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.

Capable

I loved my word “renewal” for the summer, so I’ve decided to keep the idea rolling for the fall. I picked “capable” as my theme, because I’m returning to university two days per week to take three classes for the first time. It feels daunting to add in an extra class when I’m already writing, speaking, doing background work in the film industry plus the usual marriage/parenting/friendship gigs.

Capable seemed like the right fit to boost my confidence going into this busy three-month semester. When I choose a word, I try to get quiet, closing my eyes and allowing the right word to come to me. Capable was the first and the best. I sit with it for a bit, allowing it to permeate my mind, and if it doesn’t go away, I figure it’s meant to be.

Working on renewal this summer was a beautiful experience. When I slept in, I didn’t feel lazy, because my focus was on rest. I read, wrote, swam, and watched some incredible TV with Jason and the kids (Mindhunter, Chernobyl, Barry, Schitt’s Creek, BH90210 – okay, that last one is not incredible, just a guilty pleasure I gave as a gift to my teenage self).

I’m aiming for a similar focus this fall. So often, we are capable of much more than we think we are. I’m tired of selling myself short. I long to be intentional about my commitments and my time. When I say I’ll do something, I want to meet that challenge with courage and curiosity. I want to believe I’m capable before I start, so I’m hoping this word will help me move closer to this goal.

As we all turn the page on summer and look to the fall, may we feel capable and strong. We can do more than we think we can. Now is the time to set our intentions and then rise to meet the challenges that will come our way. If you need a cheerleader, I’m here to stand beside you and remind you of how capable you are. When I’m knee-deep in homework and tests I might need you to return the favour. Here’s to fall!

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.

Releasing Those We Love

When I practice releasing those I love, I think about Cheryl Strayed’s beautiful phrase, “Acceptance is a small, quiet room.” Those words soothe me, every single time.

Today I need to hold this idea close, as William left this morning with 70 over-excited grade 7 kids on an outdoor ed camping adventure. My son is not a person who enjoys rugged outdoor activities, new culinary tastes, sleeping away from home or doing anything remotely challenging or stressful. These factors all added up to why he desperately needed to go.

When I dropped William off with his sleeping bag, pillow and suitcase in the gym, one of the grade 7 teachers said to me, “These kids are anxious because they think about stuff instead of actually doing it.” I’ve been spouting a version of this for years and intellectually I know it to be true, but the emotional pull of our children’s fear is a powerful magnet for a parent.

When the trip was first discussed at a meeting early in 2019, several parents gasped audibly when the teachers said NO cell phones would be allowed on this outdoor ed trip. We’ve all become accustomed to reaching our kids to check in or help them solve problems. The concept of the kids being on their own for three days is a harder sell in our texting world than it would’ve been in my own childhood thirty-some years ago.

I know he’s going to do fine. They all will. At thirteen, kids need to practice building memories and skills apart from their parents. Jason was willing to sign up as a chaperone, but William insisted he wanted to go on his own. So we took him at his word, even as the trip drew closer and his anxiety began to bloom.

These next three days are a wonderful opportunity for me to release William. He’ll need to solve his own problems, create his own memories, confront his own fears. We’ve helped him get to this point, and we believe he’s ready for this step (even if he’s not entirely sure). I will continue to think about him, wondering how his activities, meals and bedtimes are going, but I will stay in that small, quiet room of acceptance.

As parents, we have to practice for the next stage along with our beloved kids. We cannot hold on, begging them to stay small and dependent. The job is to nurture a dependent baby and turn them into an independent adult. Each step the parent and the child takes toward this goal is important, so that when the day comes for them to pack up and move out, we have all improved at releasing those we love to find their own way.