Create Yourself: Claude Monet

When I showed my designer friend, Kate, the new color scheme for the front of our house, she said to me, "Go look up Monet's Giverny in France!"

I did, and was immediately blown away.  How had I never seen photographs of Monet's home in Giverny? And I call myself a francophile!

I knew our proposed color scheme had a very Provençal feel to them, but Kate was right: they were spot on with Giverny. See for yourself:

our proposed color schemeBenjamin Moore

Claude Monet's home in Giverny:

the dining room

the kitchen

those tiles!

The exterior of the house, on the other hand, does not reflect our painting plans:

pink and green:
(not going to suggest this to the family)

What I find personally inspiring about Monet's home in Giverny, above and beyond the color palette, is the boldness with which this great French Impressionist chose to live. Everything about the home says, "Here I am. I am an artist. I love color and choose to surround myself with it."

 Even if you are not ready to paint your entire dining room yellow, replete with kelly green balconies and a bright blue door, doesn't it at least make you think, 

"Wow. That guy did not hold back."

Claude Monet

When we celebrate who we are and what we need, we're too busy to care what others think about our choices. 

(Side note: The term, "Impressionism" began as a derogatory critique of Monet's work. Thankfully he never backed down.) 

We just surround ourselves with the things we love and we engage our talents accordingly. Claude Monet's fondness for cultivating and painting beautiful gardens became one of his greatest muses. 

We bring others joy when we outwardly dare to be ourselves. At the very least, people find our authenticity refreshing and inspiring. At best, they may even be encouraged to share their own talents and passions.

giverny.org

I'll leave you with a thought: 

When you have doubts about what you are thinking, writing, designing or creating, remember that there once lived a man who had his own share of doubts and criticisms*, fears and frustrations, but who eventually surrendered to his fascination with light and form.

And in so doing, he created an entire new way of seeing the world.

Maya Angelou, 1928-2014

"If you are always trying to be normal, 

you'll never know how amazing you can be."

Thank you, Dr. Angelou,
for daring to be amazing.

In one lifetime you've made a
world of difference.

Words to Live By: Lizzie Velasquez

"Use that negativity in your life to make yourself better. 

Use it, because I guarantee you. You will win."

-Lizzie Velasquez

Watch this amazing video in which Ms. Velasquez delivers her inspiring message about defining yourself from within.

Enjoy!

-Katie

Wondering Within

“Men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, yet pass over the mystery of themselves without a thought.”

-Saint Augustine of Hippo

(354-430 A.D.)

from Confessions

Create Yourself: Tom Waits

“My kids are starting to notice I'm a little different from the other dads. 

'Why don't you have a regular job like everyone else?' they asked me the other day. 

I told them this story: 

In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, 'Look at me...I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you...you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you.' And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, 'Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest.' So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, 

growing stronger and stranger every day.” 

― Tom Waits, American singer-songwriter, composer and actor

Taken from Lowside of the Road: A Life of Tom Waits by Barney Hoskyns

A Fun "To Do" This Week

Rediscover the curiosity of your childhood by asking yourself:

What do I need to learn because it's just too interesting to resist?
What in nature fascinates me?
What behavior just makes me want to stare?
What do I want to touch? Feel? Experience?

Who do I want to play (interact) with the most?
Who or what makes me laugh?

Where do I feel safest?
Where do my ideas come from?

How can I experiment?
How can I make something beautiful? Useful? Funny? Scary? Colorful?



And most importantly, don't be afraid to keep asking yourself and others,

 "Why?"

How to Make a Difference in the World

Some great advice for those of us who don't want to sit back and watch the world stay the same.
-Katie
CHANGE YOUR WORLD

BE BOLD. BE BRAVE. BE IN THE MOMENT.

That's my mantra for the week.

But first, allow me to explain its inception:

I've started exercising every other day; sometimes I even do a couple days in a row. (I know: Woooooaaaaa Nellie!) And I must say that I've really found my groove.  It's what my body needs to do: to MOVE MOVE MOVE.

When I exercise regularly my mind works better too, particularly because I have what we in the career world refer to as a "high rate of idea flow."

(Or, what those in the regular world call, a "very busy and active mind.")

What's more, according to my personality type, I prefer iNtuition to Sensing, which means I'm always thinking of new possibilities, ways of doing things and "what if" scenarios. This is compared to Sensing, which is a preference that naturally lives more in the present, in the world of the here and now. Not surprisingly, many of my clients have the iNtuition personality preference as well.  After all, a person who has lots of career ideas and way too little time needs help narrowing down the possibilities.

As I tell my clients, the high idea flow + iNtuition combo can make for great problem solving and a wonderful entrepreneurial spirit; however, as you can imagine, it can have it's personal pitfalls as well. These cognitive tendencies can make the mind swirl with regrets about what the past could have been, worries about what the future could be like and fears of not living up to one's own grandiose expectations.

Which leads me back to my mantra and its creation.

The Hill

We have a really big hill near our house: the mother of all hills. And I have chosen to make this a part of my run, being a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

Not our hill, but it feels like it.

For a long time I ran down and walked up the hill, but recently I decided to BE BOLD and attempt to run up the hill as well.

("Attempt" being the operative word.)

At first I did what I always did and looked way ahead of me, to the top of the hill. But that quickly crushed me. I'd start walking almost immediately because I couldn't fathom all of what lay ahead.  Running all that way to the top was just too much to handle psychologically.

But then one morning I decided to try looking down at my feet as I ran. (Thankfully there's not a lot of pedestrian traffic on this sidewalk.) And I found I went farther. Eventually, however, when the incline got really steep, I started walking.

So the next time I tried looking at the ground and counting, thinking that if I could just count to 50 (slowly) I could stop at 50 and then walk, no matter where I was on the hill.

Well, by God, it worked! I made it all the way without walking. Yes, it was still hard and intense on the old gluteus maximus, but I'd made it! The counting paired with the looking down proved a winning combination.

As with all small victories, it made me feel unexpectedly BRAVE, like I could conquer anything! That same day I used my hill momentum and made a phone call to a potential client that I'd been putting off. Now I have a new speaking engagement. Who knew?

I've been using this simple method for tackling The Hill ever since. I stop thinking about where I'm going and instead think of where I am. Or maybe I'm not really "thinking" at all- I'm just BEING IN THE MOMENT. No complex thought process. No overwhelming emotions about the past or future. I switch off my idea-generating, regretful, future-envisioning turbo engine and count.

But I also absorb, which seems to satisfy my mind and hold my focus. I see the cracks in the sidewalk, listen to the sound of my feet, the songs of the birds and the rhythm of my breath. I notice the laces of my shoes and the curves of my legs and feel the surface of the pavement beneath my feet. I look from side to side and observe the texture of the grass.

In other words, I take a mental vacation from all of those mental gymnastics.

But no matter what your personal inclinations may be, this week I dare you to:

BE BOLD.

 Go for the hill, whatever your hill may be.

BE BRAVE.

 Branch out. Have the courage to try something you don't think you can do.

BE IN THE MOMENT.

No past, no present. Take some time to just focus on what you can do right now.

And before you know it, you'll have reached your destination.

Part III: "What to Do With MY Dreams" by Joseph Coram

I wanted to be a writer or a musician most of my life. My dream had a great deal of glory involved in it most of the time. I wanted to be a famous author who revolutionized the world of the written word; I wanted to be a famous musician who brought together the extremes of creativity and accessibility—I wanted to make music that the most artistic minds would respect and that the most unsophisticated sensibilities would really enjoy, whether or not they recognized how brilliant or creative it was. So what am I to do with those things?

That was the unspoken question with which I approached Katie, and in my time working with her, we came up with two solid answers—or, rather, two much better questions—and a lot of good ideas about how to bring them into reality. Briefly, when you have a dream: (1) find out what’s at its core; and (2) figure out what else you want. Dreams like mine are always both too much and too little to be of immediate use.

You have to really know yourself to know what you really dream for, and you have to know something about how the world works to see where a life following those dreams will land you, and that takes help from outside, from community, from ‘counselors’ in the broadest sense of the term.

What am I to do with those dreams?

Take the first one. What am I really after? I want to write, sure. That’s something I can do whether or not I make a living doing it. I want to change things with my writing. That’s doable, too. Revolutionizing anything may or may not happen—and, importantly, I have not given up that fantasy, and if you ask me on most days whether or not I think it’s going to happen, you will likely hear some form of a “yes”—but I can, with some effort, reasonably expect to change people, or at least encourage them to rethink some things, with my writing. Making an impact is a legitimate goal.

So then, what else do I want? When I say I want to write, what else am I after? Katie posed this question early, and with a series of pretty incisive conversations and diagnostics, we got somewhere with it. Well, I want to make my own schedule and have my own priorities; I want to be creatively engaged with things that interest me; I want people to respond to me and give me feedback, so I know how I’m doing and whether or not what I’m communicating makes sense. 

Those are clues. 

On a more nuts-and-bolts level, I want to spend at least some of every day writing and at least some of every day doing something tangible that helps people. I am naturally what they call a “maestro,” as opposed to what they call a “tribal” personality—I’d rather be an expert in something who gets called in for particular occasions than someone who’d prefer to work in a pack. 

Those are all clues, too. 

When Katie had me look through a deck of cards with a different photograph on each one—some with people, some of nature, some of old woodsheds, crowds, monuments, all sorts of things—and she asked me to pick out the ones that most grabbed my attention, we were both surprised and intrigued when the six I picked out all had pictures of people on them, most of them with people interacting. We had both had me pegged as more of a ‘thinker’ than a ‘feeler,’ but all the pictures I picked screamed that there was a ‘feeler’ in there to be acknowledged. Surprising, interesting, revealing—another clue. I also realized I want time to pursue music, too, even if writing is more important. While music may not be an actual part of my career—though music reviewing may be—I know it’s important, and I want a career that accommodates that.

You always know more than you think. And it takes someone who knows people and who knows the real world to bring that out and show you where you fit. That’s where Katie was indispensable.

I didn’t come away from career coaching knowing the next chapter of my story verbatim. I didn’t even come away knowing when this limbo period would be over and I’d actually feel like a grown-up, living in a coherent narrative again. But I did come away knowing with much greater clarity and realism that writing is in my future, as I’ve long hoped it would be, that people are in my future, as I was surprised to find I so badly wanted them to be, and that there is a place for me in the real world—namely, a small college somewhere where I can teach, write, engage with people, and have time to pursue my other interests. I now know some steps to take to find it. 

I don’t think progress is as simple or as automatic as I did when I was young, but I am pretty sure, now, that it didn’t end when I graduated, and it may have some more surprises in store for me in the future.

Part II: "The Dream" by Joseph Coram

At some point, the questions people have been asking you since you were young—particularly, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”—no longer get asked. Does that mean you’ve grown up? Not necessarily. But those questions begin to implicate the present; unless you are one of the few who are as certain of what you want to be as you were when you were six—and are equipped to make it happen—you realize, whether or not you have any dreams that have lasted, you are the only one that will make anything like a dream really happen.

But you also realize there is an objective, solid (or at least semi-solid) outside world within which your dream will or will not be realized. It may be that one’s twenties are spent trying to learn the rules of that world and how her or she fits in with it. Perhaps that’s why it’s a chapter in the story that tends to get skimmed or even skipped.

I am abundantly convinced that, however clichéd it may sound, it is critically important to keep your dreams alive. I think it is only slightly less important to realize they will almost certainly never happen in the way you dream they will. But a young adult who still knows how to dream is way better off than one who is too cynical and disillusioned to have any hope for the future.

Both of the perspectives I just mentioned—the dreamer and the realist—I think are necessary, and I think there is a way to keep both of them intact by figuring out how they relate to each other: the dreamer needs to be tempered by the realist, just as the cynic needs to be animated, and perhaps softened, by hope.

As I’ve thought about it, I’ve come to think the best way to look at this is to treat them both as dreams—that is, to realize that you always have at least two dreams in play. The first should be the easiest to recognize, but may not be, depending on how far away you are from your childhood: it is the astronaut, the rock star, the visionary author (or in my case, both of the latter two)—whatever you would have answered at age six when asked the familiar question of what you want to be when you grow up. The second dream is roughly the same for everyone, and it is rarely called into consciousness till you’re older. I think coming out of adolescence is in part a process of realizing how important it is: the dream to be real, to live grounded in reality, to have a life that is solid and reliable and that makes sense.

The loftier your Dream #1 is, the more Dream #2 tends to look like a mere negation. It will come to you couched in a sentence that starts with the word “But” and ends in dashing your hopes against the rocks. That, I want to suggest, is not the only way to approach the necessary task of relating these two dreams. They can be integrated. But it takes work and it takes help.

You have to realize that no matter how outlandish your first dream is, it is a huge “clue” (as Katie would say) to what you ought to do with your life. There is something valid and necessary at its core; there is something there that you are after; there is something in it that you really ought to pursue. 

We dream mostly in images, and only the most creative among us can dream in images we’ve never seen before. So someone says he wants to be an astronaut. He thinks that’s what he’s after because, out of everything that he’s seen, it is the role, the career, maybe the action figure that most embodies the much less tangible, the much more amorphous and elusive thing he really wants.

Depending on how old and “mature” he is, he has a greater or lesser sense of what it would actually take to make that dream happen, on the one hand, and a greater or lesser sense of the gritty reality of what that dream would demand of him were he actually able to realize it. No kid who dreams of being an astronaut is dreaming of the years of exhausting schooling and training, on the one hand, or the rote, monotonous drudgery that (I assume) fills up the vast expanses of time every astronaut spends not being in space.

But as the second dream grows in prominence—the dream to be real; the dream to have a real, adult life—it becomes a matter of letting the first dream, in all its particularity and naïveté, die, for a moment, and be reborn in a world governed by the laws of reality. 

I have come to believe, as I said, that at the core of every dream, even the most outlandish, there is something there worth saving and pursuing with everything you’ve got. The shell is what needs to go, and it’s not easy to let it go. It takes something like faith to know that when you let go of the particular form of the dream you’ve grown accustomed to, there will still be something there, something you really want, and something that you can pursue as a goal and finally get to.

To be continued...

Create Your Spark: Elizabeth Gilbert

Ms. Gilbert tells us to: 

1. Keep showing up and 

2. Give our genius a talking to.

Enjoy! (And watch the whole thing- it's worth it!)

-Katie

Elizabeth Gilbert on Sustaining Creativity

Create Yourself: Acknowledge Your Strengths

"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."  

-Albert Einstein

"There is Nothing Naive About Your Impulse to Change the World"

This past month I've read dozens of 2013 commencement speeches from thought leaders around the world; however, not one of them sounded like anything too inspiring or new to me.  But then I happened to stumble upon a 2008 Wesleyan University commencement address by then-Senator Barack Obama and it struck a chord.  I thought I'd share this abridged version with you.

Enjoy!

-Katie

"... You are about to enter a world that makes it easy to get caught up in the notion that there are actually two different stories at work in our lives.

The first is the story of our everyday cares and concerns - the responsibilities we have to our jobs and our families - the bustle and busyness of what happens in our lives. And the second is the story of what happens in the life of our country - of what happens in the wider world. It's the story you see when you catch a glimpse of the day's headlines or turn on the news at night - a story of big challenges like war and recession; hunger and climate change; injustice and inequality. It's a story that sometimes can seem separate and distant from our own - a destiny to be shaped by forces beyond our control.

And yet, the history of this nation tells us that it isn't so. It tells us that we are a people whose destiny has never been written for us, but by us - by generations of men and women, young and old, who have always believed that their story and the American story are not separate, but shared. And for more than two centuries, they have served this country in ways that have forever enriched both.

I say this to you as someone who couldn't be standing here if it were not for the service of others, and wouldn't be standing here today if not for the purpose that service gave my own life.

You see, I spent much of my childhood adrift. My father left my mother and me when I was two. When my mother remarried, I lived overseas for a time, but was mostly raised in Hawaii by her and my grandparents from Kansas. My teenage years were filled with more than the usual dose of teenage rebellion, and I'll admit that I didn't always take myself or my studies very seriously. I realize that none of you can probably relate to this, overachievers that you are, but there were many times when I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I was going to do with my life.

But during my first two years of college, perhaps because the values my mother had taught me - values of hard work, honesty, empathy and compassion - finally resurfaced after a long hibernation; or perhaps because of the example of wonderful teachers and lasting friends, I began to notice a world beyond myself. I became active in the movement to oppose the apartheid regime of South Africa. I began following the debates in this country about poverty and health care. So that by the time I graduated from college, I was possessed with this crazy idea - that I was going to work at a grassroots level to bring about change.

I wrote letters to every organization in the country I could think of. And one day, a small group of churches on the South Side of Chicago offered me a job to come work as a community organizer in neighborhoods that had been devastated by the closing of steel mills. My mother and my grandparents, liberal minded though they were, wanted me to go to law school. My friends were applying to jobs on Wall Street. Meanwhile, this organization offered me $12,000 a year plus $2,000 for an old, beat-up car.

And I said yes. I said yes.

I didn’t know a soul in Chicago, and I wasn't sure what this community organizing business was all about. I had always been inspired by stories of the Civil Rights Movement and by JFK's call to service, but when I got to the South Side, there were no marches, there were no soaring speeches. In the shadows of empty factories, there were just a lot of people who were struggling. And at first we didn't get very far.

I still remember one of the very first meetings we put together. The community had been plagued by gang violence, so we tried to mobilize a meeting with community leaders. And I had worked for weeks on this project. We waited and waited for people to show up, and finally, a group of older people walked into the hall. And they sat down. And a little old lady raised her hand and asked, "Is this where the bingo game is?"

It wasn't easy, but eventually, we made progress. Day by day, block by block, we brought the community together, and registered new voters, and we set up after school programs, and fought for new jobs, and helped people live lives with some measure of dignity.

I also began to realize that I wasn't just helping other people. Through service, I found a community that embraced me; citizenship that was meaningful; the direction that I'd been seeking. Through service, I discovered how my own improbable story fit in to the larger story of America.

Now, each of you will have the chance to make your own discovery in the years to come. And I say "chance" because, as President Roth indicated, you won’t have to take it. There's no community service requirement in the outside world; no one's forcing you to care. You can take your diploma, walk off this stage, and chase only after the big house and the nice suits and the other things that our money culture says you should buy. You can choose to narrow your concerns and live life in a way that tries to keep your story separate from America's.

But I hope you don't. Not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate, although I believe you do have that obligation. Not because you have a debt to all those who helped you get to where you are today, although I do believe you have that debt to pay.

It's because you have an obligation to yourself. Because our individual salvation depends on collective salvation. Because thinking only about yourself, fulfilling your immediate wants and needs, betrays a poverty of ambition. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential and discover the role that you'll play in writing the next great chapter in the American story.

There are so many ways to serve and so much that needs to be done at this defining moment in our history. You don't have to be a community organizer or do something crazy like run for President. 

And so, understand that, should you take the path of service, should you choose to take up one of these causes as your own, know that you'll experience the occasional frustrations and the occasional failures. Even your successes will be marked by imperfections and unintended consequences. I guarantee you, there will be times when friends or family urge you to pursue more sensible endeavors with more tangible rewards. And there will be times where you will be tempted to take their advice.

But I hope you'll remember, during those times of doubt and frustration, that there is nothing naïve about your impulse to change the world. Because all it takes is one act of service - one blow against injustice - to send forth what Robert Kennedy called that tiny ripple of hope. That's what changes the world. That one act. An act by you, Class of 2008.

We will face our share of cynics and doubters. But we always have. I can still remember a conversation I had with an older man all those years ago right before I was headed for my new job in Chicago. He said, "Barack, I'll give you a bit of advice. Forget about this community organizing business and do something that's gonna make you some money. You can't change the world, and people won't appreciate you trying. But you've got a nice voice, so you should think about going into television broadcasting. I'm telling you, you have a future there."

Now, I’ve wondered…he might have been right about the TV thing, but he was wrong about everything else. For that old man has not seen what I have seen. He has not seen the faces of ordinary people the first time they clear a vacant lot or build a new playground or force an unresponsive leader to provide services to a community that's been neglected. He has not seen the face of a child brighten because of an inspiring teacher or an inspiring mentor. He has not seen the scores of young people educate their parents on issues like Darfur, or mobilize the conscience of a nation around the challenges of climate change. He has not seen the lines of men and women that wrap around schools and churches, that stretch out block after block after block just so they could make their voices heard, many for the very first time.

Our collective service can shape the destiny of this generation... and generations to come.

-Senator Barack Obama

Commencement address at Wesleyan University, 

Middletown, Connecticut, USA, May 28, 2008

Click here to read the speech in its entirety.

Tasting My Own Medicine

Via Creative Commons: Flickr

As I said in my previous post, I have taken the plunge and am giving my first workshop   open to the public called, "Your Hidden Potential: Discover Talents You Never Knew You Had."

I've done other workshops, but not an open one.  And it's a bit scary for me, to tell you the truth. I've performed onstage in front of thousands of people- but always in character.  (The only exception was a cabaret I did for charity, and even though it went smashingly well I was a nervous wreck beforehand!)

But I'm excited.  And I know that I need to venture on to a new stage, excuse the pun. I also know it's time to let everyone know about the talents they don't know about!

(Excuse the plug.)

I will admit that this wasn't my idea.  It was my mentor's idea. When we got together a few months ago we talked yet again about how someday I would do a public workshop.  As in, distant future, when the time was right and I'd know EXACTLY what I would say: 100% crystal clear vision and content.

But that's when he gave me a taste of my own medicine and encouraged me to "just book a date" for a workshop and then commit to doing it.  It didn't matter what the specifics were.  I could figure that out after I'd committed to doing the presentation.

Hmmm.... I raised an eyebrow and scrunched up my nose a bit; I always do that when someone calls me out on something.

That advice did sound familiar... kind of like the suggestions I'd doled out to my clients hundreds of times!  Wasn't I the one always telling people to, "Just go for it!  Take a little step!  You don't have to have every single piece in place before starting the puzzle." (And helloooo?! My very first blog post!)

So how could I argue with my mentor who taught me everything I know about helping people move forward?  And I'm certainly glad he did, once again, push me to move forward. It's why coaches need coaches!

Back to the Medicine Cabinet

Fast forward a couple of months later and I realized I needed yet another dose of my own medicine, since apparently the original dose was wearing off.

This time I was going through a frustrating time business wise (in the form of internet marketing) and said to my husband in despair, "You know, all people seem to want is someone to tweak their resumes or show them how to interview or network.  They don't want someone who can actually help them with what they need FIRST, which is to figure out what exactly they WANT on their resumes or WHO they want to work for or network WITH!!  But, by god, if that's where all the money is, maybe I should just play that game and target the mass market driven by conventional wisdom."

He just looked at me and quietly said, "Have you read your own blog lately?"

Pause.  

(I hate it when he's right. $%@* it!)

"Oh, I know, you're right," I conceded. "And I suppose I should remember the 'create yourself' part."

Then, in order to do some out loud (so I could hear it) affirmation, I said, "I know, deep down, that just because most other career coaches out there (besides my mentor and a handful of others) are banking on the quick fixes a lot of people seek doesn't mean I can't develop an innovative and lucrative coaching business for a niche market.

(And here's where my voice became less timid and more declarative.  It always comes from remembering my great clients who continue to inspire me.)

Besides, the people who choose to work with me tend to be intelligent, thoughtful individuals.  They're intuitive enough to know that the front end of career design- the discovery piece- is just as important as the back end- the interviews, the networking and resumes.  I'm sticking to my mission come hell or high water!"

"There you go," is all he said. And gave me a hug.

(I know, I'm really a lucky lady.)

I felt much better after that.  My medicine tasted surprisingly good.

Workshop, Here I Come!!

Now I'm honestly looking forward to the workshop.  I've come up with a fun program that should be equal parts entertainment and insight. (If you don't think my theatrical background will be shining its way through you'd be mistaken!) Sure, it will be different than most workshops; but then again, Grow Career Coaching marches to its own drummer.

(Like someone else I know, who is going to keep her medicine bottle handy.)

Live in the DC area? Click here for tickets:

http://growcareercoaching.eventbrite.com

Make It Your Own

If there's one thing I learned from my 12 years of professional acting it's this:

Don't go into professional acting.

I'm kidding! 

(kind of...)

And the second most important thing I learned is this:

Whatever you do, make it your own. 

I thought of the latter when I watched a video of these two young men playing the Lennon/McCartney song, "Let it Be":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-5XOCMpUwA

Enjoy!
-Katie

What if you knew...

You had patience to spare?

Insights to offer?

What if you knew you you were enough to make a difference?

And were capable of creating really useful solutions? 

What would today look like?

Freedom From Perfection

"Well, you have suffered enough

And warred with yourself

It's time that you won."

                                 -Glen Hansard, "Falling Slowly"

                         from the Once soundtrack

In case you were wondering, which you probably weren't but you'll hear about it anyway, there are always backstories to the stories that I post here.  There's the wondering if I should post x, y or z to the general public.  There's the factor of someone from high school (who I was always trying to impress) reading about how I now have one eye that crosses in and a right knee to go along with it.  There's the chance that someone to whom I normally wouldn't divulge ANY personal information is now reading about how I've had my self-esteem in the gutter and have recently become concerned in the summer about my ailing bikini body.

Before posting my recent pumping iron with old people post, I had my husband read it first.  I was actually just asking him to see if I was being offensive to older individuals. He didn't think so; in fact, he liked the post. But, as I was turning to leave the conversation he added, "if you don't mind telling everyone all that stuff about you."

And do you know how I responded, quite definitively in fact?

"Actually, I don't."

Revealing these flaws is my way of slowly freeing myself from the perfect image that I have, for years, tried to sustain.  I am gradually crawling out of that cocoon of hiding my once (seemingly) fatal flaws and am now just becoming me, in all of my imperfections.  I can laugh at the chinks in my armor, versus berating myself for having them. God knows they just keep accruing every year!

I'm not saying I never wear makeup or nice clothes, or never worry about how I look or sound or act.  (I'm not perfect at showing my imperfections, after all.) But I am feeling free to reveal more vulnerability, because that is what everyone needs.  We crave honesty from others.  We need to be reminded that we are not supposed to be the airbrushed image in the magazines and online. We all have- or will have- dark circles and blemishes, wrinkles and age spots. And they don't have to be surgically corrected for us to be presentable.

We don't have all the answers and sometimes feel like we know nothing about anything.  And that's just reality, not something to hide or be ashamed of.

As for our personalities, we need to have some of our "shortcomings" and "flaws" re-imagined as gifts.  Whether we're talkative or quiet, imaginative or realistic, emotion-centered vs. fact-centered, open-ended or orderly, we need to remember that, when channeled well, these traits are beneficial and even vital to making the world go round.

Vulnerability.  Freedom from perfection.

Isn't that a great place to start?

Margaret Young: In Order of Importance

"Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so they will be happier. 

The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want."

-Margaret Young, Vaudeville Comedienne, 1920's Jazz Singer  

Pumping Iron with Old People

Did your mother ever tell you, "Young Lady (or Man,) you need a serious attitude adjustment!"

Mine did, and, in truly redundant fashion, I now say the same exact thing to my kids.  You'd think I'd come up with something a bit more creative, but, alas no.

It's just a vicious cycle, My Friend.

I'll admit, however, that there have been many instances in adulthood where I could have used my mother's admonishment to change my attitude.  Because sometimes I forget that I am indeed "coppin' an a," as those of us 40 plussers used to say in the 80's.

(We were sooooo cool, Dude!!)

One recent instance of an attitude in need of adjustment was my work out situation.  This past summer, as I lamented the demise of my bikini figure, I was also undergoing physical therapy on my knees.  (Yup.  Both of them.)  Due to the fact that my right knee naturally turns ever-so-slightly inward, kind of like my right eye that ever-so-slightly crosses inward, (and no, that doesn't mean that I inadvertently just go around in circles) my body became really out of alignment.  And that, in turn, meant that both of my knees would hurt every time I ran or did certain exercises.  Which then meant that I had to figure out how to work out in a way that benefitted my knees, my health and my schedule.  (Oh yes, and my ailing bikini bod.)

So, when my physical therapist told me that running for more than a mile was unwise, I decided immediately that I was totally screwed.  That was my main form of exercise, after all. But, not one to give up on my situation so easily, my therapist then asked me if I belonged to a gym so I could weight train and use the elliptical machine, which would help my strength and alleviate my knee pain. No Siree, I proclaimed right then and there. No way was I going to join the nearby exclusive gym!  I'd joined a similar one a couple of times before and I always felt like it was just too far away and a waste of time and money given the exorbitant initial membership fee and monthly rates. All for the sake of a hip vibe.

And that was the end of that discussion. Although I didn't exactly sulk out of my last appointment and was outwardly grateful for the help she'd given me, I did harrumpf a little to myself.  I grumbled about how, now that I was getting older, my body just couldn't handle the simplest of things, like running.

Like I said, totally screwed- for life.

Fast forward a month later.  I don't know when it hit me, but I suddenly remembered an option I had that I'd always dismissed: the recreation center.  It was only five minutes away.  It had really good machine weights, an elliptical, plus classes. And you don't need to pay a membership fee!  Why, oh why, didn't I think of that sooner, I wondered.

But in actuality I knew the answer to that question.  I'd dismissed the notion many years earlier because I didn't want to work out in a nondescript place with a bunch of old people, since that's who mainly goes to the rec center gym.  It's completely ridiculous I know.  Talk about coppin' a 'tude!

However, now that I've changed my attitude I've discovered there are so many benefits, besides saving money, to working out in the community rec center with old people.  Now, let me just clarify that by "old" I mean 80's and above.  (Because, at age 42, you've got to be careful about who you're calling old.) In fact, I'm actually working out at the rec center quite a bit now, especially since the weather is so cold.  I won't say I'm quite ready for bathing suit season, but I'm getting there!

So what are the benefits, you might well ask, of working out with the twilight generation? Here are my top five reasons:

1. I can wear reading glasses while on the elliptical and not feel embarrassed.

I actually wear them to read because of my slightly converging right eye problem, not because of an aging vision problem, but still, no one there judges me. It's possible they can't see me very clearly from where they are sitting five feet away, but that's neither here nor there.

2. These old people are clean!

When the signs say, "please wipe down your machine after every use" they actually DO IT.  This results not only in fewer germs but also in no smell, which I can definitely appreciate.

Of course, there doesn't seem to be a ton of sweating going on either, so I'm sure that contributes to the fresh air. Which leads me to...

3. No grunting, egregious panting, or other outrageously loud noises interrupt my workout. 

No one appears to be going for the gold as far as pumping iron is concerned. If someone starts grunting I'd actually call an ambulance.

4. I get to hear about the latest offerings on PBS.

Masterpiece Theatre and the like are all the buzz at this gym. Thankfully no one has spilled the beans on Downton Abbey, since I remain most pitifully on Season One.

5. I feel quite young, trim and athletic.

Of course, I try to overlook the fact that it's all relative.  After all, I'm using the leg press next to Millie, who just turned 90 and is more interested in discussing her needlepoint project than in burning calories. (Truly, I am not making that up.) But heck, she's 90 and she's in a gym!  I think that's awesome.


So there you have it. I solved a big problem by making a slight adjustment in my attitude.

Which begs the question: if you adjusted your attitude about certain things, what could you accomplish?

Turning to a New Year

A college friend once told me that a career is like "a book with many chapters." And though that conversation was a few years ago and I've since dabbled with countless career metaphors, I honestly can't think of a better analogy.  It's so good, in fact, that I believe it can capture the experience of living as well.

A really great life, like a really good book, takes us on a journey. We, the protagonists, seek fulfillment in one form or another.  In our quest we encounter many obstacles along the way but somehow we always find new ways to use our inner strengths to leap over those roadblocks.  We silence the demons of self-doubt, deceive the army of naysayers and slay the dragons of defeat.

Throughout the many chapters of our lives, we survive many changes, losses and heartaches.  But we keep moving forward towards our quest for fulfillment and human connection, which takes on new meaning, growing in spirit, strength and confidence.

At least that's how the story is supposed to go...

But as 2013 is now upon me, beckoning me to move forward, I find myself hesitating. I think about the chapters in my own book of life- especially the part where I play Mommy- and how much I resist turning the page to see what lies ahead.  I don't want to let those nostalgic chapters go, even though they're already long gone. All that remains is my bare wistfulness.

I cling to the experiences of my children as little ones: of a tiny hand just able to grasp my index finger, chubby little thighs that smell so good after a nice warm bath.  I sort through pictures of yesteryear and wonder: how did the belly-laughs, the lullabies, the toothless smiles at my singing, the soothing vibrations of a sleeping baby on my chest get swallowed up by the passage of time?  Where do these experiences go? Do they evaporate into the ether when my memory can't quite hold on to them anymore- when I can't hear these moments anymore... or feel them or smell them?

Even the best photographs are no match for the power of the senses.

It's not that I want my children to be babies anymore.  As most parents would concur- so please excuse my hackneyed insight here- I am so grateful that I've conquered the stage of feeding/burping/changing diapers/schlepping around a million things for a meager trip to the grocery store- a trip which, by the way, takes an hour rather than the 12 minutes it would take going solo.  I don't miss the the despair and befuddlement I felt as they lay crying due to the fact that, lacking any type of formal communication, they couldn't tell me what was wrong.

(And then language came, which has now enabled them to tell me everything that is wrong.)

So what is it about the passage of time, the fleeting nature of experience, that allows me to avoid looking ahead and turning to the next chapter?  Is it merely the fact that something only happens once?  Even if that something tried my patience and disrupted my sleep schedule?

I think we all hang on to things just for the sake of hanging on, even if it's not something we truly want to keep in our lives. The only thing that we're really grasping is familiarity.  We know what the past and present look like.  We don't know what the future holds, even though it could be the best experience we will have ever had.

If my kids had stayed little, I'd never have been able to see all of the great stuff of today.  Like my daughter's amazing gift for storytelling, her fascination with books, her beautiful artwork and uncanny imagination. I would've missed taking her to New York at Christmastime and seeing her peer through the exquisitely designed windows at Bergdorf's.  I would've missed sharing with her the magic of watching a great show on Broadway.

And I wouldn't have been able to see my son wake up in the morning and head straight to the advent  calendar to count down the days to Christmas.  Or help him transform his room to a Spider Man lair and answer his infinite questions about super heroes.

(And by "answer" I mean, "You'll have to ask Daddy about that one.")

So I suppose I should embrace growing, especially since that IS the name of this blog. Therefore I'm dedicating this year, 2013, to moving forward. To growing.  To turning the page to see what lies ahead.

In order to accomplish this goal I know I'll need to keep reminding myself that, like in any good story, there's always a big twist.  It often happens at the height of the protagonist's struggles, when she feels she doesn't have anything yet to give or look forward to. When the past looks like all that's worth hanging on to.  But in the next chapter she emerges, almost miraculously, fulfilled in ways she never imagined.  Which gives her the confidence that, no matter what dragons lie ahead, she'll slay them too.

Sounds like a job for Spider Woman, don't you think?