I thought I would be writing a nice piece about the Olympics this week.  The athletes competing in PyeongChang have been incredibly inspirational.  But the school shootings in Parkland, Florida last week at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, and more specifically the actions of the surviving students in the aftermath, have been on my mind; as you know, on my mind means on this paper.

We raise our children to be obedient, to follow laws, to be respectful of their elders, to try hard in school, to volunteer, to join clubs and try out for teams.  In all of these, there is an unwritten law of respect we assume they will follow.  We assume that they will, for the most part, believe the adults who serve as role models and that they will take their advice and follow their lead.

Personally, this model feels good to me.  I’m a rule follower.  As a long-time educator, I was lucky to be part of a school that had a staff who tried hard to create rules that didn’t seem too outrageous, even to the free spirits among us.  By and large our students listened to their parents, and when they came to school, they listened to the adults who stood in loco parentis, in place of parents; their teachers.

What then has gone wrong in Florida this past week?  These students are not behaving at all in the way we would expect and it is causing some people to feel very, very uncomfortable.  I personally, feel like standing up and cheering.  What a horrible thing to feel like doing when these students have just buried 15 of their friends, one coach and one teacher.

What these surviving students have decided to do is to not play the part that they have been given; the part of obedient students, who don’t think for themselves but rather parrot the voices of the adults around them.  If they were to follow their given parts, they would attend funeral services, listen to adults as they are reminded that this is a mental health issue, not a gun issue, and that a good solution to the problem is to arm their teachers so that next time….

But these students are NOT playing their assigned parts.  They are showing the world that if the part of a teenager is to follow the lead of adults who have badly under-served them, then they would rather not be in this play.

These incredibly articulate, well spoken, passionate grieving students have somehow found the internal strength, no doubt in great part thanks to their strong families, school and community, to put into action what they have been taught but have not been expected to utilize.  I’m guessing that these students, like many I have taught, have all been taught to stand up for themselves in the small things; in student things.  Things like what clothing styles should be permitted at schools and what washrooms students should use.   But God bless these students.  They have figured out that the skills they have been taught to use in ‘student matters’ are transferable!  And transferring them they are!  And transforming their world they will.

These brave students are writing a brand-new script.  They refuse to play the part of subordination to adults.  They refuse to play the old part of being seen but not heard.  They refuse to speak softly and to defer to people who are older in years.  They choose instead to stand in the knowledge of what happened to them and to tell their story, whether or not it makes the powers that be uncomfortable.  They choose to point out that unless serious change is made, their story will happen again, and again and again and they are not willing to stand idly by and wait for it to happen.

These students choose to demand action.  They choose to activate their right to demonstrate and to free speech.  They choose not to always use polite language, but they use language that is clear and whose meaning cannot be misunderstood.  These students choose to show their feelings and to demand to be heard.  It is as if these students have seen OZ, the wizard who turned out to be not nearly as powerful as everyone had believed.  The OZ in this case is the system, and they are choosing to demand that the system be changed.  This system is the same one that told them that they simply need to be good students, to be respectful and the adults will take care of things.  Well, the curtain has been thrown back and these students now know that they hold much more power than they had been led to believe.

They are planning a march on March 24th.  They have been reminded that they are expected to be in school.  Their response?  Make me.

These kids did not choose to grow up over night.  But since that is exactly what happened to them on February 14th, they have decided that grow up they will.  They will be voters in a very few years, some of them within this very year, and as a group they hold incredible power.  I for one, am sending my support to them as they fight this very important battle. 

I love that they have recognized that they can write their own script, and that by doing so, will write a more interesting, more powerful, more timely, more current, more important story than any that could have been written for them.  With support from the same families and school and community that gave them the skills to be ‘good students’ they will now march forward and make the changes that the rest of the adults have been wringing their hands about for far too long. 

Perhaps under the leadership of these strong, courageous, grieving students we will finally believe it when we say, ‘Never Again’.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What part am I playing now, and what part would I rather play?’
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Elizabeth is a passionate life-long educator. She has moved from educating students in schools to educating all ages of people about how to use their lives to create what they want.  Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to take on whatever ‘part’ is calling your name.

While watching the Winter Olympics this week, I found myself fascinated by some of the stories of the Olympians.  Like most people I was intrigued by some of the ‘against all odds’ stories.  It is mind boggling to think that someone who was barely hanging on to life less than a year ago, with multiple breaks, a fractured jaw, ruptured spleen and a collapsed lung, could be back on his snow board winning a bronze medal this past week.  This was the story of Mark McMorris.  Eleven months ago, the doctors did not think this could happen. 

This is not different from another story, that of Denny Morrison. Denny is a speed skater.  Since the last Olympics he has had not one, but two Olympian recoveries.  In the first one he was riding his motorcycle when he crashed, leaving him with internal bruising, a minor spinal fracture, a fractured femur, a concussion and a torn ligament in his knee.  Barely recovered from those injuries, he suffered a stroke while out hiking.  It seems unfathomable to me, that he is even here to tell these tales, never mind that he is telling them after achieving a top 15 finish in the 1500m long track speed skating event in Pyeongchang. 

When both of these Olympians were interviewed, each told their story of their injury and their recovery.  Both gave great credit to the medical teams who had worked with them.  But most of all, both acknowledged that the fullness of their recovery could not have occurred without the support of people close to them in their lives.

This is not a new theme.   We often hear people crediting their success, or their recovery, or their courage to having someone in their life who willingly takes on the role of ‘walking beside’.

In a far less prestigious venue, I was dancing at a seniors’ centre this week with some of the Chinook Country Dancers.  This year I have moved to the advanced level of dance and I find that I have a LOT to learn.  I now know many of the new dances, but I am still very uncertain about some of the older dances that were taught in the years before I was part of this group.  I am not the only one in our group who is in this situation.   One of my dancing friends, Marguerite, is also in the advanced group and she is also still needing a few refreshers on some of the dances.

When we danced on Wednesday, Marguerite was in the back row of three rows.  She had planted herself between two seasoned dancers so that she could look toward them for cues if she needed to.  To make more room, the group of dancers turned to the side and in the shuffle, one of the dancers had moved Marguerite to the end of a row.  This is not the place you want to be if you are not sure of the steps because as the dance goes on, the person on the end soon finds themselves in the front row, with no one in front of them to watch and no one on the side either.

One of the other very seasoned dancers, Mary, noticed what had happened and quickly offered to switch with Marguerite.  The dancer who had made the switch to begin with recognized her mistake in moving Marguerite to the end and quickly apologized and suggested she move back in between.  Marguerite answered, “Oh, that’s ok.  As long as Mary is by my side I know I will be fine.” 

In that moment I recognized the truth in these words; in whatever journey we are taking, Olympian or other, as long as we have someone beside us who we can trust to have our best interests at heart, there is almost nothing we cannot do.  In dance, Mary is one of these people.  So are Pat and Diana and Karen and Shirley and Bonita and Barb and Toni and so, so many others.   It is part of the culture created by our instructor, Reba J, and most often it is done so subtly by the dancers that no one even notices us making sure that each of us has someone ‘by my side’.

Often, the person who walks, or dances, beside us doesn’t really have to do much.  It is their steady presence, their belief in us, their ability to make us feel safe, their quiet reassurance and their encouragement that gives us the courage to move toward our goal.  Sometimes they are well aware of their vital role, as I imagine the wife of Denny Morrison was.  Other times, they, like Mary and my other wonderful dancing friends, just slip into this comforting role as no doubt dancers before did for them when they were learning.

On the same day as our dance performance, we received a message from Jim’s brother, Greg, telling us that he had just proposed to his partner, Sheila.  I’m guessing they both knew they wanted to create a life full of travelling with someone ‘by my side’.

In my life, I have travelled many journeys.  Some have been short and others years in the making.  It is always most lovely to make the journey with a trusted partner by my side. On Wednesday, the same day as the dance, the same day as the proposal, in the same week as the Olympic stories were told, I realized that I had travelled forty Valentine’s Days with Jim by my side.  I am so grateful for him and for each of my ‘by my side’ travelling companions.

As you venture into this next week, notice places where you might step into the ‘by my side’ position.  Recognize that whether it is acknowledged or not, your presence there lightens the load of someone else’s journey.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How can I be ‘by my side’ for others?’
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to practice being ‘by my side’.

I just came home, on icy roads covered in deep snow, from South Health Campus, where I had an injection into the joint of my right thumb.  This isn’t a major surgery or anything, but it is what the medical profession loves to describe as, ‘You my feel some pressure now’.  Good grief!  Pressure?  I’m sure I was draped in lead blankets more to keep me from leaping up than to protect me from mild radiation. Nonetheless, it’s over, and I’m thankful for medical science.

As we drove home I was telling Jim that when I need to have an uncomfortable procedure, it really helps me if I know how long to expect it to last.  When I have this information, I am able to figure out a way to count myself through it.  There is something about the counting, that gives me a sense of control; a sense that I can do it.

As I described this to Jim, I realized that I use this counting method to help me in many places in my life.  When I am on a long run or a long bike ride, I always fill my mind with counting or with breaking the distance down into manageable pieces.  I distinctly recall reaching kilometre 36 in my first marathon. Instead of thinking to myself that I had five kilometres to go, my exhausted mind reminded my exhausted body that I just had to do a 2km, then another 2km and then only a 1km would be left. I knew I could do a 2km anytime, no matter how tired I was, and so this worked for me. 

Although I do have a couple of friends (ok, one friend, Chad, and one son, Greg) who I think might also think like this, I suspect that other people have their own unique ways of marking events or of passing time or of acknowledging milestones.  But for me, counting is my loyal friend.

Counting has been my constant companion in my life.  Counting served me well in my teaching career.  Counting calmed me through many life events.  I count days when I am waiting for an event and I count chores as I cross them off my list.  When the kids were little we used paper chains to count the days down until Christmas, and when the kids got big, I made my own paper chains to count the days until they would return home from university. I count myself to sleep and if I wake in the night I count the number of hours left until the alarm will ring.  Counting for me is as reliable as the steady beat of my heart.

As Valentine’s Day approaches this year, I realize that I also spend time counting my blessings. Not in a numeric way, but more in a thinking about or a making-a-list way.

This year, I have a new blessing to count that seems to have really changed my life.  I promise you that I will not fill each blog with stories about our latest family member, Ben, but for today…. all bets are off.

Before Ben was born, I tried to imagine how I would feel. People gave me plenty of advice about what being a grandparent would be like.  I took in all the suggestions and yet I kept thinking that I couldn’t really imagine that it would be THAT good, or THAT different.  I also considered all the times I heard that one of the best things was that I would feel an instant love, and even better, that I could ‘give them back’ when they cried.

Well, I am only three and one-half weeks into this process and I think I am starting to be able to voice what I feel. 

I am very blessed in my life.  I have many people to love, and who love me.  When I met Jim, I did not believe that I could love with any more of my heart than I did at that time.  Then we had children, and a new room in my heart opened.  It wasn’t better, but it was bigger and it was richer and it forced me to be braver with my love.  And now we have little Ben.  And I have discovered that I have yet more room in my heart.  This new love is what I am calling Big Love.

Big Love means that I see and feel the world differently now.  It means that I have a deep knowing that what Ben, and each of us, needs is to have someone in our corner who sees us in the absolute best light; someone who holds for us our greatest dreams, and who gently reminds us of them when we forget or when we lose our way; someone who never quits believing in us. 

I believe that I held these beliefs for Jim, and for our children.  However, the busyness of life sometimes meant that I didn’t demonstrate my big love in ways I could have.  I suppose that in some ways I guarded my love.  I did not do this on purpose.  I did not even realize that I was doing it.  I felt I was giving every bit of love I had. 

Perhaps I am simply seeing the world differently because I have enough miles in my shoes that I have a different perspective.  I don’t really believe this though.  What I do believe is that the gift that Ben is giving me is the wisdom to know that I do not have to guard my love.  This new love does not feel like a new room in my heart.  It feels more like a stronger heart, a kinder heart, a fearless heart, a courageous heart, a love-filled heart, an unguarded heart.

When I count my loves this Valentines Day, I will include all the things and people I love, just like I always do.  The difference will be in noticing this new way I feel about these loves.  Thanks, little Benjamin for opening up this new world to me.  How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.

 If only I had a number for infinity.

And I don’t want to give you back, even when you cry.
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to book a coaching session for you or your team.

I’ve had an ‘all over the place’ kind of week.  In no way has it been bad. It’s just been all over the place.

Sometimes my days and weeks are more predictable. This one; not so much.  I’ve been trying to get above myself and observe my reaction to this kind of week.  Normally, I love routine and predictability.  I love to have a check list for the day, and I love nothing better than to have a whole bunch of check marks beside the items on my list at the end of the day.  If I had chosen routine and predictability to be the barometer of the success of my week, I would have given myself a failing grade.

I did not, however, use this measure of success.  Instead, this week my marker for success was my ability not only to adapt to what was presented to me, but to do it with a welcoming and generous spirit.

The good news was that most of what I was presented with was positive.  Having said that, and being perfectly honest, there have been times when just being thrown off my agenda, even for good things, would have left me feeling a bit out of control.

Had this been a normal week, I would have had certain things on my calendar; appointments with clients, yoga classes, meetings, time to write my blog, time to contact potential clients and dance class, to name a few.  I also always have some unwritten things. I get up early every day to start the day with some vigorous aerobic exercise – usually either biking or running.  I don’t put this on my calendar because I don’t need to.  It happens daily.

This week, we have had our son and daughter-in-law, Greg and Cara, visiting.  We love spending time with them.  We also knew that they were coming to meet the new baby and that they would both be doing some work while they were here so we knew it wasn’t a typical vacation.  This simply meant that some of the time I would continue with my regular routine, some of the time we would car share, some of the time we would visit and some of the time we would fly by the seat of our pants.

I also wanted to make some time in the week for our newest family member, Benjamin.  Even I, a hard-core control lover, realized that it might be stretching things to think that Benjamin would arrive with a consistent schedule!  And sure enough, he did not!  I also realized that I needed to be available, not on my schedule, but based on when his mother might need my help.

These two things might have been enough to fill the ‘empty’ spots on my calendar, but I had forgotten about the full moon effect.  Teachers know this well and they know to expect the unexpected when a full moon is near.  This week brought a super, blue, blood moon, and that should have prepared me to answer my phone to a request for a new, custom, two-day workshop with a very short turn around time, and a new, very welcome, client.

As I’ve been observing myself and choosing my way of being, I’ve realized that everything on my ‘list’ this week, is something that I value.  I don’t value everything exactly in the same measure, but each thing I have done, and each person I have been with, I have valued.   As I have been running from one thing to the next, not only have I reminded myself that I value these things, but I have also reminded myself that it is not enough that I say I value something. I must treat it as if I value it.   How we treat things is what gives them their value.

This is worth slowing down and reading again:  How we treat things is what gives them their value.
Many people tell me that their family is their top value.  Some rank their friends high on their list.   Others rank health or honesty near the top.  When clients reveal their values to me, a question I often ask them is, ‘How well are you honouring that value in your life?’  This is a great question as long as we do not confuse it with the question, ‘How much time are you giving that value?’  There is a very big difference between simply giving time to something that we claim to value, and giving it our most respectful treatment.

Baby Benjamin has been my perfect example of how to treat my valuables.  When I sit and hold him, even if it is for only a few minutes, every part of me is focused on him. I do not distract myself with my phone, or with running through a to-do list in my mind or with wondering when I’ll be done.  Anyone who watches an interaction between me and him would easily recognize the value he has in my life.  He is priceless.  It has made me start to think about how I can bring this level of value to other people and things in my life that would easily make my ‘List of Values’.
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This week, choose one person whom you value.  Place your focus on your treatment of them.  Take a chance and give them what I call the ‘priceless’ treatment.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How valuable is this?’

Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to lead with your values.