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In Culture, Nurture, Personal Growth, University

Learning French

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
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.

In Identity, Personal Growth, University, Writing

Accomplishments

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Accomplishments

It can be tempting to downplay our accomplishments, particularly for women. No one wants to be a blowhard, as we’ve all met our share of those insufferable types who crow on about every little thing. The older I get, the more I appreciate quiet humility and privacy.

Having said all that, these last few weeks have brought several awards in my academic journey, and I’m reminded of how satisfying it feels to achieve a desired goal. Years ago I would’ve brushed aside my own achievements, believing that no one else would be interested in them (although I suspect the issue was mostly a lack of confidence in myself).

Over time, I’ve come to understand that part of self-care is owning my own accomplishments. Not to brag about them or hold them over anyone else, but simply to celebrate the sheer joy of hard work being recognized and honoured by someone else. When you are a writer, and the bulk of what you face is rejection, the successful moments are like stars in a cloudy sky.

For the last six months, I’ve been assembling a large portfolio for Prior Learning Assessment Recognition (PLAR). My Arts advisor identified me as a potential candidate to earn university credits for my career up to this point. PLAR involved a mountain of work, writing about learning in a variety of core competency areas plus amassing nine folders full of evidence to support that learning.

The process concluded with an hour-long phone interview with PLAR assessors right before we went on a ten-day vacation to San Jose del Cabo in Mexico for spring break. I haven’t been on a formal job interview since 1999, but I could measure how far my confidence has come in this phone call. It’s a beautiful experience to live as your authentic self all the time. I feel so certain in myself and my answers now compared to when I was younger, not because I have everything figured out but because I’m not hampered by so many disguises. I know now that vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. To be real is my biggest goal, and it makes life so much better.

I asked for 48 credits in total toward my BA in Creative Writing and the PLAR committee awarded me 45. This significantly reduces the years I will be in university in order to complete my degree. I began in the fall of 2017, going part-time, and with this award it’s conceivable I’ll be able to graduate in the next two to three years. I find this mind-blowing, as I assumed I’d be attending for a decade.

Then this week I heard I was shortlisted as a finalist for a Creative Writing Scholarship at KPU. I applied for writing scholarships last year and didn’t place at all. This year, I applied again for three different awards and I knew my writing was stronger but I’ve also met many other writers in my program so I knew there would be stiff competition.

At the awards ceremony this week, I was astonished to hear my name read as the winner for the Creative Writing Scholarship (and later on as a finalist for an award designated for students over the age of 30). The scholarship is $1,000 in tuition but even more than that it’s a large step forward for the quality of the work I’m able to produce at this stage of my life and career. Going back to school has helped my confidence and my craft in more ways than I can even count.

And THAT is worth celebrating.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Spiritual Life, University, Writing

Circles

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Circles

I adore my two writing classes this semester. One is online, my first time to try a class in this format, and the other is in person with a favourite professor who taught me counselling classes almost twenty years ago. He was a big reason for me choosing this particular university and this is my first class with him since I returned to school. It’s like three hours of the best therapy every Thursday afternoon.

Yesterday we spent 45 minutes silently colouring on large pieces of art paper. We used crayons, broken and bent from years of other people using them to access some long forgotten piece of their creative selves. The only rule was that we couldn’t write words. The goal was to draw aimlessly, without thinking about it too much, and try to enter into the flow of listening to what our subconscious was saying.

I highly recommend this practice. Even just drawing nonsense squiggles caused me to feel weepy, as I knew I was communicating from a deeper level than usual by allowing my right hand to move aimlessly across a sheet of paper without planning or designing what was going to happen.

We all have so much happening underneath of our usual words, smiles, tears, and silences. Some days we churn, others we are still like a standing puddle. The key to fully living out this human experience is to stay in touch with these deeper parts of our being. To know who we really are, without our bullshit disguises and imposed societal obligations.

Many of us drew some form of a circle. For me, my circles felt like a dream I’m inching toward; some form of wholeness and inevitability. I’m weary of straight lines and conformity. I long for the clarity and purpose of a circle, fully contained but also willing to expand and grow outward as necessary. My subconscious seemed to be expressing this wish in my class yesterday. Today, when I reflect on this drawing and sharing experience, I feel a sense of peace and wonder.

I’m also thinking about something my professor said when we were discussing the boundless possibilities humans experience. He said, “We have the capacity to create a fair and just world. And yet we don’t. Why is this?” As a question, it generated a lot of interesting ideas, but my heart feels heavy a day later mulling this over in my mind and soul. How can humans innovate so many marvellous inventions and yet we continually fail to create a fair and just world?

Peace and wonder have to be the markers of a creative life being lived. Otherwise, what is it all for? This pursuit of art is supposed to be leading us somewhere. Together. Towards fairness and justice. We are all on different paths but hopefully our guideposts involve peace and wonder, lighting our way towards a fair and just world. Or at least a better one than what we were born into.

I long for that, with every ounce of my being, and hope that somehow those circles last night are part of this unyielding dream toward a better existence for all of us. For today, I’ll follow my sense of peace and wonder. Whatever leads me closer to those things are to be prioritized over what leads away from them. Perhaps it really is as simple as that while we make our way towards creating a fair and just world.

In Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Spiritual Life, University, Writing

Recalibrate

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Recalibrate

My word for the summer has been recalibrate. Not in any scientific form, but a subtle yet intentional change to the way I function in the world.

The greatest aspect of this particular recalibration has been the decision to step back and allow the process to unfold organically. In previous versions of my self development, I’ve tended to force, cajole, urge and shame my change into being. I wanted it done now, dammit, and a specific way.

Not this summer. I felt inspired by a Facebook post from my friend in late June that said, “You have 18 summers with your kids. Don’t waste them.” I took these words to heart. I stopped looking at leisure time as wasted time. I mixed work with play and I felt a lot more relaxed and content.

This recalibration took the form of my general attitude shifting from something set into something more fluid. I tried to take things as they happened, as opposed to forecasting and planning too far into the future. I wrote in my journal a lot, without trying to be fancy or inspired. I just recorded what I was feeling and this practice helped me to slow down internally.

I’ve realized that the process of querying agents and facing a ton of rejection has tampered down my capacity to take risks and to write for the sheer joy of telling a story without thinking about whether or not that work can be published. I’ve just begun two university courses for the fall and both are centred on writing. I’m determined to challenge myself to grow in these courses and not expect that I’ll be the most stellar writer in the class.

Hopefully my spiritual recalibration this summer will offer me a fresh dose of grace and gentleness toward the writing that I do. In this season, I hope to simply be a better version of myself and write from that place with lowered expectations for jaw-dropping genius and a place on the New York Times Bestseller List.

One of my words for 2018 was enough. I can see how this word has been working on me over the last few months. I am enough, just as I am, and so are you. It’s easy to get stuck in a pattern of proving our worth, but this striving brings pain, shame and loss. Feeling like we are enough is a challenge, but it’s well worth the effort.

Part of recalibrating my attitude involves surrendering once again to the flow of this life. Forcing my hoped-for expectations on myself or others or situations is a fool’s errand. I long to swim with the current and not against it. Take it one day at a time, as the recovery movement teaches. Anything else is too uncertain and fraught with peril.

What we have is now. We have the people we love most. We have our own deep well of personality to excavate and mine. We have the chance for contentment, hope and peace. We have kindness, shown first to our fragile selves and then to the world around us. My soul recalibration this summer has given me a fresh perspective on all of these things. Knowing I am enough is a daily battle, but I will fight it, for these moments are precious ones and I want to be fully awake to experience them.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Speaking, University, Writing

Measuring Improvement

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Measuring Improvement

Measuring improvement can be challenging because it happens so slowly. But when it’s occurring  in a compressed period of time, say a spring semester of university, it’s more dramatic and obvious.

I’m almost finished my two classes this term and it’s interesting to look back and see how I’ve grown and changed in both of them. My favourite class by far is Young Adult Fiction in the Creative Writing department. I’ve learned so much from my professor, the KidLit textbook and my fellow students, inquisitive budding writers who are a pleasure to spend three hours with on a Monday morning.

Then there’s my English class. It’s a first year prerequisite that every student must take, and I’m the only mature student there. Monday afternoons I’m surrounded by eighteen year olds, several of whom have strong opinions on life that are diametrically opposed to mine. It makes for interesting debate but my blood has boiled on more than one occasion.

Returning to university in the fall was daunting, but the first Creative Writing class I took was a beautiful boost to my confidence (and the A+ grade I received didn’t hurt either). My YA class is a similar experience this semester, but English has knocked me down a few pegs when it comes to my grades and my abilities.

When I come home whining about another B+ after I put so much time into an assignment or an in-class writing exercise, Jason laughs and says, “This is good for you.” I routinely tell my kids that we can’t be experts at everything and often in life we have to settle for being “good enough.” It turns out I suck at taking my own amazing advice.

Yesterday I had to hand in my second paper of three in this English class. I put many hours into this thing and I know it’s the best work I can do at this point when it comes to thesis statements, topic sentences, and formal structured academic writing. I haven’t done this kind of thing in twenty-six years and I’m definitely rusty. I think I’ve improved over the course of the semester but I won’t know until I receive my grade.

The best way I have to measure my own improvement is the difference in my attitude. I’m not angry anymore that I didn’t get a string of A’s in this class like I wanted. I’m getting the marks that are suitable for my skills at this point. As Brene Brown teaches us, we have to make peace with the messy middle. When we learn something new, we fumble around in the dark for a long while before we get any semblance of capability for the task.

I don’t have a ton of patience for my own learning journey. I want to leapfrog ahead over the awkward, uncomfortable bits, even though I spent the month of February teaching conference sessions about the value of risk-taking, going straight into the hard stuff, and modelling vulnerability and authenticity. Sigh. Ain’t it great to be human and get so many chances to practice this shit?

We are all improving, every day, but the changes tend to be so minuscule that they become hard to measure. I know I’m a stronger and more capable writer because I’m back in university. I can feel it and see it demonstrated in the work I’m creating. But I’m definitely not good at everything.

When we learn new skills, floundering comes with the territory. The only way to push through that to the golden sunrise of accomplishment is to be patient, not to quit, and in my case, to accept my B+ with pride instead of frustration.