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In Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Relationships

Summer

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Summer

About this time of year I usually feel conflicted. I’m excited about the leisurely pace of summer and a break from the usual school year routine, but I also hate the idea of giving up my solitude when kids are home every day.

For her grade 10 year, Ava has made the decision to try online schooling instead of attending every day. She’s a motivated student who wants to be able to work more in film, TV and theatre so hopefully this path will be a good one for her to try. This means that Ava will be working at home with me when she’s not on set or auditioning. I’m realizing that I will need a bit of time to adjust to this concept.

I know I’m not alone in feeling melancholy at the end of June. I’ve spoken to many other parents who also experience this catch in the throat when you consider just how fast the years are flowing by. We had dinner with friends this weekend who have two kids the same ages as ours, and around the table we exclaimed, “Can you believe the girls only have 3 years of high school left?”

As parents, you know somewhere in the back of your mind that the day is coming when you will put yourself out of a daily job. But it arrives so slowly and with such cunning sneakiness that it still takes us by surprise. We can imagine our kids at every single stage, from a newborn in our arms to a mouthy preschooler then a twiggy elementary student and now a grown-but-not-yet-grown teenager. To them it has taken a long time. To us it has not.

Oh to love our kids enough to let them grow into who they are most meant to be without trying to force our own agendas on them. Letting go is not my strongest suit. I want to remain necessary to my kids; to continue to be vital to them. And yet they grow more independent with each passing year, sprouting wings that will one day take them far from me.

Perhaps all we can do is feel the sadness and the melancholy, and then allow a stealing sense of joy to inch into our being. To see these beloved children grow into healthy teens and then adults is the fulfillment of a dream that some parents don’t get to see, for a variety of reasons. If the goal of successful parenting is to turn a dependent baby into an independent adult, then watching that child mature over the months and years is something to be celebrated, not mourned.

All of the feelings belong. None of them are wrong or shameful. It’s important to bring them out into the light, to care for them and notice what’s working and what’s hurting. I’m going to take this summer to be aware of how fast the time is passing and to squeeze as much as I can from the time I get to spend with my kids while they are still living full-time in our house.

More card games and impromptu evening walks or swims. More laughter and hugs. Really looking at one another and listening when my loved ones are talking to me. Not just this summer, but always, for these things are the ones that really matter and will endure in our memories.

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Space

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Space

Lately I’ve had one word front and centre in my mind and experience: SPACE.

Space to be human. Space to breathe. Space to exist, to think, to discover, to play.

In our modern existence, where so much of life is done behind a screen (or one of my biggest pet peeves, which proves we are living in the forecasted future robot age: people walking in public spaces while staring vacantly at a tiny glowing machine in their hand), anything that brings us back to our own bodies and offers space from machines is becoming an urgent priority.

At the beginning of May, Jason and I went to Seattle to see Rob Bell on his Holy Shift tour. We met up with 4 friends who flew in from Calgary for the evening and a marvellous time was had by all. Both Rob Bell and his opening act (the hilarious Irish author Peter Rollins, who introduced himself by saying “I sell existential despair for money”) mentioned the word space during the tour. I love that feeling of kismet, when you are pondering a concept and others are recognizing its importance at the same time.

We have to work harder than ever to build space into our lives. For me, minimalism is a helpful container for the idea of space, because minimalism is about stripping away what doesn’t matter so we can isolate what we actually do prioritize. Space facilitates this process, for we need to intentionally dial down cultural noise in order to arrive at what we are really on this earth to be or do.

Pete Rollins spoke about how we have to define ourselves by who we aren’t before we can figure out who we are. This has stuck with me. Space comes into this because we are in desperate need of room to explore and discover what matters most to us in a world that is constantly invested in selling us what we don’t require.

I’m working on creating space in several areas of my life:

My Schedule

I’ve never been happier than now, when I’ve cut so much out of my calendar. Saying no to things I don’t want to do feels bloody fantastic and gives me leisure time to enjoy the activities I do want to do.

My Relationships

Carefully curating the people I allow into my inner circle has radically shifted my peace of mind. I want safe people around me. Encouraging ones. Friends who make me laugh. Those I can count on to tell the truth and be there when the chips are down.

My Inner Life

This one is critical. It involves refusing to stop scrolling through my phone whenever I have a spare moment. I’m determined to allow space here for my soul to expand, breathe, heal and grow. 

Our world is a dangerous, unsettled place and we need every available person to wake up and stop numbing with distractions. We need to tune back in, to ourselves first, and then to other actual human beings. To listen to one another. This is the way back home, to better priorities and more meaningful values.

For the last few months I’ve been trying a “name tag” experiment where I refer to anyone in a name tag by their name. I attempt to start a conversation, even if it’s awkward (especially if it’s awkward). The amount of people ordering coffees or buying groceries while staring mindlessly at their phones is alarming. Real flesh-and-blood people are serving us and we can’t even make eye contact? I’m done doing that. My phone stays in my purse.

Space is a valuable commodity. Let’s build it in. The process of waking up to our own lives is profound. Everything has been here, this whole time…trees, sun, flowers, birds singing, cats sleeping curled up like croissants, mothers walking down the street holding hands with toddlers, the barista carefully preparing your specialty coffee while she is being ignored, the people we love most going about their lives while we’ve been too busy to dial in and notice.

Make the space. You won’t get chances forever. The good stuff is right here, right now. It’s time to wake up and pay attention.

In Culture, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Boundaries and Friendship

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Boundaries and Friendship

Last week I was invited into William’s grade 6 classroom to run a Literary Salon and do an hour’s worth of slides on personal responsibility and healthy choices. I loved the energy of the kids as they fearlessly jumped in to engage with meaningful conversation and to ask questions and interact with the material in my presentation.

Two things stood out to me during the It’s On You presentation: the need for more discussion on the topic of boundaries and friendship.

Boundaries

Kids struggled with the idea of setting boundaries and feeling confident enough to communicate them. I heard variations of “But that might make someone mad or sad.” My answer to this? “You can’t MAKE anyone feel anything. You can communicate what you need, and then allow other people to own their own feelings about that.”

This took awhile to work through. I’ve had strong boundaries for the last eight years, so confusion around this skill tends to surprise me, but obviously it’s not a clear-cut issue. Time is required for kids to adjust to this idea, particularly those who are used to being “other-focused” when it comes to what they feel they can and cannot say to people.

I’m careful to reiterate that owning responsibility for ourselves means being kind when we speak, but holding clear boundaries means we are not responsible for how the other person feels when we express our desires and thoughts.

Friendship

When I asked how many kids thought they owed friendship to someone who wanted to be friends with them, half of the students raised their hand. I disagree with this statement. Friendship is always a gift, and each of us gets to choose whom we give it to.

Creating a safe and supportive group to spend time with is our responsibility, so choosing kind, generous and funny friends is an important skill to have. I told the class, “If you feel drained when you spend time with someone, you don’t have to be friends with them.”

This seemed to blow a few of them away and they had several questions about this concept of “friendship as a gift”.  I was happy to answer these questions with anecdotes from my own life and share some of the ups and downs of friendship that my kids have experienced (without naming names).

Strong yet flexible boundaries and the right to choose your friends are key ingredients in owning responsibility for your life. It was helpful to give a refresher on these topics to 11 and 12 year olds. If I could’ve learned these things at that age instead of in my late 30s, my whole life could’ve been different.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

To Struggle is Human

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
To Struggle is Human

This is a public service announcement that it’s okay to struggle. You are only human, after all, and not one of us is getting out of here alive. So try to keep your chin up. Eat the chocolate. Remember that another day is coming.

It’s always easier to accept mess and mistakes from others than from ourselves. Gentleness is the key, even when we don’t feel particularly competent or brave. Especially then.

What if it’s enough to simply try your best, even if the results are not as spectacular as you imagined? In fact, try not to aim for out-of-this-world amazing. Go for decent instead. Then you can lay your head on your pillow at the end of a long day and remind yourself, “I was good enough today.”

When we feel hollow at the centre of our being, it doesn’t necessarily mean we are missing something. It might simply be a signal to slow down, to get quiet, to become reacquainted with our authentic self by intentionally tuning out the noise all around us.

Happiness lies in acceptance. We won’t always feel triumphant and terrific. The reverse experience is also valid, as the lows must balance those highs. Sadness anchors our joy. Every emotion is an ingredient in the stew that makes up our human existence. It’s our expectations that repeatedly fuck us up.

Patience, grace, leisure. These matter as much as ambition, meaning and productivity. Some days we may not feel like our best selves, and this is absolutely fine. Try opening up your hands and holding loosely to the things that matter to you. Balance remains elusive, even when everything is clicking, but to quote the great and wise Oprah, “There is no such thing as balance. Only choices.”

Some seasons we give, others we receive. Allow yourself to feel what is happening to you and in you, even if it refuses to adhere to the script you’ve written. You are enough, for whatever comes your way. Take some time to just be human, with all of your unique complexities, frailties and fears.

We are here. We are doing our best. We are worthy, even in the midst of the struggle. We can eat the chocolate and refuse to feel guilty. Tomorrow is another day.

In Books, Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

An Ordinary Life

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
An Ordinary Life

Lately I find myself longing for an ordinary life.

On any given day, we all face so much pressure to be extraordinary. Social media scrolling can give us a case of the “less-thans”, the news entices us to drink, the job market feels hopeless and we wonder if we are doing enough to stand out from the crowd and be noticed.

It’s bloody exhausting.

I just finished reading Mark Manson’s book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. So many of his ideas resonated on a deep level, offering a lovely echo chamber of my own curated thoughts, but the section on being ordinary was particularly timely. If you are looking for a short, profane and meaningful read, I highly recommend it.

What if we simply opted out of trying to be amazing and instead learned to be content with being good enough? As our world gets louder, I long for quiet. When other people broadcast their accomplishments around the clock on social media, I yearn for humility and privacy.

It’s okay to want less. To decide that who you are and what you accomplish doesn’t need national (or even local) acclaim. Wouldn’t it be lovely to just exist, in our own families and with our friends, and truly believe that everything we eat, say, do, watch, read and think does not belong on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or a blog?

Something interesting is happening in our culture right now, with the attention on Zuckerberg and questions about privacy. For years I’ve been saying in my digital boundary presentation (and to anyone else who cares) that privacy is going to be our most valuable currency in the years to come. I believe it to the core of my soul.

So the question becomes: what are we doing to safeguard our own privacy? How do we take back control of our own unique and precious lives?

I’m bone weary of wasting my time on the crack cocaine of social media. I post less and less but I still scroll far too much. I’m afraid of what’s coming and I’m trying to summon the courage to close it down and walk away. I know I would be happier if I did exactly that but then how would I stay in touch with people? How would readers find me as a writer?

I’m not sure those fears outweigh the cost of what social media has done to my sense of identity, my jealousy over the success of others when I am struggling, my own raging insecurities that leap to the forefront when I give myself over to something that has the power to repeatedly hurt me.

The answer is not yet clear to me, but I’m committed to asking these questions until I decide what’s really best for me. How do the rest of you handle social media and your digital lives? I know I’m not alone in longing for an ordinary, private existence. I’d love to hear from you.