Tech Talk - Short Goals

Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay

I love the idea of combining my goals as a person and furthering my use of technology through exploring the world of personal blogging. I need the element of inspiration to keep me going and to feed my energy. I'm getting drained by trying to be all things to all people. But I know that three things keep me going:

1. A sense of purpose (even if I have to make one up)
2. A fascination with the art of communication
3. An inner geek dying to be expressed

So, my goal for the next few years is to find a way to work on projects that are near and dear to my heart from anywhere in BC.

Let's see how I do.

Natural Born Listener

Image by Markus Winkler from Pixabay

I remember a time when I was with some colleagues from work attending a spiritual workshop. I found it interesting to note the perception that people have when they work together. They only see a small part of your life, and vice versa. Many of them expressed how proud they were that I’ve come out of my shell. While I don’t have a shell, I understand their meaning.

You see, I’m mostly quiet. I'm a natural-born listener, especially when surrounded by women with very strong personalities who are not afraid to voice their opinions. I share mine when I notice something that doesn’t fit, but for the most part, I listen and collaborate with others, taking their ideas and shaping them. I can see how people might think that makes me shy, but that’s not me. I enjoy ideas, thinking, and seeing how I can merge different points of view into one cohesive perspective, delivering it without imposing my opinion.

It’s not that I lack an opinion; instead, I enjoy the challenge of untangling others’ viewpoints. Often, I see both sides of an argument as equally valid, and it’s rewarding to write or say something that encourages people to step a little closer to one another, expanding their perspectives and stepping into someone else’s shoes. I often help people consider options they’ve never thought of before.

I’ve come to realize that this is one of my strengths. Is it a form of leadership? I’m not quite sure what to call it. It feels like a kind of servant leadership—perhaps leading from behind. It’s all about finding balance. Many view a leader as someone who charges ahead to confront a challenge, but that’s not my approach. I prefer to lead with ideas rather than actions and with plans rather than emotions.

The big question remains: where do I go from here? Maybe I’ll continue to write in this blog to help figure it out. Perhaps by writing for myself, I can guide myself toward where I want to go. Let’s see what happens.

Goodbye Facebook Friend

Image by thumprchgo from Pixabay

A few years ago, I wouldn't have believed how much of my life revolves around being online. I indeed wouldn't have thought I could care so much for someone I've only related to through a profile picture—someone who started out just as a Friend of a Friend. But here I am, quietly grieving the loss of someone special. I'll call her PG for the sake of her grieving family.

But behind that profile was someone who was sick—very sick. She first alluded to it in some private messages. Doctor's appointments became clinic visits. The 10 o'clock appointment morphed into an all-day treatment session. Fuzzy thinking was later revealed to be the chemotherapy side effects. All comments were unassuming and not at all resentful or angry—just a matter of fact. "Here's what's happening with me today. What's new with you, Kelly?"

We said that we were going to plan to get together. I would try to meet her at the cancer clinic for coffee. I wanted to, but that pesky day job got in. Now, I wish I had taken a day off. It would have been nice to hold the memory of meeting one-on-one and sharing the same space in time. At the time, it felt odd that someone I didn't know wanted to share this part of her life with me. I always think of illness as a family matter, not an occasion to bring new people into your life. I was wrong.

She told me how much she relied on my silly status updates and loved the photos I was taking. She also loved the humour and grace of the friends who share my Facebook life (as do I). She found in me someone who would provide respite from her daily grind of treatment. Someone willing to be silly and open to exploring everyday life's quirks. She also found someone she could reach out to encourage when times were tough. I'm honoured to have been a part of that. I hope she knows. I think she does.

So today, when her face popped up in the Suggestions section of my profile, I wanted to check-in. One-click, and then I found out. She must have passed on today. All the comments read "one hour ago," and many ended with "Rest in Peace." My last Wall posting was there, unreplied to, from March 23. So I said my farewell on her wall. It was the last bit of communication, but I hope her family can see how many people's lives she touched.

So farewell, my online Friend. This silly technology taught me much about reaching out, and your quiet struggle showed me real connections. Rest in peace PG.
We must have met once through career contacts, but I must remember. It's funny that you don't always know who remembers you in the world, but I accepted her Friend request on Facebook. The face looking at me was sweet—and so was she. 

Over the months, PG commented on my silly status updates and nature photos. She posted wonderfully encouraging comments when I indicated that life wasn't going quite as planned. Her presence was like a long-lost friend who provided comfort and support in a way that touched my soul. I was amazed by her caring.

The Secret to Falling Off Horses

https://pixabay.com/photos/horseback-riding-horse-woman-nature-3553269/

In my youth, I had a reputation for falling off horses. In fact, you could call me an expert. Skilled in many slipping, sliding and plopping techniques, not to mention indoor and outdoor settings, I’ve learned how to fall like a pro. I’ve fallen on fences, splashed down in drainage ditches and crashed into trees.  I even fell off a horse that was standing still at the time!

It doesn’t matter what kind of horse I’m riding; I’ll always find some way to hit the ground. Tall horses or miniature ponies, it’s all the same. Gender is not an issue. I’ve fallen from spirited stallions, gentle geldings and maternal mares. Colour doesn’t seem to matter either. Black, brown, bay, grey, white, painted, spotted or palomino, they’ve all had the honour of watching me smack the ground with my behind.

Luckily, horses, like people, are basically good-natured. Never in any of my spills did they kick me when I was down. One time, my horse got bit on the rump, reared up, threw her head down, and I flipped over her neck. It was such a strangely hypnotic and surreal feeling. My world slowed down to a flying crawl. As I sailed over her cute little ears, I saw myself travel past her gray mane. Thump. I fell between her front legs. One hoof landed on the right, the other on the left. Her head turned to look at me on the ground with a quizzical gaze that said, “What are you doing down there?”

Now, the secret to falling off horses is simple —  let go of the reins. This simple truth works both practically and symbolically. Trust me, I know.

If you hold onto the reins, one of three things will happen. One, the reins will slip through your hands, causing a nasty stinging burn, which later turns into blisters and scars. If you hold onto the reins, you’ll spin your horse, and they might come crashing down on top of you. Third, if you hold on too tight and your horse gets spooked, you could be dragged down any rocky, dirty, and possibly smelly surfaces. 

Symbolically speaking, “letting go of the reins” means you’ll just have to accept your fate. Unless you have latent superpowers, you must see it through once you fall. As a mere human being, you can’t halt the law of gravity and jump back on, and unless I’m mistaken, I’ve never heard of anyone falling up. There’s a certain amount of faith required to let go. Our first reaction is to hold on and try to gain control, but as I explained earlier, holding on only leads to getting burned, squished or dragged. Nobody wants that.

It may seem strange that I would take such pride in my spills. After all, the Good Book says, “Pride goeth before a fall,” but it doesn’t say that humility quickly follows. Falling off a horse reminds us that we aren’t God and we don’t always have control over the things that happen in our lives. It brings about a certain sense of meekness, and, of course, you know what the meek get to do — they will eventually inherit the earth.

So, if you fall from a horse or something in real life, just remember to let go of the reins.

Why Not You?

Image by Ross Mann from Pixabay

Other people make mistakes, why not you?
Other people stutter, why not you?
Other people fall down, why not you?

You are only human, not perfection personified
You only have 24 hours in one day
You are limited by the energy you possess

Other people suffer needlessly, why not you?
Other people fight demons, why not you?
Other people lose the path, why not you?

You carry the world on your shoulders
You look through the blinders of a child
You blame yourself for the sins of others

Other people recover from the past, why not you?
Other people restore their health, why not you?
Other people seek the truth, why not you?

You can break the chains that bind you
You can strip away the layers of discontent
You will find a peace that will not leave you


Other people have done it, can you?

Living Life on Purpose

Image by amyfriesemke from Pixabay

How do you know when you are fulfilling your life purpose? Lately, I've been trying to figure that out. As I often do, I make life more complicated than it needs to be, so I've been concentrating on when I "feel" like I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. Here's how it feels for me:

• Relaxed
• Centred
• Engaged
• Curious
• Entertained
• Balanced
• Serene

When I'm on purpose, the noise in my head settles down, and I'm not distracted. I often amaze myself with how much I can accomplish in a day or even an hour. My communication with family, friends, and co-workers is positive and healthy. I am good-humoured and good-natured. The minor irritations that often bother me no longer matter. It’s a pleasant state, and I plan to experience it more often. In fact, I’m there right now!

Now that I know what being "on purpose" feels like, I need to pay attention to what I do when I feel that way. Since I spend most of my time alone, in my home office, it seems natural to start considering how I feel there.  I've set myself up to be self-employed working mainly for a non-profit organization, and things are getting busy, filled with endless details to track, social media to create, virtual distances and many factors out of my control.

However, I am oddly calm and practical as I connect with myself. When I focus on my role—using my skills and talents to promote our cause—and stop judging people or predicting the outcomes, I can reflect on my gifts, and life becomes surprisingly easy. I then begin to see the gifts in myself and others.

Most activities that help evoke these feelings of purpose involve transforming ideas, gathering information, and ensuring everyone's point of view is included. As the communications officer, I feel like I have the right job, even though I don’t always feel like I’m in the perfect place.

To combat those negative feelings, I’ve decided to lower my expectations. Rather than determining whether this is the ideal place for me, I focus on the one crucial thing: engaging in my purpose. I am trying to let go of what I think I should be doing and simply do and be.

After all, it’s really all up to me. Why should I torment myself with thoughts of making mistakes, being unhappy, or feeling unfulfilled? Isn’t it much better to show up, seek confirmation of my gifts, and raise my energy to attract what I want?

That’s precisely what is happening. I’ve discovered that three of my gifts are wisdom, writing, and facilitation. So, I guess I’m getting it. I’m living life as I should and looking forward to it getting even better.

Baby's First Impression (The Problem with Family)

Image by esudroff from Pixabay

Do you know what the problem with family is? You never get a chance to make a first impression.

No matter what, your life is set up for something other than your true purpose. Wouldn't it be great if you popped out of the womb and said, "Hi, I'm me, and I'm on the earth to be a writer? Please keep this goal in mind as you raise me, and be warned that all interactions with me may one day be recorded on paper and published for public consumption."

Instead, your life is planned out for you as you float in your watery waiting room. Maybe you are born to give meaning to someone's life, or you are the last chance to save a doomed marriage. You may be meant to fix someone's mistakes from the past, or your life may be overshadowed by the idea that you are the mistake. Your parents commit to raising you differently from how they were raised, grandparents anticipate the chance to correct their mistakes, and others lay odds at your success based on your circumstances. Every person your birth touches waits for your arrival with a dream of your existence.

It's all-natural, but it comes with a cost - your identity is being formed for you. You will be judged by other people's expectations the moment you enter the world. "She's going to be a handful." "He'll always be a sickly child." The precious you, who is new, will be scrutinized and given other people's qualities. "She's moody, just like her father." "He's not as chubby as his brother."

You will be swaddled in expectations and qualifications. You will be instantly limited without much thought about your actual needs, desires and feelings. The holy spark of purpose will be buried under the bushels of other people's need for you to be a certain way. The fears and dreams of your family will melt into your soul before you even figure out how to cry out for food.

Is it fair? Who knows? It is definitely the human condition. I guess the struggle out of those wrappings makes us strong if it doesn't kill us. The first year of fragile dependency defines for us our relationship with the world outside. Does it feel fearful? Chaotic? Calm? Hopeful? As we grow, our rational mind tries to comprehend our imprinted feelings. Does it fit the circumstances? How do we know? Our place in our family now becomes defined by the stories they tell us about ourselves. Are we tomboys, daddygirls or prissy girls? If male, we may be smart alecs, momma boys or troublemakers. We become our labels, and our identities are strengthened by the stories they keep retelling. But is it true?

You never get a second chance. No one ever stops to say, "Maybe we were wrong". Every time we get together with our family members, we should approach it as if we were doing a job interview. We should ask and be prepared to answer the ten most often asked job interview questions:

1. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?
2. What do you know about our family?
3. What three words best describe your personality?
4. What are your strengths?
5. What are your weaknesses?
6. Tell us about a recent success?
7. How did you handle a recent failure?
8. What can you do that someone else can't?
9. How long would you like to stay with us?
10. What are your future goals?

Imagine if every time you met a family member, they could forget about what you mean to them and really listen to the answers you give. Listen to the you that you are today, not the person they remember from before.

Imagine what would happen if you got that second chance, that only chance, to make a first impression.

Forgiving Emily Carr – Reflections on Graduation

Image by kalhh from Pixabay

Each year, near graduation time, I think of Emily Carr. Why? Because Emily Carr rejected me on the eve of my high school graduation. 

Obviously, it wasn't her personally, but the school named after her did. I was devastated. I had given up so much to pursue her appreciation and acceptance, only to be delivered the bad news on the night of my high school graduation. I was stunned. I walked through the evening in a daze, replaying the interview process through my mind. What did I do wrong? What did I say? Why don't they like me?

The fact is that I shouldn't have been too surprised. The two faculty members who interviewed me were less than enthusiastic. They said my work was rigid and my style too technical compared to my competitors. I recall a classmate who got accepted had a portfolio filled with pictures made with a can of spray paint and coat hangers as stencils. He called one Penguins on the Fourth of July. He got in. My portfolio had ballerinas, children in poverty and landscape paintings. Could they not see my depth, compassion and soul? It was there in every pencil's stroke and every colour's reflection.

I had dedicated four years of my young life to art. I lived through elementary school when my mind struggled with all those left-brained tasks. From Grades 8-12, I was officially on the artist's path. My teachers believed in my talent and suggested to my parents that I focus on drawing, painting, printmaking, and photography. Although not artsy folks themselves, Mom and Dad could see that was where I belonged. They let me take the basics of math, science and French, so I was a well-rounded student, but they never pushed me too hard down the "you need to make a living" path.

So, what made me so rigid and technical? Well, it was my elementary school mindset. I thought my struggles with anything that didn't involve a sketch pad meant something was wrong with me. I seemed to live in a different world than everyone else. I was too sensitive. I was too shy, but I desperately wanted to be accepted like most. I struggled with the different points of view, and my mind jumped, too. The images I picked out of the blue. I had a strong need to express something meaningful to the world, but I didn't have the words to do it. Those would come later in life.

It's funny how life is sometimes. I moved on to Langara College's Fine Arts program, where they embraced me openly. My interviewer opened my portfolio, saw the scholarship and awards I had won, closed it and said, "You're in." His quick decision startled me, and seeing the confusion on his face, he explained that my commitment was evident and he didn't need any more than that (although he did look at the contents with equal enthusiasm). But the sting of rejection was too much. Everything I did in those 2 years never seemed good enough. The filter of failure robbed me of feeling connected to my creations.

That never good enough has haunted me since then. Although I have had artistic successes, I've never fully dedicated myself or appreciated that aspect of life. I have mostly morphed my talents into different careers to produce creations for others, but I'm frustrated at not having my artistic visions come to life. 

I discovered I was not alone when I shared this story with a friend. She, too, was told not to pursue her writing, and, like me, many years later, she is creating a new life and a new vision of herself. It's never too late to take a new direction.

So, if you know a new grad or are revitalizing your own life, don't take the perceptions and judgments of others to heart. They don't know who you are or who you need to be in this world. If you've delayed expressing yourself, don't beat yourself up. Just start now. Start with what you can. Plant your seeds and tend to your talent. That's what I intend to do.

Oh yeah, Emily, you're forgiven.