Tag: Growth

Categories
Book Reports

The Author of Your Story

Several friends had recommended Cheryl Strayed’s Wild to me, despite my idea of a good outdoor adventure being a patio at my favorite winery. But I like a well-told story and Strayed delivers just that. The story is about her solo journey along the Pacific Crest Trail of the West Coast. She decides to make the trip after the death of her mother, the end of her marriage and a general feeling of being lost in her own life. It’s a great book if you’re into the outdoors or if you’re into a good human interest story. The latter is the one that captured my attention.

At the time of her hike, Strayer wasn’t aware of any other women hiking the train alone. She came across some solo men hikers, but the women were always part of a pair of group. Strayer had enough to fear from the wilderness that didn’t have anything to do with her gender, but she also has some unique concerns as a solo woman hiker. That said, fairly early on in her hike, she made a conscious choice about how she would handle her fear.

Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me. Insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked.  – Cheryl Strayed

I love this quote for many reasons. First, she ties her emotions to the story she tells herself, which is something that resonates with me – facts and observations don’t upset or scare us. It’s the stories we tell ourselves about these facts and observations that lead us to feel something about them.  And secondly, that means Strayed decided for herself to buck what she’s been told as a woman and decide she would and could write the story of her choosing.

Sure, fear can keep us safe in a lot of situations. But fear can also hold us back if we let it be the sole author of our story. What’s writing your story?

Categories
Career Karen

I am a Guinea Pig

I can see why people choose not to make high-risk decisions: it’s unpredictable with no guarantees.

If I said to you (cyber invisible person), “Eat this roast beef dinner every day and you’ll lose 10 pounds.”

You would say, “How do you know?”

I would say, “I’m not 100% sure. Looks like all the ingredients for health might be there.  Let’s see if it works.”

Cyber invisible person says, “So in other words, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”  You then walk away and think I’m crazy.

Launching a business isn’t much different.

Do I know I’ll be successful?  No.

Do I want to find out?  Yes.

It’s not you that has to eat the roast beef dinner, it’s me that has to do it first, and find out if it works. Then I can say to you, “I can guarantee you, if you eat this roast beef dinner every day for 2 weeks you’ll lose 10 pounds.” Until I, myself, try it out, take the risk, enter into unpredictability and embrace the reality that there are no guarantees, I can’t offer you anything.

What people want are stories and testimonies of what works, what is successful, what is transformational, what is impactful, what is life-changing, what is guaranteed – they want to see results.

We are a skeptical bunch, us mammals. Even animals show skepticism. One will try it before the pack does. Once it’s tried and proven, then they start to fight over who gets to be next (except for lemmings…).

What do I conclude?

I’m a guinea pig.

I’m wired for experimentation.

I’m wired to risk. I’m wired to explore. I’m wired to try it first, and then decide if it’s a good idea.

I have a philosophy. “When I’m 96 years old, will I regret not doing this?” It is foundational in my decision-making. If I respond to the question with, “Yes. Absolutely, yes.” then I know I’m to proceed. If I say, “Mehhh, I can take it or leave it,” then I don’t proceed.

I am only interested in searching for the ‘absolutely yes’ residing in my heart.

I remember as a young girl spinning the globe, closing my eyes and stopping the spin with my finger. Wherever my finger landed I’d say, “I’m going here.” At a young age I already understood the concept of a “Bucket List.” I didn’t care where the globe stopped; it was the thrill of the unknown.

I remember my friends and I would roll a big tractor tire down knolls in the farm pasture.  You’d crawl inside and someone would launch you down the hill. One day we wanted to try a new, steeper hill. Who wants to be the guinea pig?  I raise my hand enthusiastically, “yes please!” Without question, I wanted to experiment the new hill. (Being our first attempt, I accidentally got significant airtime and was completely disoriented when they pulled me out of the tire.  I still smile with fondness, reminiscing about that moment.)

Why am I telling you this? Because it’s in my DNA. Since a little girl, I’ve had wide-eyed wonder when a new opportunity surfaced. If I knew I wouldn’t bore you with stories, I truly could write countless memories that repeat this conviction. Undoubtedly, it’s a conviction because it lives powerfully within me. It remains a current part of my lifestyle and stems all the way back to 4 years old.

It’s my normal.

What a profound realization I’m having this morning.

I am intricately designed to desire the unknown.

As I reflect and translate it into my professional world, I think that’s what separates entrepreneurs from other business leaders. We welcome those not-knowing moments.  We respect mystery.

Entrepreneurs believe the world is ours to explore. Behind every door is a wonder and a beautiful surprise. We believe we can overcome obstacles with determination and endurance. We can be seen as either relentlessly stubborn or unwaveringly committed. I choose the latter.

To all the entrepreneurs out there, wide-eyed wonder is your normal.

– Karen Thrall

*also published on www.karenthrall.com

 

 

 

Categories
Awesomeness in the World Karen

Confessions of a Woman: I like Aging

Hi my name is Karen and I like aging.

Why are we afraid to show our age? Why do we love to hear that we look 10 years younger? (I do, too!)

But does it really matter that much?

I have wrinkles. The crow’s feet around my eyes continue to increase every year. Perhaps it’s partly due to playing golf and being out in the sun for several hours at a time? Or is it?

I noticed something today as I stared into the mirror looking at the present Karen who stood before me. It was a reflective moment (no pun intended). What I noticed is the wrinkles only show when I’m smiling. If I stand still, they are somewhat invisible. But once I beam with joy, the wrinkles are front and center. Imagine how ridiculous I must have looked, staring at myself stoic and serious, then switching to a big bright smile. Smile. No smile. Smile. No Smile. Lines. No lines. Lines. No lines. And so on and so forth.

Here’s my conclusion: it’s not my golf games that caused these lines on my face – it’s joy.

If my wrinkles symbolize the joy journey of my life, then I welcome them. And, I love them.

I have joy lines. Not bitter, angry, jaded wrinkles. No, rather, I have happiness crinkles.

 

It’s taken me over 40 years to design this story that everyone can see. And I won’t cover it up.

Would you like to know who I am? I will smile for you and then tell me please, what do you see?

INVISIBLE CYBER VOICE: “Excuse me.”

KT: “Yes?”

ICV: “It’s clear to me that you are a joyful woman. Am I correct?”

KT: “Well yes, how did you know?”

ICV: “The lines around your eyes present that you are a woman of joy.”

May the aging lines of joy not be hidden. There is no shame in aging. The only wrinkles that should concern us are the ones of the heart. Make sure your heart never ages.

“To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent that is to triumph over old age.” – Amon Bronson Alcott

“Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.” – Mark Twain

Here’s to joyful wrinkles and happy crinkles!

– Karen Thrall

*also published on www.karenthrall.com

Categories
Awesomeness in the World Libby

Good Enough

Last week, I was listening to my favorite podcast, Dear Sugar, and they brought up the phrase “good enough” in terms of parenting. It’s a topic that they talk about often, how we (mostly as Americans) are obsessed with being “perfect” parents and how trying to attain perfection is, at least, impossible and, at most, destructive (this is my takeaway – they’re much more nuanced and articulate). It is beneficial for all involved – especially for the child! – for us to embrace the idea of simply being good enough. I thought I might try to apply the concept to our professional selves, as well.

My friend is super stressed about her job – she has a new boss who is micromanaging projects that my friend has been managing for over ten years – it is wreaking havoc with her schedule, her self-esteem and professional confidence. We’ve talked a few times about how it may be time to think about doing something else and moving on. Each time, however, she says she has SO much to do and she doesn’t want to do less than her best, and as a result, she has no time to save herself.

My question is why? Why do we feel compelled to be terrific/great/perfect at everything? Why is being a B student such a terrible thing? Another friend has edified me about the 80/20 rule – if we can get to 80%, call it done and stop obsessing about the remaining 20%. I’m not saying we should phone it in, but if I decide to put in 80% of the effort at work, I’ll have another 20% to put towards my son, my husband, self-care, friends, my aging parents, etc. And that 80% isn’t some ordinary 80%, it’s still kickass and worthwhile, it just doesn’t suck the life right out of me leaving nothing left for other things I care about.

I think it would be nice if we changed the dialogue a little bit, or at least the t-shirts:

  • World’s Most Okay Mom
  • I’m #2

Look, this might not be my best blog post, but I think it is good enough.

P.S. A belated happy birthday shout-out to my childhood friend, Susie…hope your day is beautiful, friend!

– Libby Bingham

Categories
Inside My Head Karen

THINK THINK THINK: It does the mind good

On May 1, 2015, I moved to San Diego to launch my business and chase my dream. Reflecting back on these past 10 months, I want to share something that is vital to great decision-making. Ready for it? Here it is:

Every decision deserves time beforehand to think.

Take all the time you want or need. Never under-estimate the value of thinking before executing.

Looking back, I think moving to San Diego was a 2 year process of wrestling with myself about my professional career. I was restless. I was frustrated. I was stressed. And this negative energy provoked me to think differently.

John Fluevog Shoes was a stepping stone; not the destination. Through sub-conscious and conscious reflection I was seeking and searching for my path. When the decision came to give my 6 week notice, pack up my car and move to San Diego, it was a life-giving decision. And 10 months later, and stronger than ever, I believe it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Wow, I can’t believe I walked off my map! Did I really do this? Yes! I desired it and I wanted it. There was nothing irrational or flippant about it. I chose the path, I chased after it and I still wake up every morning abundantly thankful.

The hurdle was “how do I move to San Diego without a job?” I couldn’t see how it would be possible without a job. And then in November of 2014, I read 30 Lessons for Living by Dr Karl Pillemer and my heart awakened.

Looking back, I think launching my business in San Diego started in 2003! It was January  2003 when I started my first coaching company. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I loved it and knew it was what I was made to do. Then John Fluevog recruited me. Again, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I always had such a passion for business. John took a risk and I loved working with him. I loved every part of my job! And now the two unite: Lifetime Initiatives + John Fluevog Shoes = I’m now ready to live out my purpose fully (Karen Thrall, Inc.).

Was I hasty? No, but perhaps to an onlooker it might look that way.

The thinking I did before making my decision to move was like slow-cooking a great pot of chili! The longer you cook it, the better it tastes.

Taking time to think creates great decisions.

If you’re searching for or sensing a life change, take time to think about it; as much as you can. Go for walks and think. Read books and think. Talk to friends and think. Journal and think. Search the web and think. Explore all your options and think. Imagine different scenarios and think. Let your thinking shape the path you’re on and a great decision will emerge.

Great decisions do not void you of challenges. Oh, you will have challenges, yes. And you’ll also create a powerful foundation of conviction, determination, tenacity, strength, confidence and hope.

Seeing how much I spent thinking about moving to Southern California is now my anchored memory for how important thinking is. The more you think, the better the decision.

I experienced what a great decision feels like! And am the recipient of the positive impact it has had on my life.

– Karen Thrall

* also published on www.karenthrall.com

Categories
Awesomeness in the World

Facts vs. Stories

Last week, I talked about the Crucial Conversations training I recently attended and promised (threatened?) I’d be sharing more about it. There was just so much good stuff! In addition to stealing the term human engineering, one of the biggest lessons for me was the idea of fact vs. story. The premise is that facts themselves don’t get our emotions going – it’s the stories we tell ourselves about those facts that really affect us. For instance, if I get a card in the mail from a friend, that’s the fact. Getting the card itself doesn’t make me happy or sad. However, the story I tell myself about why she sent me the card is what makes me happy – my friend took time out of her day to get a card, write a kind message and then mail it to me because I’m a priority in her life. That’s the story. But wait, you say! Couldn’t it be a fact that I’m a priority in her life? Nope. It can be a true story, but it’s not a fact. A fact is something that actually happened. Facts can’t be argued. A story is something I tell myself based on my experience and observations – the context of our relationship, the nice message she wrote inside, that she knew I was having a rough week.

Here’s why this is so powerful to me – it’s so easy to go right to the negative stories. He didn’t return my email because he doesn’t care about my project. I didn’t get invited to the party because I’m not fun. She blew off the meeting because she’s scatter-brained and can’t keep her calendar straight. These are all the negative stories that we tell ourselves and they’re upsetting. To be fair to us poor humans, we’re wired this way – it’s not our fault. Telling stories is how we’ve evolved and how we make sense of the world. Fact: There is a growling sound and a rustling in the bush. Story: Last time I heard this sound and saw a rustling, my caveman friend got eaten by a large cat – I’m getting out of here. Stories keep us safe.

Stories, however, can also be our own downfall. We can easily cast ourselves in stories as the helpless victim and make someone else the villain. This happens in the blink of an eye. But mostly (and I do mean mostly – there are obviously exceptions), people are good and aren’t out to get you. He didn’t return my email because he’s traveling and his phone isn’t syncing with the email server. I didn’t get invited to the large party because the host knows I prefer more intimate dinner parties and she didn’t want me to feel obligated to come. She blew off the meeting because her boss came in with an emergency and she knew we could catch up later.

There are any number of stories we can tell ourselves about one small fact. That’s a helpful reminder to me when I feel attacked, forgotten or frustrated. I can get out of my negativity and ask the other person what’s going on. And that’s really the key – recognize the story you’re telling yourself and then check it out. You’ll stop yourself from getting into a downward spiral of negativity and you’ll get more parts to the story to form to a better understanding of what’s going on. And if there’s a problem and the story isn’t what you want it to be, that’s good news, too. You have the power to rewrite any story you’re involved in.

Categories
Ashley Career

Bossy

My husband and I were walking through Old Town Alexandria recently and our conversation veered towards work. Out of nowhere he says, “Isn’t it weird how when men are successful leaders, everyone admires them and talks about how much they respect them, and when women are great leaders, people just think they’re bitches?” (Sorry for using French so early!) Dear husband of mine, it’s not just weird, it’s unfortunate and wrong.

I read Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In a few years ago and, since Nick isn’t a reader, I imparted  as much of Sandberg’s wisdom as I could to him. On our walk, I reminded him about the Lean In movement and the unfortunate “bossy” tag we give women in leadership positions. I asked him how he would describe me and my leadership style. He used words like fiery, intense and “a little bit rage-like…” Whatever that means (though I envisioned a female version of Bernie Sanders). We laughed, and then I got serious. Not exactly what I was hoping to hear from the #1 man in my life.

Oddly enough, earlier that week, someone used some very different, very flattering adjectives to describe me: energetic, upbeat, approachable, and always smiling. Jackpot! …those comments came from a woman. Then, the very next day, another female coworker called me the “team mom.” I can hardly tell that story without choking on the words. I can’t win.

My husband is a wonderful man and great husband. He’s always proud of me, encourages me, isn’t afraid of my need for the spotlight, and he believes in me. He cheers me on to success and dares me to continuously do more, and do better. I adore that about him. But when he started describing my leadership style, I wondered if my husband, my biggest cheerleader, is using these descriptors, do other men view me that way?

Recently, after some recurring and tense interactions, my (male) boss confronted me so we could work it out. We calmly worked through the “whys” and addressed how we could work better together. He let something sneak into the conversation that made the recent frustrations on both ends make much more sense…“well, let’s face it, you’ve basically been running the team.” Bingo. It was a compliment, and yet maybe a warning. My leadership skills were too much for him to handle, and were overpowering my boss’ own management style. (Team mom, or faux boss?)

So what’s the deal?! How do I break free from the perceptions and the descriptors, that my male and female counterparts are attributing to my leadership style? I don’t have the answers yet, but I’m making some strong observations and hopefully will start to really stand on my own two feet as a leader. I do know that I’m grateful to be a part of history where the expectations of women have changed and we feel and are a part of real progress. I’m grateful that we can participate in a dialogue around the challenges we still have to overcome…and that we can do it over a glass of wine or bourbon, neat.

– Ashley Respecki

Categories
Inside My Head Libby

Grandmothers

I just found out that my co-worker’s grandmother just died. She was – understandably – wrecked and had to leave work. Today, we are all sharing thoughts with her to show support and it got me thinking about my own grandmothers and what I learned from them:

  1. Always have a good time. My maternal grandmother was a party girl – my earliest memories of her revolve around entertaining: hams, turkeys, bloody marys, smoking and swing music. While my mother has a different view of things, to me it was always an environment of joy, celebration and friendship. The warmth she exuded while entertaining was the same whether the house was full of people or just the two of us. Either way, she taught me that it’s important to have fun with the people you love.
  2. If all else fails, make fudge. My paternal grandmother was not the warm and fuzzy type. She was serious, cranky and distant…we had very little in common. But we still managed to connect on a very basic level: she made the best fudge ever. She may not have been able to hug and snuggle me, but that fudge let me know how much she loved me. (That and her mac ‘n cheese…yum…)
  3. A place of refuge. When I was in college, times were tough for my family; we were going through a lot. I didn’t know or understand the extent of things, but I did know that my parents had a series of difficult decisions and there was a lot of stress. My grandmother stepped in with the option for me to live with her. She wasn’t one for heart-to-hearts, but she offered me a place to decompress and process in peace.
  4. Music is important. With both grandmothers, music played a role in our relationships. At both houses, there was always music in the background (my paternal grandfather was a drummer in a Dixieland band). When we would arrive at my grandmother’s house, she would direct us upstairs to “put on your suits” and go get into the pool – she had an old “boom box” that she’d put in the window from the kitchen and blast swing music while we swam. They were both one-woman audiences for all our shows and musicals. They taught me songs that I sing to my own children.

I am under no delusion that my grandmothers were perfect, or that they were even good mothers. But they were important people in my life, people who offered support, guidance, a way out and love…to me, they are wonderful foundational pieces of my childhood and my adulthood. I thank them for all they were capable of giving and for giving it – I think that might be the most important lesson: giving something is better than giving nothing…the smallest things can end up being bigger than you’d ever think possible!

– Libby Bingham

Categories
Inside My Head Melissa

“The mind that is not baffled is not employed.”

I took a bath last week (let me add that the bath was in addition to multiple showers). It was therapeutic in an unconventional way. I was feeling a little down and felt like I deserved an answer from the world on what’s next, and I thought a bath would help me sort things out. I try to remind myself that I don’t “deserve” things, that I need to work for them and I get that, but I think it would be nice if while I was driving down the proverbial highway of my life a sign said “Get off here.” I don’t need to know exactly what I’m doing off that exit – just that I got off at the right exit.

So back to the bath. I’m sitting there with my face inches from the water so that my hair is gently swaying below the surface. All the delicate strands crisscrossed. They made, dismantled, and remade shapes (there was a real fractal-like quality about it) and I wanted this beautiful moment–where I was so focused on the gentle movement of my hair–to reveal something about what I should do next. Spoiler alert: it did not. Looking back, it would have been bizarre if my hair spelled “humble” like Charlotte’s web…that would have been life changing because it would mean that I have lost my marbles completely and I’m not ready to deal with that kind of change.

I wonder why at times when we feel lost, we also feel a little hopeless. I don’t have the answer to that and I don’t have the answer on what my next life move should be, but I reminded myself that it’s okay – that while I’m lost, I’m not hopeless. In a few weeks or months or maybe even next year (please, world – don’t make me exercise patience for that long) I won’t feel lost, but in the meantime, I keep coming back to these words and they are very comforting:

“The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”

– Wendell Berry

– Melissa Grant

Categories
Ashley Inside My Head

Embracing the Ugly Cry

January was one of the weirdest months I’ve experienced as an adult, and it was, without a doubt, a terrible way to kick off 2016. I should’ve known – my horoscope for the month was pretty clear: “Communication will be impossible this month,” and “people will misunderstand not just your words, but your actions as well…” I thought, psh, I’m a great communicator. Bring it on.

The misfires and layers of miscommunication were awful. Five days after my husband and I lost our beloved dog, my parents and younger sister (who’s 18, a senior in high school, and obviously still living at home) decided to welcome a brand new puppy to the family – same breed as the adored puppy we had just lost. Having never had an indoor pet (I’m not counting the random fish or multitude of hamsters I had as an only child until the age of 8), this whole thing was highly unusual for my family. To make matters worse, I had waved the red flag and said, “please don’t do this, it’s going to come with a whole crazy level of hurt for me.” They did it anyway. The only saving grace? They live 600 miles away.

At work, our team is adjusting to new ways of working, new ways of thinking, and new teammates. Tensions are high, but in a good way. It’s the way you know something great is on the horizon. But it doesn’t mean it’s been easy, and when the conflict came to a head, we got everything out in the open and dealt with it.

What I learned from all the grief, misunderstanding, and growing pains January brought was this: you’ve gotta embrace the ugly cry. I’m talking the red-in-the-face, crinkled nose, snot bubbles, congestion-inducing ugly cry. There is definitely a time and a place for the ugly cry, but when appropriate, it feels pretty damn good. Most of my “time and place” for the ugly cry in January was in late in the evening, on the phone with my grandmother, likely sitting in the staircase at my apartment complex where no one dare goes. (I’m a closet crier, clearly.)

I felt so cleansed moving into February. I’m sure it’s close to the feeling most people had moving into the new year. And now that Mercury is moving out of retrograde, this Capricorn is waving goodbye to the ugly cry for awhile.

– Ashley Respecki