Covid Demands Respect

It was still pitch black when my dreams about ‘Waiting’ woke me up.  In my dream, I was waiting for my partner to change something about himself as he waited for me to do the same.  We were waiting for each other to do something we hoped the other would do.  We were waiting for the Pandemic to be over.  Waiting for the effects of Covid19 on my brain to go away. Waiting for other people to make decisions about things.  We were waiting for Life, life outside of us, to miraculously be different.  Dr. Seuss’s image of “The Waiting Place” from Oh, the Places You’ll Go! filtered into my waking mind.  The rhythm of Seuss’s rhymes repeated in my head… “Waiting for their Uncle Jake… waiting for a cake to bake… waiting for their hair to grow… waiting around for a yes or no… everyone is just waiting.”

As I let the dream of ‘Waiting’ take precedence over the sleepy darkness, I pulled myself out of bed into consciousness.  My teacher’s words from the other day flashed their neon sign at me: “Covid Demands Respect”.  This clear image of Covid standing there with arms folded across it’s prickly chest looking at all the people waiting with disdain, waiting for the world to respect it, like a teacher waiting for a class to quiet down after recess came to mind.  It looks down its stubborn and steadfast nose at us, knowing full well that some are sitting in neat rows quietly behaving with masks on and clean, sanitized hands folded neatly on top of the desk, while others are blowing spit wads in the back row as if the teacher hadn’t even entered the room.  Covid will not start the class until the spit ballers in the back wake up.  It will patiently wait. The wily, infectious teacher has no urgency to go anywhere.  It’s here to teach after all, and when we figure that out, the lessons will come clear and Covid will begin its teaching in earnest.

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So, what are you waiting for?  What are we waiting for?  Where are you in the scene?  Are you the well behaved student in the front row with eyes forward waiting too quietly for the bad kids in the back row to quiet down?  Are you somewhere in the middle?  Wearing your too dirty mask pretending to comply while exiting your bubble a little too often?  Or are you the person in South Dakota still denying it exists, even while they intubate you? Are you the kid in South Korea or New Zealand who already graduated and is moving onto other things?   Maybe you’re the principal ready to discipline those who don’t respect the teacher?  Or the weary parent who just wishes this would all go away, not sure what any of it has to do with you?  Whoever and wherever you are in the scene, Covid19 still demands your respect.  

WHY?  Why does this teacher demand so much respect?  What’s it here to teach us?  What are we supposed to be learning?  I suspect there are as many answers to that question as there are people on this spinning planet.  Here are a few places I’ve been looking:  We are one planet, one people.  We treat the planet like someone else will take care of it.  We keep waiting for someone else to do the right thing, just as I did in my dream.  We want everyone else to change, yet refuse to do what we know we must.  We too often don’t do our best.  We don’t tend to our hearts, or make room for our grief, and our immune systems suffer as a result.  We think we’re special, different, above others – immune.  We put each other in boxes and decide who that person is and lose our curiosity.  We judge ruthlessly.  We think we’re above the rules and that everyone is out to oppress us, take away our freedoms, destroy our democracy, etc.  We put each other in two columns – one marked GOOD and one marked BAD and we fail to see who we truly are.  We don’t nourish our bodies, nourish our minds, or nourish our spirits.  We certainly don’t nourish our planet.  We make ourselves more important than other, but we do it falsely with blame, guilt and shame as our companions.  We’ve lost our connection to God/Spirit/Source.  We work and live in unsustainable ways.  Our selfishness and separateness is destroying our relationships, our communities, our planet, and making room for this Coronavirus to creep in that second story window and ransack our lives.  

That’s just a few things…. 

On a lighter note, Covid begs us to respect each other’s space, to tidy up our world starting with the simple and sacred act of cleansing our hands well. These hands which brush our teeth, feed our families, provide comfort, express emotion, wave hello and goodbye, take out the trash, bring cookies to our neighbor, turn the key, seal the ballot, bathe the infant, wrench on the car, hold the paintbrush, pull the trigger, fold in prayer, hold the phone endlessly, and push the button on the elevator.  We begin by simply acknowledging the makers that we are by washing and washing these precious hands and waking up to all we touch.  

Beyond that, Covid asks us to slow down and reassess how we live, what we eat, how we work, how we educate, how we love one another, the rules and laws we’ve created, how we shop, how we travel, justice and injustice in our world, how we spend, what we believe, where we are privileged and where we are not, who we listen to, who leads us, where we spend our energy, and how we tend ourselves.  

When I was young, my family was on a road trip and my mom was driving the car.  It was early morning. My brothers were sleeping in the back and my mom and I were in the front.  Suddenly, off in the distance, a car in front of us began to swerve.  I remember how everything switched to slow motion.  He swerved to the left, then the right, then the car rolled over a time or two.  The car landed up right at the edge of the road.  As we pulled up, the driver was standing in the road in shock.  He looked at his hands as if he’d just dropped into this body.  His mouth was agape and his face in awe.  He looked at his whole body, ever so slowly with eyes of wonder.  He was Alive!  Unscathed.  Somehow, he had been ejected from the car and landed on his feet.  Completely unharmed.  His car sat there totaled like a drunkard passed out after a too wild evening.  The driver, not only completely sober, but now fully AWAKE to all that Life is and can be, stood transformed in the middle of the 4 lane highway.  We had a front row seat to an awakening.  In turn, we awakened.

Perhaps Covid is waiting till we get thrown from the vehicle of our Life, stand in Awe of the miracle it is that any of us get through a single day, notice how often the hand of something Divine lifts us from our vehicle and places us safely on the road, and learn to live in appreciation of all we have, all we are, and all that can be.  When we stand there, looking at our hands as if we’ve just dropped into these precious bodies, knowing that we have the ability to create our world to be a more loving sustainable place, and yet realize we have little control over anything… perhaps then, we’ll wash these hands well and use them to secure our masks, eyes front in respect of the teacher, ready to dive in to all it has to teach us.  No longer waiting for anyone but ourselves.  Perhaps then, teacher will give a nod of respect back and exit the classroom.  Perhaps.  We shall see.   

Please. Stay Home.

It was the first Global Co-Active Summit in 2011.  There were over 400 coaches and other Co-Active enthusiasts gathered from all over the world at a beautiful hotel in Marco Island, Florida. Incredible intimacy is created in CTI’s programs. Gratitude and the shared experience of transformation tends to make for a very huggy crowd.  As someone with years of experience in front of those coaching and leadership classrooms, I seemed to get an extra heap of hugs.  People were hungry to connect and express their love and appreciation.  As an introvert, I sometimes had to hide in my room to restore, then brace myself for more as I headed back out.  It was beautiful, humbling, sometimes daunting, and the exact opposite of social distancing!

Adding to the hugs, was stress.  I did the largest, most terrifying training of my life the day before the Summit began.  I had stressed about it for months.  I could feel my body’s defenses breaking down.  To cope, I would sneak off to smoke, share a cocktail with friends, and eat whatever would comfort me.  I kept praying to stay healthy until after my presentation was over, “Just let me get through this….then I can rest.”  

Hours after the big presentation, my brain felt weird.  I couldn’t think straight.  My vision was off.  I got an intense headache, chills, and a very high fever. A weird dry cough emerged. I began spending big chunks of time in my hotel room.  The downward spiral began.  Many of you know the rest of that story.

While I was in the ICU, the doctors frantically tried to figure out what I had.  Infectious disease specialists looked at all of my fluids under microscopes.  They tried to grow things in petri dishes.  As antibiotics failed to work, my family reached out to all of the attendees of the Summit.  A little over a fourth of them had gotten sick.  We were diagnosed with different things, but most of the symptoms were similar.  Mostly respiratory.  Some pneumonia, flu, whooping cough, bronchitis.  You get the picture.  Not sure if they were all viral.  Mine surely was.

 

I don’t know if I was “patient zero” of that event, if it was in the air, or if one of those enthusiastic huggers was infected as they hugged more than their fair share.  What I do know is that it was frighteningly similar to this CoronaVirus.  No antibiotics would touch it.  I spent time on a ventilator, experienced “full respiratory arrest”, had two fully occluded lungs, was kept under coma-like sedation for 6 days, and when I came home 17 days later, I was connected to an oxygen concentrator for a month.

I’ve done a lot of work to heal the trauma from that experience.  Covid-19 has given me a chance to work on releasing more of it.  Yet I have to say, when our president says things like,  “Let’s not make the cure worse than the disease”, I need to work through it all over again as his words carry massive weight with so many who are eager to get back to work, back to school, hang out, and touch everything.

No one knew I was heading for what I went through when we hugged.  No one knew something contagious was moving through that loving crowd.  This time, however, WE DO KNOW.  We know.  We know physical distancing helps flatten the curve.  We know.

My partner’s mom who lives next door is high risk – 90 years old, asthmatic, sleeps with oxygen.  I’m high risk from my pneumonia experience paired with asthma.  People you will never meet, but who shop in the same aisle at the grocery store as you are high risk.  Many of our beloveds are high risk.    

Please.  Let’s be patient and do our part to plank the curve. Please. Stay home as much as possible.  Please.  Wash your hands.  Please.  Help others who have less than you get through these tough times. Please.  Let’s take care of one another.

Thank you!

Losing Mom ~ The Co-Active Way

 

I am Helen.

Losing a parent isn’t supposed to be easy.  If they’ve loved you well, or if you’ve done your work about how they didn’t, the loss can feel unbearable.  When we’re in pain we often default to our most toxic behaviors.  When our mom died recently that was definitely an option.  As I grieve my mother’s death, I also sit in awe of my siblings, sisters-in-love, and that rising generation of my children, niece, nephews, and their loves.  We could have put all of our tools in the closet and forgotten what we know.  We could have set aside what we teach and preach and become lesser versions of ourselves.  It’s always an option.  We are creatures of habit ~ and choice ~ after all.

We could have.  And we didn’t.

Instead, we experienced the beauty and power of what we teach profoundly.

I could outline every bit of each of CTI‘s models – The Co-Active Coaching Model, The Co-Active Leadership Model, and the Co-Active Leadership Map – and give you point by point examples of how we lived from them in the weeks leading up to and following Mom’s death.  Since that would be overkill (!) I’ll point to those that keep whispering to me in these days since everyone’s left the cocoon and entered back into ordinary time.

Dance in This Moment:  We thought she had longer.  Every time we came up with a plan, the circumstances changed.  Staying fluid, flexible, and willing to both have a plan and throw it out the window at any given moment proved to be vitally important.   People die at their own pace.  We can’t slow it down or speed it up.  It just is what it is.  We must be willing and able to dance in each moment and choose again and again what to do and how to be.

Ask for what you need:  Because things change, and there are things that are vitally important in our lives that we mustn’t miss, it’s so crucial to not fall victim to our life’s demands.  We asked for help, we urged each other to act, we got replacements, we let go of short-term needs, we waited a little longer or came a little sooner.  We moved things, cancelled things, and let our Naturally, Creative, Resourceful and Whole world be okay while we moved through this vital time in our lives.  Because we also fail at this, we are forgiving ourselves and each other for where we didn’t do this enough or where the impact was not a good one!

Design a Stake ~ Align Around It:  In Leadership we say every experience or event you lead needs a stake.  Imagine a wooden stake pounded into the ground holding the Big Top securely to handle anything the crowds or winds throw at it.  A Stake is a core concept or idea – a belief or imperative – that the leaders are tethered to.  It’s that idea that, no matter how wrong things sometimes feel like they’re going, remembering it helps you find your way back to center.  Our family designed a stake for how we’d be together in the days after Mom’s passing as we planned the Memorial Service and sorted her estate.  Together, we came up with “When we let go and let God, Magic and Integrity happen.”  This was co-created and co-held.  Again and again we found our way back to our center and to each other by remembering our stake.  I believe most of us are still holding it even as we’re finding our way back to life in a post-Mom world.

Listen from the Heart:  This was key throughout the process.  We turned up the volume on it each morning after she died by passing a talking stick in her living room.  A Talking Stick Ceremony is used in many indigenous traditions as a way of having every voice be heard, grounding our words in community, and putting our hearts in a place of receiving and being received.  Each morning we gathered and passed the stick sunwise (clockwise).  One by one,  we each stated our name, spoke from our hearts whatever was present in that moment, and the rest of us listened fully from our hearts. When the words of each person were complete, they said “I have spoken” or “These are my words”.  It’s common for the group to respond with “Ho”, which means essentially “My heart has heard your heart”.  Sometimes, in honor of Mom, we threw in a “Thankka God!” for good measure!  These daily ceremonies grounded us, made way for heartbreak and humor, were a place to share the wild dreams we were having, and  could be thought-filled, teary, blah, frustrated, or whatever.  There was room for all of it with no judgement or care-taking.  This was my children’s first go at a talking stick ceremony, and I must say they added considerably to the experience.  These were some of my most sacred memories from our time together.

Create from Self, Other, Nothing, and Everything:  Yes.  All of it.  Do this.

Honor your Truth ~ Be true to who you are:  In Leadership, we have a powerful typing system called “I AM” Typing.  The purpose is to find that most authentic, impactful, engaging, innate leader within each of us.  Though not quite EVERY member of my family has done CTI’s Leadership Program (though 5 of us actually LEAD it!), I experienced every member of my family being fully who they are and being honored and appreciated for that.    I think every type was represented.  Family roles were respected and honored, but not defaulted to.  Needs didn’t trump wants nor the other way around.  Egos were in check.  Honesty and Love both had room.

Co AND Active – Be AND Do:  There’s so much to feel when a great one dies.  There’s also so much to do!  It’s easy to get lost in one or the other.  Really easy.  It’s rare to be in such an intense experience and have so much room for BOTH to be fully honored, respected, and have space made for them.  The daily talking stick got the CO side of things, or Being side of things, firmly established up front.  By taking time for this, when it was complete each day we could all feel the urgency and desire to get ACTIVE or get Doing.  There was MUCH to DO… and without the Being having full permission, the doing never would have been so manageable.

STAY… and Stay some more:  The Co-Active Leadership Map has “Stay” on it twice because it’s so important!  It says “Stay”… then “Level 3″… then “Stay” again.  There were so many times when I wanted to GO… to run… to not feel… to eat or drink or disappear into numbness.  It continues as the days and weeks go by.  And yet, STAY we must!  I must stay with this process, stay with my stake, stay with myself, my family, and with the empty hole left behind by my mother… I must listen into the “level 3” aka the environment, the energy, the calling of Mother Life… and I must stay some more.  The next URGE is on the horizon.  What I need and what the world needs will be calling soon… if I don’t STAY, I’ll never hear it.  So stay we did, stay we must, and stay I will.

There are many stories of family discord, disaster, and resentment driven separation in the wake of loss.  My hope is that if even one part of this process was meaningful to you, that you’ll carry it into your next time of intensity.  Lead from whichever part of the experience you’re called to lead from, and make it different from what Life’s default settings would ask it to become.  Let’s plant the seeds of change in whatever system we’re called to lead in ~ family or otherwise ~ shall we?

These are my words.

Margo House bedecked in seed packets of forget-me-nots, daisies (Marguerites), and bursting with the blooms of the seeds of change she planted throughout her impactful life.

Remembrance for Mom

April 27th, 2016, my siblings and I were with our mother when she died at home. There’s much to write about that process – both leading up to it and following her death – but for starters, I want to share the words I spoke at her Memorial service the other day.  Whether it’s the stuff of blogs or not, I really don’t care.  I just wanted an easy way to hold it and share it with those who wished they’d been there.

3 Generations ~ Margo House, Helen House, and Mady Farley

On  August 16th, 1962, in St. Cloud Minnesota, I saw my mother for the first time.  It was about 3am, the moving truck was packed so the family could move to Eau Claire, Wisconsin the next morning.  They’d been at a ‘going away party’ which surprisingly became my ‘welcome to the world’ party.  As my family headed off to our future home and unpacked the house just as Mom had so carefully plotted, planned, charted and mapped out… my mom and I got to spend one precious week alone together in the hospital.  Though I don’t remember it well, I trust it’s when I fell deeply in love with one of the most beautiful, complicated, intelligent, fierce, loving, creative, champions of human potential I’ll ever have the privilege of knowing.

Deathwatch and Mediporn

I’m dying. Every day I’m a day closer to being dead. Cells die off constantly throughout my body. And if I’m lucky and intentional enough about it, old habits, rules, ideas, and useless behaviors die along with those cells.

I’m being born. Every day, new cells in me are created. Every day new life emerges in this very body bringing me more alive all the time. New ideas emerge, new thoughts, relationships, and neural pathways are born bringing me ever closer to the Light we all strive for.

I’m living. Each day that my heart is beating, my lungs are doing their job, and the neurons keep firing; I am living. Each moment that I seek new learning, share with others, or engage in anything that lights my fire – I am very, very ALIVE.

Which part of me are you going to interact with? The dying part? The being created anew part? Or the living part? They all matter. They all have relevance… a particular role to play in this cycle of Life.

When I asked my client today, “What are the conversations you’re avoiding?” he replied with, “I don’t talk to people who are on deathwatch any more.” When I asked him to elaborate he described those people who don’t know how to deal with the fact his illness is terminal, they don’t know how to relate to him as a living being, but rather because they’re so distressed by the idea they’ll lose him one day and that they won’t know how to handle that themselves; they seem to be just waiting for him to die. They’re on deathwatch.

When time is in short supply, and the energy one has to share with any given person in a day is limited, the last thing someone who is dancing with an illness needs is to be the caretaker in a conversation – the one making it okay for everyone else that they happen to be dying a little faster than the rest of us probably are.

I asked if he was tired of people resorting to asking for report outs about his current physical state. After chatting about how we all tend to let our curiosity be about ailments, effects of medication, and have an incessant need to know why this or that happened, he blurted out “Mediporn!”

At the Center of Chaos

Today is a Dorothy day.  Though no tornado is visible to my outer world, I’m caught in the middle of one I created. Picked up, spinning, debris all around, wondering where and when I’ll land. Look out below!  (Especially if you’re a wicked witch!)  I’m in that phase of downsizing where all the balls are in the air, all the boxes are strewn about, the piles seem endless, and end-of-tunnel-light is nowhere to be found.  Some might call this part Hell.  This part is why some people never begin this process or never let life get too big so they won’t have to. Yesterday’s releasing was cathartic. Today’s disarray feels overwhelming.

Several years ago, I took the Strengths Finder 2.0 assessment and ended up with these 5 key strengths:  Input, Activator, Arranger, Connectedness, and Strategic.  When I took that assessment my life made sense to me.  I could see why I was good at what I was good at and why I shouldn’t keep trying to make myself do certain things that just weren’t in my wheelhouse.

Today, the shadowy side of the strengths that I lean on so often are biting me in the arse.  Let’s take ‘Input’ for example:  Input has me collect ideas, objects, techniques, memories, and more.  On a good day, that makes me a rich resource full of information, connections, and solutions to any number of challenges.  When downsizing, however, it makes the stuff of my life take on epic proportions.  The good news is, I know there is always more to gather.  The bad news is, the firehouse never seems to shut off.

I could go through each strength and detail what I’m discovering, but that’s way too much about me and my process.  I’m curious about how your strengths or personality can get in your way sometimes.  Whether it’s the Strength Finder 2.0 or any number of other typing or assessment systems:  Where do your strengths or style get you in trouble?  How do they help you find your way back to center?  How do YOU move forward when you’re in the middle of the thickest of the thick?

Time to lean on the ‘Strategic’ part of my Strengths!  I’ve got this ~ Just needed to stop, reflect, re-assess, breathe, and get more boxes.  And a shovel… There’s got to be a pony in here some where!

Happy ‘Let it Go’ Day!

Helen

Moving Through Pain Moving Through

“That’s the thing about pain,” Augustus said, and then glanced back at me. “It demands to be felt” ~ John Green (from The Fault in Our Stars)

Last year, I sold my house and moved across town to the lower level of my mother’s condo.  It took me 6 months to complete the move which included my mom’s condo being remodeled, prepping my home to sell, and getting rid of many things.  There was much pain associated with that move: letting go of so much stuff, moving my kids out of our home, and selling a home I loved.

And then, things settled.

Once settled, I felt FREE.  My medical debt was erased, my life was smaller and simpler, my kids were finding their way without me, and my mom was healthy enough that I could move about my life quite freely without worrying about her.   There was this precious window of time that I knew I must savor, because I knew it was to be short-lived.  Wasn’t sure why, just trusted my gut.

Now, we’re moving again.  Not across town, but instead cross country to New York.  My belongings must be further shed.  More pain must be felt.  I’m getting used to this.  I hold something in my hands that I’ve held since childhood and decide.  Sometimes, there’s no pain at all, and I just toss it.  Sometimes, a wave hits me, I feel it… then put it in a box for Goodwill.  Other times, it just goes back into a box to keep.  For now.  It’s a funny thing about this pain though; When I let myself feel it, get familiar with it, let it move whatever it’s meant to move… it then moves on.  It doesn’t linger.  It doesn’t grab hold and make me suffer as I sometimes imagine it will.  As John Green said in his film and book, The Fault In Our Stars, it DEMANDS to be felt.  Once it is, it often quiets right down.

In this move, there are things I haven’t felt the pain of yet – some by choice, some just because I haven’t gotten to them yet.  The more I get clear that I just need to be willing to feel it, the more clear I am that I’ll soon be free – perhaps more free than I’ve ever been.

As I’ve worked with coaching clients through the years, often where they get stuck is around something that will result in feeling some pain.  They’re afraid sometimes, and usually it’s a fear they’ll feel pain of some kind.  I’m thinking now that part of my job as a coach is to help them remember that pain demands to be felt, that it’s only pain, and that there is tremendous freedom on the other side.

What sayeth you?

Freely yours,

Helen

 

 

It’s Opener There

For years I’ve been reading Dr. Seuss’s “Oh the Places you’ll Go!” with great enthusiasm to groups of adults ‘kindergarten style’ celebrating the wonderful way Seuss invites us all to boldly claim our lives. “Except when you don’t, because sometimes you won’t” has become a philosophy of life, always reminding me to stay optimistic and believe in possibilities, while knowing there’s always a chance things won’t go as planned. Dashing boldly out into the wide open spaces where “it’s opener there in the wide open air” , however, has not always been my forte. Though some may disagree, in my book, I often play it safe.

A month or two ago, my mother was griping about our endless winter. Though she’s not what I’d call a complainer, around March each year the weather whining starts. This year, the ice finally left Lake Superior on June 4^th which gifted us with extra time to moan and groan about the length of winter!  After listening to her mild complaints, I casually said one day, “We could move, y’know.”

Fast forward to today; We have a signed contract for the purchase of a new house in Delmar, NY!  (I know I know… it’s not exactly WARM there in winter either!) My mother’s condo is on the market with potential buyers lined up to look. When my mom makes up her mind about something, it happens in short order. That’s how she rolls.

In the midst of it all, I find myself in a most curious state. On the one hand, I have saboteurs that are having a heyday with me about being in my 50s, single, and living with my mother, moving to a state I never imagined myself living, and squeezing myself back down into one bedroom after 30 some years of being an adult with my own home. Nothing about it feels permanent to me. It’s a bit like I’m going on an extended trip and part of it will involve time travel back to my childhood. Buckle up!

On the other hand, everything about this feels Right. Capital ‘R’ Right. Deep in my bones and heart Right. It’s

Have a Healthy Co-Active Summit 2014!

On April 10^th, 2014 about 650 people from around the world will be gathering for CTI’s Co-Active Summit 2014. This is the 2^nd ever Summit. The last was held in Marco Island, FL in February of 2011. I am beyond excited about this Summit!  And to be perfectly honest – a wee bit nervous.  You see I spent most of the last Summit in my hotel room, in bed, with a burning fever, launching myself into the transformational ride of my life. Many of you came with me on that journey in one form or another. Since from ‘Me to We’ is the Summit theme, these ideas are my contribution to keep the ‘me’ of myself and the ‘we’ of us all healthy.

If you won’t be attending the Summit in person, these tips may still apply to both how you can support a healthy Summit for all, and they could help keep yourself healthy in those intense life moments.

1. Come well rested. So often we head into travel already exhausted. People are coming from around the world. Many will be road weary and jet lagged. The more rested the whole of us can be, the more the individuals can rest into knowing the experience is well held when others need to catch up. There will be plenty of energy for all when we lean in together.

2. Everything is nothing with a twist – Begin with a breath… 
   I love this image! To me it illustrates moving from the self, me in the center, into the larger whole. When I twist that ‘0’ into an infinity symbol, it leads me to my breath. As I breathe in and fill myself up, I must exhale and expand into the space. As I empty myself, I must then refill from the space before I offer myself to it again. We can start anywhere on the infinity loop… we just have to begin.

3. Support the Leadership.   This will be an amazing experience that will fill us all up, as long as we support the leadership in every moment. From every corner of the room, from every seat in the house, Leadership is emerging. The more we can support, celebrate, champion, and take it when it’s ours, the more filling and less draining this will be.
4. Nap! In Embodying Well-Being, author Julie Henderson writes that napping helps you learn from whatever you’ve just been doing. Even if you take a 1 to 3 minute nap, it will help incorporate the learning into the system. I believe we will be learning A LOT at the Summit. So, we will need a LOT of little naps so our systems don’t get overwhelmed and can integrate all that juicy learning.
5. Listen to your body. Always. What does it need? Water? Sunshine? To breathe more? Move? Rest? Hugs? Good food? Less wine? Listen… it’s telling you.
6. Stay in the flow. If you’re receiving too much, give. If you’re giving too much, receive. This connects with #2, only it goes beyond the breath. Most of us lean more in one direction than the other – either we give more than we receive, or we take more than we give. In a Summit environment, we can maintain our equilibrium by balancing these out. If I feel overwhelmed by all the attention coming my way, I need to let it pass through me, then shift and give to others. If I’m feeling drained from giving too much, I need to breathe in what’s there and lean into what others can give.
7. Tend the coals. Passion gets ignited in an environment where people on purpose come together to learn, grow, and shift consciousness. It’s easy to turn a small fire into a blaze and have it burn out. Instead, we need to build a strong ‘bed of passion’ as in ‘bed of coals’ so that we can sustain a long-burning fire within
8. Hydrate. Being in Napa, it’s easy to think drinking wine is hydrating. Um, water folks. Don’t forget to drink water too
9. Ask for help. BEFORE all else fails, remember to ask for help as needed. Being a Leader does not mean you must do it all alone. Me to We. We do it together.
10. PLAY!!  Have a BLAST!!  Don’t hold back!  This is our one chance for THIS moment. Don’t regret not having living, loving, and playing FULLY!

 

What tips do you have to add?  I always appreciate your comments and the chance to interact with and learn from you.

See you at the Summit! I plan to be in good health before, during, and after. Though falling ill last time grew me tons, I’ve “been there done that, got the T-shirt!”, as they say.   This year, let’s ALL have a Healthy Summit!

Love,

Helen

After Choice ~ Sprouting Wings

This has been a pensive couple of weeks for me as at this time two years ago I was hanging out in the ICU of Marquette General Hospital learning a lot about living, dying, choosing, and how important oxygen is.  At this same time last year the thoughts were actually too overwhelming for me to sort through and write about, so I let the date pass by barely noted.  I took it so far as to let blogging pass by altogether and only wrote 3 posts in 2012.  Now I feel just that much farther away from the experience that if feels like a good time to capture some of the memories and begin to share some of my learning.  Bear with me please, as this is likely to get long.  I’m giving myself full permission though, as pivotal moments in one’s life should not be forced to meet our tweet-sized attention spans.

It is an incredibly frightening thing to not be able to take a breath.  I have easily accessible flashback images in my mind of my body bucking, eyes wide, wrists in restraints, as I struggled to suck oxygen into pneumonia-filled lungs.  “This must be what it feels like to drown”, I thought.  “If I could gasp harder, maybe I could get enough.”  But there was no room at the inn… no place to put a breath, even if I could manage to coax it into my crowded lungs.

And then…