September

September is upon us. In Starkville, we are having cooler weather already–a little unusual for Mississippi. That transition is always nice after the heat and humidity of Summer. Those first few mornings when the breeze is actually cooler usually lift my spirits right away. I know I’ve shared that Autumn is my favorite time of year.

As I was deciding on a theme for this month’s desktop wallpaper calendar (click to download if you like), it occurred to me that often there is no other time when we more readily embrace transition than September. In fact, at this time of year we are sometimes even eager for the changes that come. As I mentioned, September brings the end of Summer’s heat and the first hints of more pleasant temperatures. It celebrates the beginning of a new school year for so many youngsters. It sets in motion the warming up of nature’s color palette as we begin to see subtle shifts in the blue of the sky and the fading of green on tree leaves. These transitions shake us out of the tired landscape where we’ve spent the summer.

In September, Summer’s luxuries of play and rest and taking breaks give way to renewed motivation to get back to the tasks at hand. We re-adjust our schedules with more focus. We outfit ourselves with new “necessities” that will spur us on to accomplish new things. We shake off the doldrums and attempt to get ourselves moving again.

I’ve written about the many changes that have been happening in my life over the last few months. Transition should be old hat to me by now. Yet, I find that the doldrums of complacency in my heart still need a little shaking free this month. So often, the heart moves at a different pace than the rest of us in making a transition. Sometimes it leads the charge. Sometimes it lags behind and needs a little coersion. Sometimes it just grows wayward in avoidance or denial. But, the realities of change and transition are just that. Realities. Just as surely as seasons come and go; the cycle of life changes can not be denied.

In thinking about the resistence I sometimes feel in my own heart when faced with transition, I was struck by one little line in the Wordsworth poem I included in my wallpaper design.

“Unfaded, yet prepared to fade”

That observation of September is so appropriate. Summer’s verdant colors still largely remain this month. The cooler temperatures reminiscent of Fall will be sporadic at best. Summer remains unfaded. Yet. [That's a big word for only three letters.] YET, in September, Summer is “prepared” to fade. For in September, just as in any situation ripe for transition, you never know which season you’ll get moment by moment. At a breath’s notice, Summer and Autumn are just as likely to appear. Perhaps it’s nature’s way of coaxing us into the change.

It’s becoming more and more apparent that this particular season in my life is one of transition. I want my heart to be prepared. I want my heart to be ready to embrace it, to accept it, to shine through it. As chapters fade and new ones open, I want my heart on board. Completely.

Green Flamingos, Nelson Mandela and Courage

Over the last few months I’ve noticed green flamingos around Starkville. They started popping up unexpectedly on bridge railings, electric boxes and the like, your typical vandal fare. But, they were some pretty well-designed vandal fare. These repetitive stenciled green fowl were nicely composed and sufficiently funky — something a designer would enjoy. And, it ticked me off.

It ticked me off so much that I was poised to launch one of my infrequent, but soul-cleansing rant posts complete with a few of the following points:

1. Kids these days.
2. Great. My tax dollars are going to have to clean that up.
3. That whole underground starving artist thing may seem glamorous, but it’s, well, NOT.
4. Get a job!
5. It may look like art, but it’s actually a misdemeanor.
6. Your talent is a gift. Make it count.

Yep, I’ll admit I was ready to unload, but that’s not the essay I’m writing. An overloaded schedule (and maybe some poor time management skills) stepped in and allowed those uncensored thoughts some time to germinate. Although I may still feel the same way on many of the points, they’ve also reminded me of the need for a shift in thinking.

“Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

It’s from a quote by Nelson Mandela. It’s been floating around in my brain since I read it in a transcript of a commencement address several years ago. I can’t escape it. And, before I knew it, my impetuous rant turned into a post about courage. It’s been a while since I’ve written about the pursuit of my 2010 theme word. Perhaps I’ve been too immersed in exercising some courage in a few areas of late (where exercising equals being tossed into the deep end and hoping your swimsuit top doesn’t fly off.) I suppose that the laboratory takes priority over the lecture series in life lessons just as it often does in the traditional classroom.

I read in last week’s Starkville paper that the green flamingo vandals have turned themselves into the police department. They are exactly who I imagined they were — a couple of art students at the university making their mark on the world, literally. They are offering restitution and performing clean-up duties in hopes their records can escape with only minor blemishes. I’m sure their parents are hoping the same, and that their dollars spent on higher education will not go to waste. End of story.

Only not.

I’m sure there are more personal elements to the situation, to which, as a mother, I would likely be sympathetic. As an artist, I’m sure even more sympathetic. As a person, quite challenged with the realization that talent deserves courage. The broader quote from Mr. Mandela says this…

“Our worst fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, ‘who am I to be brilliant gorgeous, talented and fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

This from a man who has seen and lived at the pinnacle of authority and power as well as the despair of imprisonment, a man who HAS changed many aspects of the world around him. My first reaction to green flamingos was to say… Your talent is being misplaced. Your education is a privilege many in the world aren’t offered. The opportunity to learn in the arts is one many in the world don’t experience — or at the least they experience it with makeshift tools and eagerly devote themselves to the instruction knowing it may be their only hope to rise from desperate living situations. The superfluous materials of stencils and spray paint are luxuries many in the world can’t afford because they need rice or flour. While my first notion was to remind those young students of these facts, my more in-depth realization is to remind myself. To challenge myself against laziness. To challenge myself against cynicism and pessimism. To challenge myself against pity and compaint. To challenge myself into embracing big gifts.

I’m talented, as each person is in unique ways. And those talents aren’t entitlements or rights. They are gifts. Remarkable gifts. It’s so typical to diminish them. To be shaken by others who diminish them. To deny them. To apologize for them. To waste them. To shirk them. To make them seem small. To use them as if they WERE small.

“Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

Even if the only world I’m saving is the one where I sit every day, I’m realizing that whatever talents I bring to bear on that world require courage. The world where I sit deserves a courageous talent, one that is used wisely and generously, without fear and without apology. To make those gifts count in whatever tiny sphere I apply them is my privilege. My responsibility.

Life Goes.

I always think of pink this month since a precious little girl entered my world on the 30th. That was two years ago now, and she’s made an indelible impression. This August brings many changes to my life just like that one did. Baby Girl and Bug are both moving to new preschool classrooms where they will be challenged in new ways. Little Drummer Boy is beginning “big school” where he and I both will experience his newfound independence. I’ve just completed the first month of my new business and the beginnings of adjusting to working from home. Looking back at the post I recently wrote for my friend, Annie’s modern homemaking series at SisterWisdom.com, I was reminded again today that life is nothing if not an exercise in transition. The ability to embrace change is a gift worth cultivating. As I contemplate the upcoming changes in my life and the lives of my children, I realize they are only another example of the ebb and flow of lives lived. I think my challenge as a mother, a designer, a provider, a friend, a human is to make sure those lives are really lived, that changes bring a more richer existence, and that this continued persistence of living is a slow but unmistakable upward climb.

I can’t believe I’m offering this eyecandy on the actual first day of the month. Don’t hold me to that in future posts, but I hope you enjoy the August 2010 desktop wallpaper. Nothing says change (and growth) to me like the budding of blooms. I’m looking for those metaphorical blooms in each of the places of change I’m experiencing these days. I think I can concur with Mr. Frost regarding the lessons of life.

“It goes on.”

Oh Happy Day 031910: Collaboration

It’s Friday, and I’ve decided to resurrect my long-overdue Oh Happy Day! Gratitude Project. It was waaay back on (look at that!) November 13th that I last posted my own version of EyeJunkie “thank God it’s Friday” fare. This little project was fueled many moons ago by something I read that encouraged me to right my attitude daily by writing down five things for which I am grateful. I have SERIOUSLY fallen short of that admonition lately (read ignored), but I notice more and more every day just how important a thankful heart and attitude are in the daily consumption of a joyful life. You can read the whole story on the humble beginnings of the Oh Happy Day! project, or you can just trust me and pick up the trail here…

It’s been a crazy week of ups and downs (like most weeks), and the downs often present a challenge to my joy quotient–and sometimes my energy quotient. It’s helpful to skew that process back in the right direction by paying attention to the things or people or circumstances for which I’m thankful. It’s funny how an attitude of gratitude can sometimes mysteriously turn the downs back to the upside. Recognizing the blessings in my life, especially those in unexpected or hard-revealed places, helps me gain new perspective.

THIS WEEK I’ve been very grateful for the lost art of collaboration. If you read much around the internet on the subject of innovation or creativity or business development or even urban development (as I, in my nerd-like qualities do), you’ve probably seen the term “silos” as it relates to storing up ideas rather than grain. Despite the preschool tenets of sharing and taking turns that are burned into our brains and sensibilities, we sometimes grow up determined to build silos or isolated pockets of information, influence or resources. We often see a fear in sharing which makes us hold our thoughts and gifts with a closed fist. Collaboration becomes threatening somehow. But, it’s a happy day! This week I’ve seen collaboration in action in a couple of (three) ways. And, I’m so grateful for its impact on my life, work and parenting. Here’s what I’ve noticed.

Collaboration encites courage.
Through a few specific conversations and phone calls recently, I’ve noticed that two are so much better than one when it comes to handling frustrating, challenging or simply new situations. Sharing our own thoughts and feelings is often the type of collaboration we are most resistant to. However, articulating my thinking with a trusted confidante actually makes those thoughts and concerns so much more manageable. I can more easily take ownership of what’s frustrating me with the encouragement of someone who’s listened. It gives me courage to tackle the difficult circumstances with my eyes open, spunk in my step and perhaps a little bit more perspective or wisdom in my pocket. And, THAT courage makes me want to be available to someone else who needs that same collaboration.

Collaboration enables creativity.
I mentioned this week’s collaboration with my friend, Jennifer Wyatt, owner of Her Executive Coach. Our experiment with Facebook has been a joyful experience that reminded me of how much more creative and innovative I can be when I’m in conversation or collaboration. Creativity feeds off itself. Creative people spur me on to be more creative. Collaboration enables that synergy that makes new ideas more apparent. It makes the new ideas seem more possible. Creativity can be diminished in a vacuum. So, whether it’s in writing adventures, child-rearing, marketing my day job or just figuring out what’s for dinner, my creative endeavors can benefit from interactions, from exposure to new ideas and methods, and from the types of collaborations Jennifer was willing to give.

Collaboration encourages harmony.
Little Drummer Boy and Bug offered some much-sought-after examples of this principle this week. They are at the ages when we are swinging between the my-brother-is-my-best-friend and the my-brother-is-my-mortal-enemy camps on a whim. I just never know from one moment to the next where I’m going to land. We try our best to encourage, beg, scold and bribe the boys into doing and saying kind things to one another. Several times this week, I found myself wide-eyed at spontaneous collaboration going on between my sweet gifts. LDB offered advice on using the “big potty.” He gave instructions on how to write letters in the alphabet–instructions Bug was eager to follow. Bug requested input on various car chases and dinosaur stories. They determined the rules of their own hallway (read Montgomery speedway) games. It was amazing. I’m actually inclined to say miraculous, a description I’m sure other preschool Mommies out there will be happy to validate. I’m starting to catch on to something here. Maybe working TOGETHER on something is a lot more fun that arguing. Lovely food for parenting thought.

Thank you, collaboration.
Oh Happy Day!

Pinch Me

I’m not Irish. I just wanted to clear that up right away. However, I did wear green today for Saint Patrick’s Day to avoid the pinching. And, although I don’t think I can attribute it to any leprechauns, today was an excellent day. No rainbows, no pots of gold and no green beer, but a great day nonetheless.

It’s nice to feel like I’ve had a “great day.” I’ve been in a time of searching lately, evaluating some things in my life: what I want to be characterized by, who I want my children to see when they look at me, and other life debris like that. Searching, of the soul or the car key variety, can be a frustrating process. We are tempted to chase that elusive pot of gold that will make our dreams come true and achieve our happiness, and sometimes we think it will appear by magic like a sparkly rainbow or four-leaf clover, the product of being on the “lucky” side of chance. Searching is uncomfortable. I want to know the answers. I want to have a plan. I want to stick to it. I want it to play out the way I’ve predicted. Yeah. Good luck with that, EyeJunkie.

I had a great experience today. My friend, Jennifer Wyatt of Her Executive Coach, a business and executive coaching firm for women, invited me to be a guest by phone on her radio program, Life Coach Live, in Paducah, KY. Jennifer and I have been collaborating on a two-week-long event with Super Facebook Guy for our day jobs. It’s called the online Women in Business Forum. In the business development portion of the Forum, Jennifer’s theme has been “Spring cleaning” for your business with an emphasis on reviewing, renewing and re-imagining your business. Those were her topics today for the broadcast and I was on hand to talk about my experiences in business and the ways to “spring forward” in small business marketing efforts. I have to say that I was nervous going in, but it turned out to be very fun.

One of the questions we discussed was about strategies for renewing and re-imagining a business, especially during challenging times. A “strategy” we mentioned was flexibility and the willingness to abandon a “plan” if necessary. That flexibility often puts us in the position to recognize opportunities and to capitalize on them. Unless we are willing to question our plan, we may not be open to the fortunate circumstances that may come our way. My apologies to my Irish friends, but I’m not a big proponent of relying on “luck.” A better formula for business success might be hard work + serendipity. And, I’m keenly aware of the reality that the real life pursuit of “happiness” has a similar formula.

Happiness requires hard work. It doesn’t just happen by chance and the wave of an little guy’s magic dust. It needs our honest and diligent attention to be maintained. Sometimes that diligence requires being willing to alter a plan or let go of it entirely. We are all faced with fortunate circumstances, “happy surprises”–serendipity. You know how I love serendipity. We see it every day. All around us. If we are able to pay attention to it. Flexibility in my spirit, a willingness to search and question puts me in a position to recognize that serendipity–that blessing. It puts me in a better frame of mind to notice it.

So, bring on the searching. It’s frustrating at times, yes. But, it’s when I can say “I’m not sure,” or “I don’t know,” or “I want more,” or just “something’s not right,” that I am more open to the unexpected opportunities presented before me. Dissatisfaction is a breeding ground for possibilities. Am I willing to alter my thinking and my vision to be aware of those serendipities? Am I willing to change to take advantage of them? I hope so.

It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, and I’m wearing green. But, go ahead and pinch me anyway. I may not know many of the answers. I may be searching. I may be frustrated. I may be confused. But, often that’s a fortunate place to be.

Pinch me. Because I want to make sure I’m really here.