

I’ve heard a lot of cows mooing in my life, and I knew without a doubt, this was most definitely a cow.  In fact, it had not roared so much as bellowed.  As we stood there wondering why we had been fooled, we realized it was because there should not have been any cows in the area.  They should have all been rounded up. 

We never did see the cow that made such a noise, and other than commenting that we wished we knew how to let a rancher know there was still one cow out there, we didn’t give it much more thought until this past week.  This week we hiked up a wonderful trail called the Race of Spades.  In the spring and summer, it is used by mountain bikers.  A group of bikers maintain this trail and build complex jumps out of the natural logs in the area.  They name each jump, or obstacle, and someone has used their creativity to make colourful signs denoting the name of each.  It feels so uplifting to see each of them.

The Race of Spades opens up to a road at the top end of the trail.  We planned to cross the road to see the incredible view, and then make our way back down a different, non biking, trail.  As we approached the road, we heard the sound of a vehicle.  Just as we were about to step up onto the road we saw a mini, modern, cattle drive headed down the road.  I say mini because while a ‘real’ cattle drive might have over a hundred head of cattle, this one had six.  I say modern because while a ‘real’ cattle drive involves horses and dogs, this one used two pick up trucks and a quad to keep the cows in line.

We waited just off the road as they passed so as not to scare the cows into the woods.  Horses could easily have followed them and ushered them back, but trucks?  Not so much.  Once the trucks were past us, the quad pulled up and we chatted with the driver, Corbin.  He told us they were still missing a few cows.  Suddenly a light went on for us.  We told him about the cow we had heard the week prior and were able to give him an exact location.  He was very pleased and planned to take a helicopter up looking for it, and the others the next day.

A couple of days later, forgetting all about the cows, I was at my desk, conducting phone interviews regarding a leadership review I am facilitating.  One of the people I spoke to, told me of the bravery of this leader.  They said when they think of her, they think of the statue found in New York City, outside of the Stock Exchange.  It is of a little girl, standing face to face with a bull.  Fierce, is the word that was used to describe this leader, this leader advocating for the safety of women who have faced violence against them.  ‘She is fierce’, they said. ‘She will face anyone with the truth.  It takes courage to do what she does.’

I remember as a young girl, having cows on our farm.   Sometimes they would charge (I think it was more like running) toward us.  When we would tell our Dad, he told us to face them, to stand our ground.  He told us not to run away.  I have no idea if this is good advice about cows, but it served us well then, and it was one of those things that I knew, even then, was a bigger lesson than it appeared on the surface.  Dad was teaching us how to deal with things that we feared. 

Stand your ground, he would say.  Face them.  Let them know you mean business.  They’ll turn away.  And they always did.

I’ve been feeling grateful for my dad’s advice this week.  Even though Brenda and I didn’t exactly have to stand our ground when we heard the cow, and even though we didn’t really have to be fierce even when we saw the bear, it reminded me I can stand my ground, and face my fears, and even be fierce when I choose to be.

Fierce doesn’t mean angry.  Fierce doesn’t mean rude.  Fierce means showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity.  Ferocity, fierceness, allows me to stand up for myself, to stand up for what is right, and to stand up for others who may not have such a strong voice or who were not lucky enough to have a father who taught them to fiercely face cows. 
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My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where do I need to be more fierce?’

Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to become fierce.
 
 

There are a couple of times each year when I get the urge to get my house in order.  It’s not exactly out of order, but just as in most homes, the pantry gets filled with almost empty boxes of crackers, the part of the flour that didn’t quite fit in the sealable container needs pouring in, and the bits of pasta left over need some inventive recipe to use them up. 

Other parts of the house are the same.  I find the clothes rods in my closet crammed with clothes that are ‘perfectly good’.  I often forget to question, why, if they are perfectly good, I’m not wearing them! The kids’ toys are the same.  Over the months we seem to accumulate more and more, and before long there are toys at the back of the cupboard we’ve forgotten all about.

Although no visitor would notice if these ‘closet’ things were cleaned out, it makes me feel completely different, better, and more settled, when they are.  One of the things an observant visitor would notice is that my windows could use a cleaning.  I need to call my friends, Ed and Marie, who have done this job for us for close to thirty years.  When we moved to the acreage, the back of the house was three stories high including the basement.  We quickly decided this would be one place we would splurge on outside help.

As I’ve been busily working at my computer these past weeks, I’ve found myself thinking it’s time to get at it.  To tackle the Fall house clean.  I don’t know exactly what causes me to have an appetite for it at this particular time of year.  It could be that Halloween feels like a messy holiday, and with the exception of the reflectful Remembrance Day, the Christmas season is known to bring its own share of messiness too.   Knowing this, it’s possible I just have a hankering to get my house in order.

The truth is, I don’t have time for a true Fall house clean right now.  And yet, another kind of house cleaning is also calling my name.  This one, I have no excuse to ignore.  It doesn’t take physical energy; it doesn’t really take extra time.  It can be done while driving or snacking or walking or knitting.  This house cleaning is the one where I open the doors and look into all the rooms of my inner self.  Each of us has many rooms inside ourselves.  Each of these rooms hold different parts of our complete selves.  Some we visit frequently.  These are our comfortable rooms.   We are very familiar with the person living here.  Some of these rooms are so put- together, we know we can welcome others into them without a care. 

One of these rooms would be the one where I find my ‘family self’.  In this room, I like the self I find.  I know just where things fit in this room.  Everyone is welcome here.  This inner room aligns with my values so well, I don’t have to worry about quickly shuffling things around if someone comes to this door. 

My professional-self room is also in great order.  Everything is in its place, and everything has a place.  My filing system is in order, and I know my deadlines.  My projects are clearly labeled. This is a part of my inner world I am proud of.   In this room I am well-dressed, professional, and welcoming. My confidence is high here. 

But there are other inner rooms in this mansion that makes up my whole self.  I open the doors to these rooms easily, but not often.  One of these would be my adventuresome room.  As I write this, I find myself exploring this room and I recognize I’ve been visiting this room more and more in the past few years.  I’ve been fortunate to have had adventures come my way, and more fortunate to have said yes to them. 

I also have a room that houses my outrageous self.  This room has a door that sometimes sticks.  Yet when I manage to swing it open and fully step inside, I find it filled with musical instruments, a dance floor, and art from my travels.  This room has huge windows opening to the wide outdoors, inviting me to a place where I can run and bike and hike.  Ben and Andy love this room.  In this room, Ben and I can swim, even at the end of October.  Tucked in the back of the closet here, I not only have my ‘play’ clothes, but I have glamorous clothing; clothing I almost don’t think I can pull off wearing, and yet here it is. 

I must steel myself to open the door to a few of the rooms of my inner self.  My inner room of bravery holds promise for me, and yet it’s kind of a double-edged sword.  I know being brave will bring me unknown priceless treasures.  At the same time, I must be brave just to enter this room.

There is one other small room I haven’t really considered exploring yet, but I think it is time.  This is my ok-self room.  It’s the room where I let go of other people’s expectations of me, and make the decision it is fine to be ok with myself, just how I am.  It’s possible this one is a little hidden room at the back of my brave room. 

I enjoy this kind of Fall house cleaning; the kind where I wander through my inner house and look with fresh eyes at what is there.   I can see what things I’d be better off without.  I can identify which things have passed their ‘expiry date’ and no longer serve me well.  I can see some spots where there is room to add something new.  The windows here too, need a good cleaning so I can clearly see what is possible when I access all parts of myself. 

I’m giving myself permission to wait a few weeks to tackle the physical part of my Fall house cleaning.  But I’m committed to spending time cleaning out that other house of mine – the inner one.  The one with some rooms filled with threadbare furniture, overused and far too comfortable.  And with other rooms containing unused treasure and invaluable opportunities. 

My plan is to eventually open up my whole house and let all parts of it gleam and shine.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What inner room holds treasure for me?’
​
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn about some wonderfully practical house cleaning tools.
 
 
 
 
Appetite, longing , desire ,hankering

We had a wonderful morning of firewood chopping with our family on the weekend.  The day was crisp and clear.  We’re lucky to live in a place where we can get out into the Foothills and do this as a family.  Greg and Cara have a wood burning fireplace, so the bulk of the days haul went to their home.  Kaitlyn and Matt love to use their firepit and they went home with some fresh logs to burn too.   We think we’ll go out one more time so Jim and I will have a nice little stash before next years camping season.  Except for Cara we were all able to go together this year. 

Cara spent her day working.  This was her second last day of work at this job.  She’s really enjoyed working there over the past few years, but as she pondered where she wants to be in five years, this job wasn’t paving the way.  She and Greg have long made decisions this way; is what I’m doing today, getting me closer to where I want to be in five years?

The five-year part is arbitrary of course.  But it’s not a bad chunk of time to consider.  We can do a lot in five years.  On the other hand, five years fly by in the blink of an eye, and if we don’t lift our heads up every once in a while, to see if we are on a favourable path, the time passes us by anyway.  When we finally do look up, we find many things have changed around us, but we haven’t ended up where we imagined.

I’m probably not the expert on five-year career decisions.  I stayed in my first, much loved, teaching job for thirty-three years.  At the same school.  I did lift my head and ponder whether I was where I wanted to be.  I had opportunities to change; to change schools, to change positions, to change grades and subjects.  For me this was such an easy choice, even though I did give it serious thought.  I was exactly where I wanted to be and more than that, I could see that in five years, I would still love where I was.  I had freedom to make changes in my own practice, and I was always reinventing and trying to keep things interesting.  I was at an incredible school, with incredible colleagues and incredible students.  Even in the midst of it, I recognized how lucky I was.

So, while some people are wise to make career moves to position them for their next step, some of us do not have to wrestle so hard with this part of life.  However, every single one of us have other parts of life to consider.  Who do we want to be in five years?  Which people do we want stronger relationships with?  How will we increase our joy?  What hobbies or interests are we pursuing, even in the smallest way, to keep us feeling connected to our passions?  Which of our strengths will we amplify, and which weaknesses diminish?

Most of us, caught up in the full days of life, don’t even think of thinking about such things.  And yet, one five-years becomes the next.  Before long, they string together to make a life. 

The premier of British Columbia, John Horgan, underwent biopsy surgery on Friday for a growth in his throat. At the writing of this blog, I am not aware of the result of the testing of the tumour.  I first heard this news story, while driving home from a doctor’s appointment.  For some reason it really hit me in the heart.  I know it was because it was exactly one year ago, I too had a biopsy followed by a significant surgery to remove the tumour in my neck.  My tumour was of the non-cancerous variety.  And other than some pesky lingering side effects, I’m able to live the life I want.  If the result had been different, I know I’d have been praying for five more years.  I’m wishing the absolute best for Premier Horgan.

None of us has a guarantee about almost anything in this life.  Most of us, with a bit of good fortune, will still be around in five years.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we woke up in 2026 and found we were the absolute best version of ourselves?  The absolute best chance we have for this happening is to take a few minutes to really figure out exactly what that best version looks like.  What does she sound like?  What does she love?  Who is at her table?  What brings her joy?  How do others feel in her presence?  How engaged is she?

Weighty questions are these to be sure. 

I understand that tonight there will be Northern Lights dancing above almost every part of this province I love.  I think I’ll stay up a bit late and take a drive to see them.   Sometimes when we stand in such majesty, we receive insights.  The beautiful aurora borealis might just give me the perspective I need to remember I can become whoever I dream to be.  There is so much more inside each of us than we often dare to reveal.  Perhaps the next five years is our time to dance and shine.

My inquiry for you this week is ‘How is this preparing me to dance and shine in five years?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to grow yourself or your organization into it’s best self in the next five years.
 
 
 

Last weekend I was immersed in a three-day coach training course.  I’ve wanted to take this course for years and suddenly, a week ago, the stars aligned.  With the click of a mouse and the tap of a credit card (ok, maybe more than a tap), I was enrolled.

In the couple of days preceding its start I worried the days might feel very long.  We were online, using Zoom and Jam Board, and one requirement was that we were to be on camera at all times.  I needn’t have worried.  The content was so engaging and the facilitators so skillful the days flew by.

There were about twenty-four of us in the class, from almost every corner of the world: Abu Dhabi, Hong Kong, China, Germany, Kuwait, Sweden, USA, Japan, India, Canada, the and UK, among others.

As part of our training, we were often placed into pairs or triads in order to practice a new coaching skill we were learning.  During several of these practice-coaching sessions, I found myself in a group with Audrey.  Audrey, originally from Hong Kong, currently works in New York City.

During one of our role plays, Audrey spoke about Chinese art and its use of space.  She explained that often Western art encourages the practice of filling the full canvas with people, things, places, and colour.  Contrasting that, Chinese art is known for its use of ‘white space’.  The objects, people and scenes only cover a portion of the canvas; the rest is left blank.
This allows the painting to breathe and enables the audience to use their imagination to interpret the scene.  Audrey explained if the mind can reach there, there is no reason for the brush.  Space is left for the audience to fill in the rest of the picture.

I had to work hard to stay engaged and focus on our role play as my mind absorbed what Audrey had revealed and as I began to connect this idea of space with other areas of my life.  I’ve been wondering where I leave space and what might be possible if I leave more space in my world. 

For the next month or so, I have very little space in my calendar.  I have two large, exciting projects demanding my focus and time.   Yet I’ll do myself no favours, if in that time, I completely cover my canvas and forget to leave space for creativity, for thoughtfulness, and for restorative rest.  I may not have control over the time-commitments on my calendar, but whether through good luck or good management, some of my filled timeslots have space-creating activities built into them.

My Tuesday hikes, give me space of the most literal kind. In the mountains and foothills, I have space to breathe.  And think.  And appreciate.  And be with others.  And experience nature and her wisdom.  And remember how lucky I am.  When I look up at the clear blue sky as I travel the forest trails, I notice a completely blank canvas.  I understand the power I have to fill it in any way I wish.

My Wednesdays with Ben, and soon with Andy too, give me a different kind of space.  This time gives me space to fill my heart to overflowing.  In this space I allow myself to let go of my ‘important’ work and commitments and to find joy in each moment.  I find space to be present, to laugh, and to feel joy.  When we spend this day each week with Benjamin, I purposely leave some unstructured time in the day; space for him to have his own idea of what to do.  Or perhaps space to just linger with a captivating activity.

My twice weekly dance classes give me space to move.  Even more than that, they give space to be with friends, to feel the music and its affect on my body, and to move my own body while being completely in synch with others.  It is in these classes I can forget about age and age-appropriateness, and be willing to make my own rules, or make no rules at all around what it means to age. Our incredibly gifted and skillful instructor, Reba J, has created a space for us where she holds a belief about each of us that is far more generous and confidence-building than any other I have experienced.  In this space I continue to grow.  Better than that, I blossom.

When I was growing up, we didn’t have a dishwasher.  Doing the dishes gave us a space in between our meal with our big family and whatever activity we were going to do after dinner.  I now see that space was filled with gifts.  My sisters and I talked together.  Sometimes we sang.  There was space for us to just be.  To be sisters.

This week, thanks to Audrey, I’m going to practice noticing and appreciating space.  I’m going to accept space in conversations and remember its important role of giving room for thought and for considered responses.  I’m going to find tiny moments when I can stand on the blank parts of the canvas of my life and resist filling in every single space, in service of creating something not yet imagined; something with the potential to be wonderful.  I’ll let the end of the brush stroke be the beginning of my wonder.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What space am I creating?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create the space needed to grow into your yet unimagined life.
 
 

Last week I was driving down Macleod Trail, one of the main north/south routes through Calgary, when I heard the familiar sound of an ambulance approaching from behind.  The road was not terribly busy, and I was easily able to find my way to the right hand side of the road where I waited the few seconds it took to pass.  As it did, I felt the familiar sting of tears in my eyes.  Every time I hear the siren of an ambulance when I’ve driving,  I have this same reaction.  It’s been happening for almost ten years.

Just over nine years ago, toward the end of August, Jim had a heart attack.  I wasn’t home that evening.  This was very rare for me, but several girlfriends and I were acknowledging the end of summer with a dinner out.  Trying to be present, and in the moment, I turned off the sound to my phone.  When it was time for us to head home, I took out my phone to send my standard ‘On my way’ text to Jim, when I saw I had 18 missed text messages.  At that time in my life, if I had one or two texts per day, I felt popular, so seeing 18 texts instantly gave me the feeling something was wrong.

As I quickly scrolled through them, I got the gist of the messages quickly.  Something was happening with Jim’s heart, he had called an ambulance, the responders had arrived, and due to the miracle of modern technology were linked directly with a cardiologist at the Foothills hospital who were giving instructions on the exact drugs to be delivered.  When I read Jim’s text, ‘This is not a heart attack’, I knew immediately that, in fact, it was. 

I was able to talk on the phone to Jim as he was put in the ambulance.  Once I knew where they were headed with him, I told him I would meet him at the hospital.  Jim was at home on the acreage, about a 40-minute drive from the hospital, and I was about 20 minutes away from both home in one direction and the hospital in the other.  When I arrived at the hospital, I stood outside on the sidewalk near where the ambulances would arrive.  My friends Coralie and Gina stood with me.  I wasn’t there long when I heard the wail of a siren.  Instinctively, I knew it was Jim who was the patient inside.  The lights were flashing, the siren was on, and the vehicle was moving very quickly.

I went inside and was told he had just arrived and would be taken directly upstairs.  It would be several more hours before I got any word of Jim’s condition.  At about two in the morning, as I waited by myself in a small room on the Cardiac ICU floor, Jim was wheeled past.   The kind health practitioners transporting him stopped so I could see him, and they filled me in on his condition.  I learned he had indeed had a heart attack and needed quadruple bypass surgery as soon as possible. 

If you’re a regular reader, you know by now Jim’s eventual outcome has been excellent.  For that reason, I’ll skip all the details of the next weeks.  However, one thing Jim told me was that once he was in the ambulance, the attending paramedic told the other who was driving, ‘Once we get off this side road and on to the secondary road, Light ‘Er Up.’

Light ‘Er Up they must have done for they reached the hospital in roughly the same number of minutes it took me.

Ever since then, when I’m in traffic and see or hear an ambulance in which the driver is following the ‘Light ‘er Up’ command, I think back to the night Jim was the patient.  I know that as his ambulance sped on its way to the hospital, other drivers must have pulled over to the side of the road to let him pass by.  All those drivers were helping the paramedics achieve their goal. 

In our society, we have been trained this way.  We know we can best help by moving to the side of the road and leaving a clear path for an emergency vehicle to attend to its duties.  In those moments it’s as if we are part of the achievement of the goal. We want the paramedics to achieve success.  We want them to reach their goal.

A couple of weeks ago, Kaitlyn and Matt decided to redecorate little Benjamin’s room.  As Ben says, he’s ‘really into cars’, so they chose a car theme.  Kaitlyn had the idea of collecting licence plates from every province and territory across Canada.   She reached out through social media, and within a couple of days she and the boys were driving around the city picking up licence plates people had offered her.  In the mail others began to arrive, coming from friends and relatives, and friends of friends and relatives, across the country.  Two days later she was featured in an interview on CBC radio. In less than a week, the room was completely redone, complete with the licence plate collection, a refurbished race car bed, and a wheel mirror.  All that’s left is to find is a coveted plate from Nunavut. 

People generally want to see others achieve their goals.  We love to see people succeed.  And yet often, we set goals and keep them to ourselves.  I’ve often wondered what goals might actually be able to be achieved if we were willing to ‘Light ‘er Up’.   What could happen if we were brave enough to tell others our goal, and then watch in wonder as they helped clear paths for us?

If an ambulance could ‘Light ‘er Up’ and stop entire roads of traffic to get Jim safely to help, and if Kaitlyn could ‘Light ‘er Up’ to create the perfect room for Ben, then perhaps the rest of us too can use this magic phrase for our goals.  We need to be careful though.  ‘Light er Up’ tells others we mean business; it means we are coming through.  When we say it, we should be ready to watch with wonder as others spring into action to help us. 

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What goal is calling me to ‘Light ‘er Up’?
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn to set goals worthy of ‘Lighting ‘er Up’.

Last week, I was talking with a client about how fast time flies.  This client is much younger than I.  They were thinking about how as the years pass, there seems to be a sense of urgency to do things; things that might not be available to do later.  I completely relate to this, and at the same time I’m learning to grab the moment I’m in, and to relish it.  Carpe Diem, as they say.

When we were hiking last week, the weather was less than ideal.  It would have been an easy day to convince ourselves to stay home.  After all, there was snow forecast for higher elevations and it was to higher elevations we were going!  Luckily for me, I have the perfect structure in place to make sure little things like cold and snow don’t make it easy for me to stay home.  I know others are counting on me to be there.  So, if I say no, I’m not only saying no to cold and snow, I’m saying no to friends.  The stakes are higher here.

As we hiked up toward the top of the mountain, the snow began to fall.  It was absolutely beautiful.  We were wearing layers and had extra layers in our packs, so we stopped to put on a waterproof outer layer.  Feeling more comfortable, we continued upward.  The lack of traffic on the trail was a surprise to us.  This is a very popular trail, especially in the Fall when the larch trees are in full colour.  But on this day the only other hikers we saw were a younger couple who passed us in the first half of the climb.  When we got to a place where the path forked, there was a sign with a picture of a hiker on it pointing us in the right direction.  On top of the sign, the couple in front of us had built a miniature snowman, complete with sticks for arms and a little face.  It was so unexpected and so charming.  Even though we had just stopped moments earlier to take pictures, and even though my camera was tucked away out of the precipitation, I still knew we needed to stop and capture the moment.

Except for the fact I had the image of the little snowman in my mind as we wandered, I didn’t think much more of it.  We climbed to the top, where it was very windy and took refuge beside a nice grove of trees as we rested and ate lunch.  On the way down we met several other hardy hikers heading up; we patted ourselves on our backs for our early start, commenting to each other on how much windier it might be for them at the top. The elevation lessened as we travelled down the same path we had taken up, and soon the temperature rose by a few degrees.  When we got to the sign with the hiker on it, we were dismayed to see that our little snowman friend had met his demise – he had melted just enough to fall off his little perch atop the sign.  It was such a little thing, a nothing really, and yet it was the perfect reminder for me to seize the moment.

We could easily not have stopped to take the picture on the way up.  We could have said we would stop on the way down.  There will be time later, we might have reasoned.  And we would have been wrong.  We would have missed the moment.

I’ve had Mr. Snowman in my head this week.  It’s not that I’m particularly fond of snow or snowmen.  It’s not that I can’t build myself another one.  In fact, there will be dozens I can build this winter if I like.  But none of them will capture the magical feeling of that hiking day: the first snowfall of the season, the beautiful light on the mountains, the crisp air, the easy conversation, the absolute silence, and the unexpected little snowman.

Jim and I took Ben camping in those same mountains for a few days this past week.   Ben LOVES camping.  He loves tramping in the woods, he loves helping set up, he loves his little camping cereals, and playing Go Fish.  I always try to be fully present with Ben and on this trip, thinking of the little snowman, I was even more so.  This was our last camping trip of the season.  Of course, we hope to have many more trips in other years.  But none will be with this precious little three-year-old boy, who calls out at 6:30 in the morning to see if it’s time for him to come and snuggle in with us.  In the blink of an eye, he’ll lose interest in helping place the wheel chocks as we set up and Go Fish won’t hold his attention.  There will be new moments to treasure, but I’d be fooling myself to believe I can squander these moments, and then expect them to be waiting for me later. 

When I think about the rushing of time, about how days and weeks and years fly by, and the urgency of it all, I’m no longer worried I’ll miss out on big opportunities.  I know there are still plenty of opportunities coming my way and I’m planning to seize the ones that call my name.  But more than being concerned with seizing opportunities, or jobs, or invitations, I’m concentrating on seizing the little moments.  Of being fully present.  Of running the mile I’m in.  Of recognizing it only takes a few degrees and a few hours for a magical moment with a snowman to disappear.
​
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How can I seize this moment?’

Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to seize moments.
 
 
 
 
 

Last Sunday, in Sudbury, Ontario, thirty-nine miners were trapped underground.  The workers were stuck in Trotten Mine in the Worthington area of Sudbury when a scoop bucket being sent underground detached and blocked the mine shaft.  This accident damaged the elevator, known as a cage, that normally carries the miners in and out of the mine.
The workers were stuck at levels between 914m and 1219m underground.

When we first heard the news story about this on Monday, none of the miners had been rescued but all of them were safely in a room, an underground refuge station, created for such an emergency.  As I followed the story for the next two days, until Wednesday when the last miner safely surfaced, I couldn’t help but think of what must have gone through the miners’ minds as they sat together in the refuge station waiting for rescue.

In my imagination, they first assessed the possibilities for their rescue.  Since they were never cut off from the surface by phone, I assumed they received encouraging news telling them there was a viable rescue plan in place.  I also assumed they had been trained for such an emergency.  And yet, I could imagine them, imagining all the possibilities.  When you are over a kilometer beneath the surface of the earth and your regular route out is blocked, I’m guessing all the assurance in the world does not quiet the mind.

I watched a video interview with Henry Bertrand, one of the trapped miners.  He described how, when the accident occurred, there was an ‘All Stations’ alarm.  The workers made their way to the refuge station where they waited to hear from control.  Henry said it had lights and communication.  He also said that during the three days the miners were below surface, food was brought down to the trapped miners by rescue workers from Ontario Mine Rescue and from Vale Mine Rescue.  Some of the men needed medication, and that too, was brought down.

In the first hours, Henry said they passed the time with light conversation, trying to keep morale high.  He said later they got to know each other much better.  He did not elaborate on the exact details of the conversation, but as an observer of people, it was easy to see he had been impacted by those conversations and by the time underground.  I can’t help but think that as the hours and days passed, their thoughts might have turned to, “When I get out of here….”.  Or perhaps, “I wish I had….”  Or perhaps, “If I get another chance…”

Most of us will never work in a mine.  Nor will we even be inside one.  None of us would choose being trapped underground, not even in a refuge station.  Yet all of us can relate to what these men must have been going through.  Perhaps not to the details, but certainly to the idea of being on our own, thinking about our lives.  I’ve been picturing that refuge station.  It was a safe place to wait.  It was not an assurance of a safe return to normal life.  But as it was so aptly named, it gave refuge. 

Every single one of us needs places of refuge; places we can go to ponder our situation, perhaps to talk it over with trusted others.  Places where we can consider who we want to be when we return to our normal lives.  Young mothers often jokingly say the bathroom is such a place.  It’s the one place they can hear themselves think and remind themselves of the mother they wish to be.  Some people find refuge on a walk or run or bike ride.  Some find it in their church community.  Some in quiet meditation.  Some in the company of a good friend, or in a warm embrace.  Some find it while cooking or knitting or working creatively in other ways.  Some find it in groups and some alone.

I find refuge in nature.  It’s there I release the demands of daily living. I release the tumbling thoughts of what I could or should be doing. I give myself permission to appreciate my life and to ponder the person I strive to be.  I’m lucky.  I have good friends to ponder with.  We don’t always have good solutions, but we provide the space for thoughts to be voiced.  Sometimes that’s enough. 

The miners did not just get lucky and happen to have a refuge station at their disposal on Sunday when they became trapped.  Their place of refuge was carefully planned and named.  I also don’t believe any one of the thirty-nine of them signed up for the job just to have the possibility of pondering life waiting for rescue in a refuge station.  But I suspect now they are all safely above ground, each of them will be grateful for the thoughts they were able to have.

Neither do the rest of us want to have the need for refuge.  Nor do we have refuge stations placed randomly in our lives.  Occasionally we do find ourselves in an unplanned place of refuge, and we recognize the feeling there, but most often, we need to think about what provides us the best refuge and plan some time for it into our lives. 

Just like the miners, once we are back in our ‘real’ lives, we may not be able to implement all our thoughts pondered in our place of refuge.  But if we regularly give ourselves short periods of refuge, our thoughts soon become our habits, and we grow closer to who we long to become.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where is my refuge?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn to create refuge.
 
 
 

Brenda and I headed out on our Tuesday Trek in our usual fashion this week; no muss, no fuss, no fanfare.  We had our lunches packed, our route downloaded, our water and emergency gear onboard,  our intended route left with Jim and Daryl, and with a beautiful full moon setting in the west as we approached the trailhead.
We were hiking a trail I had not done before but that we’d talked about doing since early in the season.  It’s a good late-in-the-season hike because of its difficulty.  It takes until this time of the hiking season for our legs to be ready for the climbing.

Brenda had done this one years prior and we’d both admired Forgetmenot Mountain throughout the season as we’d hiked trails nearby.

As we started up the fairly steep ascent, we checked in with each other to make sure we were each still a ‘GO’.  We agreed the sescent would be hard but we’d be fine if we went slowly.  Once we got above the tree line and began crossing the scree slope (an expanse of broken, loose rocks) it was hard to find the trail.  The great news was there was a wide area to navigate within and we could see the general direction of the next climb where we were headed.

The other wonderful thing was that hikers who had come months and years before us had erected cairns to mark the way.  These guideposts, piles of rock really, can be found on almost every mountain hike.  They mark spots where a change in direction might be required, or where a potentially hard to spot trail might be hiding, or, in our case, they were there just to keep us headed in the right direction across the wide ridge.

I’ve learned to watch for and be thankful for these cairns.  Hikers protocol asks us to add a rock to each pile as we pass by.  This is both a practical and symbolic gesture.  It helps those coming from behind and it reminds us all that we are in this walk of life together.

As we hiked along on Tuesday, I had plenty of time to think about guideposts.  We benefitted from several that day.
At the far end of the ridge was another tall outcropping of rock which would become our second ascent.  There is a ‘path’ pointing to the top, but once the sparce grass of a meadow ended, the path disappeared in the rock.  Two other hikers happened along as we were pondering our next move.  They had both been there before, were clearly very experienced hikers and they offered that we could follow them up.  They also knew of the gentler way down.  Brenda had heard about this way, and in fact had travelled it before but could not recall where to find its beginning.   We’d been hoping it would be obvious once we were at the top.

Brenda and I weighed our options and decided to follow Marek and Peter.  They were excellent guides, steering us safely up the side of the rocks.  Traverse to the left, Marek would call down.  You’ll get better footing there.

At the top we all stopped and enjoyed our lunches.  We sat protected from the fierce wind by a ten (ish) foot wall of rock.  No matter how comfortable we were, we couldn’t help but wonder where exactly the easier way down was.  It turned out it wasn’t far away at all; just about 100 metres on the other side of the outcrop.  The challenge?  We had to make our way around the cliffside to get to it.

To understate, neither of us is fond of heights.  I would also admit to being low on the ‘careless’ scale.  We decided to give it a look.  It took very few steps, for us to realize we had to rethink our plan.  The rocky non-path led us along jagged rocks, with a wall of stone on our left, and a several hundred foot drop on our right.

The guideposts leading us to our moment of decision had been great.  The cairns steered us in the right direction, and the two hikers, Marek and Peter, had led us to the possible easier descent.  Yet as we realized we simply were not willing to risk walking around the side of the cliff, we had to look for guideposts elsewhere.  We found them exactly where we knew they would be.  Inside ourselves.

It's perfect when your partner and you agree on how difficult decisions should be made.  Brenda and I are a great team in this regard.  We asked each other only one question.

“What is the safest choice we can make?”

The answer was easy.  We needed to go down the way we came up.  Despite the fact this way would not be easy, and would involve first finding a possible way off the outcrop, then crab walking backward until we were off it, then navigating the steep but obvious path down, this was the way we knew for sure.  This would be where someone would look for us if for any reason we ran into trouble.  With the decision easily made, we headed down.

We’ve all benefitted from the experience of having guideposts, not just those on the trail, but those in our lives. Sometimes they come in the form of people. Sometimes we read just the right words at just the right time. Sometimes we see something we are sure is a sign sent from someone we love.  Sometimes we literally reach a roadblock and have to change direction.  These are all helpful and comforting ‘cairns’ to notice.

But the most important guidepost of all is one we always carry.  It is that of our inner voice.  Not the one that whispers tales of dread and potential disaster in our ears, but the one that reminds of us our values.  When we can clear out the noise and quietly get in tune with which guideposts we want to use to lead us through life, our decision making is suddenly very, very easy.  The steps we have to take may still be difficult, as they were for Brenda and I on Tuesday, but making the right decision was easy.  Almost always when we are clear about our values, and use them as our cairns, we find a feeling of peace within ourselves.  This too, is a sign we are on the right path.

Since Tuesday I’ve been mindful of trying to create the feeling of peace, that comes with living in full alignment with my values.  I still want to climb mountains and have adventures and live a rich and rewarding life.  The best way I know how to do this is to notice cairns on my path, add stones to the those I find on the way, thank living guides for their assistance, and to follow my own values.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What guidepost best serves me now?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn to recognize guideposts.