Change Management: It’s about doing things differently.

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Have you ever done something a different way and thought, “Why didn’t I do it that way before?” or “Why didn’t I think of that sooner.”

Anyone who knows me well knows I love to dance. Really love to dance. Like dancing where definitely I do it like no one is watching because dancing moves me, it stirs my heart and digs deep into the soul of who I am.

On Saturday, C.C. and I went to our good friend Jane’s Birthday Party and I danced.

Full disclosure: my beloved had cautioned me about dancing. The weekend before I wound up in the Emergency room because of my back.

“You be careful,” he cautioned me.

But, when the music starts playing, I truly cannot help myself! I have to dance. Especially when Jane’s delightful daughter CJ asks the band to play as their first song, Proud Mary.

It is my daughters’ and my ‘anthem song’.

We even have a ‘routine’ for it — at least for the first few slow bars. And then… we break loose.

On Saturday, my youngest daughter and I stepped onto the dance floor, and broke loose.

I stayed conscious of my back, but I definitely moved my body. Seated in the back at our table, I could see my beloved shaking his head in loving wonderment at how I could so totally lose myself to the music and forget all about my back. I smiled and waved at him and spun and moved and gave myself over to the music.

To be fair, I did not leap or cavort. I just spun and moved, conscious of my back’s need to feel secure while giving it the freedom to simply feel fluid again.

And here’s the surprising thing. It felt better!

Yup. Movement helped. Which makes sense. I’d been holding my body so still and careful for many days, the stiffness had devolved from my back being out of whack to my lack of free-flowing movement causing my body to feel as though my back was still out of commission.

It wasn’t. Perhaps if I’d been listening I would have heard it saying… Move it baby. Move it.

I finally did.

What a relief.

Which is where the ‘doing something different and wondering why I hadn’t thought of it before comes in.’

Every morning before I write, I meditate. I let my practice slip for the past few months but had moved back into ‘time to begin again’, and was doing it.

What I hadn’t yet embraced was the need to also create space for movement, stretching, exercise.

Yesterday morning, as I awoke and prepared to meditate my mind awoke too. “Hey!”, it said. Why don’t you meditate and dance at the same time?”

I heard the question rising from within and thought, “Hmmm. Why don’t I?”

So I did.

What a gift!

I moved around my hotel room (albeit carefully due to not a lot of room – but enough) and stretched and let my body flow with the music as I reached and bent and leaned into the space around me.

And then I sat down to write.

My body thanked me. My mind thanked me. My being thanked me.

All because I chose to do something differently.

We all resist change. It is our human nature.

I have been resisting the change of letting inertia hold me to my chair, the couch, the bed, the doing nothingness of sitting around without intent.

Yesterday, I changed my position.

In the parlance of the Prosci (that’s said – Pro Sceye — as in Sci-ence) Change Management Course I’m taking, I was applying the ADKAR model to my morning change-up:  Awareness. Desire. Knowledge. Ability. Reinforcement.

This morning, I stepped reinforced my commitment to change and practiced my Morning Meditation Movement.

Definitely feeling the movement in my back and body. Definitely feeling in the flow of my day!

I like it! I FEEL Good!

Namaste.

 

Change Management: It begins with what I don’t know

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This is the view from my hotel window for the next three days.

I am awestruck.

I am in Banff for a Change Management course and, when I stop to really think about it, what better way is there to change my point of view, my ‘normal’ than to immerse myself in the beauty and awe of such a place.

Originally, when I signed up for the Prosci Change Management Program course, I wondered why on earth the organizers would hold it in such a beautiful setting if the agenda is so chocker block full there’s no time to enjoy the surroundings.

Yesterday, after I’d checked into my room at the beautiful Rimrock Hotel and sat in the comfortable leather chair in my room looking out at the view, I realized how smart the organizers are. To hold a Change Management course in a downtown business setting would not have afforded the attendees a chance to get out of our everyday worlds. And keeping ourselves in our everyday worlds would have inhibited our capacity to ‘see different’.

And that’s what change management requires. A willingness to see change through the eyes of possibility so that engagement of everyone involved becomes more dynamic, energized and creative. Because ultimately, change management isn’t about creating stellar processes to manage ‘the change’. It’s about engaging people in the change so that they buy-into the value of why change is necessary and how they can benefit from being part of making it possible.

From that point of view, change becomes less threatening, less scary. It becomes more of an exciting journey in which we all engage, together, to make change happen so that together, we can create better in the world around us.

The view outside my window

And this world definitely needs us all to be engaged in creating better.

I am in beautiful Banff for the next three days to deepen my knowledge of change management. From this beautiful setting I can see how deep transformative change is only possible when I expand my limited thinking to become more inclusive of a broader point of view. A POV that isn’t just about what I see as possible, but what we all see as possible when we let go of holding onto ‘the way things are’ and dive into what is possible when we allow change to transform our lives for the better of all.

And the only way to let that happen, is to stop holding onto what I think I know, and dive into all I don’t know about change management. For me right now, that begins with breathing into the beauty of my surroundings and giving gratitude for the organizers for having the wisdom to hold this course in such a beautiful, awe-inspiring setting.

 

 

About My Friend Jane

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Let me tell you about my friend Jane.

She is one of those people you simply cannot help but like. No matter your age. From infant to octogenarian, everyone falls in love with Jane.

It’s understandable.

She is ‘the real thing.’

Genuine, loving, uber-caring, Jane always has a laugh and a warm hug ready. She listens to whatever is on your heart and then,  envelops you in the most crazy-azzed hug you ever experienced. She won’t tell you what to do, she’ll simply give you the feeling whatever you decide, she’ll be standing right there beside you. And she will.

Jane is loyal.

If someone says something negative about someone Jane cares about she will tell them, in no uncertain terms, that their words are not welcome in her world. That while she values their friendship, they will need to re-think their position in her life if they want to talk about one of her friends that way.

I know. She did it for me when someone was beating up on my character. Just as she does it for everyone she cares about.

And Jane cares about a lot of people as was evidenced yesterday afternoon when over 90 people gathered at The Ironwood to wish the amazing Jane a Happy Birthday.

We were all ages. All colours. All faiths.  All sizes.

To Jane. We are her friends. The people whom she has touched with her warm and loving heart, her kindness, her caring ways and her generosity of spirit.

Oh, and let me tell you this about  my friend Jane. She’s the only other woman I know who can milk her birthday for longer than the month in which it appears.

Yup. Jane’s Birthday was actually at the beginning of January. Yet, there we were family and friends gathered together almost 2 months later to ensure that she knows how much she is loved and how honoured we all are to call her our friend.

Because that’s the other thing about Jane. While I may think of her as my best friend, there’s room for many best friends in Jane’s world — and she treats each of us with the same grace and love, always giving her most to make each of us feel special.

Yesterday we celebrated Jane’s birthday. It wasn’t a decade thing. It was more a demographic kind of watershed age where she was moving from one ‘population marker’ to a new space where discounts are offered and even the government gets into the act by providing a stipend to honour your age.

Oh right. I forgot to mention, Jane is MUCH older than me. Uh huh. Yup. She’s also much taller but hey! Who cares about inches when it’s the years that count! And while I might just happen to be experiencing this same birthday marker later this year, it is MUCH MUCH later — which is why for 11 months and a few days I get to say, I Love you my friend!

Thank you Jane (my MUCH older friend) for all the love and beauty you bring into the world. Your smile, laughter, sense of humour and pure essence of joy always makes the world a lot brighter, and a whole lot more loving.

And BTW, remember how you taught me everything about being a mother by having CJ 9 months before me? Well I’m watching you. If you don’t like this particular watershed age, I may decide to skip it by taking a page out of your book on How to Defy Time! – I know! I won’t file my documents with the government so they won’t send me the stipend that says I’ve reached a certain age which means… I won’t have reached that certain age!

See, there you are once again teaching me how to navigate uncertain waters of life! Because quite frankly dear Jane, there’s no way on this earth you’re 65! I mean… You look AMAZING — because you are.

Love you my friend.

Keep celebrating life. Keep sharing your joy and laughter. The world is a better place because of you.

 

Where the wild things howl.

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Photo by Anton Strogonoff on Unsplash

The howling of the coyotes wakes me up.

Beaumont the Sheepadoodle hears them too. He leaps up from the floor at the end of our bed where he has been sleeping. Races down the stairs to the patio doors. He stands. Barking, body tensed, eyes fixed at what he cannot see, somewhere out there on the top of the hill beyond.

It is 3am.

I try to calm him. To get him to stop barking. He wants to get out there.

I close the blinds.

Finally, the howling stops and Beaumont lies down by the glass doors. He does not want to come back upstairs.

And I am reminded, no matter how much concrete surrounds us, we are not far from the wild.

It is in our roots, our DNA, our genetic history.

We have seen a coyote a couple of times since moving into this place in December. I don’t know if it’s the same one, or a different one each time. We see him, or her, loping silently across the hillside in the early evening. We know there’s a den, somewhere at the top. We’ve heard their howling before. They are the wild things.

I wonder if they howl to entice unsuspecting prey into their space. Beaumont always wants to take off after the sound. He wants to investigate.

I don’t let him. I keep him on the leash now whenever I let him out.

He is not wild. Though I wonder if the howling awakens deeply-buried wild memories of life before domestication.

Deer live somewhere on the hillside too.

We see them often. Four or five. Every day they traverse the slope. Walking elegantly through the snow, scrubbing through the bushes and trees for fodder.

They too make Beaumont bark. Whenever we’re outside and they see us, they take off, their long legs leaping through the snow with ease. Beaumont strains at the leash, barking. Inevitably, one of the deer will stand at the edge of the trees, staring. Unmoved by Beaumont’s barks, he seems to be enticing him to play, ‘catch me if you can’.

In those moments, it takes all my strength to get Beaumont to quieten down, to not pull and strain at the leash.

The wild stirs within him, calling him to run after it. To be part of it.

We are not that far from the wild here. The city limits stretch further into the rolling hills at the edge of that liminal space where wild meets tamed and man keeps pushing the wild further and further away. Yet, still the wild things roam. They have adapted to the citylife. They have formed their trails from the wild spaces to cityscapes.

The howling of coyotes woke me at 3am.

I feel the wild calling me. Let go it calls. Come. Outside. Run. Barefoot in the night. Dance beneath the belly of the fullness of the pregnant moon. Throw your head back and howl in the pure delight of being alive.

I calm the urge and go back to bed.

Beaumont is on guard. He will keep the wild things at bay.

___________________________________________

The howling of wild things in the night reminded me of a song my brother used to play long ago on his record player when we were teenagers and not yet tamed by life.

Perhaps it is fitting I am reminded of my brother this first day of March. It was this month, 19 years ago, that his journey on this earth abruptly ended.

My brother loved music. He’d play a few bars of a song, stop it and ask me to “Name that Tune”. I wasn’t very good at that game. He’d laugh and tease me and play another song. “Wild,” he’d exclaim as some drum roll or guitar riff caught his fancy.

My brother was a wild thing. He loved life.

 

There’s always time to awaken and Begin Again.

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Have you ever noticed how in times of stress, unease, uncertainty, the things that bring you calm, centeredness, peace are often the first things you let go of?

At least, that’s true for me.

My beloved and I have been living in temporary housing since early December. In November, we bought a new home, decided to renovate and put our old home on the market. It sold quickly leaving us ‘homeless’ as of December 15th,

From the time of signing the sales agreement to closing on our old home, I had 11 days to organize a mover, find new accommodation that would allow our furry family members to live with us, and pack up what we believed we’d need for about six weeks displacement while all our furniture, dishes and belongings went into storage.

Six weeks later than anticipated, on March 12, we will move into our newly renovated home.

This past three months have been interesting.

Feeling displaced is unsettling. While the condo we have rented during this time is lovely, it’s not home. I am missing my ‘things’, missing the ease of being ‘at home’.

You would think that during such an unsettling time I would sink deeper into my practices that bring me balance, ease, contentment.

Nope.

I have completely let go of my meditation practice, my morning rituals, my evensong ceremonies.

Which is what makes me smile, shake my head in bemusement, fling my hands above my head and exclaim, “Aren’t I fascinating!”

There’s not much else I can do because no matter the circumstances, there’s one thing I won’t let go of,  my belief in not beating myself up for slipping.  To do that would just pile on more unease to an already unsettled mind.

This morning, I chose to step back from resistance of doing the things I know that are healing and live-giving for me so that I could slip into the life-giving waters of the things that support me.

This morning, I chose to Begin Again.

I chose to reconnect to the things and practices that create peace of mind, no matter the times.

I chose to walk in the quiet of breaking dawn, letting Beaumont the Sheepadoodle sniff to his heart’s content. Instead of rummaging through my mental list of things I needed to do for work, the renovation, the upcoming move, I chose instead to spend time breathing in the beauty of early morning, marvelling at the night covered sky turning pink and the quiet of the world around me.

I chose to spend 15 minutes in meditation, quieting my mind even when it wanted to worry over something I need to deal with at work, an issue I want our contractor to fix and thoughts of what to make for dinner tonight…

I chose to savour my mug of hot water, lemon and honey, letting it seep into my body with its nourishing and nurturing essences.

I chose to not rush, but to slowly move through my morning, appreciating each moment and its many gifts.

And I chose to let go of recriminations for having fallen into unease and breathe instead into gratitude for all the blessings in my life and for this opportunity to Begin Again.

I awoke this morning and realized I had let go of my practice and stepped away from consciously doing the things that bring me ease and grace.

This morning I awoke and chose to Begin Again.

Today I choose to allow GRACE

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This morning, a friend sent me a tweet about the impact of random acts of kindness at work. It makes sense. Sharing acts of kindness makes the giver and the receiver happier. They’re contagious and they make for more fulfilling and happier workplaces.

Another tweet I saw on the same person’s feed posed an interesting question about our choices:

I love how he presents the things we did not choose, and the things we can.

Me, I want to always choose in favour of being kind, generous, honest…

Yet, sometimes, my choices are not aligned with my ‘higher good’.

Like when a driver cuts me off and I think something not so nice about him or her. I’d prefer to simply let them in with a gracious wave and a smile.

Or when someone slips into the lane beside me that I know, and I know they know, is merging because there are big, big flashing lights up ahead telling us so. I don’t really want to let them in when I reach the front of the lane at the same time they do. I often wrestle with my ‘higher good’ and my baser instincts. It can be a struggle for me to make room for grace.

Fact is, grace doesn’t always win.

Today, I choose to let grace win.

With grace as my guide, my baser instincts will have no room to take hold and pull me into defiance. There will be no room for me to choose to act down to my need to ‘have one over’ on my fellow human beings!

Today, I choose to allow grace to have her way with me.

Oh my aching back!

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My body, especially my back, has been sending me messages since long before Christmas.

I’ve been ignoring them. Well, not completely. I have been stretching and doing strengthening exercises, but mostly. Okay. Yeah. I’ve been ignoring the messages.

Until this weekend.

Then my body gave me no option.

My back ceased up. I could barely move and whatever movement I could make made me cry out in pain.

I ended up in emergency — mostly because there was some concern I was having a heart attack — given my age,  the fact the pain was radiating down my arms and legs, oh and I was crying.

I don’t cry. Especially when I’m in pain.

Don’t want the other guy to see me weaken!

Okay. Not an effective strategy and not all that useful for coping with severe Sciatica. Note to self:  It’s okay to cry when in pain.

Right. Got it.

In the meantime, my weekend was very quiet. My back is slowly mending and I am moving without grimacing.

And, bonus!  I read a trashy novel in between Netflix binging and lots and lots of sleep.

Watch out world!  Here I come.

Oh wait. C.C. has warned me to not get all enthusiastic about picking up the pace just because my back is only marginally sore.

Right.

Heed my body.

Heed my beloved.  He takes better care of me than I do!

For right now, I’m off to the Chiropractor and breathing deeply as I remember to treat myself with compassion and care, heeding the signals my body sends me.

 

Day is looking sunny and bright!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Racism in My Canada? Yes. It’s true.

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I speak three languages. No longer fluently. But I still can understand French and German and speak it to be understood if the subject is relatively simple and about daily matters.

I once took a course in speaking Mandarin. Another in Japanese. And one in Spanish.

What I’ve never done is considered taking a course in learning how to speak  Cree. Or Blackfoot. Or any of the other 60 distinct Indigenous languages of Canada.

And that’s what I find so disappointing — and at the same time possible — for myself. I can change that fact. I can choose to learn another language — and this time, I can choose to learn a language that will not only give me another way to understand my neighbours, but will give me an opportunity to play my part in Reconciliation.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned working the homeless-serving sector for the past 12 years, it’s that there is a lot of Reconciliation needed if we are to make a dent in the racism Canada’s Indigenous Peoples face everyday at the hands, and words, and actions, of non-Indigenous Canadians.

We are a country with a Big Problem.

And it’s not ‘Those Indians’, as someone called Indigenous Peoples at a dinner party awhile back, who’ve got the problem (though their lives are tragically impacted by it every day in every way and have been for generations).

It’s OUR problem. It’s Our Racism. Our intolerance. Our desire to pretend we don’t have a National crisis where infant mortality is higher for some than others. Where certain peoples are incarcerated at higher rates than the rest and life expectancy shortened by at least 10 years.

The problem is, we don’t want to face the fact, it’s OUR problem. We like to say,  “Look at us! We’re not as bad as the US and the way they treat African Americans. No. We’re better than that.”

No. We’re Not.

Better than that.

Just a quick glance at the chart to the left from a recent article in MacLean’s Magazine, “Canada’s Race Problem? It’s even worse than America’s.” shows just how serious the issue is in Canada.

The challenge?  As the article goes on to explain, “our Fergusons are hidden deep in the bush, accessible only by chartered float plane: 49 per cent of First Nations members live on remote reserves.”

I am having trouble reconciling that view of Canada with My Canada. The land of tolerance, equality, inclusivity.

But then, every day at work in a family homeless shelter, I struggle to align My Canada with the lives of the families I see coming to the shelter. They are 60% Indigenous. 25% new Canadians/immigrants.

They come with their hopes and dreams of building better lives for their children. They come fleeing the violence they’ve experienced on Reserves, Reserves we, the settlers, created and forced them to live on. They come fleeing hopelessness, desperate to create opportunity for their children so that they do not have to carry the burdens of poverty, racism, discrimination.

And what do they find in the city?

The very things they fled.

What’s their Canada look like?

It sure isn’t the same as mine.

So rather than expect someone else for whom trust has been broken again and again to step towards me, I think it’s time I took a step towards Reconciliation.

And one way to do that is to learn a language that will help me understand better what their Canada looks like.

Because one thing I know for sure… their Canada does not treat them the same way My Canada treats me. And that’s something I want to help change.

 

 

 

How to listen with an open mind and heart.

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Think about the last time you had a disagreement or were in conflict with someone. Did you engage in a discussion with an open mind or heart, or, was your mind made up, and nothing was going to change it?

If you’re like me, in moments of disagreement or conflict, you probably didn’t stop to think about the state of your mind or heart. You probably just wanted to defend against the other’s words, or defend your position because ‘you were right, they were wrong.’

When I stop defending against, or attacking another’s position, disagreements are no longer all about winning, they’re about finding shared solutions that create opportunities for greater connection with another. And when that connection is with a beloved, it leads to deeper intimacy.

Stop. Breathe. Get Present.

That doesn’t mean the discussion, or argument, will begin on calm and tranquil waters. Sometimes, I get going in a ‘discussion’ and find myself in turbulent waters, stirring the pot and making waves.

When I Stop. Breathe. Get Present. it gives me amoment to ask myself, “What do I want in this moment right now?” Do I want this argument to be my hill to die on, or do I want to use this moment to create clarity, opportunity for closeness, understanding, connection? What am I willing to give up to create that?

To create it I must be willing to give up my position and need to ‘be right’. Often, that moment to Stop. Breathe. Get Present. happens mid-argument when realization hits that the argument isn’t about the broken dish or the lost keys or the fact someone didn’t call when they said they would or didn’t complete a task as promised. In that moment when I realize we’re not fighting about ‘the issue’, we’re arguing about our positions, I know that one of us must Stop. Breathe. Get Present.

It doesn’t matter which one of us, but one of us must do it. Why not me?

It isn’t always easy. The stopping, breathing, getting present. Sometimes, I’d rather just be right.

But being right doesn’t create connection or intimacy. It just adds distance, resentment and hurt to my relationships.

I want all my relationships to be fulfilling. For me and the other. Whether an interaction with a sales clerk whom I deem has made a mistake, or my beloved, I want my part of the conversation to come from a place of respect, compassion and empathy.

I don’t always achieve it, but when I do, I feel better. Stronger. More grounded and content with my path in the world and my way of being on it.

And to do that, I must listen with an open mind and heart so that it is not ‘my way or the highway’ but rather, our way together for mutual benefit where regardless of the discussion, I am not acting from a place where ‘disagreement equals rejection’, but from a place where I know, I don’t need to be right to be happy. I just need to listen with an open heart and mind, stay true to my values and create opportunity for both of us to find value in our relationship because I am honouring all my relations.

Seek Clarity First.

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“Where are you right now?”

I realize how off track I was as soon as I hear C.C., my beloved, ask the question. We have invited friends for an impromptu dinner. They’ve been to the condo we’ve rented while renovating our new house before, but it can be tricky to find.

When my girlfriend called to ask, “So how do we find your place again?” I’d immediately leapt to giving directions without first clarifying, “Where are you right now?”

Definitely off track.

In life, no matter where we’re going, to get clear on our path, we need to know where we are starting from.

My directions only confused her until C.C. took over and made it simple. He asked the question and then confirmed, “You’re on the right track. Just keep driving along that road and you’ll see our place on the left, just past the community hall.”

Within minutes they were at our door and we spent a delightful evening sharing food, wine, laughter and watching the Ice Dance Competition at the Olympics.

And I wonder, how often do I do that? Forget to ask the questions before leaping into fix-it mode or jumping to conclusions.

Note to self. When someone’s lost or seeking direction, or when I’m searching for my way, seek clarity first. Understand the situation. Get clear on where I’m at or the direction they’re coming from. Don’t be too quick to jump to the rescue or leap to a conclusion. Or, as stated in Steven Covey’s Fifth Habit in The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People, “Seek first to understand then to be understood.”

Words to live by.