Showing all posts tagged kindness

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

Process, Not Product

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

One of my grad school professors taught me this phrase last semester: Process, Not Product. Usually I pick three words to focus on for each new year, but for 2022 I’ve decided to use this three-word phrase instead.

We used it in a writing class, but it works well as a general concept. Our North American society is so fixated on the end product. Along the way, the joy of the process required in order to achieve that product can become lost. I’m hoping to recover that joy this year.

The way my prof described it, the process is the part we have the most control over. Particularly when writing, but for many areas of life the process itself is what really matters. Setting up a creative practice that holds meaning for me is under my direct control. Thinking about the process in a new way, instead of fixating on the eventual outcome of that process, is likely to make me happier.

In 2022, this third year of our never-ending pandemic reality, I’m looking to a healthier daily work process instead of peering so far down the line to glimpse the finished product. This same professor encouraged his students to be fierce about our own work, to believe in ourselves and our unique voices, and to stop looking for so much validation outside of ourselves.

These are worthy pursuits for a new year. To channel our depleted energies into more of what we can control, and choose to let go of the areas where we have limited say. To inch toward kindness, in as many settings and relationships as possible, and to eschew cynicism in all of its nasty forms. To believe in goodness again, and to slowly cultivate the flame of hope to combat our despair.

Process, not product. I like the simplicity of this phrase. I wrote it on an index card above my desk, where I hope to remind myself of this focus every day of the year. I’m hoping it will help with the fear I feel about completing my thesis project this summer. Forecasting failure or success before I’ve even started the work is a losing game. Instead, I’ll put that energy into crafting a daily writing process that sustains me, and brings me joy, for that will be the thing that carries me through.

What process, not product can you concentrate on this year?

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

Struggling

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

How are you doing this fall? I’m struggling.

I keep telling myself it will be better when I get some space to relax. When I have less to do and fewer deadlines to meet. But that never seems to happen. I finish one “must-complete” project and there’s ten more after it. The space to process my feelings doesn’t appear, so I remain sad and frustrated.

I’ve been working with a new counsellor for the last few weeks. It’s helping, in that I feel less alone and it’s lovely to hear new coping strategies from her, but it’s also not helping, because I feel like I’m only two steps in while attempting to climb Mount Everest.

In these challenging seasons, everything feels much harder than it should. I’m sick of only seeing shades of grey where I used to see vibrant colour. I’m bored of feeling sad and flat where once I felt hopeful and at peace.

I know this will pass. But that doesn’t really help on the shittiest days. It’s too far away to count. It’s an idea, not a reality. Asking for help in the form of counselling was difficult for me, because it meant admitting that I’m lost and don’t know where to go from here. I kept telling myself that I’ve had loads of therapy and I should know better. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

This pandemic is dragging on forever. Not just for me, but for everybody. We all long for some kind of certainty and normalcy, if for no other reason than to just feel stable again. It’s exhausting looking into the future and only seeing a long series of question marks. Part of me knows there’s no real certainty, but in a pandemic this fact becomes crystal clear, with very little to hide or obscure it.

It’s so easy to tell someone else that the struggle is where the growth is found. No cost is associated with saying those words, but in the Mondays and Tuesdays of our lives it just plain hurts to feel you are in the dark. We set up our Christmas trees last week and when the lights come on in the late afternoon, I feel a tiny dart of joy, because for a few hours the darkness is pushed away.

The only way out is through. It’s one foot in front of the other, with additional grace and kindness to get me through these days. I’m tired. I miss my cat, Little Rose, who died in September. I feel adrift and sad. I think the key is to say it out loud; to let these emotions bloom in the dark instead of trying to pretend they aren’t there. Reaching out to other people helps. So does making space to journal, meditate, walk, breathe, create.

It’s a hard season, friends. What are you doing to look after yourself at the end of this pandemic year?

In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

The Gentleness Cure

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
The Gentleness Cure

I had the privilege of presenting 3 sessions to BC Drama Teachers in Vancouver last week for their annual conference. We talked about building a moral conscience, what we can learn from risk and failure, and developing emotional resilience. These teachers inspired me. Every one of them was willing to dive in with both feet and whole hearts, offering up valuable insights and demonstrating what true courage looks like by being vulnerable.

The world is a dark place in the late stages of 2018, but this simply means our individual lights must burn brighter. When we make it a little farther down the path of growth and development, it’s on us to turn around and shine our flashlight so the next person knows where to step.

I’m working on something new in my own heart. It’s called gentleness. I’m intentionally trying to soften up my hard edges toward people I don’t understand and don’t like. In my conference sessions I talk a lot about holding the dignity of every person as a top priority in every interaction. I say, “Every person is worthy of love and has someone who loves them.” When a person drives me bananas, I work on seeing them as a vulnerable and defenceless child, trying to reach a toy on their tiptoes and accepting help from a caring adult.

In theory, this gentle approach works to dampen down my frustration and round out my harsh, judgemental edges. In reality, I often fail at this. I am meaner than I would like to be. We live in a polarized culture, where people take a position and hammer one another over the heads with it. I long to opt out of this cycle, but far too often I get on Twitter or Facebook and my heart begins to harden instead of soften.

Those teachers inspired me because they are in the trenches every day with students and parents. They walk a fine line of trying to mentor the students in a healthy manner while recognizing that their own lives and schedules need fine tuning. We are all struggling, in one way or another, and kindness is a better balm than criticism.

Perhaps it comes down to the oxygen mask philosophy (yet again). If I don’t look after myself, I cannot help you, because I’m passed out on the floor while the plane loses altitude. It feels a bit like our collective societal decency plane is rapidly descending to the ground, but the answer is not found in despair. It’s found when we commit to the tools we need to help ourselves, and then others, rise up.

I wish there was an easy way to manage this, but of course there isn’t. Easy doesn’t produce long-term, real results. Only struggle does that. Our fast-paced, wait-for-nothing modern existence has truly failed us when it comes to personal development and maturity. These things need time, failure, heartbreak, support and frustration. We have to change our expectations for immediate results in these areas. We need to wait, and hurt a bit, and these things are incredibly healthy for us.

I love speaking at conferences because it forces me to put my own fancy words into practice. Instruction is meaningless unless it is backed up with action. If I’m not living what I’m advising, no one should listen or care. But when we honestly live out our struggles, naming them to one another in a safe space, our authentic experiences provide a strong foundation to live from.

Gentleness, friends. To ourselves first, and then to others. Make sure you have enough oxygen. Rest this weekend. Read a good book (I recommend Dare to Lead by Brene Brown and Almost Everything: Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott). Turn off social media with all of its hand-wringing and doomsday predictions. Eat some Halloween candy. Hold the dignity of every person you interact with as a holy sacrament. Practice the courage of vulnerability and authenticity. Find a cure in being gentle.

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 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.