The Spaces Between

This holiday season, as we reflect on the year we leave behind and think about the one about to begin, my hope is that we find peace in the quiet of the spaces between.

So much of our culture revolves around hustle. Be busy, achieve success, look great, do a lot but make it seem effortless. For me, this is not a path to happiness. My heart longs for less. Smaller. Quieter. I’m interested in the spaces between the accomplishments, where the buzz recedes into the distance and you can hear the echo of peace.

This may sound easy, but I assure you it’s not. Living an intentionally quiet and small existence at the end of 2019 takes a lot of focus and effort. I have to endlessly remind myself that I’m good enough, just as I am, and I’m here to pass this message along to you.

The spaces between things is where the interesting stuff resides. It’s the pause after the heartbeat that makes the human body function. The rest in the music is why we can distinguish one note or lyric from another. The space is where we settle down so we can see what we actually have to be grateful for.

Right now, before the holiday season is upon us, seems like a beautiful time to find peace in the spaces between. Notice how much you love the people you spend your time with. Pet your cat or dog and appreciate their warmth on these long winter nights. May the Christmas lights remind us that not everything is dark after all.

The only permission we need to rest and be grateful comes from ourselves. We don’t need committee approval for how we choose to spend our time. These important decisions of renewal and gratitude come from inside of us. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

May we settle into the spaces between and wrap the silence around us like a blanket. Be here, in this moment, and know that this is what really matters. Let’s find peace in the quiet, to end one year and purposefully begin the next one.

Nobody Knows Anything

In my presentation on risk, I have a slide called Nobody Knows Anything. I don’t mean this in a general sense, as lots of people know lots of things, but I mean it when forecasting failure or success. No publisher knew that Harry Potter would be the smash hit of the century. No scientist knows that his or her discover will be the next big thing in the field. Most artists die long before their work becomes popular and desirable by the masses.

A big part of the human experience is trial and error. This really sucks for the control freaks among us (including me). The goal when creating anything new is to allow it to exist without expecting so much from it. That sentence feels so light and easy to type and yet living it out remains a real bitch.

Nobody knows anything, so we should hold lightly to our ideas. I’m in a fourth year fiction writing workshop this semester where we offer feedback on each other’s short stories. It can be so hard to hear criticism, especially when the work is brand new and as its creator you aren’t even sure what it is yet. So often I dream of turning in a story and having a reader or my prof say, “Wow, this is perfect in every way. Don’t change a word. Magazines will be lining up to publish this brilliant piece of writing.” (Spoiler Alert: this NEVER happens.)

The key is not to base our sense of self-worth on any outside source. Ever. Praise comes and goes, just like criticism, and our sense of internal value should not rise and fall with people’s opinions. Confidence is always an inside job. I know this to be true, deep in my soul, and yet so often I become dragged down or obsessive about other people’s views, mistaking them for facts when they are only opinions.

Holding loosely is one of the great markers of happiness. Usually our pain comes from daydreaming about how a situation or a relationship is going to spool out. We imagine a certain outcome, and then when it doesn’t work out we feel betrayed, devastated, robbed. And yet the narrative we constructed was only in our own head. It was never real or guaranteed.

I am ridiculously guilty of this. Even though I know better, and have for years, I still daydream situations that have zero chance of occurring. Why do I do this? Likely because it feels good. It gives me a sense of control over life that in reality I simply do not possess. Why is it such a damn challenge to let life unfold the way it’s meant to and adapt to what actually happens instead of what I think will happen?

It does help to remember that nobody knows anything when it comes to predicting what most people like or don’t like. We have to trust in ourselves for the work we are doing. We have to hope it will translate to others and mean something to people beyond ourselves. Receiving critical feedback that is kind and helps to shape the work is beneficial, but a lot of what people say is not helpful and harms the initial risk we are courageous enough to take.

As Theodore Roosevelt reminds us in shortened form and with updated inclusive language, “It’s not the critic who counts, (but) the credit belongs to the (person) in the arena.” If nobody knows anything about what will ultimately fail and what will succeed, then the creator is the one who should believe in their work for as long as possible, without inviting other people to weigh in too early in the process.

Canada’s Federal Election

Confession: I did not vote for the Liberal party in the 2015 Canadian Federal election. I voted Conservative because I thought Justin Trudeau was a spoiled brat who wasn’t ready to lead our country.

I was wrong. Over the last four years, Trudeau has changed my mind. With the exception of a few notable missteps (and who among us hasn’t made mistakes even when we aren’t in the public eye?), I believe he has taken us in the right direction when it comes to gender equality, the environment, human rights and the economy.

You may disagree with me and that is your right as my fellow Canadian. We live in a democratic country and the right to vote according to your conscience is part of what makes us the true north strong and free.

As a general rule, I try not to write about politics, but as my friend* Rob Bell says, “The political is personal and the personal is political.” It’s all mixed in together. And not speaking up has a different type of price tag in the divided world we are living in, so the time has come for me to write a political post. (*We are not actually friends, but I feel like we are friends.)

In this election, we have more at stake as a country than in previous elections. Voting Conservative in 2019 is a vote that echoes the far right-wing ideologies we’ve seen from a distance in the U.S. with Trump and up close and personal in Ontario and Alberta with Ford and Kenney.

These platforms on a Federal level mean tax cuts for the rich and slashed budgets for education and health care. A Conservative vote in 2019 means taking Canada backwards in civil rights, environmental protections and gender equality. We’ve seen in this election process that it also means fear, anti-immigration and bullying, not to mention outright lies.

When I was a teenager, I used to wonder what I would’ve done if I lived in Germany in the mid-1930s as fascism was on the rise. Would I have gone along with the patriotic fervour, believing the Nazi party was the best choice for Germany’s economy and choosing to turn a blind eye to their human rights atrocities?

I like to believe that I wouldn’t have voted for a fascist agenda, but wondering what we would’ve done 80-some years ago is no longer an idle conjecture exercise. We are living this choice right now. What you do now is likely what you would’ve done then, so we can all stop wondering. Now is the time to act.

Vote however your conscience leads you on October 21st. I choose forward, by voting for the Liberal Party. Please consider carefully which direction you want Canada to move in, and vote with great care and deliberation.

Renewal

Renewal

My word for the summer of 2019 is renewal. I want to rest, first and foremost, but with the intention that the rest is leading me somewhere new.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about fresh ideas. In our current social media-frenzied world, where trite memes are shared by the millions every hour, thoughts that carry some weight and meaning are more valuable than ever.

I had coffee with a new friend recently, and when I told her about the speaking and writing I’m doing, she offered me her marketing services. “We’ve got to let more people find you,” she said. My answer was, “I don’t want everyone to find me. Only those who are really invested in the kind of work I’m doing.”

I’ve been ruminating on this conversation, because when she said that short videos could help me reach a wider audience, I could see that this was probably true, but I said, “I don’t want to do what everyone else is doing.” To me, the interesting part of the work is innovating a new way to communicate and operate. I want to focus on my own path, not trod the same one others are already walking.

Which leads me back to renewal. Ideas are valuable and we must nurture ourselves in order to be in the right frame of mind to implement them. Having a crazy busy schedule doesn’t allow space for innovation to bloom. Rest, white space and peace are required ingredients for the work of renewal.

Lately, I’m understanding just how critical rhythm is to creativity. We need a dormant phase for the ideas to develop and grow in the dark, before they are ready to inch forward into the light. It’s lovely to feel the stirrings of something new and refuse to give in to the temptation to rush the process. This summer, I’m determined to allow renewal to happen by making the space for it.

This past week, we celebrated William’s graduation from grade 7 and Ava passing her written test for her learner’s driving license. High school for William and driving for Ava: two new steps to fit into this summer theme of renewal. I’m so ready to leave elementary school behind with its daily agenda messages, endless parent emails and field trip driving. On to the next stage.

Happy start of the summer to all of you, my wonderful and treasured readers and friends. May we all experience renewal in our spirits, bodies, minds and hearts.

Learning French

Learning French

This spring, I’m learning to trust the process in my beginner French class. Like the Anthropology class I took last semester, I dreaded having to enrol in a language class. Flailing around and feeling out of my depth is not my strong suit.

Learning a language requires incredible vulnerability. Every class for the first two weeks was like drinking from a fire hydrant. New verbs to conjugate in six different ways. Masculine or feminine nouns. Prepositions that shift and change when you least expect them to. And either a verbal or a written test every week.

My oh my, did I struggle. I know a lot of self-soothing techniques, so I tried saying, “It’s okay, Julianne. You don’t have to get an A+ in every class. You can’t graduate without 2 intro language classes, so all you have to do is get through it.” None of this lovely wisdom sunk in.

Until the third week of my condensed French class (I’m attending 2 classes per week for a total of 6 hours, plus 90 minutes of language lab where we practice conversing in a smaller group). I felt my usual anxiety spike in the lecture when the new words and grammar rules came at me like a slingshot, but suddenly I realized that in a few days it would settle in and I would be fine.

I’d like to get a t-shirt printed with this slogan on it: In a few days this will settle in and you will be fine. I’ve become fooled by the digital immediacy of modern life, where I hit a button and I get an instant result. Our human process does not work like this and will never work like this. When my brain is overwhelmed in French class, it begins to shut down, but a few days later, the information is not so impossible to understand.

There has to be a lesson here for all of us. We must stop confusing real life with digital life. As human beings, we will forever lurch along like cave people when we learn new skills. I’m endlessly working on accepting this. It’s not as pretty or organized as I’d like, but when I’m brave enough to be vulnerable in my mistakes, I actually learn.

I’m astonished at the amount of French I’ve learned in five weeks. But the bigger take-away is improved patience with myself. Trusting the process means that we might not get it NOW, but we will eventually get it. Most days, that’s the best we can hope for. Gentleness and grace works more miracles than stress and blunt force.

One week to go and then I’ve got the summer off from school for the first time in two years! I can hardly wait.