When Ben was about three years old, any time we were talking about an idea for doing something, he’d pipe up and say, “We can do that!”
It became a mantra in our home and with some of our friends. If we were talking about going for a hike, or doing housework, or planning our next day, one of us would inevitably pipe up and say, ‘We can do that!’. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but it hasn’t been such a common expression lately. Ben of course is on to new ideas and sayings and somehow, we’ve just let it slip past our daily vocabulary too.
Last weekend as we were in Banff, enjoying the sunshine, beautiful fall leaves, and mountains, and cheering on the thousands of runners participating in the Melissa’s race, I felt a wave of nostalgia as I realized how much I missed running. When people, usually with puzzled looks, used to ask why in the world I did it, I always knew my answer. It was so simple.
Because I can.
I ran because I could. Running for me was my meditation, my place to work out the puzzle pieces in my head, my place to challenge myself, and to feel peace. I ran in the early mornings, when the sun was either not quite up, or just giving me a glimpse of its glory. I ran in the spring days when the brand-new fawns were standing with their mamas. I ran in the bitter cold winter, when coming home, I delighted to see the frozen ice on my eyelashes. I ran in races with thousands of others, feeling the joy of their companionship, and I ran alone on country roads, feeling the peace of nature.
It has been extremely difficult to give up running, this thing that is a big part of my identity, even though I understand my right knee simply is not on board to continue. As I cheered on Kaitlyn, Greg, and Sus on Saturday, I thought to myself, “I cannot do that”. It was not an easy thought to think.
This is not a new thought, but the more seasons that pass by, the more I fully realize this to be the truth. As the runners entered the finishers chute, and we cheered our crew to the finish line, I didn’t have too much time to brood. By then, Ben and Andy were pretty much done with cheering for all the legs and shoes passing them by at their eye level, and they wanted to play. Ben asked if we could go for a walk in the woods.
We can do that, I thought.
Getting ‘lost’ in the woods with our Grandjoys, and ‘discovering’ new paths to explore is also good for my soul. I can’t quite sort out the puzzle pieces in my head with all the questions coming my way from them, but it certainly brings a sense of peace. Interestingly, while there, I never once thought of the running, which just moments before, I had missed so much.
I’ve come back to our playful old thought, ‘We can do that!’, many times in this past week. It’s a wonderful expression really. When it is offered with just the right tone; with a twinkle in the eye and a smile on the lips, it can make us aware of all we really can do, and it lightens the load of doing it.
On Sunday morning, Jim asked if I’d like to go for a bike ride. I didn’t say it out loud, but in my head immediately came the thought, ‘We can do that’. On Monday I asked Jim if he’d like to join me on my visit to see my friend, Graham, still in the hospital. ‘We can do that’, Jim replied out loud. On the way, Jim remembered that Graham loves vanilla milk shakes and asked it I’d like to stop to get one to bring him. We can do that, I replied. When we were at the hospital, Graham asked if we’d go for a walk with him while we were there.
We can do that.
It’s easy to think about all the things we cannot do. When we are young, we languish over all the things we cannot yet do. When we get to a certain age, we mourn all the things we used to be able to do but cannot do with such ease any longer. Sometimes our seemingly shrinking worlds feel very real. Yet at any age, on every day, there are limitless things to which we can respond, ‘We can do that.’
We can approach days with curiosity. We can offer a smile. We can reach out to others. We can try something new. We can offer praise. We can give compliments. We can tackle our checklist. We can witness nature. We can sit with a friend. We can take a chance. We can walk beside. We can say yes.
On Sunday, our dance troupe was invited to dance for the cast of the Cirque de Soliel show, Kooza, at their after-party. It was a last-minute invitation but our leader, Reba J, with her unshakable belief in us, replied, ‘We can do that!’. Each of us received her invitation. All of us who possibly could, even some who had to come home early from their weekend away to make it work, responded, ‘We can do that!’.
Dancing under the clear sky, moon shining down on us, I never gave running a thought. As we danced, we kept catching each other’s eye, and between songs would whisper, ‘Isn’t this so incredible!?’ Our knees didn’t ache (yet), our minds let go of everything we cannot do, and we simply danced together in joy.
We can do that.
This week I hope you find yourself smiling as you go about your life, noticing all the times you get the chance to say, ‘We can do that.’ It’s life changing.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What can you do?’
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 find out how ‘You can do that’.
It became a mantra in our home and with some of our friends. If we were talking about going for a hike, or doing housework, or planning our next day, one of us would inevitably pipe up and say, ‘We can do that!’. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but it hasn’t been such a common expression lately. Ben of course is on to new ideas and sayings and somehow, we’ve just let it slip past our daily vocabulary too.
Last weekend as we were in Banff, enjoying the sunshine, beautiful fall leaves, and mountains, and cheering on the thousands of runners participating in the Melissa’s race, I felt a wave of nostalgia as I realized how much I missed running. When people, usually with puzzled looks, used to ask why in the world I did it, I always knew my answer. It was so simple.
Because I can.
I ran because I could. Running for me was my meditation, my place to work out the puzzle pieces in my head, my place to challenge myself, and to feel peace. I ran in the early mornings, when the sun was either not quite up, or just giving me a glimpse of its glory. I ran in the spring days when the brand-new fawns were standing with their mamas. I ran in the bitter cold winter, when coming home, I delighted to see the frozen ice on my eyelashes. I ran in races with thousands of others, feeling the joy of their companionship, and I ran alone on country roads, feeling the peace of nature.
It has been extremely difficult to give up running, this thing that is a big part of my identity, even though I understand my right knee simply is not on board to continue. As I cheered on Kaitlyn, Greg, and Sus on Saturday, I thought to myself, “I cannot do that”. It was not an easy thought to think.
This is not a new thought, but the more seasons that pass by, the more I fully realize this to be the truth. As the runners entered the finishers chute, and we cheered our crew to the finish line, I didn’t have too much time to brood. By then, Ben and Andy were pretty much done with cheering for all the legs and shoes passing them by at their eye level, and they wanted to play. Ben asked if we could go for a walk in the woods.
We can do that, I thought.
Getting ‘lost’ in the woods with our Grandjoys, and ‘discovering’ new paths to explore is also good for my soul. I can’t quite sort out the puzzle pieces in my head with all the questions coming my way from them, but it certainly brings a sense of peace. Interestingly, while there, I never once thought of the running, which just moments before, I had missed so much.
I’ve come back to our playful old thought, ‘We can do that!’, many times in this past week. It’s a wonderful expression really. When it is offered with just the right tone; with a twinkle in the eye and a smile on the lips, it can make us aware of all we really can do, and it lightens the load of doing it.
On Sunday morning, Jim asked if I’d like to go for a bike ride. I didn’t say it out loud, but in my head immediately came the thought, ‘We can do that’. On Monday I asked Jim if he’d like to join me on my visit to see my friend, Graham, still in the hospital. ‘We can do that’, Jim replied out loud. On the way, Jim remembered that Graham loves vanilla milk shakes and asked it I’d like to stop to get one to bring him. We can do that, I replied. When we were at the hospital, Graham asked if we’d go for a walk with him while we were there.
We can do that.
It’s easy to think about all the things we cannot do. When we are young, we languish over all the things we cannot yet do. When we get to a certain age, we mourn all the things we used to be able to do but cannot do with such ease any longer. Sometimes our seemingly shrinking worlds feel very real. Yet at any age, on every day, there are limitless things to which we can respond, ‘We can do that.’
We can approach days with curiosity. We can offer a smile. We can reach out to others. We can try something new. We can offer praise. We can give compliments. We can tackle our checklist. We can witness nature. We can sit with a friend. We can take a chance. We can walk beside. We can say yes.
On Sunday, our dance troupe was invited to dance for the cast of the Cirque de Soliel show, Kooza, at their after-party. It was a last-minute invitation but our leader, Reba J, with her unshakable belief in us, replied, ‘We can do that!’. Each of us received her invitation. All of us who possibly could, even some who had to come home early from their weekend away to make it work, responded, ‘We can do that!’.
Dancing under the clear sky, moon shining down on us, I never gave running a thought. As we danced, we kept catching each other’s eye, and between songs would whisper, ‘Isn’t this so incredible!?’ Our knees didn’t ache (yet), our minds let go of everything we cannot do, and we simply danced together in joy.
We can do that.
This week I hope you find yourself smiling as you go about your life, noticing all the times you get the chance to say, ‘We can do that.’ It’s life changing.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What can you do?’
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 find out how ‘You can do that’.
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