To dress up for Halloween or not?  This question is easy for me this year.  I’m happily in the not category, the same category I’ve been in since I left teaching.  I know many others love this special day.  My daughter Kaitlyn always thinks of a really creative costume well in advance and she always looks incredible.  This year she has done the same for little Benjamin, who will sport his blue jay (the bird, not the team) costume.  Alas, I would have chosen NOT every year if I thought that was the right thing to do.  It’s just not my thing.

When I was teaching, this day was so special for the students, so fun, I just had to participate.  The best years were the ones when I thought of a costume that reflected a tiny, not often revealed part of me.  One year I went as a rapper.  Full disclosure:  I don’t like rap.  I do love music and teenagers and I love it when people find out that the me they thought they had fully figured out, has another interesting bit to her.  My students were not expecting their math teacher to turn rapper!

When we lived on our acreage, we always only had one trick or treater.  I guess in the early years we had two, but later and then forever we had one, Kathleen.  Kathleen and Elizabeth were our twin sister neighbours.  Kathleen has Down Syndrome and she loved coming to our house for Halloween with Elizabeth.  Ours was the only house she visited, and in turn, she was our lone trick or treater once Elizabeth outgrew it.  Most often, when Kathleen was not being a princess, she was dressed like a favourite character from one of her books.  My favourite memory of Halloween with Kathleen was the Halloween that almost wasn’t.  Jim and I always made sure we had some special treats ready for her when she arrived and we always had a special visit with her.  This particular year, I came home from school around 5:30, and turned on the front light so Kathleen and her mom would know we were home.  By seven o’clock, the doorbell had not rung and I began to worry that I had missed Kathleen.  By eight, I knew there would be no knock.  The following evening, Jim and I were sitting down to dinner when the doorbell rang.  I answered it to the sound of ‘Trick or Treat!’  Standing on the porch, not dressed up at all, were Kathleen and her mom, Susan.

I said, ‘Oh, I’m so happy to see you!  I was afraid I’d missed you last night’.  ‘No’, Susan assured me, ‘She was just too worn out from the day.’  And so, for the first time, we celebrated Halloween on November first; the one and only year Kathleen came as herself.

If I’d had my druthers, I’d have simply gone as myself all those years too.

I’ve had this idea on my mind this week.  What exactly would it mean to ‘go as myself’?  The memory was sparked because I had an unexpected, lovely visit from Kathleen on Friday and we were remembering the years she had come to our house.

I’ve used this phrase, ‘go as yourself’, before.  I’ve used it when someone I know is going for an interview, or going to an event where they don’t know many people.  I’ve used it when someone is nervous about giving a presentation.  I’ve used it when someone doubts their value in a group of colleagues and they aren’t sure how to show up.

Just go as yourself.

Exactly what does this mean?  What I’ve come to understand is that we have within us many selves.  We have our insecure self.  We have our tired self.  We have our confident self.  We have our dreamer self.  We have our creative self.  We have a compassionate self, a short-tempered self, a know-it-all self, a thoughtful self, a generous self, a petty self, a hard-working self, a lazy self, an ingenious self and a captivating self, all within us.  They, and many others, are all our true selves.  The most wonderful thing is that we are in full charge of which one of them we want to pull out of the costume box and ‘go as’.

This year, our doorbell in our city house will ring many times and we will delight over the princesses and pirates and superheroes.  But I’ll still be wishing we could open the door to Kathleen, just standing there as herself.  It’s the best costume any of us can wear.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Who are you ‘going as’ right now?’
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you identify who you want to ‘go as’ in your life.

You know things are getting a bit desperate when you jump at the chance to go out to get the flu shot.  Yes, this was one of my big outings this week.  When I saw my doctor later in the week for my regular X-ray and foot check up, she asked if I’d had my shot.  I replied yes, and that I was surprised she hadn’t seen my picture on the news; I was sure I was the first one in line at Shopper’s Drug Mart on Monday morning!  And I was even more thrilled when the pharmacist who gave the shot reminded me that I needed to spend at least ten minutes in the store before leaving, to make sure I didn’t have an adverse reaction.  I’m sure I enjoyed my adventure just as much as Jim enjoyed his trip to the zoo with Ben this week!

Meanwhile at home I’m figuring out a few little things I am able to do.  Laundry seems to be one activity that has the stamp of approval.  It’s not too hard to sort and fold clothes.  Alas, pride goeth before the fall.  (Well truth be told, this time the fall came first, then the pride at doing such a good job with laundry, then the proverbial fall.)

To give the backstory, just before our cycling trip, I stopped in at the brand new MEC store near us and found a great pair of casual pants.  They fit perfectly.  I took them on our trip and in the evenings wore them alternatively with my blue jeans.  I even told my sister, Mary, about them, thinking she too might like a pair.  Since I’ve now been sidelined, these have become a staple in my wardrobe.  This week, I dropped them in the dark load for their regular washing.   Up until now, I have always washed them regularly and then hung them over a rack to dry.  This week, I mindlessly threw them in the dryer along with everything else.

I was horrified when I took the load out of the dryer, began the folding and noticed my nice newish pants mixed in.  After my initial panic I realized that it might be possible that these were ‘allowed’ to be dried in the drier.  Taking a quick look at the garment tag, I read they could be dried in a drier at low heat.  How hot could the dryer have been, I wondered?

The answer to this became all to apparent this morning when I put the above-mentioned pants on.  They did go on, but just.  Suffice it to say they are no longer my go-to pants.

The good news about my misadventure is that it started me thinking about garment tags. Whenever I am buying some new piece of clothing, I take time to look at the little tag that lets the consumer know what kind of care the garment needs.  I have been known to return a beautiful item back to the rack because of what was revealed on that tag.  I know how much, or how little effort I am willing to put into the care of my clothes.  I know that if rayon is part of the makeup of the item, it goes back on the rack.  For me, the wrinkles are not worth it.  Hand washing, cold only, no wringing, lay flat items also rarely get purchased with my debit card. 

Pondering all of this today, as I was tugging up my pants, I realized that each of us also comes with a little human form of the garment tag; a tiny little pointer letting others know how to best care for us for maximum benefit.

Each of us performs best in this world when we are treated the way that resonates with us.  The problem is that just like with real tags, some of the human tags are hard to read; they are written in all sorts of languages we do not understand.  Others come only with symbols that we don’t recognize.  When we do recognize the symbols, we may not take note of the colour or number of dots giving us more detailed information. And most often, these tags are not placed in full view, so even when we remember to take time to try to figure out what care is needed for our friends and family, we have to make the effort to look for the carefully hidden tags.  To further complicate things, sometimes garments that look very much like other familiar garments, in fact have their own special care preferences.

When I was in the clinic this week, one of the receptionists was sitting in her regular chair.  Attached to her chair were some large, bright birthday balloons. I wished her a happy birthday.  She seemed delighted with her chair and with the kind attention she was receiving.  If she had been wearing a human garment tag, I suspect it would have given us permission to ‘make a fuss’ over her.  Because I noticed this and have commented on it, it may mislead others to think I too would enjoy this kind of attention.  My garment tag, however, would not display the symbol for balloons on the back of my chair!

I like to think I am a pretty good reader of garment tags.  I’m intrigued by them.  I love that there is so much information displayed in such a small space.  I love that sometimes we have to decipher it. I love that different symbols and languages can be used for the same thing.  Yet I also know, that just as I completely mistreated my lovely pants this week, pants that I LOVED, I can also misread and sometimes completely miss, the little signs people around me are displaying.  I recognize that when I get it just right, when the signs are clear and when my attention is well placed, I have the chance to help others and myself to show up exactly as we are meant to be; in our best form, in our brightest colours and knowing the fit is just right.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What’s on this person’s garment tag?’
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you identify and place the correct ‘care’ symbols on your work and life.

Because my world has become physically smaller for a few weeks, this week I seemed to notice some little things around me.  The great danger here is the temptation to notice the potential imperfections; the things that could use changing or fixing or cleaning or organizing.

I’ve made a conscious choice to not fixate on those but rather to notice a few things close up.  In particular, I’ve been noticing things that on the surface, seem to be so small as to be completely insignificant, and yet when examined may carry the secret to great success.

The two that caught my attention in the past couple of days are Benjamin and my friend Gina.

Benjamin, escorted by his very thoughtful mom, Kaitlyn, has been coming for regular visits to our house since I have been home sitting and knitting.   The wonderful thing about Ben is that he could not care less whether I have one good foot or two, whether I can walk or not, or whether I can do my usual activities.  He is simply delighted to be wherever he is, with whomever is with him.

Over these past two weeks, Benjamin has learned how to crawl and I have been captivated by his progress.  When we first arrived home from Scotland, he was very close to being mobile.  He could figure out how to get up on all fours from his stomach but he clearly could not coordinate his brain with his hands and knees.  If he moved one hand, he was stuck.  His brain could not seem to figure out that the next step was to move the opposite knee.  Some mothers would have got on the floor with him and ‘helped’ him figure it out.  Kaitlyn calmly sat back and said, ‘He’ll get it.’ 

Each day, many, many times, he worked at his new skill.  His next phase was to notice something just out of reach that he wanted, and head down he would strike out toward it.  He would take one or sometimes two crawling ‘steps’ toward it, stop, reach out and measure whether he had arrived at his goal.  Somehow, he must have known this was an important thing to figure out because he did not give up.  Within days he could eye a shiny object and easily crawl to it.  Now he loves to do laps, always pausing in our front foyer to smile and say hi to the baby who lives in the mirror there.

As I have watched this amazing development, I have wondered more than once if most adults, myself included, would be as persistent.  I’m trying to imagine what the equivalent of moving from stomach to fully mobile would be in an adult life.  I do know that when I have tried to learn a new skill, I have often decided that perhaps the particular skill I had been thinking of, was just not one of my ‘gifts’.  I know I have quit long before being able to give myself a satisfying, congratulatory smile in the front hall mirror.

Interestingly, the second observation made by me this week also occurred in our front hall.  On Friday evening, long after the street lights were on and I had settled back in my chair after changing into my ‘comfy’ pants, my front doorbell rang.  It seemed a bit late to be the local kids collecting for a bottle drive and with Jim not yet home, that left me to hobble to the door and to answer the bell.  I was thrilled to find my friend Gina standing on my front porch, bouquet of flowers and a card in hand.  She had heard about my foot and had stopped by to say hi, to see how I was doing and to drop off the flowers. 

Gina stayed only for a short visit; we didn’t even make it out of the front hallway.  Though she hadn’t yet been home from work, she had stopped to check in on me.  I filled her in on our trip and we caught up on our families and other news.  While our visit was short in minutes, its impact has been long lasting. Not only have I been enjoying the gorgeous fall flowers she brought, I have also spent time thinking about her thoughtfulness. 

Gina did not become thoughtful on Friday night.  Clearly, this is a way of being for her.  It is a pattern, or a habit or a way of living.  If it was not so, I can only guess that even if she had had the fleeting thought of stopping in on a Friday evening, she could have easily talked herself out of it.  I’ll bet she has a pair of ‘comfy’ pants that were calling her name that night too. 

To the casual observer, it might appear that this is just easy for Gina.  To the truth seeker, it would be obvious this way of being is not easy, rather it is a practiced choice.

Somewhere in her past, and I have known her for many years now, she had to have started this practice of thoughtfulness.  I imagine that her first attempt took plenty of energy and planning, much like Benjamin’s first crawling attempts.  She may not even have got it perfect the first time.  But over time, she must have believed this was important enough to perfect, and so through years of completing countless thoughtful deeds, she has arrived at the place where it looks easy.

When Gina left, I closed the door and caught my reflection in the mirror.  I was smiling.  I hoped that when Gina arrived home, she too would take the time to circle around her house, stopping at her mirror to smile at the thoughtful friend looking back. 

My inquiry for you this week is ‘Who is in my mirror?’
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to focus on matching the person in the mirror with the one you strive to become.

I am not a patient patient.  This is not to say I don’t have great patience.  I am just not a patient patient.  This week I seem to be coming to terms with this sad fact.

On our trip to Scotland, I broke my foot.  In several places it would seem.  This happened on the second day of our bike trip.  We had just summitted a peak in the beautiful Highlands and we stopped at the side of the road for a celebratory piece of chocolate, a rest and a picture.  The roads in this part of the country are narrow at best; they reminded me of the bike paths we enjoy here at home. 

While we stood at the side of the road, we noticed the approach of a largish truck.  I thought it would be best if I took one more step away from the road to make sure I was well out of harms way.  As I stepped with my right foot, the earth gave way beneath it and I completely lost my balance.  Realizing I was going to fall I did one of those Rolodex spins of all the possibilities at my disposal.  Since I was facing away from the road, and momentum was winning, the two options seemed to be falling forward into a large thorn bush across the ditch, risking using my wrists to break the fall, or trying to use my left leg to jump over the ditch.  I chose Option B. 

Alas, I am not the gazelle I pictured in my mind.  While I did jump, I clearly underestimated both the width and depth of the ditch.  The ditch was deep and though it was wide at the top it was narrow at the bottom.  My left foot struck firmly near the bottom of it.  Sadly, the ditch wasn’t as wide as my foot is long and so I thoughtfully allowed my foot to bend upward to compensate.  Clearly, Option B was not the ideal choice.  I knew right away that I had a ‘big hurt’.  I thought if I sat and held my foot for a bit, that the pain would subside and I might walk it off. 

The initial lightning bolt pain did ease, but the lingering pain let me know that I might be in a bit of trouble.  Sometimes though, a girl just has to do what a girl has to do.  And so, I got back on my bike, placing the edge of my heel on the pedal and made my way to the closest town, about eighteen kilometres away where there was a medical clinic.  Lest you think this was worse than it was, thankfully, much of the trip to town was downhill or relatively flat.

I was seen fairly quickly at the clinic and the doctor in charge thought it was likely severe soft tissue damage.  I asked her what she thought about my continuing to cycle over the next four days.  Her opinion was that if it was soft tissue damage, it would hurt, but I wouldn’t likely do more damage.  As she said, if we want to X-ray it, we’d have to send you to the next town.  And so, I received the following: a compression tube sock to relieve the swelling, and advice to take Advil and a ‘couple of shots of whiskey’.

Believe it or not, even thought I didn’t really believe her, I was relieved. 

I did not want to be the reason the trip was cancelled or altered.   I was, after all, supposed to be on this trip to bear witness, (see last week’s blog here) not to be the centre of attention.  I felt like I had just been given license to continue as planned.  So I did.

Upon arriving back in Calgary eleven days later, after completing the cycling trip, and then sightseeing in both Edinburgh and Dublin, often using the Hop On, Hop Off (with less emphasis on the hopping and more on the ‘On’ part) I realized I might need to make a return trip to my own doctor.  While she did not criticize my earlier diagnosis and prescription, she did order X-rays.  Two broken bones were quickly revealed, with a third ‘highly suspicious area’ also highlighted.  An air boot cast was fitted along with a prescription for 4-6 weeks of no weight bearing.  I was smart enough not to ask if I could run or cycle but I did have to check if that included dancing?  Yes.  Yoga? Yes.

I was cleared for unrestricted knitting.

This is how I have come to realize that my patience wears thin for being a patient. 

I know I am a coach.  I know I have all sorts of tools at my disposal for seeing this with a new perspective.  I know the only thing I have control of is my attitude.  I know ‘it could be worse’.  I know, ‘I’m lucky I got to finish the trip’.  I even know (because this too really was said to me) ‘It’s good it wasn’t Jim’. 

And yet, I’m still impatient.

I’ve been thinking and thinking about what has me so out of sorts.  I am coming to the conclusion that I have been trying to convince myself that since I only have control over my attitude, I simply need to make a choice about how I will ‘be’ throughout this process.  This is not working for me.  I’ve been so frustrated and so disappointed in myself for not being able to summon up the grit to ‘be’ who I want to be.

As I’ve gone over and over this in my mind, I recognize I have been focused on only one of the basic principles of coaching.  I have been focused on ‘being’.  Co-active coaching, the type in which I am trained, is all about three key things; being, doing and the relationship between these two.  In other words, how we are being as we are doing.  And what we are doing, as we are being.

Even with the prescription for no weight bearing, it is time for me to get ‘doing’.  I cannot do my regular things.  However, there is plenty I can do and I have a feeling that once I get started in this direction, the part of me that has been disappointed in myself might disappear.  As my first step (no pun intended) I have heard about a former colleague of mine who is temporarily in a care facility as she recovers from an unsuccessful surgery and as she awaits the new surgery to fix her issue.  I have a feeling she would be happy to see me.  In person.  I also have a feeling that I will be just fine, sitting with her, ‘doing’ nothing.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Being while doing? Or doing while being?’
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Elizabeth creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  She provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to focus on both   being and doing.