250-ish Hours in 3 Minutes or Less

I’ve given a year of my life to a Coaching for Transformation program at Leadership That Works. A series of events opened up space and possibility for me to question “What’s Next?” and lead me to this program. I knew that I wanted to help people find their inner leaders, their voices, their bliss. I had no concept of to what degree this experience would help me find mine. Graduation was last week and we were each gifted with three minutes to honor our experience in the program. I opted to enter with a written reflection and my speech follows. If you have noticed a subtle or less than subtle shift in me this year and you were curious about the cause, this is it. 

I’d like to open with a quote. “Even Superheroes need Sidekicks. And butlers.” (This is a Suzie Bichovsky original!)

I’m no superhero with a capital S on my chest. I’m Suzie with a lowercase z in the middle of my shoulder blades. 

Have you ever looked at Zs? They have a beginning and an end. Zs have two acute angles. So adorable- less than 90 degrees, polished to the point, but chock full of good stuff in-between. 

A Z has a slanted line connecting the parallel lines above and below it. The top parallel line represents the beginning of the journey, my past, my needs, my values, my shadows. The bottom represents the end, my future- the imagined, the unimagined, the unknown. 

The slanted line? That’s the current ride, this moment, and all of its possibility. 

Before Coaching for Transformation? I was consumed by my inherited past and my ability to view the future was clouded by fear. Now? My past does not control me, my future excites me, and the present moment is a privilege in all its anger, fear, sadness and joy. 

In closing, I’d like to revise my opening quote.“Superheroes, who have received transformational coaching and trust their intuition, may choose to collaborate with a sidekick if working with said sidekick honors their values and may choose to employ a butler or other support staff if said support staff fulfills a role on the superhero’s dream team, enabling her to fully step into who she was always meant to be.” 

Thank you for listening and for giving of yourselves this year.

Reputionalism

What do I value? What do I stand for? How do my actions in all aspects of my life reflect this? 

These are some questions that have been brewing around my heart. I say my heart because my mind has always had questions crowding it, worries elbowing their way in, eliminating any room for what is most important. My body has become a compass- tightening in the chest, weight between my shoulder blades, heaviness of my eyes- all pointing to my true North. These physical sensations are all indicators that I’m off course or there’s an obstacle in my way. For years, I’ve ignored the messages. Soldier on. Work harder. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

No more.

From an early age, I developed an awareness or a thought that to be perfect would make things “OK.” I was never looking for a level of living beyond OK. Not good, not great, never Amazing or Awesome. This was developed before I left elementary school. It’s no one’s responsibility, fault, or intention. My exact experience or story is not important nor are the choices I have made as a result of acting on the story and messages. What is important is how many times I ignored what my body was trying to tell me. “This isn’t right.” “You deserve more.” “It’s OK to say NO to this.” “Walk away.” “Hey---don’t you want to try this?”

Ignoring the messages of my body, accepting the messages from my childhood, and working on Perfect all lead to the erection of my wall of Professionalism. Polished Suzie. Poker face Suzie. SO MANY TIMES I’ve been complimented and rewarded for this version. What would happen if I allowed the less manicured version of myself to shine?

Today, I’m more invested in my reputation as described by all of my stakeholders. How do they see me? How do I show up with them? This version of reputation isn’t one that I’m trying to craft but is one that is reflected to me. My stakeholders, my community, my tribe- they are my mirror. How close am I to my true North based upon their reflections?

Ironically, now that my actions are guided by my choices and in alignment with what I value versus being forced by “Shoulds” and “Have to’s,” life doesn’t look much different on the outside. But, there’s a lot more room on the inside for what’s important. My life is far from perfect, it is very messy, but it is on the path to Awesome. 

Questions for your consideration: What is your true North? What is getting in the way of you following it? How do your actions reflect what you value? 

Tick Tock at My Door

To misquote Eckhart Tolle and the Practicing the Power of Now, right now is the past and the future. Ready? It's the past. Ready? It's the future.

The Shoulda's and Mights of the past and future. The Regrets, the Fears, and the Anxiety. These are always with us. What is it like to let them go? If even for a minute...

If you are feeling adventurous, I invite you to pause in your reading for one minute. In fact, set a timer for one minute and simply open your mind to this moment. Let go of everything else. Just be. See you in a minute.

***************************************************************************

How'd you do? 

Me?

I found myself in a staring contest with one of my cats. It lasted longer than previous attempts. The ticking of the second hand of my clock was louder than normal. And soothing. A bird called outside. A buzzing sound was distracting me as was the shrieking of the cat trying to paw her way into the occupied bathroom. (Wait...who is in the bathroom? Wasn't he downstairs? When did he come upstairs? How did I miss that? When did the cat leave my staring contest to find him? Ugh- the bag of work right next to me! This is a lonnnnnnnnnnnnng minute.)

I've had better minutes. I could've done better. I shouldn't have tried to track my thoughts. I just need to be. But what if I can't? What if, because I know I'm writing about it, I just can't access this moment and be present? What about that bag of work? What if I can never enjoy another minute until it is done? What if it takes me 1,000 more minutes to psyche myself up to attack it? It might never get tended to. Forever. (Wait, is that For-never?) Can I get my cat to barf up the most massive hairball of his life on it and claim the Universe wanted it to be like this?

I'm taking another minute. A minute of nothing but being and noticing. My breath. Tension in my chest. No other thoughts are welcome even as they knock on the door. They can wait a minute. Anything can wait a minute. I am determined. I am grace. I am resilient.

I'm reminded of a city bus tour. I sat on the upper level of the double decker bus and took very few pictures. I challenged myself to just enjoy each moment, each image. I recall seeing a tall building on the left side of the street with endless air conditioning units being held up by nails and pulled down by gravity. The word "Resilient" came to mind and I turned to tell someone on the ride, anyone, what I noticed.

Everybody was watching the sights on the right side of the street through a camera lens. Everyone.

How often do we walk through our our life and miss the moments on the left because we are caught up in what is on the right? How does watching through the filter of past regrets or future concerns impact what we experience right now? How do the Shoulda's and Mights frame our judgements and interfere with simply being?

I'm challenging myself to take stolen minutes with myself. Those minutes will not change what is knocking at my door but will impact how I receive what's there when I choose to open it.

The Soundtrack of My...OHHHHH---Butterfly!

The breeze and its crescendo. Birds chirping, one group squawking with insistence. Wind chimes from a distance. The hum of an outdoor unit. A butterfly flitting in my face, blessing me after a sneeze. A lawnmower.

I'm wrapping up the reading of I Will Not Die an Unlived Life by Dawna Markova and am waiting for my epiphany. Normally a reader with a "must finish this book in one sitting" appetite, I read this one at a recommended two chapters per month. With each reading, I've had a realization. A brief Aha-Oprah Winfrey-brick-in-the-forehead wake up moment. Hmmm...not yet.

I've followed a routine with each reading, no matter the weather. Coffee, check. Outside, check. Comfy clothes, check. Embracing the sounds of nature? Check. Sitting on a swing, face in the sun, mind clear? Check, check, wait...

The voices of neighbors streets away and slamming car doors. Don't they know? Did they not receive the Universal memo? Don't mess with my Soundtrack! Suzie is reading and waiting for an epiphany. OK. That's stopped.

Lawnmower. Birds. (Wait...aren't those the nighttime sounds?) Airplane. (Where are they going?) Birds are getting louder. (The Birds! Such an awesome movie.) The breeze has lost its oomph. (I'm hot. Sweating.) A leaf or something with weight rustles by and I jerk my head to track it. (Definitely shouldn't have watched that Doctor Who episode before trying to concentrate. Swinging with my legs up- nothing's grabbing my feet!) Hello, butterfly! (Welcome back! You've brought a friend. You are awfully close to my head. No, really, get away from my face.) Something is making a cicada-like noise. Cicadas? (Lawnmower has stopped. Now I can think! My to-do list clutters my mind. All I want to do is crawl onto the couch and pull a blanket over my head.)

There it is. The external noises aren't the issue. My internal soundtrack is. Perhaps today isn't a brick-in-the-head epiphany day. Perhaps, to quote someone from yesterday's discussion group, it's a grain-of-sand-on-the-forehead day.

Markova writes, "...we know that anything capable of decay is also possible of renewal and regeneration." This must include my concentration. As a neighbor starts up a chainsaw, I'll give myself permission to pack it in for the day. Attack two things on the to-do list. (Yes- just two.) Go watch something on TV.

Maybe I'll just watch something and skip the list today. I'm inspired to watch a horror movie for some reason...I'm sure I'll have nightmares about uncompleted tasks and a wild wag of the Tsking pointer finger. I'll patiently wait for the butterflies to launch their attack and transform judgement into beautiful acceptance.

Or, maybe one of the butterflies will use a chainsaw to get the job done! (That's a movie...The Butterflies. Tagline: Metamorphosis, one appendage at a time.)

OK...I'll do one thing on the to-do list.

Game Over?

"Not the orange L. The blue backwards L. THE BLUE L!"

This is the dialogue in my head as I play Tetris. I never get the blue L when I want it and, after waiting, I inevitably settle for using the straight line from the hold box. Naturally, the blue L shows up in the queue one move later.

I've been playing Tetris so much that I see new ways to load the dishwasher, pack a car, and- as I stare at your face- I can figure out which tetromino best fits between your eyebrows. Seeing imaginary tetrominos floating in the air is enough of a red flag for me to know…it is time to delete the app.

Before I do, what have I learned?

1. It's OK to make mistakes. I like to build up rows of pieces eight high and leave space on the left for two long pieces to slide in. Scoring the back to back Tetris is gratifying. Sometimes, I make a mistake and place a piece where I don't want it. I end up blocking the path of the best piece. Instead of panicking and sabotaging my game (hello, quick pull down of every piece to come!), I look for ways to work around the mistake, clearing the path for my original intention. Other times, I figure out that the mistake’s a good thing. It opens up a path I did not see. Messy can be good.
2. Remember the low scores. The game is a fan of tracking my high score but not my low one. Whether I get a really high score in one game or several low scores that build up in multiple games, my grand total goes up, I earn fake coins, and I can buy new music for the game (that I play in silence). The low score reminds me to think about what happened. Was I playing while sleepy? Was I watching TV and playing at the same time? How does my attention impact my performance? Accountability.
3. Michelle and David are not my barometer for success. I still don't understand if Michelle and Steve are computer personalities or real people piped in. As I play, their scores appear and, as my score increases, so do their scores. Are we collaborating? Does my success contribute to their success? Or, is keeping their score higher than mine supposed to entice me to try harder? It doesn't. I would be much more invested in the scores of others if I knew that my success impacted them and their success impacted me. How cool would it be to see a screen shot of their most risky and successful moves? Transparency.
4. I need a menu of options. I can pause the game and resume at any time. If I don't like how things are going, I can restart the whole thing. Help option? I haven't gone there- feels like cheating. There's a shadow function that shows you where your piece will land. Someone told me that was cheating. Shut your face! It's a support. A frame. The trajectory is clear. If I know where I'm going, I don't need to start all over again. Clarity.
5. It's all about perception. "Life's a bowl of cherries; sometimes, it's the pits." "Life gives you lemons; make lemonade." How about: "You can wish for a one cube piece but it's not gonna happen." Sometimes, the game gets away from me. Each level is faster than the one before it. It’s inevitable that I am going to make a wrong move if I keep up at this pace. I know there's no way out so I start to pull down the pieces as fast as I can. Game over. I get frustrated but I remind myself that I get a do over. I get to pick if I start again at level 1 and slowly build up or dive back in at a frantic 10. I always start back at 1, take a breath, and slow down. Connect with breath.
6. Purple is the best! OK, purple has always been my favorite color. In the Tetris world, the purple piece is the most flexible in my mind. I see all of its potential and viewpoints. It's a nice substitute for the red or green Z's when I need it. I can see how the purple tetronimo is going to impact the board. I control where I place it and any fallout. Impact.

Embrace the messy, accountability, transparency, clarity, connect with breath, impact. These learnings from an app are applicable to many avenues of my life- career, home, family, friends. Nothing is perfect. I’m accountable for my actions. If I expect transparency and support from others, I must be clear with my intentions. Slow down, breathe, and think before I act or react. (Or, post or text or message or comment!) Always consider my impact on others- the real, the possible, and the perceived. 

Tetris may be game over for me but that leaves space for other things.  Like connection. Reflection. And...Pac-Man. 

Midlife Revelation

Today's an important day in history- some people's histories. It's my birthday. It's my preference to mark this with no hubbub. Ask anyone who has thrown me a surprise party. So, why announce it this year?

I'm familiar with the midlife crisis. Read about it. Watched movies about it. Witnessed it as a young adult. When would mine come? What would I do? Tattoos? Have them designed and ready. (Somewhere in the universe, my aunt just had a pang in her chest and doesn't know why.) Dye my hair purple? (My stylist is doing a fist pump and mixing color.) Buy a motorcycle? To be fair, I wanted a three-wheel motorbike a few years ago. (Stylist's husband shakes his head. One wheel too many.) Quit my job, move to Europe, write/coach full-time? (My cats hiss at the thought of quarantine and a decline in income.)

But, oh...that last one. There's something delicious there.

I was facilitating a coaching session with Karen and she coined the term "Midlife Revelation." Hearing that phrase? My body was submerged in an ice bath. I am having a Mid Life Revelation. It's what drew me to blogging last fall. It's what made me take the leap and step into training with Leadership That Works. Tattoos, purple hair, and fancy wheels aside, authenticity is my passport to transformation.

It's important to have vision and secret dreams. Saying them aloud is the first step in achieving them.  I want to develop a network that promotes self care as precious, wanting as powerful, and that the "but" has purpose. There. I said it. What does it mean for my future? I don't know! But every choice I make is made with the dream in mind. 

So, back to my birthday. I brought my thoughts about this occasion to my peer coach and he asked me why I like to celebrate birthdays of those close to me. "Because they matter!" And, then, he did that dirty little coaching trick and flipped the message on me. Clever, clever. He asked me to speak my truth- who am I? I said all true things about my emerging self but felt disconnected from my body while saying them. And, then?

The Red Cardinal Appeared. Again. 

"Those who attract the cardinal as their totem are naturally energetic, love life, and happily help others where/when they can." My ice bath runneth over. The cardinal invites me to step into what I know to be true.

I, Suzie, matter. I deserve to take up space. Happy birthday, Suzie.

Guest Blogger: Welcome to the Universe, Sarah Haykel!

Do you know Sarah?  I met Sarah Haykel when I was searching for a professional Life Coach.  I was intentionally looking for someone who had strength in body awareness.  Through working with Sarah, I learned to trust my intuition with myself as much as I trust it in interacting with others.  That gift was priceless and I am incredibly honored to have her voice in my universe.  Enjoy!

The Most Important Question an Empath Can Ask Herself

At home in your physical body is the key.  

How do you feel in your body right now?

What sensations do you notice as you sit here and read this article?

Is there an opening in your chest, a deepness in your jawline, a frivolity in your pelvis?  

Is there a sadness that is waiting for its time to be felt, to be expressed?

Is there a joy so vibrant you want to jump up and down and scream it from the rooftops, who cares what your neighbors think?

Bringing your awareness to your body and how it feels in the moment can be a tool of self-awareness and even greater, self-empowerment.  

As a very sensitive person, some call an “empath,” I’ve realized that I pick up on a lot other people’s energy, emotions, thoughts, states of being, and at times, when I’m unaware, take them on as my own.  I can act out, feel sad, get angry, judge myself and others, feel jealous, want to scream.  But why, I ask myself?  And more importantly, whose energy is this?  

That last question is one of the most important I’ve used over the past couple of years to free myself from the binds of feeling and taking on other people’s “stuff” and energy.  I know the word “energy” used to be pretty “woo woo,” but now it’s become a mainstream term to describe this feeling we get when we’re aware of what’s happening inside our bodies and around our physical bodies in life.  

Let me clarify one main thing: it’s not that I don't have any of my own stuff.  I surely do.  This question: “Whose energy is this?” allows me to see and understand what is mine to deal with and what isn’t mine, or more importantly, what is someone else’s part to play in what I’m feeling.  This question gives me the necessary room and space to inquire within, when noticing the sensations of my body, and get clarity on what’s mine to deal with, if any of what I’m sensing is mine to deal with (a powerful distinction indeed).  I can also get clarity on whose energy it is that I’m feeling in my body or around me.

Sometimes I notice when I ask myself, “Whose energy is this?” and a name pops up into the center of my chest (where a lot of my “inner guidance voice” speaks from), I feel an instantaneous lightness, like “Ah, that’s whose it is.”  I don’t feel angry or judgment towards this person, I just feel clear, and the part of the energy that’s another person’s or part of the collective energy of many humans, leaves my energetic “field,” which I would call my internal body and the space around my body.  

My main goal in life is to feel good, to feel amazing in fact.  So when I feel energy or emotions in my body or around my body that don’t feel good, that’s a sign to me that I am out of balance within myself or something around me is out of balance or alignment.  This is when I start to inquire, when I get that uncomfortable or disconcerting feeling that something isn’t quite right.

I have to be honest, at times I feel scared to know how much of the uncomfortable energy, emotions or thoughts I’m experiencing are mine because I don’t want to be “wrong,” “bad,” or a part of an interaction or energy that is detracting from joy in life.  This is when I must draw up my own sense of self-compassion, self-love, self-forgiveness and honor for myself and where I’m at on this journey called life.  

At the same time, this awareness also allows me to be more compassionate, loving, and forgiving towards others and honor their journey in this life as well.   Plus, it is one of the most humbling and freeing feelings to take responsibility for my part to play in a funky situation.  It is also equally as liberating to free any energy or emotions that are not mine so others can own their parts to play in these situations. 

Whose energy is this?  A powerful question that can free you both in taking responsibility for your part to play and releasing any energy, thoughts, and emotions that are not yours to deal with, allowing others to be responsible for themselves, their thoughts, emotions, and actions in their own lives.  

Freedom.  I guess that’s one of my other main desires in life!  Free to Be All of Me!

How about you?  

What is one way you can start using this question: “Whose energy is this?” to free yourself to be all of you and add more joy and juice to life?  

Click here to receive Sarah’s Free to Be eBook that’s coming out this summer!  It’s free and will guide you through an important 5 step process so you can be Free to Be!  

Sarah Haykel, aka Salsa Sarah, has launched The Sensual Body Movement for women to reclaim their sexuality, embrace their divine femininity, and express their sensuality from an empowered, intentional, clear and conscious place through dance and life coaching.

As a trained Latin, W. African, hip-hop, and break-dancer over the past 14+ years, and with her own style of freestyle and improvisational sacred dance, Sarah uses her expertise to bring you deeper into your own sense of empowerment inside your body.

As a certified professional Life Coach, Sarah works with one on one client’s and groups through Body Centered Awareness. The body is a tool for providing information, support and guidance to bring you into greater alignment and harmony within yourself and all of life.

Live a life empowered and juicy from the inside out.  Join Sarah in The Sensual Body Movement by going to sarahhaykel.com for information now.

Dear Chaney

It was a year ago today that I got the call.

The day before that was June 21, 2013.  My mother' birthday.  Her 67th.  For her 66th, I sent her a birthday card.  The most beautiful card she had ever received.  I spent 15 minutes picking that one out.  For her 67th, I spent less time because I was sobbing in the card aisle.  How do you pick out what you sense is the last card your mother will ever receive?

For the last 18 months of her life, my mother battled small cell lung cancer.  Yup.  She smoked.  For the last 18 months of her life, I got my mom back.  Yup.  Cancer had a silver lining.

My mother had a mental illness.  No, it's not contagious.  I've checked.  And rechecked.  According to an irresponsible psych professor, my kids would most likely catch it.  Most likely.  I have cats and only one of them demonstrates psychological distress.

[Insert name of mental illness here] made it challenging for my mother to mother.  It made it challenging for me to be a child.  Her healthcare situation made it challenging for her to receive the best help that she deserved and, when she felt fine or off balance, she would stop taking her meds.  So, as an adult child who was too young to intervene but old enough to advocate for herself, I "broke up" with my mother.  For my physical, mental, and emotional safety.  For 10 years.  Or more or less.  I don't really know.  We were geographically divided.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder.  It can compartmentalize memories as well.

I spoke to her every year on my birthday.  Each call ended in tears and I swore I wouldn't do it again.  Until the next time.  I took her calls sporadically.  Read her letters that switched intention mid paragraph.  Always signed by her, her current boyfriend, and the cat- if one was present.  Cards were sent to her for birthdays and holidays.  Generally picked out by my husband.  Occasionally signed by him when merely holding a pen sent me into a tailspin.

Cancer gave us an advantage.  It forced my mother to accept residence in a nursing home.  For rehab after her first surgery.  For help when the chemo was stopped.  For hospice when it was determined the treatment was killing her as fast as the cancer.

For 18 months, my mom had structure and meds and her own village.  Her intake file was intimidating but once she was regulated, the people at the home saw a quiet, funny, gentle, compassionate Chaney.  The mom I remembered from my earliest days.  For 18 months, I flew between her new home and mine with my husband or Chaney's sister.  We advocated for her in person, by email, by phone.  We bought whatever clothes she wanted at Target and I waited until she wasn't around to cry at her ravaged body.

For 18 months, we talked.  WE talked.  Both of us.  She actually asked me questions about my life.  And listened.  And remembered.  She called once and cried asking if she was the reason I didn't have children.  I told her the truth- there were many reasons why I didn't have children and when I think back on our Wonder Woman Raids the Cookie Jar adventures, she showed me the kind of mom I'd like to be.  On a call after that, she told me how happy she was that things were the way they were meant to be.

I called her on her 67th birthday and couldn't get through.  She was sleeping a lot.  I left a message with the nurse and asked her to tell Chaney that I called to wish her a happy birthday.

I was finalizing my plans to travel out of the country for work.  My mom knew this.  To the best of my knowledge, one of the last things she said to hospice about me was, "I do not want Suzie to see me like this.  And she has important work to do in Mexico."  She was proud.  I was frustrated that I couldn't get through and annoyed that I didn't fly down for a quick 24 hour visit.  A breeze rustled the trees in my yard and I was struck by the dark green against the bright blue.  I said, "Happy Birthday, Mom.  I love you.  It's OK to go."

I got the call the next day.  My mom stopped breathing and they respected the DNR.  I don't know if she ever opened my card.

A year later, I'm once again communing with nature.  A perfectly blue sky has clouded up and the temperature has dropped.  It's a reminder that change is inevitable but the ocean still breathes in and out.

I want to thank my village for its support.  Thank you to my inner circle for reading my emails/texts/IMs for 18 months and supporting me from a distance when I wouldn't let you do so up close.  Thank you to my officemate and lunch bunch for the medicine of laughter.  Thank you to my supervisor who made it OK for me to take care of myself when that was something foreign to me.  Thank you to my peer coaches for listening this week and "holding me" with care.  Thank you to my family for loving and not judging.  Thank you to my husband for accepting.

Dear Mommy, 

Thank you for bringing me into this world with love and leaving it the same.

I Remember Donnie & Troy

In honor of Memorial Day, I would like to pause and remember two men.

Desert Storm occurred while I was in high school.  This was before the social media storm and the 24 hour news cycle.  Yes, there was a CNN but, to the best of my memory, most of us had 3, 6, and 10.  Those of us with cable (or with friends that had cable) were more interested in MTV's Downtown Julie Brown than anchorman Bernard Shaw.

We were tasked with writing servicemen letters as part of our history class; however,  I started a long-lasting exchange with two soldiers, Donnie and Troy.  I remember one describing the desert sky at night and the other requesting that I not put my return address on the envelopes I sent for fear it would be intercepted and something threatening would be sent to me.

I do not know what happened to these gentlemen.  I chickened out of meeting one and the letter writing was lost to the rights of teen passage- dating, prom, graduation.  I do quietly and privately think of each of them, on Veterans Day and Memorial Day, hoping that the first occasion is a more appropriate remembrance.

I do not envision that these gentlemen are searching for me in the Google-Age but, if they ever do, I want them to know that as I enjoy my view, I say a quiet affirmation for their good health.  They are remembered.  And thanked.

What's Possible?

I don't know about you- I'm really good at playing the "But, What If?" game with myself.  I don't need any external factors to shoot down my dreams.  I do just fine on my own.  How did I learn this?  How do I unlearn this?

[DISCLAIMER: If you are under 18, call me "Mrs. BT," and happen upon this on a Google search- yes, you!- you are not my target audience for this post.  Kindly click your back arrow.  And...tuck in your shirt.]

I can't help but wonder what my mother wanted for me when I was born.  My best memories of our time together range from reading to impromptu dance parties; my dressing up as Wonder Woman and tying her up with my Lasso of Truth to raid the cookie jar; being allowed to shop for the groceries By Myself while she sat on a bench.  Would my mother have wanted me to have children?  Maybe.

I have children.  It's true that they are on loan to me for ten months, seven hours a day.  But, they are mine.  I take my charge to instruct them seriously.  Above that, I place keeping them safe.  And, above that, I hold teachable moments that integrate life lessons most precious.   I absolutely want them to learn how to infer and determine the central idea.  But, if they remember to slow down and consider the impact of their words on themselves and others, then...Huzzah!  I'm overwhelmed sometimes by holding "What's possible?" for them in a container made out of care and lidded by reality.  I envision that lid is askew so dreams can pop out.

What would life be if I committed to playing the "What's possible?" game with myself?  I've been playing it a lot this year.  A change in assignment allowed me to explore what I WANT versus what I must DO.  The loss of my mother is still too fresh for me write about but these three gems are helping.  This change has really allowed for me to dare myself to dream about the future and all of the possibility it holds.  I've stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.  (It's reduced to a sock.)  I've made smart and safe decisions for so long- it's been a long road back to the kind of dreaming that existed when I played with Barbies and Easy Bake Ovens.

While I'm not looking to live out the life I imagined when I was 8 years old (very disappointed that I can't push a button and put my house in a briefcase), I'm thrilled to honor my teenage dream to write in whatever forum I can without my middle school pen name- Suzanna Skye.  (I know...awesome!)

Will I ever publish a book or pen a column?  Will I participate in space colonization?  Will I win a cooking contest?  Will I travel the world and provide coaching to those in need? Who knows!  I just know that I love asking the questions and not requiring myself to know the answers.  I'll know them when I look back at my life thirty years from now.  Gotta go- I've a lot to make myself wonder about in the future!

Guest Blogger: Welcome to the Universe, Kristin Weller!

I met Kristin years ago through Penn State Lehigh Valley Writing Project and it's been on like Donkey Kong ever since.  I was drawn to Kristin's reflective presence as an educator, writer, and friend.  Plus, she's wicked funny.  Her writing always touches my soul and this piece certainly helps me evaluate how I can work "being present" into my existing routines.  Enjoy!

When Heeling the Dog means Healing the Hurry

Green appeared like brush strokes on a dry canvas today. Cool dew replaced the iciness of morning frost. Birdsong lit up the morning before the sun rose. Springtime surrounds us with her hopeful cloak, whispering sweetly about possibility. 

Me? I’m lacing up my rock-trail shoes, pocketing a roll of blue bags, and loading up my dogs for the first of many weekly road trips. This’ll be year eight for me and Coda, and five for Ladybug.  We all crave the energy of fresh air and collaboration. Our training classes together are a meditation in motion. I spend most of the 45 minute drive trying to find center, to open up my senses, and to feel the present. Buggie sits in the back, alert, excited. She knows where we’re going. She communes with drivers behind me, while Coda curls into a kidney bean… which makes me wonder what they’re all thinking, and just like that, I’ve slid left of center.

It happens all the time. The demands of teaching in a high-pressure environment, of managing home maintenance, a marriage – an aging body. It fills up my mind to overflowing, causing flash-flooding in the wake of torrential planning. A woman’s mind is full of bees; if she’s quiet for too long, rest assured that she’s either trying to calm them, or whipping them up into a frenzy. 

To me, dog handling is the opposite of frenzy. The leash becomes an energy bridge connecting one to the other. The only way to be successful at it, to become a collaborative team, is to breathe, and be present. We warm up. “Heel,” left-foot first, the pack-walk starts. “Left-about,” and we spin to the back. “Right – and under-the-hurry,” we turn and jog in tandem. “Drop the leash,” and we all do. And just like that, the leash gone, yet the connection continues to flow.

I think meditation is heeling with a dog, because if you can walk in the moment, the moment becomes you. You keep moving, and it builds its own momentum, which, when unleashed,  continues to radiate through you into all that you touch. Like spring, it recharges and renews all parts of your being – even those that seemed shriveled as dried leaves. Happy Spring! I’m off to dog class.

Kristin Weller, teacher, writer, and book store enthusiast lives and works in the Lehigh Valley area. Kristin facilitates a local, adult writer’s group called Write Nights on the first and third Monday each month at 7PM at the Nazareth Center for the Arts 30 Belvidere Street, Nazareth PA. When she’s not writing, working, or tending to her home, Kristin meditates with her two boxer dogs through obedience and agility classes.  Click here to learn more about Write Nights.

Dear George Clooney

Dear George Clooney,

Congratulations on your engagement!  I wish you and your beloved nothing but the best.  CNN was kind enough to post an article telling us the most important things about your loved one.  If you agree with CNN's synopsis, I just wanted to bring your attention to my equally compelling qualifications.

1. "She's a well-respected attorney." I wanted to be an attorney.  Correction: I wanted to be the first female Supreme Court Chief Justice.  Or, astronaut.  I am a moderately-respected, mostly-tolerated teacher.  Pretty much the same thing.

2. "Clooney isn't the only one who finds her attractive."  

Many find me attractive.  I get lots of compliments at WaWa.  To be fair, they are silent compliments with stares.  You see, when I smile?  My eyes disappear and it looks like I only have eyebrows.  I attract attention.  I also attract vomit.  Baby vomit.  For some reason, they puke on me.  Could be the eyebrows...

3. "She's a world traveler."

I have a passport.  I've been to the Caribbean and Mexico.  I really want to travel and bring life coaching services to young women around the world...help them find their voices.  But, I'd settle for Epcot.  Plus, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White could use some support.  "What was it about the spindle or apple that was so important?"  "Where did you feel that in your body?"  I know that since they were in long term slumbers that they have had plenty of time to reflect on this.

4. "She's discreet."

Google my name.  I'll wait.  Do you SEE my name linked to any celebrities?  EXACTLY!  (Channing Tatum, Marky Mark, D.B. Woodside, Dominic Purcell, 90210's David Silver after graduation but before addiction, Carlos Bernard, Any of The Doctor Who Doctors- Tennant or Smith especially- pay attention!)   The article lists your bride-to-be as 36.  I have at least 30ish more months of discretion on her.  Do you know the name of my 6th grade boyfriend?  See!  We held hands roller skating and everything.

5. "Alamuddin must be special."

This is implied because you "had no desire to marry again."  I'm pretty special.  I have no desire to marry again.  Neither does my husband.  I tell my husband on a regular basis how happy he is to have married me.  

6. "Her co-workers are happy for her."

I imagine my co-workers would be happy for me.  There's the whole, "We get to meet George Clooney" pipe dream.  People want to know how Carol and Doug ended up.  And, shouldn't Alicia on The Good Wife get a cameo appearance from Doug?  Maybe he and Carol are suing their former hospital for [insert name of ER storyline here] and Alicia is representing them.  EMMY GOLD!  BTW- I get we wouldn't be able to invite my co-workers to our wedding.  Because of charity.  But, my husband?  He has to come.

Good luck, George Clooney!  To you and anyone else in my circle with an upcoming wedding- yes, you!  Remember, the wedding is a day, your marriage is for life.  Hold firm to the one you love.  If you have to punch paparazzi in the face to protect her, good job marrying a lawyer.  (Although, if you married a teacher, you'd be better off.  We'd provide you with alternative thinking strategies to punching someone in the face.  And, we'd be too busy grading papers for the paparazzi to notice us.) 

The Giver, The Getter, & The Gotter

Do you know people who are just great gift givers?

One of my friends gave me an awesome purple necklace.   Well, it's a wrap bracelet and I'm totally inept at fastening it, so I wear it as a necklace.  It's unique in presentation as one observant individual noted- "The beads' spacing is off."  Yes, it is.  It's a morse code bracelet!  The message is "Kindness is my religion."  The necklet (new word!) itself is funky but I doubt it was selected for me based upon color and unique concept alone.  This person KNEW me.  The fact that SHE selected THIS expression for ME brought us that much closer together.  Do you ever feel that you try and try and try but...no one sees you?  I felt seen.

Another friend gave me a "just because" gift.  She repurposed an empty glass jar of sour balls that I had given to her.  (To be clear, there were sour balls in them when I gave them to her.  But, I'm not bitter...)  The inside of the jar was sweet.  Notes.  Lots and lots of notes.  Morsels for me to chew on.  I was supposed to pull out one at a time, from time to time.  Nuh-uh!  Not me.  I poured them out like a waterfall of love and was moved to tears at their creativity.   Tonight, I randomly pulled out five.  The "..." are to maintain some mystery.  (Plus, I hope she will transform them into a feel good book.  And dedicate it to me.  Because.)

"Rock out to 'Mahna Mahna'...goofball."  "Stop on a random line of a favorite book...finish the thought any way you'd like."  "You are ahead of your time...forgive them."  "Write about it...for three minutes...You go now!"  "I love you.  That is all."

That is all?  Are you kidding me?  That's everything!  It's a jar of love.  Someone who knows me, someone who sees me, someone who gets me?  Do you ever feel like it would be so much better if someone just got you?

Two different gifts.  One purchased, one homemade.  One selected with intention.  One designed with it.  Both reflect with such clarity how much "got" I am.  (Yes, grammar police.  I get that ain't right.)  I can't help but wonder how the depth with which I get myself helped my friends to get me.  Kindness IS my practice and words ARE my passion.  A gift I hope to give myself is an openness to share them with others without fear of judgement.

It's wonderful for others to get me...but I've got to get myself if I want to be a great giver.

Cabin Pressure

“Life is 10% what you make it and 90% how you take it.”

~Irving Berlin

“Miss Malarkey, you shouldn’t bite your nails.”

~Random child from Testing Miss Malarkey by Judy Finchler 

(If you are already familiar with this fabulous book, check out this clever reenactment!)

Entering this season of The Test, I was determined to keep my cool, maintain my mellow, and take the random advice of the fictional child from above, the real wisdom of a sage one (“Miss- go home.  For your sanity!”), and a blogger who really understands the impact active monitoring can have on your psyche.  

Not invested in The Test?  That’s OK.  There must be something in your life that gives you pause- grocery shopping, emptying a dishwasher, commuting to work, presenting to your colleagues or clients.  Regardless of the task, our perspective impacts our reality.

I approached this as I do most things- with an inquiry.  “How do the skills honed in active monitoring better prepare me for the real world?”  It hit me hard on day 2- Flight Attendant.

Stay with me!

• When I walk the rows distributing mints, I am demonstrating the same stealth and grace as the flight crew when they distribute nuts, trail mix, or pretzels.  Even if you don’t see me approaching, I leave one behind for you for when you wake up from your nap.  Not nap!  Mental grazing!  I return to collect your trash in my ziplock bag with the same ninja-like skills, evading your eyes lest you think I am cuing you in anyway as I thank you for not littering.
• A goal of active monitoring is to ensure the correct section is being worked on and this must be done without absorbing the content.  Quick scan, correct section, move on!  Rinse, wash, repeat.  This transfers over very nicely to walking the aisle and ensuring your seatbelt is fashioned.  I don’t want to see what’s on your Kindle, if you are playing Words with Friends, or what websites you frequent.  Just a scan of the belt, please.  
• Speaking of electronic devices, I have mastered collecting them and ensuring they are turned off by fear of fine or having permission to search your photos if otherwise found on your person.  Yes...your photos.  On a plane, I will enforce that you turn off your electronic device until the captain says otherwise.  I don’t care if you are Alec Baldwin or what the dudes from MythBusters say.  Rules are rules!  I imagine I’ll be best friends with the sky marshal.  Don’t make me get her!  
• I’m awesome at group announcements.  “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign.  You are free to move about the cabin but we will purposefully hit a big pocket of turbulence in five minutes to remind you to be appreciative of your seatbelt.  In fact, don’t get up at all.  We just want you to feel like you have some semblance of control.”
• Answer bubbles must be completely filled in, dark, and not skipped.  There can be no stray marks.  Technically, there is nothing I can do about this one but on a plane, if my passengers are filling out paperwork for immigration, I can ensure that they fill in the correct information.  Can you image the chaos if they filled it in wrong?  “Sir, what’s the purpose of your visit?”  “Business.”  “Sir, you indicated pleasure on your paperwork.”  “I meant to say pleasure.  I used my flight points from my business to pay for my pleasure based trip.”  “Sir, are you saying you falsified your documents?  Security...”  Thank goodness I can help my passengers overlook an innocent mistake that could jeopardize their whole future.  I mean, vacation.
• I can spot a security violation a moment before it happens.  I can sense when someone’s eyeballs are going to look slightly to the left, to the right, up, down, or straight ahead.  I can tell the difference between a mouth opening to sneeze, yawn, burp, sigh, or bust out a lyric.  Before you can say sky marshal, I use proximity control to Shut That Down.  I run you a tissue before you even know you have to sneeze!  Ever been on a plane where the person in front of you is breathing too heavy?  I can stop that Before It Begins.  
• Reading directions out loud in front of a group is my thing.  On one day, the directions had approximately 900 words.  I read them as best as I could with focused attention but midway, in my brain, I asked, “Did I just read these words or am I talking about my grocery list?”  It’s important to communicate safety information to your passengers.  Did you hear about the rapping flight attendant?   He was well received and folks really paid attention.  Maybe I could jazz up testing directions...“Remember your pencils need to be style number two.  Erase all your stray marks, whatever you do.”  Maybe there’s a reason why they are 900 words long...
• In line to turn in my testing crate, sliding it along the table, waiting for the point person to sign off on my “ticket” and let me pass through security, I envy the powerhouse flight crew that whizzes by with their suitcases and stilettos.  They are like a mini army!  I’m tempted to put my shoes in my testing crate on the last day.  Tempted.
• Manners.  I have them.  “Can I go to my locker to get my sweater?”  Not until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign, I’m afraid.  “I don’t like this breakfast!”  I’m sorry but that’s all we are serving today.  Thank you for understanding.  “May I go to the bathroom?”  As soon as the other passenger returns.  I apologize that the drink cart is in your way.  “What does this word mean?”  I’m sorry, I can not assist you with that but if you turn to page 58 in your SkyMall magazine, you’ll see that we have a lovely garden gnome for sale.
• I’m all about test security and confidentiality.  Unlike these whistleblowers, I will keep my yap shut.  (Except for the coffee/tea drinking water thing.  Gross!)

I acknowledge the intent of accountability and appreciate the hard work of my colleagues who have organized and executed The Test.  As we come to the close of the season, let’s celebrate surviving and returning to the land of normalcy, where we hope the weather will be a balmy 40-70 degrees.  It’s all about perspective.  I may not be the pilot of the plane but I can work to keep my passengers content and comfortable in the cabin.  In the event of an emergency, I will put my oxygen mask on before helping others.  (Unless it’s an evacuation...then, I have to collect the tests first and secure them before we can run...)

Model contributed by “Boy” Friebolin (the young one, not the old one)

Bichovsky Backflash: ‘Tis the Season to be Writing

This piece was written as a reflection of leadership last year.  It’s in honor of a network that has provided me with a professional support system...and some of my closest friends.  Revisiting it warms my heart and reminds me to carve out time for what I value.

Moravian Book Shop.  Coffee and baked goods abound.  Pens moving, keys clacking.  The synergy was scintillating.  A variety of age, creed, and experience were brought together by the life-giving force of writing.

Eight lady Fellows were engaged in a Writing ‘Treat.  For one small moment, each had given themselves the gift of time.  Some wrote holiday letters.  Another, scene six in a book.  One penned a family welcome to a newborn.  What a gift writing was- for themselves and others.

The purpose was simple- fellowship.  The goal- to write!  And laugh!  And eat!  An unexpected outcome.  Another was in the shop that winter’s eve...

The Doctor was in to do some holiday shopping.  Startled to see several employees writing and exchanging professional ideas in their free time, The Doctor commended them on their dedication to their profession and craft.

And, thus a door was opened, exposing the value of what we all already knew to be true; We write to learn, we write to love, we write to laugh.  We write...For Life!

Learn more about Penn State Lehigh Valley Writing Project and consider our upcoming Best Practices Conference on April 5th, 2014.  LVWP is not just for “Writing” teachers.  Good company, great professional development, and inspiration around every corner.  And...did I mention that there will be cheesecake this year?  Cheesecake!

Embracing Silence for 28...

I’ve been told that I am a compassionate listener; I’m not so good at listening to myself.

I have the gift of gab.  Awkward pause or lull in conversation?  I can fill it, if I want to.  Just as I have friends who come to me for support or deep listening, I have those that come to me for distraction.  

I was at a conference earlier in the year.  There were signs everywhere requesting that the quiet atmosphere be respected on behalf of the year round residents.  Shaking my head, I made my way to dinner.  It was weird to start a conference with a communal meal before meeting people but I was totally open to it and quashed my nerves.

Arriving a few minutes late, I took the only open seat at the head of the table.  Engaging in small talk and introductions, there was a lull in conversation with two ladies to my left.  Suzie to the rescue!  I immediately started in on the great Oreo versus Hydrox debate, regaling a humorous tale of misadventure.  As I was talking to the ladies on my left, I noticed the ladies on my right.  I couldn’t tell if I was engaging them, should have been engaging them, was being too loud, if they thought I was ignoring them.  My brain was also saying, “Shut up.  Stop talking.  No one cares about the story.”  My mouth wasn’t catching up with my brain but my ears did.  I heard one of the ladies on my right say “attention seeking” in the least judgmental way possible.

What???  Nothing could be further...If they only knew me...Why would they...

But, it didn’t matter.  

I went to my room after dinner and saw the “Respect the Quiet” sign again.  Thanks!  Then, I thought about it.  And thought about it.  And thought about it.

Started the next day with a communal breakfast.  Made fast friends with someone sitting next to me and simply said this.  “I really look forward to getting to know you but I’m trying something new.  I’m trying to be present and be quiet so I can take it all in.  If I don’t talk to you a lot, it’s not because I’m not interested.  It’s because I am.”  Guess what?  SHE was also working on trying something different that weekend, too.  We were instant supports for each other and because we had no history, we really got to see each other “as is.”  It is really awesome to be accepted As Is.

I heard and questioned things that weekend that I would have missed had I otherwise been engaged.  I learned a lot about myself, too.  I really crave slowness, stillness, and silence in my life.  So, I started off small.  For the month of February, I silenced my phone, removed my favorite apps, and put it out of reach as soon as I got home.  That lead to my not caring when I watched what was on my DVR (let the record show it was not during Doctor Who season) and watching less TV.  It’s amazing how deeply I’ve been able to listen to myself without all of the distraction that I used to refer to as multitasking.  

My devices are still in silent mode.  I can still talk your ear off, if you want me to.  I can still listen to you and support you, if you need me to.  But, I can also be compassionate with myself.  I have to.  And I will respect what springs from the quiet.