Showing all posts in Personal Growth

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

Showing Up is Brave

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Showing Up is Brave

Often we think it’s the big gesture that counts as bravery, but it’s not. Showing up is enough. It means we are invested in developing our own courage and that we care enough to be present with other people.

My beloved hero Anne Lamott says, “The people who show up are inevitably the right ones.” The older I get, the more strongly I adhere to this truth. When life is hard and we feel beaten down, we demonstrate bravery when we simply show up.

This week I fly to Edmonton to present three sessions at a teachers’ convention (the first of three I will be speaking at this February and March). I love speaking, particularly when the message I’m delivering is one I believe to the core of my soul, but that doesn’t mean my knees won’t still knock together when I stand in front of 200+ teachers and attempt to keep them engaged and interested for an hour.

When I feel nervous, I repeat Rob Bell’s mantra, “Butterflies mean you are in the game.” I’m challenging myself by submitting speaking proposals all over the place and when I get offered contracts, I have to believe that just showing up is what I’m called to do. It’s brave enough just to do the best I can.

I adore the song in La La Land that Emma Stone’s character sweetly sings for courage in one key audition scene. She sings, “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem, here’s to the hearts that ache, here’s to the mess we make.” So incredibly beautiful, inspiring and true to my experience.

It’s normal for our hearts to ache and for our dreams to seem impossibly big and hard to achieve. But when we take small steps toward our highest hopes and aspirations, these moments are for celebrating. I’m really working on it being enough, exactly as the journey unfolds, instead of keening for better, different, more extravagant.

Does it seem easier just to show up? It does to me, for it means that the analysis of what I’m presenting or writing or creating is not up to me. The audience gets to decide if it meets their needs or fails to meet their expectations. My part of the bargain is to be prepared, to show up and say what I have to say. I’m going to trust that it’s enough.

If you have something to do that scares you, know that you are on the right track. You can do the things you don’t think you are ready for. You’ll never feel completely ready. At a certain point, you have to jump. This is how you stave off boredom and stagnation – you follow your curiosity and stay ahead of your own comfort level. That’s the growing zone. It’s where we feel most alive.

Try it. Believe that you will have what it takes at the moment you are thrust into the challenging situation. You won’t have any assurances while you are thinking about it and preparing for it. You’ll just have to trust that you will be up to the task. That’s what I’m doing, and so far it’s working. Showing up is brave. It feels like soaring when you’ve proven to yourself that you do, indeed, have what it takes.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Spiritual Life

You are Safe and You are Loved

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
You are Safe and You are Loved

When my kids are scared, I tell them, “You are safe and you are loved.” In these frightening times I’m holding these words close, for we can either freeze in panic or move forward in the belief that we are safe and cared for.

Try rolling that phrase around in your mind for a minute or two. “You are safe and you are loved.” It calms something down that’s anxious in you, doesn’t it? It helps. Nothing outward will change, but if you are slightly more peaceful, it makes everything a bit easier to bear.

The problem comes when we forget that we are safe and we are loved. We begin to descend into panic, our palms sweaty, our tummies roiling, our minds racing ahead with all of the “what if’s?” that will never really go away. But for now, in this exact moment, we are safe and we are loved.

I’ve had a series of separate discussions with people in this last week about the situation developing in America. Some have said that they aren’t political and are just waiting for it to blow over. Others have expressed concern but have stated that maybe it’s all meant to work out this way and there’s not much we can do as Canadians to make our voices heard.

I have a few American friends who voted for Trump and I love these people and have a history with them, but I cannot bring myself to talk about this with them as his election is simply too fresh and upsetting to me. So I’m practicing making space in my heart for opposing beliefs. I’m summoning as much grace as possible, for me and for my friends and for those who are desperately angry, terrified and affected by his sweeping and unjust policies.

It’s hard. It hurts. I want a gentle, peaceful world and we are on the precipice of war, violence, narcissism, bigotry and the misogyny of a patriarchy I had hoped was becoming a thing of the past. And yet here we are, trying to explain these horrible headlines to our children when we cannot begin to understand them ourselves.

But this I do know: I am safe and I am loved. I will wrap it around me like a coat and wear it to keep warm. I will be excessively kind and attempt to encourage as many people as I can. I will march and protest when the availability arises and if it doesn’t, I’ll organize one myself. I can dream of the kind of peaceful world I want to live in and do my best to create it on a daily basis and then hope it will spread like wildfire to the hearts of the refugees, the innocent children, the marginalized and those who believe the U.S. is moving in the right direction.

Let’s join together, if we are afraid, and reassure ourselves. Let’s whisper, “You are safe and you are loved.” We need each other’s hope and assurance, more than ever before. None of us are alone. We are safe, we are loved, and together we are powerful.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

3 Words for 2017: Open, Accepting, Anchored

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
3 Words for 2017: Open, Accepting, Anchored

I’ve chosen my 3 guiding words for 2017: open, accepting, anchored. I enjoy the process of arriving on these words to focus on. I get quiet, I close my eyes, I breathe deeply and I wait. They settle in on my soul, like snowflakes, one by one. I recognize each word as it enters my consciousness, inviting me to accept the unique challenge it offers.

I loved this 3 word experiment so much last year that I pushed Jason and the kids to pick new words along with me for 2017. Ava and Jason each chose one and William, true to character, refused (but Jason and I selected one for him).

Author Sarah Bessey picks one word for her year and she shared this beautiful site where they will handwrite your words and send you a digital copy to print and look at all year. I plan to order one.

The power of choosing these 3 words is that when I get off course in 2017, as I inevitably will, I can use them as a rudder to point me back in the direction I want to be going in. For as long as we are drawing breath, we can improve, change and grow. We are never stuck, unless we decide to be. We always have more internal work we can do.

Here are my 3 words for 2017:

Open.

I spent way too many years of my life closed off in a world of black and white absolutes. Now I long for openness. I must practice being open in a variety of areas: my mind, my heart, my beliefs, my breath, my body. I’m visualizing a rose tightly coiled in the bud, ready to unfurl day by day to reveal its fullest beauty to the world.

Accepting.

After openness comes acceptance. I often struggle with people or belief systems that are wildly different from who I am and what I hold dear. This year I am seeking chances to practice accepting others where they are instead of forcing my ways and ideas on them. For this, my visual is open palms, tipped to the sky, accepting experiences and people as they are instead of trying to make them what I want them to be.

Anchored.

To me, this word means present, held, rooted. I’m in need of this discipline as I’m so often somewhere else. My mind noses way down the road, to some uncertain future, instead of being anchored in the now. I want to notice more in 2017. To use my five senses. To remind myself to stay rooted and here in my own life. For this, the image is a wrought-iron ship anchor – heavy, ornate, rusty, well-used, dependable and beloved.

Happy New Year, my friends. What are your words for 2017?

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

3 Words for 2016 Review: Strong, Clear, Optimistic

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
3 Words for 2016 Review: Strong, Clear, Optimistic

At the end of 2015, I picked three words to focus on in 2016: strong, clear, optimistic. Looking back over the course of my year, I can see how I lived into these words, defining and understanding their worth and value.

The messy process of human existence is a fascinating topic. Our growth tends to be agonizingly slow and frustrating. It’s one step forward and three back, making us doubt any progress is happening at all, but if we give it enough time, eventually we can chart our halting, incremental changes.

I started 2016 with a smouldering restlessness. It was undefined and non-specific, but a fuse was lit in my spirit that signalled a need for a reboot. As the year wore on, it became apparent that Jason and the kids were also feeling this vague discontent, so as a family we actively sought what we referred to as a new start (actually, ANUSTART, which fans of Arrested Development will appreciate).

This came to us in early July, in the form of a job offer in the Vancouver area for Jason. We worked our butts off to list our house and get him out to B.C. to start his new job.

Then my appendix burst and made everything significantly more complicated, but it also propelled me onto a fresh track for deep personal transformation. In a very real sense, my appendix was the catalyst for a necessary life rupture for me.

Out of that painful, expensive, frightening and uncertain time came the opportunity to practice being strong, clear and optimistic. I would never have foreseen or designed this hospital stay and complex recovery period at the beginning of the year when I chose those three words, but in the way of most significant events in life, my appendix surgery gave me exactly what I needed to make those words real in my experience.

So as this (mostly) challenging, difficult, stressful year winds to a close, I am reflecting on what it means to be strong, clear and optimistic. I’m feeling grateful for the opportunity to live out these skills that I recognized as areas of weakness when I chose them to focus on.

I also stated that I wanted to let go of my deep-seated fear that I am not enough: a shame-fueled energy suck that has hampered me for my entire existence. I had many chances to practice this in 2016. Plenty of situations invited me to walk through my scalding fear that who I am was not enough, for myself or for others. And slowly I proved that I am indeed enough, just as I am, without having to distract people or fool them.

The relief in this discovery was as large as the galaxy itself. None of this was straightforward or easy, but so worth it when I look back and chart this growth trajectory. It feels inevitable, like it was always going to unspool this way and set up the new challenges and triumphs that 2017 is sure to bring.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

My Tummy’s Name is Doris

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
My Tummy’s Name is Doris

I named my tummy Doris to personalize her. It’s harder to dislike someone with a name and a personality. Now, when I wake up in the morning, I say, “Hello, Doris” and it helps me to treat her gently and with more respect.

I’m utterly fed up and discouraged by our culture’s obsession with thin, perfect bodies for women. Men are not under the same pressure to look sleek, elegant, stylish and fit. Sure, many men would prefer six-pack abs, but I’ve never heard a man referred to as “plus-sized”, yet women have to endure this label all the damn time.

No societal change happens quickly. It’s a twenty year process, at minimum, but we can choose not to play our role in it anymore. No outside pressure can make us feel bad about ourselves. We have to opt in for that to work. As Amy Schumer famously said, “I say if I’m beautiful. I say if I’m strong. You will not determine my story – I will.”

I’m exhausted worrying about how Doris will look in a swimsuit or a new pair of jeans. There are much bigger things to be concerned about in this life. I’m longing to opt out of tying my weight and appearance to my sense of self-worth. But there’s no point in yearning for this. Now is the time to decide to let this nonsense go and carry on by saying if I’m beautiful and if I’m strong.

Doris is still sore from my appendix surgery this summer. The three laparoscopy sites are mildly tender to the touch, five months later, and I feel like the work I did before surgery with weights and sit-ups has been undone. I want now to simply accept my body as it is. To stop wishing it was like someone else’s. To thank it for carrying me around in this world and to look after it and love it with kindness instead of shame.

As women, we have impossible beauty standards all around. I rebel against the idea that I’m supposed to be made up and pretty when I’m out and about. I’ve been leaving my face free of makeup and going into stores in a ponytail and yoga pants and trying to make it a radical act. But this only works if I truly believe I’m allowed to do this. Some days I feel strong and sure on this, and other days I look around at the women who are made up and look stunning and then I feel insecure and silly.

Perhaps this type of growth is a slow process. I loved it when Alicia Keys talked about not wanting to cover up anymore. Something in me rose up and shouted, “Yes! Me too!” It’s brave to show up as we really are instead of hiding. Occasionally it feels too radical, too unsafe, so I retreat behind my desire to conform and work harder at being pretty and acceptable.

Is it okay to want to be pretty just for ourselves? And is it okay not to want to be pretty? To just go into the world as a man would do, without applying makeup and blow-drying hair and dressing up to go buy fruit and milk?

For now, I’m working on talking myself off the ledge with a series of affirmations. I greet Doris each day and tell her I love her, just as she is, round and soft and ample. I say, “You are okay. You are worthy of care and affection. You don’t have to look like a starving model to be beautiful.”

I wish I didn’t have to try so hard to offer myself permission to look the way I look. I’d rather not aspire to a concept of beauty that is unattainable to most. I enjoy food too much and the gym too little to make that level of sacrifice so I’ll have a flat stomach and shapely limbs. At the age of 44, it’s not likely to happen, especially since I’ve had this same basic body type since I was a teenager.

Now the key is to accept myself and to opt out of the madness that is the beauty and fashion industry. I don’t have to believe I’m less-than. It’s counter-culture enough to love myself (and Doris) with a radical sense of care and kindness, no matter what size I am. Who’s with me?