I’ve had the Camino de Santiago on my mind for several weeks.  Friends of ours, Warren and Paula Lloyd, have been making this pilgrimage through France and Spain.  I first met Paula when our daughters, Erin and Kaitlyn, were in school together.  They traveled their school journey together, often in the same class, at one another’s birthday parties, as fierce debate partners and as respected friends.  Paula and I weren’t best friends, but we liked and respected each other, and we were both moms, travelling a similar journey, raising our families, supporting our children, and trying to figure out life.  Paula and Warren haven’t lived near us, or even in the same country for that matter, for decades, but we’ve somehow managed to stay somewhat in touch with their comings and goings, mainly as I hear about Erin and her family through Kaitlyn.  It’s amazing to me how these chance encounters with people, how these relationships with people who come into our lives for a season, can become threads that weave back into our lives, and continue to amaze us with their richness and beauty.

Following Paula and Warrens’ journey as the walk The Way has allowed me to pick up that thread again. 

The Camino, or Way of St. James, is an ancient pilgrimage trail in Europe, made up of a vast network of roads and paths, leading to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.  Many Catholics believe the remains of the Apostle, Saint James the Great were buried there.  It’s hard to really pinpoint why people choose to embark on this pilgrimage.  Many think of it as an opportunity to pursue an encounter with their faith, but it can also be done for many other reasons.  It can simply be a chance to walk together.  It can be a physical challenge.  It can be an internal or spiritual journey.  It can be a running away, or a walking home.  People of all faiths walk the Camino, most of them meeting people from all other faiths and discovering they share much more in common with their fellow traveller than they may ever have expected.

No matter what, it is a difficult, 800km, four to six week undertaking that leaves a profound impact on the thousands and thousands of people who travel it.

Although I’ve never, ever had it in my mind to walk the Camino de Santiago, this year The Camino has found it’s way into my life through chance conversations, none of them initiated by me.  I’ve learned to listen when the same message knocks at my door more than once.

I first heard about it when I watched The Way, the movie starring Martin Sheen, depicting his journey along the Camino.  At the time I thought it might be an incredible thing to do, but I thought this only in a fleeting way, never really giving it much thought.  Then a few months ago, we were having dinner with my brother, and friends of theirs, Peter and Kathy, joined us.  Peter and Kathy had just returned home from three weeks on the Camino.  They plan to do the entire thing but have broken it up into smaller trips.  This was their second part of the trip, and we loved hearing their stories about it.  Then a month or so ago my brother mentioned that he plans to bike it next fall.  And of course, most recently, I heard about Warren, Paula, and their son Greg, who are walking it together, and have found myself deeply moved by their journey.

Warren creates the daily posts for them on Facebook.  They are not elaborate or glamourous.  They briefly describe the walk they have completed.  Sometimes they let us know where they find a place to sleep, and they tell us about people they share meals and conversation with.  Each day, they dedicate the section of trail they are walking for someone close to them.  One day for each grandchild, one for each of their children and their spouses, one for relatives long gone from this earth, one for good friends, one for someone battling cancer, and yesterday, for a good friend Warren lost seven months ago.  In the simplicity of these posts, I find something so profound.

Much of the trail looks to be about as wide as a narrow dirt road.  It is well packed down.  But yesterday they were covering some very mountainous terrain, and the trail was narrow.  Warren took a short video, offering a little commentary of the one-minute section.  He said, ‘This is our most difficult day yet.  The trail is muddy and slippery, rocky and treacherous, and beautiful.  And we get to do it.’

This post really struck me.  Life too is muddy and slippery, rocky and treacherous, and beautiful.  And we get to do it.  What an amazing perspective on life.  We get to do it.  So often we are so busy with our own importance, with the things stacking up on our calendars, with our commitments and obligations, and all the things we say we ‘have to do’, and we completely forget to be thankful that we ‘get to do it’.

This morning on Warren’s post I read that they had come to a sign saying 200km to Santiago.  They could not believe it.  They have completed 600km and have only 200km more to go.  At 100km to go, they will be met by their grandchildren who will walk the final stage of the journey with them. 

Warren ends each post with ‘Buen Camino’, the greeting shared by pilgrims, hikers and cyclists and also with local people who wish each other well on the Camino de Santiago.  Translated it literally means good road.  But it can also mean good path, path being physically or spiritually.  In my mind, I can hear people softly saying it to one another, understanding that while they each try to limit their physical load as they walk, each of them, each of us, also carries a different kind of load, one that is not quite so easy to put down. 

I wish we had such a greeting, such a way to acknowledge the path being walked by each of us.  I may not begin to say this out loud, I’m not sure I’ve earned the right to it, but I suspect I will begin to silently offer a ‘Buen Camino’ to those I ‘get to do’ life with.

Buen Camino.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I creating a Buen Camino?’
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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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create a Buen Camino. 
 

When we were kids, we were taught to not ask for things.  It was a pretty basic rule, with very few exceptions.  We could ask for something for Christmas, but for instance, we would NEVER ask a friend if we could come over to their house to play, or stay for lunch.  We were to wait until we were invited.  If we saw something lovely when we were out shopping, we were not to ask for it.  I guess we were to wait and hope someone noticed our eyes had lit up.  We would never ask to borrow something, nor would we ask to be taken somewhere. 

We also did not ask difficult questions, or questions that would have eased a worry, like exactly how sick was our mother?  I don’t think our family was completely unique.  This was just part of the culture.  Our experience of it may have been a bit more extreme than in other homes, but I don’t recall my friends asking their parents difficult questions either.  We weren’t exactly in the ‘children should be seen and not heard’ times, but it was definitely preferable that we were seen more than heard, and that we answered more than asked.

Although Jim was raised in the same era, he missed the memo about not asking questions.  Jim isn’t afraid to ask for anything.  If he wants it, he asks.  This has caused me some mortification over the years, what with my uber adherence to protocol, and his uber lack thereof.  I learned to ‘get ahead’ of him sometimes and pre-warn him that asking might not be appropriate in a particular situation.  However, in other situations, I found myself standing back in awe, noticing that he got much of what he wanted while I stood waiting patiently. 

This week we hosted our AGM for the Building Hope Society, our organization that promotes quality education in Kenya.  At the meeting I told the group I had bravely reached out to a couple of potential donors (despite my upbringing!).  This reaching out always feels uncomfortable, just as describing our good work does.  After all, I had also feasted on a pretty good diet of ‘don’t brag.’  However, on each recent occasion when I did reach out and ask, I was met with a very enthusiastic response.  And when I mentioned our Africa project when I was away facilitating last week, even thought I did not ask for a thing, I was drawn into a lengthy discussion, with the participants wanting to know the story of how the project came to be.  It has led to a possible connection between the group I was working with and the project in Kenya. 

I’m learning that in asking we can sometimes get more than we expected.  Sometimes we get a bit of magic.

This week held another event, an exciting day for Jim and Ben.  Jim is a certified bird bander, and self-proclaimed ‘bird nerd’.  He spends hours, days and weeks of the spring and early summer seasons monitoring the behaviour of the mountain blue birds, and swallows.  When the babies are born, he places tiny identification bands on their little legs so that the species can be tracked regarding life-span, migration, health etc.  Jim can identify almost any bird he hears by its song, and certainly if he gets a look at it, he knows what it is.  This has led him to lead what have become very popular ‘Birding Workshops’.  He’s also gotten to know the staff at one of the nearby schools offering Nature Based Learning and has offered (asked) if they’d like him to work with the students.  He and his friend Daryl have worked with several classes to build nest boxes, to go along with the students on field trips to erect the boxes along the Bluebird Trail, and to then return to count eggs or baby birds. 

A few weeks ago, Ben’s teacher asked if Jim could come in to talk with the kindergarten students about birds.  There was only one answer for Jim. Of course he would!  He’d love to!   Jim knows that these little students go on outdoor adventures near their school to the Mystical Forest.  To get there, they pass by a neighbourhood where some of the houses back on to the green space leading to the Mystical Forest.  Jim, wanting to create the best experience possible for the kids, put on his asking hat.  First, he and Ben concocted a tasty seed suet that they stuffed into little holes Jim bored out of foot long logs.  Jim placed wires in the tops of them so they could hang and attract the birds.  Jim knew of one couple who lived near the green space, and he contacted them and asked if he could bring over the hanging feeders for them to put up so that hopefully some birds would be comfortable coming to their yard before the day the kids went on their birding expedition with Jim.  They were delighted to take part.  They and Jim made arrangements for Jim to drop off the feeders.  On the agreed upon drop off date, Jim was loaded up with the feeders and was heading out the door when I noticed he was also carrying a large bag of peanuts. 

Me:  What are those for?

Jim: I noticed there is a yard with a feeder that attracts blue jays near where we’ll be with Ben’s class.  I’m going to stop and ask the couple who live there if they can put these peanuts out over the next week, and then we can bring the kids to their fence to see the birds when we have our day together.

Me: Do you know these people?

Jim: No.  But I’m sure they’d love to help.

I’ve learned to release all control in these situations. 

The truth is, more often than not, these ‘asks’ produce some magic.  This one did not disappoint.  Jim knocked on the door of the couple with the potential blue jays, introduced himself, told of his plan and asked for their help.  The night before the big field trip with 30 or so little students, Jim’s phone rang.  ‘Oh, that’s Art’, said Jim.  We don’t know an Art, so I was curious.  Jim and Art talked for about 20 minutes.  Apparently, Art is half of the couple with the potential blue jays.  Art and Carol had become fully invested in this project.  They’d gone out and bought even more peanuts.  They had prepared their back deck so all the little ones could sit on it and watch the birds.  They were THRILLED to have been asked.   And they were ready when those little ones arrived.  Again, I learned about the magic of asking.

I was taught that when we ask for something we are thinking only about our own needs, and we might be putting the person being asked in an uncomfortable position.  The sentiment wasn’t completely wrong, but I now know there is another possibility.  When we ask, we invite others to enter our world.  We invite them to share their gifts, to belong.  We invite them to be part of whatever it is we are doing.  We acknowledge they have something valuable to contribute.  We may start out by asking for something for ourselves, but sometimes, when we have just the perfect request, we sprinkle a little magic on them too.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I stopped by Kaitlyn’s for a little visit. We were sitting on the front step having a chat when Andy came out and sat quietly beside me.  He asked if I’d like to see his Pandas.  He has three of them and he wanted to show me each of them, one at a time.  When he was done, he wanted to show me his little Sitting Up Cat.  This little six-inch stuffie is also black and white, just like his pandas, and he loves it.  He sat beside me holding Sitting Up Cat.  Then this.

Andy:  Would you like to give Sitting Up Cat a hug?

Me: I would love to! 

I gave little Sitting Up Cat a very warm hug and passed it back to Andy.  He sat with it for a minute in silence, then quietly said to me, ‘Sometimes Sitting Up Cat loves two hugs.’

Magic.  I’m so glad he asked.  

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Who’s waiting for my ask?’

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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create a magic making ask. 
 
 

This past week I was invited to facilitate a three-day Strategic Planning workshop.  I’ve worked with this organization previously but in the years since then many of the staff have changed and a new Executive Director has been named.
It takes hours and hours, somewhere in the neighbourhood of 50 to 70 to custom design a meaningful experience such as this.  After years and years of planning lessons for teenagers, I know that careful, detailed planning not only gives me the best chance for success, but it once it’s complete it allows my mind to be ready to deal with any unexpected challenges.  Once I have my plan, materials, electronics and supplies all ready, I relax; I know there will be curveballs, but those don’t bother me.

The week leading up to my departure was very, very full.  My plan was to be completely ready the week prior, including having all supplies packed in a second suitcase, and outfits organized for each day.  And then of course, just about the time I was zipping up my suitcase of supplies, the first curveball was thrown.

This is good, I reassured myself, as I opened an email from the Executive Director.  This is expected, it’s why I got everything else ready. 

The email was one of introduction.  ‘Liz, I’d like to introduce you to Emma Richard.  Emma is a graphic recorder and I’ve hired her to join us in our work.  She’ll be recording, visually, all of our work, in real time.  I hope that’s ok with you?!’

Other than the fact I had called ahead to the facility we’d be using and had discovered the room provided for us housed at most 24, and we were expecting 30, and other than the fact that Emma needed a screen, as did I (and there was only one), I have to say I felt a little thrill at this unexpected introduction. I wasn’t wrong to have been both curious and excited.

Emma and I met about an hour before go-time on the first morning.  I quickly knew she and I could easily occupy the same space, share the same screen and easily work collaboratively.  What a gift she was to us.  And what a gift her work will continue to be for this organization.

Since both Emma and I needed the one screen in the smallish room, we devised a plan where I would use it until any spots where I could do without, at which time we could switch the cable from my laptop to hers so she could share her work.  I knew I needed it a lot at first, but after that I was thinking of ways I could do without.

We’d been at it less than an hour when we made the first switch.  Suddenly the illustration she’d been working on appeared.  I was shocked.  Amazed.  Blown away.  While I’d been busy facilitating the opening and setting the stage for the hard work ahead, she’d been observing, listening, and translating what her senses had picked up.

Had I been thinking about what Emma was doing while I’d been presenting, I’d have guessed there wasn’t too much for her to capture.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Emma hadn’t missed a thing, nor did she miss a thing for the next three days.  She beautifully captured every discussion, activity and idea, and even managed to portray the feeling that flowed through the room.  She presented it all like a journey with a ribbon of road leading the viewer from one thing to the next, on the way to clearly outlining the organizations vision for the next three years.

It was magical.

More than that, for me it highlighted how most of us travel through our days.  We have a sense of what we are doing, and we know what our intention is, but we are unable to objectively observe our behaviours, and more importantly the impact we have on others.  Over the three days as I watched Emma’s art unfold, I recognized that she had captured not only the details of the day, but also often the unspoken sentiments and ideas. More than once her work included a soft suggestion like, ‘It may be that such and such is emerging.’  This was never spoken outloud, but simply incorporated into the work, so we could ‘hear’ it, without it being disruptive or intrusive.

It's difficult to accurately describe the impact. One participant, Stephonia, looked at the screen during part of the afternoon.  Among all the tiny, tiny parts of the drawing, Emma had drawn one of the discussions we had had.  In it one of the figures was a woman, wearing a striped skirt.

‘There I am!’ exclaimed Stephonia.  She could not believe her voice had been heard and that she had been seen.  It was remarkable.  She knew what she had said, but she had no idea that it had been received by the rest of the group.  It was life changing for her to know her voice was valued.

Over the next couple of days as I thought about this reaction, and about Emma’s work, I dreamed about what it would be like to have Emma graphically record a day, or week of my life.  I suspect I’d learn things about myself I’d never ever considered.  I suspect I’d begin to make an even bigger effort to live a life that would translate into a beautiful picture.  I suspect I'd begin to have an understanding of how I am seen by others.

We each have the opportunity to design and live a life filled with things that can turn a blank canvas into a work of art.  The things we do don’t have to be fancy, we don’t have to be world travelers or famous inventors; beauty can be created in the way we do the things we do.  Emma captures the beauty of all the little things; the small contributions, the kindnesses, the ways we include others, the grand ideas, and the colourful striped skirts.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve been unpacking my things, both literally and figuratively, and working hard to capture our work as I create the Strategic Plan for this organization.  I’ve also been jumping back into my usual routine, working out, catching up with the kids, buying groceries, going to dance, and getting ready for my day with Ben and Andy.  I notice as I go about my business, I do so with a tiny bit more attention to the details of how I show up.  I walk a little taller, take a bit more care with my words, consider my impact on others, and try to make sure my behaviour aligns with my intention.  After all, I have no idea when an ‘Emma’ might capture me.  I hope I recognize myself, just as the woman in the striped skirt recognized herself.  I hope the me I try to be is the me others experience too.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I showing up in this picture?’

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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to show up on the canvas of your life.