Our hiking group doubled in size this week.  Ok, it really only increased by 1/3, since Lynne officially joined three weeks ago.  This week we welcomed Pam.  We know for sure these two are great additions due to the fact we’ve picked some challenging terrain and still managed to have a great time together.

Having more members in our group not only helps discourage bears and other critters from coming too close, it also creates new friendships and opens our minds to new stories and ideas.   Our hike this week was close to six hours, so we had plenty of time to get past the pleasantries and onto some more interesting topics.

Pam is a great outdoors enthusiast.  She didn’t share everything she does, but we could easily tell from her additions to the conversation that not much moss grows under her feet!  She did share she is a sticker enthusiast, and in her words, ‘Give me a sticker, and I’ll do anything!’.  She keeps a calendar of the things she does to keep active.  At a quick glance, she can tell when she’s a bit short on stretching or strength building.  She doesn’t put pressure on herself to do a certain amount of anything.  But I strongly suspect that not one week, likely not many days, go by without a rainbow of different coloured stickers being put on her calendar!

It shouldn’t have been a surprise then to find out about the gift she created for her brother to celebrate his retirement.  He had told her what he was looking forward to once his work commitments ended.  He wanted to spend more time skiing for pleasure, after having been a ski instructor for years.  In fact, he wanted to ski fifty times in the first season.  He wanted to golf fifty games in one year.  He wanted to hike fifty times.  And he wanted to enjoy the beautiful sunsets and holiday in one of his favourite southern states.

So, Pam gave him a large jar, and four bags, each containing fifty different coloured poker chips.  Each time he participated in one of his chosen activities, he added the poker chip of the corresponding colour to his jar.  In theory, by the end of the year, the little bags would be empty, and the jar would be full of colourful chips!  It came as no surprise to me that it was.

Since our Tuesday hike, I’ve been imagining a jar on my desk.  First, as a little data gathering experiment, I thought it might be interesting to simply set it out and let it reflect what I am currently doing.  I could add different coloured beads or poker chips to represent things I do.  Then, seeing the visual of the life I’m creating, I could make adjustments.  As I pondered my plan, I could already get an image in my mind.  It wasn’t very pretty!

I was imagining how my jar would fill up quite quickly.  The trouble was, there would be an awfully lot of ‘neutrals’ in there.  There are a lot of things I need to do in a week that don’t fall into the category of fun.  Some of them even feel, and look, like work.  I would likely use dull colours to represent these.  I’d hate to use a turquoise blue bead to represent dishes! As I continued to think of all the ‘boring’ beads I would put in my jar, I recognized that while I’d end up with a full jar, I’d missed the point Pam so eloquently made.

Every one of us has more jobs, responsibilities, and obligations than we have hours in the day.  These, while completely necessary and important, are not the things that fill our jar.  The jar-fillers that Pam recognized for her brother, are the things that give our days joy.  They are the things that bring us closer to who we long to be deep down.  For some of us, a beautiful bead might represent an entry in a journal, or a dessert created.  For one man I know, a blue bead in his jar would represent time spent with the gorgeous bluebirds he bands and monitors.  My dad would have had a fish shaped bead for every day he was able to put his rod in the river.  My sister might have a musical note-shaped bead for every day she has the chance to sing.  There was a time, not so long ago, I would have loved to put a running shoe-shaped bead in every time I completed a run.

I’ve wisely given up the idea of using a jar to get a snapshot of my current life.  I don’t need it.  I will, of course, continue to do my ‘must do’s’.  Instead, I want to borrow a page from Pam’s book of stickers, and her poker chip jar for her brother, and find a way to document the ways I honour the bead-worthy things in my life.  Whereas my jar of jobs depleted my enthusiasm, the idea of a jar to document the time I spend honouring my passions is exciting.  It’s also a system for keeping me accountable to myself.  If these things really are my passions, it would be nice if my life could reflect this.

I will find coloured beads to represent dancing, hiking, and singing.  I’ll have special beads for the days when I am lucky to have time with Ben and Andy.  Now that the weather is turning to spring, I’ll pick a bead to represent biking.  I'll have one for reading.  And sewing.  One for quilt-creating and one for kitting. And one for meditating, camping and adventure- seeking. I’ll need a bead for days spent in nature. And a particularly beautiful one to represent time spent with our children. And another for time with people who fill my bucket. 
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I loved that Pam’s brother knew how many times he’d like to do each activity.  I don’t know this exact number for any of my activities.  However, I think there is substantial value in choosing some number, rather than just allowing my life to unfold, and hoping I am sprinkling in nice beads.  I’ve noticed the years slip by when I’m not paying attention.  I think I’d rather have to buy a bigger jar, than get to the end of the year and notice the beads in my jar look lonely.

Oh yes, I’m also, absolutely going to buy a few extra beads, some not assigned to any particular activity.  They will be a spectacular colour.  These will be for my yet-to-be-discovered passions, and perhaps for those I thought I was too old for.  What a year I will have had if I see some of these beauties sprinkled throughout the collection in my jar.  

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What beads will fill my jar?’

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 choose the beads for your jar.
 
 

Our neighbourhood sits on the edge of a major thoroughfare.   As we leave the neighbourhood to travel east or north, we have to cross over the beautiful Bow River.  The Bow is the major river flowing through our city.  It’s easy to understand why early settlers would have stopped here and made this place home.  The river, winding its way through the modern city is beautiful.  In every season it delights residents here with its changing beauty.  It also makes for challenging travel, especially when old bridges that once safely moved traffic of all kinds from one side to the other, need to be replaced.  This is the situation at our end of the city.

There are two bridges crossing the Bow in our location, one for vehicles going east and one for those going west.  The east bound bridge was the original.  When it was first built it was designed for two-way traffic. Then a few years ago, the bridge was twinned, making the original bridge for eastbound traffic only, and the new one for those heading west.  For the past year, the east bound bridge, the original one, has been under construction.  The old bridge has been removed, and sometime in the next year or two, a new one will take its place.  Meanwhile, the westbound bridge is working overtime to allow traffic to flow in both directions.  As with all road construction projects, there is pain involved for commuters.   The speed limit is diminished, the lanes are narrow, and alas, the drivers have not become any more patient.

Mostly, this project provides us with minimal disruption.  If I happen to have to use it right at the peak of the rush, in either the morning or evening, I can figure on adding a few minutes to my trip.  Mostly, I’m unaffected, except on the days when I’ve had Ben and Andy here for a day of joy.  On those days, no matter how hard I try to plan, we manage to just get everyone out the door and buckled in, only to find we are driving down the on-ramp, trying to merge, just as the rest of the city is trying to get home after a long workday.

Normally, Jim and I would sigh.  Perhaps even complain.  We might wonder aloud, ‘How long does it take to build a bridge?!’  Yet on these days, these joy-days, we are lucky to be exposed to a new perspective.

Ben LOVES vehicles.  He loves them.  He loves every single kind of vehicle.  He makes no judgement about brand, or status, or cost.  He simply appreciates each of them.  And so, if Ben is in the car when we start down the ramp onto the backed-up highway, while our instinct is to moan, his is to take delight in how many wonderful, different vehicles he notices.  A flatbed carrying an ambulance?!  You don’t see that everyday!  A jeep with the wheel on the back!?  Perfection!
When Ben is in the car, we fill our time with noticing and pointing out interesting vehicles. When he is not with me, I’ve begun to enjoy not only seeing interesting vehicles that I might tell him about, ones I’d never had given a second thought about before, but I also now find myself thinking about bridge building.  Not just the concrete and rebar-enforced type of bridges, but all the kinds of bridges we build, and cross, and cross back, and sometimes destroy, in our lives.

When I first began to think of bridge-building in this new way, I conjectured the pandemic hasn’t been a time that has encouraged bridge building.  We’ve each found ourselves on islands, trying to figure out how to keep ourselves and our families safe.  If we didn’t completely destroy the bridges leading to and from ourselves, most of us figured out how to at least pull up the drawbridge and keep it up for some time.

As I let that thought sink in, knowing isolation is not good for we humans, I worried I might have carelessly wasted precious years of my life, having my drawbridges fixed in the up position.  But I also realized that while my people drawbridges (those old familiar well-worn paths) may have been up for awhile, I’ve built and crossed many, many new bridges during this time. 

Bridges are built every time we try a new activity or learn a new skill.  Bridges are built when we have new thoughts.  They are built when we meet someone new.  They are built when we try a new style or attempt a new project.  They are built when we call, text or email a friend or colleague, or a not-yet-friend or colleague.  They are built when we hike a new trail, or hike with new people.  They are built when we take a new course.  Or wave at our neighbour.  Or have days of joy with our grandsons.  They are built when we do something kind for someone else with no motive of getting something in return.  Or when we overlook an imperfection.  All these things lead us to new, often beautiful, places, accessed only by crossing bridges.  Sometimes we build the flimsiest of bridges to start.  We lay a two-by-four, or log over the chasm, balance our way across and check to see if what was on the other side was as enticing as we had thought it had looked from our vantage point.  If it turns out we love what we see, we cross more and more often, eventually building a sturdy bridge.   Before long, we don’t even think about balancing as we go, we travel sure-footed and with confidence.

Sometimes what we check out doesn’t match our dream or our need.  In those cases, we return to the original side, either leaving the bridge in place for someone else to use as we move on, or tearing it down.  Either way, we grow for having crossed it at all.

We have endless opportunities to build bridges in our lives.  The building of them can be slow and often cause disruption to the familiar pattern of our life.  And yet, the finished project, the smooth travel across the newly constructed bridge, leads to yet more possible bridges and holds endless potential gifts.

And so, it has come to pass, I’ve taken a whole new view toward this bridge building project near my home.  Where I once saw this bridge building as a nuisance, I now appreciate its value.  I enjoy my leisurely trips across it.  I am excited to discover the unconsidered possibility on the other side. 

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What bridge are you building?’
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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 build bridges.

We had an unexpected, off-schedule week this week.  Kaitlyn returned to work after her maternity leave with all systems in place for care for Ben and Andy.  What could go wrong, asks no parent anywhere who has ever returned to work.  Tuesday morning, Ben arrived at preschool, having been dropped off by his caregiver.  He was his normal cheerful self, ready to see his friends and have a great morning.  By mid-morning the call arrived.  Ben was throwing up.

The correct systems were put into place, and Ben’s dad, Matt arrived quickly to take him home.  Not knowing exactly what was wrong, Matt stayed home and let their caregiver go home, in hopes she had not caught whatever this bug was.  Kaitlyn stayed at work, and Matt dealt with the endless rounds of vomiting.  Finally in the evening, things settled.  With a negative Covid test in the books, and a stomach that seemed like it might cooperate, we felt it was safe for us to have our regular day with the boys on Wednesday.

Wednesday was far from regular, with Ben having no energy, but he was certainly better than he had been on Tuesday.  We decided to have him again on Thursday, figuring if he had something contagious, we’d have already been exposed and we might as well spare their caregiver.  Luckily, things are back to normal with everyone feeling pretty good. 

I know I won’t forget the feeling I had of worry about Ben and what he might have.  It’s terrible feeling so helpless, especially when a little one is involved.  Yet even though I’ll keep this memory, there is another one that I know will also remain in my mind.  Ben is crazy about all things involving vehicles.  He can name every brand of car, and most specific makes.  He knows about all the construction vehicles, skinstruction vehicles he calls them.  He’s curious about speed limits and construction zones, about speeding tickets and engines and tires.  I guess I should not have been surprised then.  Surprised that he, when he was so sick and on one instance did not make it to the bathroom on time, was still thinking about all things cars.  His parents had wiped up and then washed the spot on the carpet and Ben could see, from his vantage point on the couch, it was still wet.  He got up, found his little ten-inch orange caution cones he uses for his bike and for car play, and set them up around the wet spot.  He wanted to make sure everyone knew there was a hazard to avoid.

It's precious, really.

About the same time the call would have come from the preschool, I was high in the Foothills on my regular Tuesday hike.  Lynne and I had just come to the top of the ridge and were excited to see the view.  Lynne had not been to this area since the wicked windstorms of late November so this was her first chance to see the damage up close.  It was good for me to revisit this through her eyes.  Brenda and I have become used to it as we hike the area weekly.  I’d forgotten just how shocking it really is.  When we reached the top, we were shocked to see the trail was blocked off, not by trees, but by caution tape.  The forestry people have been clearing for months, but the tape indicated they had not finished the piece of the ridge in this particular area.  We were surprised to think there had not been a warning at the beginning of the trail; it was much farther to turn around than it would have been had we been able to go forward.  As we pondered what to do, we saw small bits of the same colour tape tied to trees on a side trail.  Understanding this could be a detour, we followed them.  To our complete amazement and delight, the new trail took us onto a horse trail on the opposite side of the ridge, exposing us to a most spectacular view of the Rockie Mountains.  It wound around to join the blocked off trail on the opposite side.

I found it interesting there had been two examples of caution signs on the very same day, the one on the trail, and Ben’s homemade one in his living room.  Of course, most of us are used to seeing caution cones or signs when there is construction around or a hazard on a roadway.  We are far less seeing them in our personal lives.  I think we might be missing something here.

Each of us has times when the people in our lives could be of better service to us, if only they knew how.  Often, they don’t even realize support or help is needed.  So many times, we struggle internally and try to keep the impact on others to a minimum.  Alas, it rarely works.  It leaks out of us, sometimes causing the impact on others to be even worse as they create stories in their minds about what is going on.

I’ve been picturing me putting up cones with signs on them.  “Caution, I’m worrying about a friend. I might not be at my best.  I could use a good pair of ears.” 

Or “Caution, I’m ready to make a huge change!  Get out of my way! I may not be as attentive as I could.”

Or “Caution, I’m at this gathering, but I’m not yet fully comfortable with ‘normal’ yet.”

Or maybe just a tiny little one at the front door, indicating, “Just a little extra kindness is needed, please.”

When we allow others some insight into our intentions, into what’s going on behind the scenes in our lives, the result is they also understand our behaviour and don’t have to create stories around what the behaviour means.  It prevents misunderstanding.

Little Ben got it right.  Most of us don’t dream about having construction cones laid out as part of our home décor.  It would be easy to be annoyed at seeing this if we had no insight.  But knowing his love of cars, and understanding his innocence and purity of purpose, the message was received exactly the way it was intended.  And during a time of worry, the thoughtfulness of it warmed a few hearts too.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What cone is needed here?’

Next week is Easter weekend.  I’ll be taking some time off.  See you later in the spring!
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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 place your construction cones.

After a week away, I’ve been thrilled to be back out in nature this week.  Missing it while I was away working, gave way to even more appreciation this past week.

As I hiked this week, and yes, I did sneak in an extra, shorter hike one morning, along with our long one on Tuesday, I had to be mindful of footing for many of the steps taken.  The trails have been travelled all winter, and as such, the snow on the trails has been packed down over the months.  Once the warmer daytime temperatures arrived, snow began to melt.  The snow in the forest, mostly untouched, melted quickly.  The packed snow on the trails, however, simply melted on the top.  Then each night, as the temperature dropped, this became ice.  This cycle repeated over and over throughout March, leading to the interesting pattern of forest floors ranging from snow covered to bare, with very icy trails running through them. 

Because of the footing, my gaze didn’t stray too far as I walked.  Mostly, it was aimed toward the ground and at the things within close range.   With this close-up view, I noted most of the trees were imperfect.  Many had one side, most often the side receiving the wind, that was flat, or that had shorter branches than the other side.  Some of the trees had no top at all.  Others, due to the damaging windstorm in November, had split trunks.  Far too many had toppled right over.  I don’t think we ever saw one tree that was perfect.  None of them would look too good on a front lawn.

And yet, put together, all these imperfect timbers create the most breathtaking scenes.  I can’t count how often we remark on the beauty of the places we walk.  Not a week goes by, likely not an hour during any hike, when either Brenda or I don’t say, “Isn’t this incredible?”, or “Isn’t this just beautiful?”.  We always agree that it is indeed both incredible and beautiful.  And perfectly imperfect.

I’ve pondered this.  Nature mirrors life, or perhaps life mirrors nature.  Either way, this phenomenon plays out again and again in life.  I can’t think of any group I’m part of, not even small groups, not even groups of two, where any one member is perfect.  Yet, I know I’m part of some perfectly imperfect groups.  Somehow it happens, that even though when each of us is examined up close, when we are zoomed in on, we are imperfect, yet when we take our place in our group, beauty and perfection are found.  The little imperfections, and quirks, the parts of us that have been buffeted by the wind, bring the magic.  The tattered side of one of us is flanked by the fullness of another.

Having figured I’d solved the mystery of humans with my observation of the power of the group, I surprised myself on my shorter hike this week.  I proudly looked for evidence to support my theory about how individual trees and shrubs, while each of them imperfect, manage to form a perfect picture.  I told myself to zoom out, to not focus so much on individuals, where certainly I would find flaws.  To instead look for the bigger picture.  And then, right when I least expected it, there it was.  The contradiction to my theory.

We came across many large trees that had been felled by the storm last Fall.  The forest service has been out clearing the area. In the area we chose for our short hike, there was a sign saying they had cleared over three hundred trees.  We saw many freshly cut edges of fallen trees where the trees had been cleared from the path.  As I kept my focus on the big picture, on the zoom out, we noticed the sun shining on a freshly cut-in-half tree.  The air temperature was hardly above zero, but the warm sun warmed the flesh of the tree enough that the sap was being coaxed out.  I looked closer, zooming in. The sap wasn’t carelessly dripping out.  It had come out in a perfect circle, forming a ring of crystals, several centimetres wide, all around the log.  It was breathtaking.  And I realized then how wrong I had been.

I wasn’t wrong in thinking many imperfect trees, or humans, can create perfection.  What was wrong, was my thinking that any of the trees were imperfect to begin with.  Certainly, some did not resemble the perfect image we may see in a painting or on a Christmas card, or the carefully manicured ones we see on landscaped lawns.  But the closer I got to this imperfect, blown down tree, the more I zoomed in, the more I could see the absolute perfection within it. 

I recognized my mistake immediately. I had been judging the trees by their outward appearance.  I had judged them by some standard set on cards and in movies.  In doing so, I missed the complete perfection found within.

It’s the same with humans.  It turns out, we are perfect.  We are perfect just the way we are.  In fact, if we were all picture perfect in the over-filtered photograph kind of way, if we had no quirks and oddities, there would be nothing interesting about us.  It is only because we each bring our unique selves to our families, friendships and groups, not only what is on the outside but on the inside too, that we can add to the beauty and wonder of the forest of our lives. 

We’ve been through a tough slug these past couple of years.  We’ve been pretty battered by the wind.  May we each recognize the perfect imperfection within ourselves and those surrounding us.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What perfection do I see in the imperfection?’
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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 find the perfect imperfections in your life.