After far too many months of missing activities I love, as I’ve waited for the bones in my foot to mend, I’m finally resuming some of my favourites.  I’m having to make some modifications.  At dance, I’m easily spotted as the sole person sporting her supportive running shoes, setting me apart from the others so nicely decked out in their toe-tappers.

At yoga, I’m noticing I’ve lost some balance when standing on my left leg.  This reminds me that although clinically all the bones in the foot are now healed, the ligaments and muscles are weak and have ‘forgotten’ how to support me.  On top of that, I don’t have confidence in the strength of my foot…yet.

Tuesday at yoga, our instructor, the magnificent Mona Power, guided us into one of the warrior poses.  As we were doing it, she looked out over the class and noticed that some of us had shoulders that were creeping up toward our ears.  She gently reminded us, ‘Relax your shoulders.  Don’t place stress where it isn’t needed’.

A light bulb switched on in my head.  Don’t place stress where it isn’t needed.  I know I should have been completely focused on the breath, the very life-force of yoga, but my mind drifted to real life. 

Where have I been placing stress that I don’t need it?

In the warrior poses, strength is needed in the legs.  Our feet need to be firmly planted on the ground so there is stress involved in that part of our body.  We also need to ‘put some muscle in our arms’ as we try to hold them as parallel to the floor as possible.  We do not need to place stress in our faces or our necks, and we certainly don’t need to put stress in our shoulders by lifting them toward our ears.  Not only does it look kind of silly, it actually focuses our energy on a part of the body not meant to be activated in this pose.

I know there are almost always lessons about life to be learned from yoga.  This one was so obvious it should have been labelled, ‘Exhibit A’.  How often we place stress in our lives where it is not needed.

This past weekend we were lucky to have our son, Greg, home for a few days while he was interviewing in Calgary.  We love getting together as a family.  Knowing we only had a few days to enjoy his company I wanted to make sure everyone had a chance to see him for a visit.  And I wanted my own chance to visit with him.  And he had interview prep to complete.  It was a lot to squish in.  As I anticipated the dinner I was making for a group of us on Friday, and thinking about how to manage to try to get a bit of prep done ahead for the upcoming dinners on Sunday and Monday, Mona’s words arrived in my head. 

Don’t place stress where it isn’t needed.

I could envision two distinctly different scenes.  In Scene One, I was bustling around the kitchen in a hurry, trying to make sure everything was ready before people arrived.  In this scene anyone watching could figure out I was concentrating on the task at hand, not really taking time to visit or think about much else.  I didn’t engage in much conversation other than to assign tasks and I sent the clear signal that important conversations could be saved for later.

Scene Two, however, looked and felt different.  Though I was still moving quickly in the kitchen, making sure everything was ready, my energy did not have the feel of urgency to it. I had time to prep and visit.  I could place cut up vegetables in the salad rather than toss them in.  I could learn a bit about Greg’s thoughts on his potential jobs while we worked together.

Both scenes would have similar outcomes.  Either way, the meal prep would be complete.  Either way the people would arrive and we would have enough food.  Either way I would have spent a few hours with my son.  The difference would lie in whether I chose to have a visit with only my son, or if I wanted to invite Stress to join us. 

Mona’s words turned in my head, ‘Don’t place stress where it isn’t needed’.  I had to laugh; food does not taste better if it has been prepared with an extra dash of stress.  I think, thanks to Mona, I chose well this past weekend.  I have not always done so. 

I can recall an evening when Jim and I left home slightly late for an event.  We were not really speaking in the car.  We were not mad, but we were not speaking, thinking that every ounce of energy was needed to propel the car to our destination with as much efficiency as possible.  How much nicer it could have been if only we had placed the appropriate amount of stress on the car to get us where we were going, and saved the rest to be used if and when it was needed. We did not arrive at our destination any earlier because we were quiet.  We certainly did not arrive in a more relaxed state. 

Sometimes the needless stress we place on ourselves comes in the form of us trying to do more than time allows.  Most often this happens when we trick ourselves into thinking that time will stretch for us.  Most often, the unnecessary stress comes from the response our body has toward what we are trying to do.  The stress shows up in who we are being, rather than in what we are doing. 

It’s interesting that when I think of Jim and I driving on that evening, for the life of me I cannot remember where we were going, I cannot remember what we did once we arrived and I cannot remember our drive home.  I can clearly remember the needless passenger, Stress, we chose to place right in the front with us; exactly where she was not needed.
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My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where am I placing stress?’

Elizabeth provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you learn how to chose where to place stress.

With March Madness just around the corner I, along with many others, have been wondering who will win the various basketball games and of course, who will win the coveted national title at the end.  Millions of dollars are at stake for these young college players; money in the form of potential draft contracts, sponsorships and signing bonuses.

Clearly, I have never been involved in such a high stakes game of anything.  I have, however, had plenty of experience in winning and losing and I’ve come to learn that a win is not always sweet, nor is it always a win.  And a loss is not always a bad thing, nor is it always a loss.  One of the ideas I’ve solidified over time is my actual definition of a win.

In a game like basketball, wins are easy to spot.  Careful structures have been put into place to record the progress of the game.  Common rules are followed by all players, from the little ones using lowered hoops to the ‘big guys’; the guys and girls on the college teams and those in the NBA and WNBA.  Time clocks measure not only the length of quarters but also things like time allowed to inbound the ball, time to make a shot and timeouts for strategizing.  By the time the buzzer sounds, there is a clear winner. 

In all sport we say, a win is a win.  And it is.  It does not matter whether we win by a single point or if one competitor completely dominates the other.  A win is a win.  This is because the score is the metric used to determine the win.  It is clear, it is clean and the rules apply to all competitors. 

Winning in life is not so clear. 

Some people have the idea that winning means getting what they are aiming for.  This could be a new job; they won a competition and were awarded the job.  It could be an argument; they won the argument meaning the other person conceded.  Getting your way when choosing a restaurant could be a win.  It can feel like winning when the traffic is light and we arrive at our destination on time.  Winning can mean waking up to sunshine on a day we hoped to get out for a walk.

For me, none of these is a clear win.  I have ‘won’ arguments and felt like a loser.  I know people who have ‘won’ the competition for a job and have accepted the job, only to discover it isn’t at all what they hoped for.  In statistics records, these would be recorded as wins.  I simply disagree.  To be clear, I like to win, and I need to win.  Every day.  So, I’ve redefined what it means to win. 

In my world, this is the key: a win cannot involve having to depend on someone else’s action or behaviour.  For instance, when I was raising kids, I would not have declared a win if my children remembered to make their beds.  I certainly would enjoy the fact the beds were made.  But this, for me, is not a win.  In this particular situation, a win might be that my response was one I could be proud of whether the beds were made or not.  The win, in this case, is all in my hands.  I can lay my head down and sleep well at night with this kind of win under my belt.

In my teaching career, a win was not that the students were well behaved or that they all performed well on a given assessment.  A win was that I modeled the behaviours I expected of them, I showed them dignity, I provided a safe place for them to learn, and I prepared them for success to the best of my ability.  Their behaviour and their results were in their hands; my win was in my own.

When I was doing a lot of running and competing, a win did not always look like a medal around my neck.  Sometimes it looked like a ‘good-for-me’ time.  Sometimes it looked like an ‘I finished’.  Others couldn’t tell if a win was a win for me because it rarely involved beating anyone else; the win was all in my goal-setting.

Last week I submitted a huge proposal for a contract I hope to land.  I spent over twenty hours getting it ready.  I did my research, I had several people look it over and I believe I represented myself with complete honesty in terms of who I am and what I can deliver.  I may or may not get the contract. I’m ok with that.  I already won by submitting my best work.

I set myself up for wins every single day.  My wins come in the form of things I accomplish that I just want off my list and in things that are bigger and more important to me.  Wins also come in the form of making and keeping commitments and connections with people I value.  A simple phone call can be a win.  My best wins are ones where I make myself proud by making sure my best self shows up to represent me no matter who I am with and no matter what I am doing.

No one else can define a win for us, nor can we define wins for others.  Nor should we try to.  And yet, winning is still important.  Each win gives us a deposit in our confidence and self-esteem account.  The secret is to understand that the tiny score on the basketball scoreboard, displayed after each of our ‘games’ isn’t the one that matters.   The one that matters is the big one; the great huge invisible scoreboard in our lives that no one can see or understand except ourselves.  We know it is there, and we clearly understand when we are winning.  This week I encourage you to look for places to win. 

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Is this a win?’
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Elizabeth provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you learn how set yourself up for the win.
 
 
 
 

A couple of weeks ago, I was breakfasting with some of my former colleagues.  A large group of us usually meet once per month but this past month, the weather was poor and many people were away, resulting in only a handful of us gathering around a table in a local restaurant.

During our conversation I mentioned an article I had read in the Calgary Herald about a single mother who had established a small food pantry in her neighbourhood, modeled after the popular mini-libraries often found on private lawns in the city.  It turned out the need for food was greater than even she had predicted.  The article outlined her incredible effort to help the people in her community, while simultaneously providing for her two daughters and saving for her own dream of a university education.

I told the others this had had a significant impact on me. It reminded me that there are people in each of our communities needing help.  I mused that I’d love to figure out a little project I could do.  Three of the other women at the breakfast volunteered to help and we agreed to have a meeting to ‘put our heads together’.

Not many days later, we, and a couple of other interested women, gathered in my dining room to discuss what we might do.  Cheryl had heard about a need in a local school that we felt might be a great place for us to start our project.  This school is not particularly ‘needy’.  From the outside it could be considered to be one of the ‘have’ schools.  But our group knows that even in the ‘have’ schools, stuff happens. When it does, it’s nice to have someone step up and make stuff happen.  With that in mind, we christened our group, ‘Stuff Happens’.

Over the last couple of weeks, with help from a couple of teachers at the school some specific needs were identified we could help with.   We set to work making a plan, soliciting donations, and setting up a program to provide a few students with daily, healthy lunches and with some much-needed clothing and school supplies.  It has felt incredibly good to be able to be able to address these needs so quickly and with complete confidentiality.

As we completed our first ‘drop off’ this week, we asked if the teachers could find out if the students had any other needs that may have gone unnoticed.  The teachers went to work and talked to the students.  We were provided with a little wish list.  It’s hard to describe our shared broken-hearted reaction when we read that one of the wishes was for one student to get some underwear. For herself and her younger brother. 

Underwear.

I was trying to remember being a young teenager.  I could recall how important it was to fit in, to not let others think that I was different.  I never once had to ask for food.  And I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to tell a teacher I needed underwear.  Actually, I do know – I would not have been.  My underwear, and my feelings, were kept carefully under wraps.

Not everyone hides their underwear.  In fact, in many schools both girls and boys display parts of their underwear publicly.  Parts that would have mortified me had mine ever slipped into the open when I was young: bra straps, lace, the top band of underpants etc.  These students have the confidence to show their underwear.  They are not hiding and they are not ashamed.  I’ve been trying to imagine what a relief it would be for this girl and her brother if they could show their underwear.  Because they had some.

Each of us has many layers of ‘underwear’.  When most of us were teenagers it was almost a full-time job making sure that no one recognized any insecurity in us.  We certainly did not go around telling others how inadequate we felt, what we were worried sick about, or how we hoped to be liked.  We kept our ‘underwear’ hidden.  When most teenagers look at each other, they see confident, put-together people. They think they are alone in their thoughts of inadequacy. If only they had the courage, and if only we, the adults, gave them the space to reveal their real underwear.

Now that the idea of people not having underwear has come into my mind, I can’t stop thinking about it.  And I can’t stop thinking about what other things we feel we might be lacking that we hide from our friends and family.  We bury our burdens under our clothing, under our skin, inside our minds, and deep in our hearts lest someone find out we are lacking.  Secretly of course, we wish someone would notice and help us.  Or listen to us. Or at least take us seriously.

I am so grateful that a couple of teachers at this school took the time to have a small talk with some students to find out about what they needed.  I’m betting the conversations didn’t take much more than 15 minutes.  I know for sure, that 15 minutes will change those children’s lives.  It’s very humbling to realize these needs are not new; they did not arise because we had an idea to help someone.  These needs were simply allowed to surface because a thoughtful, compassionate, skilled teacher provided a safe space to talk about ‘underwear’.

I’m travelling through my world this week recognizing that everyone needs help with their underwear.  Most of us own the physical stuff.  But all of us have the other kind of underwear issues.  I’m hoping I can find ways to spend a few minutes really listening to someone else who’s having trouble with their underwear.

My inquiry for you is, ‘What underwear issue is waiting for my help?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society and she is now a proud member of its affiliate, Stuff Happens.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership programs and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  Contact Elizabeth to find out how to deal with the ‘underwear’ needs in your organization.

Alberta has been in a deep, bone-chilling cold this month.  We had been lulled into thinking we’d ‘get off easy’ this year, after such a long, long winter last year.  But when the calendar flipped over to February, Mother Nature flipped a switch and our fantasy ended.  For well over three weeks, we’ve been experiencing one of those winters that one day will become one of those ‘I remember when’ stories.

On Tuesday of this week, I decided to test my now un-cast foot in a yoga class.  I’ve been missing Mona and her incredible classes since the summer.  So has my body.  I have careful instructions not to push things too far.  Although the bones are healed, the tendons and ligaments have been lulled into a false sense of strength by being constantly supported by a tight-fitting shoe.  And yet, enough was enough.   So, on an unusually warm-for-this-month morning, Jim and I headed over for our class.

When we came out of the building, the sun was shining brilliantly and had we not heard the forecast for more cold and snow, we could have been tricked into thinking Balzac Billy was right in predicting an early spring.  Suddenly transported back many years, I surprised myself by saying, ‘Touch of spring in the air, Mr. Critchley’. 

When I first started teaching, at the ‘old Red Deer Lake School’, I was the youngest teacher on staff.  My first classroom was a windowless room, but by my third year I had a room that overlooked the playground, and the picturesque, local country church.  Each day after school, I’d sit at my desk and plan my new lessons for the upcoming days.  While I sat there, every year starting in January, our newest custodian, Kurt, would come into my classroom, walk up to the front of the room, head over to the window, look out over the playground to the church and say gently, ‘Touch of spring in the air today, Mrs. Critchley’.  And I would reply, ‘I think there is, Kurt’.  This became our daily ritual.  Every day Kurt would come in to my room.  Every day we would say the same thing.

This little ritual went on for years.

Kurt and I weren’t friends.  I did not know his last name.  He likely did not know my first name. He was what I thought to be a middle-aged custodian, and I, of course was a young teacher.  We were both relatively new to the school and its community.  And yet, every day we made this simple, kind connection.

Several years into our after-school routine, Kurt came in and carried out his part of our ritual:  ‘Touch of spring in the air today, Mrs. Critchley’ he said.  And I replied, ‘I think there is, Kurt’.  I was expecting our usual comfortable silence as he would continue looking out the window for signs of spring and I would continue looking at the papers on my desk, when he surprised me by saying, ‘Critchley is not a very common name.’  To which I replied, ‘No, it really isn’t’.

Kurt went on to tell me that he once knew a Jack Critchley, when he worked in St. Catharines, ON as a school custodian.
 
That got my attention.  Jack Critchley was my husband Jim’s father’s name.  Jim’s dad had died about fifteen years before this conversation and he had been a principal at McArthur school in St. Catharines.  As Kurt and I talked, we discovered that the Jack Critchley he had known and Jim’s dad, were the same person.  More than that, when Kurt had been the custodian at McArthur School, and Jack Critchley, Jim’s dad had been the principal, Kurt had been having trouble providing for his family.  Jim’s dad helped him.  He helped him find a home to rent, he helped him with money for the rent, and he helped him with other things until he could get back on his feet.  Kurt had never forgotten this kindness.  I told him I would tell Jim and his mom, and that they would be so pleased to hear about this.

I am guessing that when Kurt was struggling many years ago, when he worked in Jack Critchley’s school, he was not feeling a touch of spring in the air.  If I were a betting girl, I’d put my money on the fact that it must have felt a lot more like a long cold winter, with no end in sight.  Somehow, and I do not know this part of the story, I imagine Jack and Kurt got to know each other, and over time, Jack realized the situation Kurt was in.  Jack Critchley chose to bring a touch of spring to Kurt and his family’s’ life.  Jim’s mom did not remember this happening when I told her, and the boys, Jim and his brothers, knew nothing of it.  I guess that didn’t matter.  We don’t need to see spring rain and sunshine, to know it has come.

In my early teaching years, when, like clockwork, Kurt would come into my classroom after school, most days there really never was any touch of spring in the January, or February or even March air.  Most days the thermometer was dipping in the minus double digits.  Many days a cold wind swept over the Rocky Mountains.  Yet each day we stuck to our script.  His gentle comment, ‘Touch of spring in the air today, Mrs. Critchley’.  And my kind reply ‘I think there is, Kurt’.   
It may not have felt like spring when Kurt came into the room but I could almost hear the tulips pushing through the soil by the time he left.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What touch of spring can I offer today?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership programs and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  Contact Elizabeth to find out how to bring a touch of spring to your organization and life.
 
 

It happened!   Little Benjamin has taken his first steps!  He’s been crawling for what seems like quite a few months and this week I made the comment that he may not walk for a bit more because he is really so adept at getting around by crawling.  What do I know?

The very next day he struck out on his two feet.  This little guy does not start with one single step; he prefers four to five at a time.  And of course, when he did it, the crowd went wild!

As I’ve pondered not only the wonder of his learning to walk, and all his other little milestones, I thought about how readily we acknowledge his accomplishments and work hard to give him the confidence to continue to take risks and try new things.  We all laugh at how one little boy, not yet thirteen months old, can have a whole group of us watching him, thanking him for handing us a toy, exclaiming ‘good job’ as he climbs stairs or carefully enunciating as he tries new ‘words’.  This of course led me to wonder when this kind of acknowledgement stops.

It would be silly of course to have our co-workers gather around our desks and clap each time we completed a report.  And it would drive us crazy if someone followed us up and down the aisles of the grocery store, loudly commenting ‘good job!’ each time we placed an item in our cart.  On the other hand, the adult world would be a pretty silent place if the only sounds we heard were those made in praise or acknowledgement.  We simply stop using this muscle.  Yet in this case the silence is not golden.  In fact, it feels lonely.

Global studies state that 79% of people who leave their workplace do so because they feel unappreciated.  Imagine.  Seventy-nine percent!  It turns out that these people do not necessarily dislike the work they do.  They do not dislike their pay.  They do not dislike their holiday time.  Or at least they do not dislike these things enough to leave.  The thing that drives them away, is not feeling valued.  Once they begin to feel undervalued and unacknowledged, they begin to disengage.  It’s not a long walk from disengagement to leaving.  Maybe four or five steps.  With no one noticing.  How is it possible that as a society, we go from clapping for a human being taking a step, to ignoring competent, kind, hard working people in our lives.

I took this one step further in my thinking.  Since we’re not doing a great job of expressing appreciation in the workplace, is it possible that we are doing an equally poor job of expressing it in our personal lives, with our families and friends?

Most of us don’t want or need praise or acknowledgment for tasks we do.  What we do crave is for someone to notice us.  Not in a superficial way, but in a way that lets us know we are valued, truly seen, and appreciated.

In the case of the workplace, we shouldn’t be surprised to know that not all leaders are created equally.  Very often people are promoted to a leadership position because they have done their regular job well.  They do not necessarily have leadership training or intuition.  They may never have realized what an impact they could have by simply taking time to notice what goes into their employees’ efforts.  What is underneath the actions.  What they hope to be noticed for.

The rest of us should not expect to be excused for not knowing.  We know what it is like to feel invisible.  We also all know what it is like to be seen for the person we value being.  Every human being craves being valuable, needed and important.  From small children to CEO’s, we each want to know someone’s world is better because we are in it.

This week, I challenge you to step out and make time to show one person you value them.  Not superficially (you did a good job), not absentmindedly, not casually.  Really, stop, identify what would make them feel seen, and let them know.  Clap for their steps.  Cheer for their stair climbing.  Listen carefully to their every word.   Inside, they have the same desire to feel like as important a part of the group as little Ben.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What can I acknowledge?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership programs and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  

With January in our rear-view mirrors, it’s an interesting time of year to take a look at how we’ve done with some of our New Year’s resolutions.  Even when people tell me they don’t ‘do’ resolutions, what I notice is that almost every person really does.  The methods are different.  The idea is the same.

Some folks go all out.  They purchase a new journal, set up a physical, visible calendar in a place that will both remind them of their goals and keep them motivated.  They often set up structures of accountability to ensure success.  And they tend to share their goal, out loud, or on social media so they have people asking about it and cheering them on.

In the second camp, are the people who do less ‘sharing’.  They tend to do all the same steps as above, with a few modifications.  Their accountability process is a bit quieter.  They will likely have a tracking system but it may not be as visible.  Perhaps they track in their phone or on their laptop.  They also may tell a few trusted friends or family members but they tend not to want too much loud cheering from random people.

The third group are those who have vague or more broad goals.  These fall into the category of things like, ‘This year I’m going to …. get my photos organized, spend more time in nature, make more time for my friends, get in shape, lose some weight, take more risks etc.  The trouble here is it’s really difficult to know when this goal has been accomplished.  Exactly what does ‘more’ mean?  It’s hard to check a goal off a list or even to feel good about it when we don’t have a clear picture of what we are aiming at.

The final group is those who say they do not ‘do’ goals.  The interesting thing about many of these people is they do think about their lives, and about things they might like to have, change or improve.  What they refuse to do is to announce those ideas to others, or even out loud to themselves.  I’ve heard things said like, ‘I know I won’t follow through so I’m not going to bother.’  Or ‘No one ever accomplishes what they say anyway.’  It’s kind of like saying, ‘I’ll show them I’m going to fail before they see for themselves.’ The saboteur, or Inner Critic, shuts down these dreams before they get out of the gate.  It’s important to notice, this is not a lack of a dream or goal, it is simply the fear to act on it.

No matter what group we find ourselves in, and for me I’d say I’m closest to group two, we each do have things we want to have completed before our final trip around the sun.  However, just because we think of those things, and can identify them, and have them filed neatly in our brains, the only guarantee that we will accomplish them is to start with a wait loss program.  Not weight loss – the most common New Year goal – but wait loss.  We need to lose the idea that if we wait long enough, the time will suddenly be right.

We all spend time waiting.  We wait for the right moment, we wait for Monday to start a diet, we wait until we have completed the next course before applying for a job, we wait until the kids have grown up, we wait until we have saved the money, we wait until someone else is ready, we wait until the mortgage is paid off, we wait until we retire.  On a smaller scale, we wait until tomorrow to make the phone call, to clean up, to work out, to visit a friend and to do our best. 

It’s time to lose the wait.

For the little things, the phone calls, losing the wait simply makes us feel better.  And often by accomplishing these tiny tasks, we free up our minds up for more important matters.  We’ve all finally summoned up the energy to tackle some looming task, only to finish it in a fraction of our imagined time and to feel infinitely lighter upon its completion.  This kind of wait loss feels incredible!

For the bigger things, for the ‘wait until the kids have grown’ things, it’s understandable that at first glance it would be fair to consider that we cannot abandon our good sense or act recklessly.  Our wallets and commitments may clearly tell us that some waiting is in order.  The trick to waiting is to fill bits of the space between the present and the ‘kids growing up’ with activities or steps that give us a small taste of what we yearn for. 

If we hope to travel to Italy once the kids have launched, there is nothing holding us back from listening to ‘How to Speak Italian’ in our cars as we sit in traffic, or attending a local travel show to hear about the beautiful sights, or taking a course in Italian cuisine, or even opening a separate bank account we label, ‘Italy’.

I challenge you this week to think of one of your more meaningful goals and to think of one thing you could do, this week, to begin to bring the goal to life.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What am I waiting for?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership programs and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  What are you waiting for?

It’s been a frigid week in Central Canada.  Normally, we on the prairies and in the Foothills of the Rocky Mountains are the folks contending with bitterly cold winter temperatures.  When Jim and I first moved to Alberta many years ago, we would spend some time on Sunday afternoons writing letters back home to our families to tell them about our life here.  Those letters inevitably included some talk of weather.  Where we grew up in Southern Ontario, a temperature of -20°C was unheard of.  Our families could not believe we were experiencing this kind of cold on a regular basis, and that plenty of days the mercury dipped even lower.  We learned about the value of block heaters and the pitfalls of diesel engines for those bitter winter days.

This week, each night I’ve watched the news and looked at the weather map with its ‘red’ zone of frigidity covering Canada from Manitoba to the East and I’ve shaken my head, both thankful we’ve been spared the bitter cold for now, although I hear it is on the way, and wondering about how people who have not had to deal with these weather extremes, and who do not have mechanisms in place to do so, are able to do so now.

While the weather has captured my immediate attention, the story coming out of Melfort, Saskatchewan about the hearing for the driver of the truck involved in the Humboldt Broncos bus accident has captured my heart.  Last April, our country, and the world, was heartbroken as the magnitude of the Humboldt tragedy was revealed.  At that time, it felt like Canada knit itself together to support this hockey community and all the families affected.

This week, we have been asked to create a safe container for these families as once again, we bear witness to their suffering and grief.  Barely able to listen to the victim impact statements being reported, I am awed by how people who have not had any possible way of preparing for such tragedy, have had to face it.  And face it with an audience of millions watching.

I am always proud to be Canadian.  It feels wrong, or somehow unearned, to say that I am even more proud to be Canadian, watching how these grieving families have conducted themselves this past week.  We, the observers, see these families as a group.  They however, are each very individual in their grief.  No two families are the same.  No two losses are the same.  No two feelings are the same.  No two coping mechanisms are the same.  No two members of any family are the same.  No two grief responses are the same.  We have seen the range of grief from disbelief, to compassion, to forgiveness to rage.

And yet there has been a sameness about them.  They are the same in their courage to come face to face with the driver of the truck.  They are the same in recognizing the enormity of the tragedy.  They are the same in carrying themselves with dignity and grace, while no doubt at times wishing they could scream their agony so others could get a glimpse of their grief. They are the same in accepting that each of them is different.  They are also the same in recognizing the complexity of this case.  It would be so, so much easier if any sense could be made of it all.  They are the same in their efforts to make sense out of such a senseless event.

It’s no wonder that the men, boys and young woman involved in this crash have had so many wonderful tributes made to them.  Clearly, each member of this Humboldt family was inspiring.  In watching their families this week, it isn’t hard to figure out why this is so.  They were inspiring because they came from families who taught them to be inspiring.  This was their ‘being’.  Clearly, from a young age, each of these players, the trainer, the coach, the bus driver and the sports reporter was taught to be more than their skill.  They were taught to cultivate the deeper, more important parts of themselves.  It is my understanding that the coach, Darcy Haugan continued instilling this legacy with the team.  He wanted them to become the best versions of themselves, to represent themselves and the community well, and to make decisions about how they would react and behave amid the pressures of the game of hockey.  He, and their families understood that by practicing these qualities regularly, in every day life, in ordinary situations, they would build the muscles needed to exhibit the same qualities when the stakes were much higher, the situations not so ordinary and emotions nearer the surface.

No one could have imagined how high the stakes could get.

While I am awed by the dignity of these families, I should not be surprised.  They are simply demonstrating what they taught to their children.  The are the purest example of being exactly who they were asking their children to become.  They have shown up to the trial this week exactly as they seem to have shown up in their lives; as authentic, caring, decent, integrous, respectful, family-oriented Canadians.  A tragedy such as this one does not create these qualities; it does reveal them. 

This week, as the rest of the country hunkered down to deal with the cold, a warmth was felt on the prairie.  I like to think it was simply the residual grace and courage continuing to flow from these grieving families.  May the rest of us Canadians, continue to hold them in our prayers and thoughts. We are not out of winter yet.

My inquiry for you this week is ‘What am I cultivating by this small action?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. 

I’ve attended two Celebrations of Life in the past two months.   Two women.  Two former neighbours.  Two mothers of students I taught.  Two mothers of children who came to my children’s birthday parties.  Two mothers of children I coached.  Two women I regularly stopped to talk when I was out on a run and one of them rode past on her horse, the other walking briskly up ‘Brown’s Hill’.

It’s been a heartbreaking time really.

At each Celebration of Life, literally hundreds and hundreds of people showed up, as I did.  It sounds trivial to say, but it was comforting, even nice, to be among so many kind, familiar faces, some from the community, some from our past connective activities, some strangers to me but not to the families, all of us showing up to show our support.

As I’ve pondered these women’s lives and the fragile nature of each of our lives, I’ve given some thought to the idea of showing up.

Showing up for a Celebration of Life seems like the obvious and kind thing to do.  I am lucky to be part of a community where we do this.  We all do this.  We show up to support the family in their grief.  We show up to remind ourselves that we are part of a larger community and as such we have a part to play in bearing witness to the stages of each others lives.  We also show up because it feels right to be there.

It is sitting deeply with me this week, that if we are willing to do the kind and obvious thing of showing up in death, are we equally willing to do the kind and obvious thing of showing up for each other in life?

And by showing up, I don’t just mean showing up.  I mean showing up.

Last weekend, our daughter, Kaitlyn was preparing to return to teaching after her year-long maternity leave.  She decided to head into her school on Saturday to make sure she was prepared for her first week back.  She had figured out her lessons in the weeks ahead and she planned to spend the day organizing her classroom and getting materials prepared for the students.

When Kaitlyn arrived at school, she could see she had underestimated the task.  The work she would usually do over a week in the summer to prepare was too big for one day, and as every parent returning to work can imagine, she was overwhelmed.  She texted and told me.  I asked if she could use some help.  “Yes.  I’d love that.”

I know how to read between the lines.

Recognizing that this might be bigger than the two of us, I called my good friend, Coralie, explained the situation and within twenty minutes Coralie, her daughter, Kayley and I were on our way, heading for her school.

About 4 ½ hours later, with four of us working steadily, the classroom was transformed.  Bulletin boards were covered, shelves were organized, desks were cleaned, displays were put up, and we were tired. 

Coralie and Kayley had shown up.

They had not awakened that Saturday morning with nothing to do.  Both of them work, both have family commitments, both have hobbies and both have a laundry list of to-do’s to try to check off on Saturdays. Both would have loved a day off.  Both were in their pyjamas when I called.  Both showed up.

And by showing up, I don’t just mean showing up.  I mean showing up.

They could have arrived and done the same job without really ‘showing up’.  Instead they understood the overwhelm Kaitlyn (and I) were feeling, they acknowledged it and they spent the day helping us not only get the job done, but making us feel supported and seen.  It’s hard to verbalize what showing up means, but it is impossible to miss the feeling.

Coralie has shown up for me my entire adult life.  She shows up for me when a classroom needs help.  She also shows up for me in every small interaction she and I have.  With her, I know that when she is with me, sometimes by text or phone or email, she is showing up.  She is plugged in, engaged and not acting like she is just putting in time.  She has a way of making me, and every one else she engages with, feel valuable, visible and safely held.  This girl knows how to show up for life.

At the Celebration of Marilyn’s life this week, and at Janet’s a couple of months ago, everyone there showed up.  No one had critical phone calls to answer.  No one needed to post to, or check in with Facebook or Instagram.  No one was looking over a shoulder for a ‘better’ conversation.  Each of us was there for one reason.  To help those families feel valuable, visible and safely held.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I showing up?’
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Elizabeth is a certified, professional Life and Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how show up in your own life and in the lives of others.

When Richard Carlson wrote the book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff… and It’s All Small Stuff”, his message was a good one.  Using very broad strokes to sum up what I think he meant was we shouldn’t get ourselves worked up over every single little thing that happens to or around us.  There is some sage wisdom in this.  There are most certainly things that tend to take up valuable real estate in our minds that could be used for a much better purpose. 

Getting worked up about whether a store has our particular brand of almost anything is small stuff.  Having our personal ‘pet project’ left off the weekly agenda at work is small stuff.  Snow storms are small stuff.  Gossip is small stuff.  Burnt cookies are small stuff.

However, I’ve had my focus on three bits of small stuff this week and it seems to me these are exactly the ‘small stuff’ about which I should be sweating. 

To begin, it was little Benjamin’s first birthday this week, and although he is not ‘stuff’, he is small.  He himself is small – he has only made one trip around the sun after all.  His needs are small, his things are small, his worries are small and his joys are small.  The reason we get to enjoy this very small, love-filled, happy, contented, quick-to-smile, secure little boy is because the adults in his life, his Mom and Dad, have been sweating the small stuff.  Because they do such a good job of making sure the small stuff is taken care of, he is free to grow into a confident child.  He is free to spend his energy doing exactly what he should be doing, exploring his safe world, enjoying all sorts of new foods, sleeping in a warm bed and feeling the love surrounding him. 

Sometimes someone needs to sweat the small stuff.

My second look at small stuff came in the form of a quote I read by Catherine M. Wallace.  ‘Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what.  If you don’t listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won’t tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff.’

We could rewrite this quote and easily remove the word ‘children’ and the message would still hold true.  When anyone is trying to tell us ‘small stuff’, it is easy for us to be distracted or to appear uninterested.  We do, after all, have our own very full plates of things to think about, to accomplish and to dream about.  It’s easy to dismiss the thoughts of others as small stuff.  I have witnessed over and over again, that when someone comes to me with seemingly small stuff, it is often big stuff to them.  Allowing them to ‘sweat their small stuff’ by saying it aloud, we give them the gift of being seen, of being taken seriously, of being treated as a valuable person and sometimes of helping them carry their burden. 

Sometimes we need to sweat the small stuff to clear the way for the big stuff.

​My third encounter with small stuff came from half a world away.  I work on the board of a Canadian Charity, The RDL Building Hope Society.  Our group raises money to fund the building of classrooms in Kenya.  The project started out as a bricks and mortar endeavor; we set out to raise $21 000 to build a two-classroom addition onto the crowded government school in Ewaso Ngiro, Kenya.  Eight years later, almost one-half million dollars raised and spent, we are proud to have built not only those two classrooms, but also an eight-classroom community school in the same region, complete with teachers’ quarters, garden and now kitchen, providing quality education for the local children.  This is not small stuff. 

With the economy struggling in Alberta over the last two years, our donations have understandably waned.  The school has needs that we cannot fill.
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This week we were able to, through an unexpected donation, purchase a gas cook-stove for the school and some desks for the newest classroom.  The stove allows volunteers at the school to provide the students with hot porridge each morning, and a hot lunch at noon.  The desks mean the children do not have to sit on the floor. 

To the donor, the amount of money sent was likely small stuff in terms of their wealth portfolio.  The decision to support our charity and the act of taking the time to donate the money could also be considered small stuff.  To most Canadian children, stoves, porridge and desks are small stuff.  To this community in Kenya, to these children and their families, this is not small stuff.  This is life-giving, hope-filling, dream-making stuff.

And they, and I are most grateful that someone is sweating the small stuff.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What small stuff needs sweating?’
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Elizabeth is the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is also the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you learn how to purposefully sweat the small stuff.

At the beginning of any New Year, the media often focuses on health trends, giving us tips on how to become physically fit, mentally agile and emotionally healthy.  One of the buzz expressions in the health industry this year is ‘gut health’.  If I am to believe what I read, this is the secret to all things related to good health and longevity.

The idea is that we are only as healthy as our gut.  Articles warn us that if we ignore our gut health, we could leave ourselves open to far more serious conditions.  And like any good, informative article, many lead with headlines like ‘Seven Indicators of a Healthy Gut’ or ‘Ten Miracle Foods for Optimum Gut Health’ or ‘Five Steps to a Healthy Gut’.
While I’m pretty confident that the popularity of gut health will wane, like the hundreds of fads before it, the idea of gut health has me intrigued. 

In my world of coaching, gut health has nothing to do with bran and fibre.  It doesn’t focus on blueberries or chia seeds.  It’s not found in water or cranberry juice.  And probiotics don’t even make my top ten gut health list.  When I think about gut health, I think about how well I am trusting and following my gut, especially when I am making decisions in my life. 
Our society is overachieving in the area of teaching us to look outside ourselves to gather information to help us make decisions.   It does a good job of convincing us that we are not good judges of what is best for ourselves.  We are encouraged to look to others for answers to everything, from what to eat, what to wear, what job to pursue, what conversations to have, and even what might bring us satisfaction.  My experience and my training tells me the complete opposite.   For most decisions we make concerning ourselves, we have all the information needed; right in our healthy gut.  The secret lies in listening to it and trusting it.

This past year I’ve had a wonderful seat in the arena of watching my daughter take on the role of a new mother.  I’m noticing that although she has never held this role before, she seems to know exactly what to do for her child.  Of course, she has read books to help her with clinical things, but considering each child arrives into this world with it’s very own DNA, there could not possibly be enough ‘do it yourself’ books to help in every situation.  There are times when she just seems to know intuitively that a particular thing will be helpful.

I find it fascinating that our society seems to accept and promote this particular brand of ‘gut health’.  We even have a fancy name for it: mother’s intuition or women’s intuition.  What absolutely stymies me is that the same society that gives women the green light to trust their judgment when raising human beings, also gives these same women the clear message to not trust themselves in other areas.  In their professional lives, women are often given mentors to guide them.  This reinforces the idea that guts are not to be trusted; they must look outside themselves for verification.  Many women in powerful positions are discouraged from involving their very healthy guts when performing leadership roles.
My gut has very rarely steered me wrong.  The times when I feel I have made my least successful decisions are times when I have allowed one of three things to happen; I acted based on feeling (perhaps not wanting to disappoint someone or make them feel less intelligent or powerful), I substituted someone else’s opinion for my own (perhaps trying to be liked or accepted) or I led with my ego.  Any of these things will lead to a decision being made.  None of them relies on a healthy gut.

To rely on our gut or our intuition, we need to get very quiet with ourselves.  We need to stop the outside chatter and listen to our inner wisdom.  We always know what is best for ourselves and if we are willing to be quiet and listen, the wisdom makes itself available to us.

This is not to say there are not many times when we should count on the wisdom of those who have gone before us.  If for example, I have a problem with my computer, no amount of me being quiet and listening to my gut will help.  I simply need to hire or ask someone who has this skill.  This is not a gut issue.  If I want to implement something at my workplace, it would be foolish of me to simply close my office door, get very quiet and then proceed as if I have had a mystical revelation.  I need to gather information from others. 

However, there are times, especially when we are making decisions involving our own lives and our own destiny, when no one else’s opinion can compete with our own gut.  No one knows what is best for us more than we ourselves.  No one.  There are people, of course, who like to think they do. More than once I’ve had someone tell me, ‘You know what you need’ – and then they proceed to let me know.  Very rarely have they ever gotten it right.

This week I treated myself to watching America’s Got Talent: The Champions.  Susan Boyle was a contestant.  I was imagining her prior to her first audition in 2009.  She did not fit the mold for a glamourous superstar.  In fact, when she took the stage and was asked what she was hoping for and she replied she wanted to have a career as a professional singer, she was laughed at.  When she started to sing, her magic was released.  I was thinking how lucky this world is that Susan Boyle listened to her own inner wisdom; her gut.  She knew better than anyone else in the world what was best for her and against all odds she chose to take the path that could lead her there.

I am not a Susan Boyle.  I do not have a talent that can still an audience or move people to tears.  However, I do know that when I have a friend on my mind, it most often means I should call them.  And when I just have a feeling I should go to an event, or reach out to a contact, or make a decision, or say a certain thing, my world has been enriched in ways even I could never have imagined.

My inquiry for you this week is, “What is my gut telling me?”
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Elizabeth provides leadership and personal coaching for individuals and teams.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for corporate, public and private groups.  Contact Elizabeth to help you learn how enlist your healthy gut in making life-changing decisions.