Just when you think things are under control

I sat down on the couch last night, feeling very satisfied. I had mowed the lawns, weeded the garden, washed the floors, vacuumed, and even cleaned the second story windows inside and out. My to-do list was under control and my house was sparkling. I wanted to rest and enjoy the quiet of a late August evening when I heard a sudden and loud crack. I checked the laundry room to see if something had fallen off the dryer while spinning. No. I thought I heard water running so I checked the kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I looked over to the neighbors' to see if their above-ground pool had been over-filled. Nope.

The sound of water became louder. I ran to the upstairs bathroom and discovered inches of water pooling on to the floor and heading to the hallway carpet. I turned off the toilet tap, and the water still ran. I threw every towel that I could find onto the bathroom floor to sop up the water, still not knowing the source.

Once I was convinced that the towels were absorbing the water, I paused to look for the leak. The water was dripping from the toilet's tank. A crack ran the length of the tank and all of the water had emptied. I was grateful that I was home when the tank cracked and thought to myself, at least the water is confined to the upstairs bathroom.

I was wrong. When I went back into the kitchen, water was leaking into the lighting fixture and dripping onto the laminate floor. More towels and paper towels into action. I turned off the light and very carefully lifted the fixture off the ceiling and poured the accumulated water into the drain. Finally, I placed a bowl on the floor to catch the last drizzles of water coming from the ceiling.

Still grateful that I was home, I decided that there was nothing more to do but I wondered how a toilet tank cracks spontaneously, and especially cracks just when I was feeling that there was nothing left to fix or clean. I think the lesson is that there is always more and there is always less and what is more and less is out of our control.

I am not my job, my accomplishments, my labels...

Last week, I dipped my toe into corporate waters and nosed into the future. I had applied for a full time permanent position that built on my twenty years of business development. During a preliminary interview, the recruiter asked "Imagine you have accepted this position and are travelling on an airplane. I am sitting next to you and ask what you do. How would you answer?" My reply was that I would answer as I have for many years - that I would say that I do many things, one of which is working for organization X.

I did not get the job. As I reflect on the interview and the process, I realize that I have come a long way since I last worked corporately. My definition of success has changed. My definition of leadership has changed. I have changed.

I had applied for this same position a few years ago and was short-listed. When I did not receive the job offer, I blamed myself. I felt that I had not performed well enough in the interview, that I was not good enough. I believe in the mandate of the organization. I genuinely believe that I could lead it effectively, however, this time I am not disappointed. I answered honestly and am proud that I showed who I am.

In the past, I did define myself by my job and accomplishments. Now I don't. Sometimes, I miss the shortcut and ease that this provides but other times, I am amused when people try to place where I fit. Two weeks ago, I met a fellow who couldn't figure out my social status, even asking what the square footage of my house was. I enjoyed playing with my reply and told him the colours of my walls rather than the number he was looking for. (There was a slight guilt pang but it was fun.)

I am realizing yet again just how pervasive fear can be. While I was confident that I was being true to myself, job-wise, I felt uncomfortable and anxious in the days following. I yearned to drive my children to school again (an unrealistic yearning since they are adults and have been for a while). I worried about my retirement. I agonized about how the value of my home might drop if a proposed high voltage transmission line were built nearby. I was living in my head...in the past and in the future.

A passage from "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle reminded me of what I know but do not always do. Be in the moment. Interestingly, now that I am paying more attention, I notice that I have a crick in my neck which I often take as a sign that my mind is disconnected from my body. The crick has not disappeared but is lessening. The integration of mind and body that sport provides to me so beautifully is becoming more available in each moment. I am grateful for this and all the lessons that life provides. I am not my job, my accomplishments, my labels. I am me, a human being.

Namaste,

Ginny

Superheroes

When I first started this blog, I described a quote that inspired me. "As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think" . The phrase is attributed by Joseph Campbell to a bit of advice given to a young native at the time of his initiation. Jumping chasms is what it takes to live life fearlessly. The chasm, depending on what scares you, may be leaving a job, saying no to a friend, trying something new or even just being alone and still. I have found the advice to jump very true, and the chasms narrow to mere cracks after the fact.

I recently listened to a song written by Martin Simpson and Eric Bibb that further illuminated the idea of jumping. What does Superman do? He leaps tall buildings in a single bound. What does Spiderman do? Use his spidey sense and powers to move up, down, and sideways. What do kids playing often need? A cape...and that is what these song lyrics are about:

He’s one of those who knows that life

Is just a leap of faith

Spread your arms and hold your breath

Always trust your cape

The new idea that these lyrics convey is to "always trust your cape". When I first started jumping, I probably held my breath. I definitely did not spread my arms though I yearned for that freedom. I trusted something, though I did not know what. Since then I have learned a lot about trust. I began rock climbing, thinking that I would learn to trust others. Instead, I learned to trust myself. What I have just realized is that we are all superheroes and we all have capes. Our capes are invisible. Our capes have many names. They are our guardian angels, our inner compass, our faith in a greater power - whatever name (God, the source, the universe) we choose. So, I am trusting my (invisible) cape and spreading my arms and breathing as I make my leaps of faith.