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In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Politics, Relationships, Speaking, University

Fall 2020

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Deep breath, everyone. Here we go, into a back-to-school season shaped like one ginormous question mark. We haven’t experienced this exact landscape before, one fraught with endless decisions to make, while wearing a blindfold.

Is full-time, face-to-face instruction safe? Is a hybrid face-to-face/online method better? What about full-time online at home for learning? My answer is: I don’t know. We are all whistling in the dark here, exploring the options our school districts are offering, while watching the news to see what’s working and not working against Covid in other areas of the country.

It’s a strange time. Usually I feel a surge of optimism when I turn the calendar to September, but this year the key feeling I have is uncertainty. I’m entering my second last semester of my Creative Writing BA, and I’m wondering why it’s not safe for me to return to in-person university classes and yet it’s okay for my high schoolers to have face-to-face instruction starting next week.

Part of me wants to move on and get back to some version of normal, but another part is anxious about BC’s rising Covid numbers and what that means when thousands of kids and teachers return to classrooms. The public health guidance for months has been around small bubbles, hand-washing, mask-wearing and extreme caution, which feels like whiplash when we contemplate returning to school, even with a number of new precautions in place.

The one thing I know for sure is that this is going to be a school year like no other. It will be disruptive and unpredictable. We will all need to practice patience and grace for one another as we try to navigate these choppy waters. It’s helpful to refrain from judgement when someone else’s Covid plan looks different from yours. We are all doing the best that we can in the midst of trying circumstances.

I spent time last week doing virtual Pro D sessions for some fabulous teachers in Kelowna. Most of them were feeling anxious and concerned. I did my best to remind them that you cannot pour from an empty cup. We have to put our own oxygen masks on before we can assist others in an emergency. Self-care first and foremost. Walk in nature, take deep breaths, journal, draw, meditate, stretch, sleep.

The prescription for Fall 2020 is flexibility, kindness, caution and self-care. Prepare for plans to shift and change with very little notice. Let’s take care of ourselves and each other. Check in with those you love. Acknowledge the fear but don’t let it take over.

We are going to need all of our resources for the challenges ahead. Six months have passed since the pandemic began in Canada, so we know more now than we did at the beginning. The best way to get through this challenging time is by caring for one another.

Deep breath. Here we go, with our fingers crossed.

In Culture, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

A Powerful Place

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

“Being okay if it happens and okay if it doesn’t is a very powerful place to be.” This quote by Kate Eckman has been giving me new life in the hot mess that is 2020.

I like to believe that I can attain everything I want, but sometimes this “power of positive thinking” approach lets me down. What happens when obstacles crop up that aren’t under my direct control? Then I’m left spinning in frustration, feeling less-than because I’ve failed, once again, to make my dream a reality.

For years now, I’ve been experimenting with the idea that it’s better to move with the river’s current than against it. I still believe this is true, but somehow combining that visual image with the phrase “I’m okay if it happens and okay if it doesn’t” seems to put a fresh spin on the notion of personal acceptance.

One beautiful benefit of Covid-19 is the move away from individuality and into a renewed sense of community. We are truly all in this together. When I wear a mask in a public space, I do it to protect you as much as myself. When we stay home when we are sick or are asked to quarantine by our government, we do it to preserve our public health. Looking out for one another is powerful. It shows that we care.

It’s impossible to peer into the future and know with any certainty what is going to happen. This is always true, but especially so in a pandemic. “Being okay if it happens and okay if it doesn’t is a very powerful place to be.” This phrase reminds me that I’m not in control of everything. I can choose to fight this or accept it. Many days I fight, before eventually surrendering. Hopefully, in time, I’ll find it easier to choose acceptance first.

Here we are, on the doorstep of the summer, even if it’s unlike other summers we’ve seen before. I’m tired of trying to cajole or force my will on situations. I really just want to let it be, whatever it is, and relax into the uncertainty. It’s easy to type this and much harder to live it out, hour by hour, but we must first set an intention in order to move in the direction we want to go.

Hopefully it helps all of us to remember that it’s powerful to be okay if we get what we want and be equally okay if we don’t. We have lessons to learn in both scenarios. Let us unclench our fists as we practice holding looser to our deepest desires. I hope to meet you in the river, as we move with the current of life instead of against it.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Politics, Relationships, Uncategorized, University

We are Safe and We are Loved

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

My go-to mantra when I’m on a turbulent flight is I am safe and I am loved. I repeat it over and over in my mind (and occasionally under my breath) until I feel calmer. The Covid-19 pandemic is a long, turbulent flight that we are all experiencing separately but at the same time, so in response I’ve altered my meditation to we are safe and we are loved.

Like most students, my university classes all moved online in the middle of March. When my spring semester finally ended in early April, one student in my virtual classroom said he was going to spend his quarantine time learning new languages. Several of my generous classmates responded, “Good for you” while I secretly thought, “Fuck you” (not remotely generous or kind).

It’s okay not to have ambitious projects in mind during a global pandemic. We are safe and we are loved, whether we are able to learn new languages or simply get out of our pajamas once in awhile and go for a 20 minute walk around the block. It’s not a competition to emerge smarter or stronger at the end of this. It’s more than enough just to survive this strange and unsettling time. Thriving feels like too much to me on most days.

A friend of mine said, “One day at a time, one hour at a time, one moment at a time” when the pandemic began. Usually I focus mostly on the hour increments. Sometimes the minute ones. Yesterday both kids agreed to join Jason and I on our afternoon walk (full disclosure: it’s because both kids had school assignments that involved getting outside). We passed an adorable girl who lives in our townhouse complex, playing outside with her mom. She’s about three, with curly hair and round glasses. Her face split into a huge grin when the four of us walked by. She waved frantically and shouted, “Hi people!” That was a good moment, standing out like red roses against a white wall in the never-ending uncertainty of the Coronavirus.

We are safe and we are loved. I don’t know when the Covid-19 nightmare will be over. I cannot say whether our world will be changed for the better or for the worse when some semblance of normality returns. Like everyone, I peer into the future and it’s a murky haze of barely indistinguishable outlines that won’t crisp up for months to come. We just have to wait, which is not my strong suit. There are no guarantees. But for now I can offer you this: we are safe and we are loved.

We will make it through this. If you are like me, you’ll be salty a few times a day to the people you love most, while occasionally feeling overcome with gratitude for this amount of time you get to spend with each other. You might be fearful of how we will reintegrate back into society again. Perhaps you are scared of getting sick, or part of you actually enjoys the prolonged downtime. Me too. I’m raising my hand right alongside you.

I am afraid and I’m also full of joy. To go back to the turbulent flight metaphor, it’s important to remember that all flights eventually end. We are all going somewhere, even if the destination is one giant question mark. When it’s bumpy, you are welcome to join me in my mantra we are safe and we are loved. Because, for now, we are.

In Culture, Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, University, Writing

Nobody Knows Anything

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

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.

In Books, Identity, Minimalism, Movies/TV, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, University, Writing

Capable

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

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!