Posts Tagged ‘career’

On Hiatus

It’s that time. Since December I’ve been preparing myself and have been being prepared for the experience of birthing a child and transforming into a parent. It’s been intense. And eye-opening. And thrilling. And the child isn’t even here yet!

Over recent months, I’ve gradually pared back my professional activities, choosing to  follow my intuitive awareness that I needed extra space to integrate and consciously sink into this new reality. I ceased new business development in May and wrapped up existing client work earlier this month. And since then? Since then I’ve largely been dragging my heels. I have this excellent to-do list written on the back of an envelope of final tasks I need to complete prior to taking a maternity leave. But for days and weeks I’ve found complete inertia when it comes to checking these items off the list. I just haven’t been ready to temporarily close shop. Or to have a baby, for that matter.

 

37 Weeks Pregnant

I look ready!

 

But now it’s time. 85% of babies are born in the two weeks before or after the official “due date” and I am now less than two weeks away from my own due date. While most first time mothers go a bit late, my own mother always went early and there’s really no telling whether labor will begin for me today or in three weeks. Importantly, rumor has it the baby won’t wait simply because I’ve resisted setting up my email auto-responder or changing my outgoing voicemail greeting. But I also (thankfully!) now feel ready. There’s been both a physical and emotional shift in the last week and I’ve had the desire and focus to tackle my list.

So as of the end of this week, consider me on hiatus. I intend to be entirely out of commission for August and September and very possibly October, depending on how my body, mind and spirit respond to this experience of bringing a child into the world.

May these upcoming weeks for you be filled with light and goodness. I look forward with anticipation to establishing the next chapter of Get There From Here with you all upon my return!

Life by Story: Kim Sauer

This is the first segment of Life by Story, a video series designed to introduce you to the stories of how creative individuals are – or are not – getting to the stuff that matters in their lives. Background on the series can be found here.



Meet Kim Sauer. She’s young, she’s driven and her life is in flux. Watch how she describes her changing story…





If you’re local to Philadelphia and want to check out the fitness regime that Kim is now teaching, visit The Lithe Method. If you want to read more about Kim, head here.


Having watched the video, I encourage you to reflect on these questions:

  • What has motherhood looked like in your life?
  • What does Kim’s story reveal about you?
  • How comfortable do you feel when you don’t know the trajectory of your own narrative?

 

Please share your thoughts and feedback about this segment of Life by Story below. Ready to tell your own story? We’re all waiting!

 

If it’s easy, should it be free?

I often speak with strangers and friends who are interested in becoming coaches and want to hear about my experience with coach training, setting up a business, client services, etc. Invariably, a statement like this is made:

But I feel like I’ve been coaching for most of my life. It comes naturally to me. How can I charge for something that’s so easy?

To which I invariably reply:

Right. Because you should only get paid if you have to struggle to produce your work. If it’s difficult for you.

2 ways to do everything
Photo courtesy D’Arcy Norman

 

My clients sometimes come to me with similar attitudes. I work with a lot of creative and entrepreneurial types and, often, the way they make – or want to make – money (as in the actual product or service, not necessarily the business of selling said product or service) comes naturally. It’s easy. And for that, they feel badly. So they might undercharge. Or look for employment in a more difficult arena. Or never even set up shop in the first place.

Now, I’m not advocating for the follow-your-passion-and-become-a-millionaire ideology. On that front, I hold similar views as espoused in this post by Brett Kelly. I am saying, however, that what’s easy for you isn’t easy for everyone. And that, in any event, value isn’t always based on difficulty.

What’s your story around this? Do you have trouble thinking about making money or generally being employed doing something that comes naturally to you?

My Name Is Geoff and I Have A Story

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

I carry the hallmarks of a creative person. I’m an Enneagram type 4: the individualist. I’m an ENFP: plenty of ideas, strengths to apply and real challenges around focus and follow-through. I write these things to help you understand my journey. I don’t feel like these elements fully define me as a person, but they’re guideposts to who I am. I also write them because I have a confession:

They’re the very things that I’ve fought against for a very long time in my life.

See, I thought that normalcy and a sense of balance meant suppressing these parts of who I am. I grew up in a family that placed a premium on the three Rs of freedom: Respect, Responsibility and Reason. And so for years, I made the responsible choices. I Plan B’d my creativity into advertising. Not a bad thing. But inside? I was smoldering like Jack White in a Trappist Monastery.

Married at 22, I felt the pull of deeper and deeper responsibility and I had to respect that. I reasoned that if I could just work in the underbelly of my industry then eventually I’d find a way to reconcile these issues I had.

Until I found that my issues were my assets – my gifts, my jewel.

It took 25 years.

Let me give you my stories. It’s surreal:

• Childhood: Jerusalem (Swedish film; worth your time; Netflix it)
• High School: Breakfast Club as experienced by Andrew Clark
• College: Terry Gilliam’s Brazil
• Quarterlife: How to Get a Head in Advertising
• At 30: Kramer vs. Kramer minus the kid

Now understand, for 20 of those years I’ve been working implicitly on transcending these stories to write the new one. But a lot of those years I was doing it on my own. Gotta say, the transformation began when I made the conscious choice to move from self-reflective story changer to overt, out of the closet pursuer of my story. When I did this, it began to click and I made the move. To what?

Story teller. Interpreter of beauty. Writer. Filmmaker. My creative sensibility that has driven my career in the telling of brand stories has myriad applications. My artistic, idea-driven self holds the key. You know what else? What with the Three Rs of freedom and three decades of producing in a suppressive mode I can actually redeem that side of my experience too: I know how to get s**t done.

So I’m doing it. I have my own and new stories I’m going to write and film. You’ll read and watch them. Why? ENFPs have really finely honed delusions of grandeur. I wouldn’t trade mine for the world.

Will I Be Pretty?

You might laugh. You might cry. You are likely to cringe. And if, like most of us, in your search to “find fulfillment” and learn “to wear joy” you get hung up the superficial, on the external pressures of our culture, on being pretty, I invite you to watch this video by poet Katie Makkai.




What’s Stopping You?

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

A few months ago I got serious about creative work. I pulled a book off my shelf that had been sitting there unread for 8 years: The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I told my business partner that I was looking for other work that will be less time-consuming and will allow me to pursue creative work. I followed the guidance of a fortune cookie that led me to the right person to give me creative wisdom at exactly the right time in the right way. I wrote a spec script for a TV show because I have nothing to lose—and I am meeting people in the industry who can help me with it. I went to Burning Man. I met someone on the bus (the bus!) who led me to a screenwriting mentor. I am saying yes to the creative path by forcing myself to make a conscious decision—as often as possible—to get out of my own way.

I finally realized that I am the only one stopping me and I am the only one who has the power to change the course of my life and follow the path that is my “personal legend.” I started resenting movies and books that gave me the impression that if only I had chosen a different spouse or a different college or grown up in a different family, things would be better.The message that my whole life hinges on one decision is a lie. Sometimes you can change those things for the better and sometimes you need to just kiss them and thank them for making you who you are. I can start to live the life I want right now, in this instant, without doing any fixing of the past or replaying what could have been different.

The freedom I have is powerful when I remember what’s stopping me from living—really living—that unlived life I dream about. The one where I’m the person who gets to do what I want to do. Where I get paid to do something I love. Where I decide how I want to spend my time. Where I create things that I care about and want to share. Where I’m vulnerable and invite people to share my life and my struggles and in return, I feel less lonely and afraid that I’m the only one who feels the way I do.Where I feel less alienated and more human—alive. I have the chance to express myself and feel embraced and understood.

I was stopping myself from living the life I want to live and it’s a daily, hourly, moment by moment struggle to tell myself to get the hell out of my way. When I do, it’s worth it. And that makes it much easier to choose as time goes on.

Burning Man proved to be the best place to test my new self. There, it was easy to be the self I want to be all the time because I was around a community of people seeking their true selves too. It was so easy that I walked around the streets with a smile on my face and a garland of toilet paper rolls flowing from my cowboy hat. Even at Burning Man—a place where I was offered some lemonade from a man on stilts who invented a lemonade dispenser out of a body part—even at Burning Man—that was enough to get people to stop and take notice.

I loved it. The purpose I had in wearing my toilet paper head dress was to ask a simple question of people: “What’s stopping you?” I asked them to write it on a roll and promised it would be placed in the Temple of Flux to burn. I couldn’t do much for them but tell them I hoped it would be released. In that simple act, some of them told me it was. That was amazing.

As the mediator for these unwanted barriers, the experience was not only a symbolic shedding of the shadow of my own insecure, fearful self but a chance to offer that same hope to others. I loved that too. I also realized that a lot of my insecurities and hang-ups are shared by people who really look like they have it all together (which tends to be my assessment of most of the people I talk to—that they’ve got things together more than I do). But they are plagued by the same things that nag me—fear of success, fear of failure, self-loathing. I’m not alone.

As I walked around the block carrying these written and unspoken burdens on my head, the sun started to burn my shoulders and I also started to think about bearing the burden of everyone else’s barriers. When I thought about it, I realized that they weren’t my burdens to bear and that made me smile. I repeated it to myself over and over in my head: “these aren’t your burdens to bear”—and that made me cry.

I worry a lot, and too much about other people’s well-being. Until this point, I have literally made a career out of it. For me, it’s time to stop worrying about other people’s burdens, stop carrying them as my own, and release them along with my own. The ideal of selflessness has been one of my excuses to stop myself from living the life that I believe is waiting for me. Probably the most dangerous and selfish one.

When I dropped off the fears and barriers at the Temple, knowing they would be burned in a beautiful ritual, I serendipitously hung them across from a message that said “Let it all go.” In that moment, I did. I know that doesn’t mean that I won’t try to go back into my mind, gather up the pieces again and collect them in my arms—overflowing, holding on to my own fears and worrying about everyone else’s, indulging in self-pity once in awhile and always longer than I should.

What’s stopping you? Let it all go. And let it all go again when it creeps back in.

Leap and the Net Will Appear

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

Leap and the net will appear. That quote comes from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, a book that led me to find a coach and played a part in a series of leaps I would take in my life.

It all began with my simple desire to write. I enjoyed writing when I actually did it, which was rarely. Part of the problem was laziness, and part of it was lack of inspiration. What would I write about? And then there was the matter of my inner critic rearing its ugly head, saying why bother? Who will read it? I would occasionally try to write, but often felt blocked. Yet I still found myself buying books about writing, reading articles about writing, and listening to interviews with writers, living vicariously through their tales of creative fulfillment. Clearly, I had some desire to write.

A friend suggested The Artist’s Way, which is basically a 12-week program involving journaling and reflective exercises geared toward silencing your inner critic and discovering or reconnecting with your creative side. I immediately bought a copy, completed (and enjoyed) the first exercise, and then let the book sit around for another few weeks as I made half-hearted attempts to continue with it. I’d always been a good student, but part of the motivation in school was having to complete assignments and turn them in for a grade. I’m no longer in school, have no teachers, no assignments, no deadlines, no pressure, and therefore, no motivation. But I still wanted to complete the exercises in the book, get in touch with my creative side, and establish a regular writing practice. My husband, who had been working with a life coach through his job, suggested hiring one for my creative needs. That way I would have someone to check in with periodically, someone to motivate me and help me set goals, and someone to hold me accountable for meeting those goals.


Leap #1 – Hiring a Life Coach

This may not seem like much of a leap to some people, but please understand; I was a very private person who did not disclose a great deal of information about myself to others. The thought of discussing myself, my fears and insecurities, and my creative goals with someone I didn’t know (or even with someone I did know) was outside of my comfort zone. I also had some resistance to telling people I wanted to write because I feared they would expect me to churn out a best-selling novel or two, and I would feel like a failure if I didn’t.

I found a delightful coach whose warmth and sense of humor immediately put to rest my concerns, fears, and resistance. And as luck would have it, she also loves to write and was familiar with The Artist’s Way. We worked together for several months, during which time I completed all the exercises in the book and established a regular writing routine. I was very happy with my coaching experience and proud of my accomplishment, but I had a burning question: what now?


Leap #2 – Giving Speeches
Huh? How did I go from quietly writing for my own sense of creative fulfillment to getting up in front of a room full of people and giving a speech? Well, I felt like I needed to take things a step further. My concern was that this new writing routine would just be a fleeting thing, and that in a few weeks I would get lazy again. One thing I know about myself is that once I take action, I love to reward myself with inaction.

There was one piece of writing, a personal and somewhat humorous essay about my childhood, which I kept reading out loud. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had written a speech, and I felt like I wanted to share it. This was very out of character for me, yet I yearned to find my voice and tell my story. My husband belonged to a Toastmasters group, and the thought ‘why don’t you join?’ kept bobbing to the surface of my mind. I desperately tried to drown this thought, but it kept coming up for air and getting stronger each time. I even pictured myself getting up, giving the speech, and feeling the emotion of every word and phrase. Then I would stop myself and say, are you insane? Why would you want to put yourself through that?

I discussed the idea of public speaking with my coach. It went like this:

Me: (exasperated & dismissive) “I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this! I’m an introvert! We don’t do this stuff voluntarily!”

JGB: (calmly & rationally) “We are more than just our Myers-Briggs personality types.”

What a wise woman! She proceeded to coach around the issues I was having, and we finally negotiated an action step for me to take. I would visit the Toastmasters group, only as a guest, just to observe. A baby step. That worked out quite well, as I not only joined the group, I also delivered my first speech at the next meeting. It was very empowering, to say the least. Toastmasters also gave me the structure and deadlines I needed to motivate myself to write.

I like to think of giving speeches as my version of bungee jumping — something new and different and challenging for me, and a great way to step outside of myself and lean into my discomfort. My initial desire to write led me to public speaking, which led me to co-presenting an all-day workshop that evolved from one of my speeches. This would have been unthinkable to the pre-coaching me.


Leap #3 – Quitting my job to pursue my passion
So did I quit my job to pursue my passion for writing? No, I did not. Did I quit my job to pursue my passion for public speaking? No, I did not. I quit my job to pursue my passion for yoga.

You see, something interesting happened as a result of my journey from coaching to writing to public speaking. I not only discovered that my true passion was yoga, I also realized that it could be my dream career. Just to be clear, I love writing and public speaking, but I’ve been having a torrid love affair with yoga for many years, and only after giving speeches did I realize I had the courage (and the skills) to lead a yoga class. This realization led to getting my yoga teacher certification, which led to one teaching gig, which led to many more opportunities, and those opportunities led me to the ultimate leap of quitting my full-time job as a librarian to pursue my passion for teaching yoga.

It’s amazing to think about how my life unfolded and expanded since that very first coaching session!

Now, I’m not suggesting that you run right out to get a copy of The Artist’s Way, quit your job and the universe will immediately shower you with rainbows, puppies, and free candy. But what I am encouraging you to do is get clear on what you want and take action. Take action on whatever it is that you’ve been holding back from. Maybe it’s something as simple as getting back into a writing routine, or maybe it’s something as grand as writing a best-selling novel. Maybe it’s as simple as delivering your first speech, or as grand as becoming a motivational speaker. Whatever it is, take action, even if it’s a baby step in the right direction. Those baby steps are powerful! They lead to big, grown-up steps, and grown-up steps lead to leaps, and trust me, when you leap, the net will appear.

Three Stories

This post was submitted on Tell A Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

I teach theater and drama at a university, where I also run a small theater program, producing and directing student plays. This year I’m on sabbatical from the university, freed from my teaching and directing responsibilities and in pursuit of experiences which will enrich my work. Among the highlights of the sabbatical so far: I’m currently designing sound for a professional theater production in New England; an article I wrote has been accepted for publication in a national journal; I have auditioned for and been cast in a professional production of a Shakespeare play in one of America’s biggest cities.

Now let me construct a set of narratives on which these facts may be hung, three stories I can tell myself to explain these facts, all of them “true.” Here’s one story: I’m pretty hot stuff. I’m at the top of my game. After all, to secure my services as designer and as actor, these theater companies are willing to shell out cash: the litmus test of professional activity. And I’m getting published, the gold standard for academic achievement. I’m very successful. Professional artist, serious scholar. You must be impressed.

Here’s another true story: I’m bogus. Getting “paid”? Get real. Sure, there’s some money in those gigs, but it’s a pittance, a stipend–a pity paycheck, really. And that New England theater company? It’s very small, and it performs in the boondocks. If I weren’t such a loser, I’d instead be designing gee-whiz sound effects for a Broadway production that gets favorably reviewed in the New York Times. Likewise with the Shakespeare: I’m cast in a very small role in a smallish production, and of course if I were truly successful I would be playing Lear on the West End, getting written up in the Times of London and courted by movie moguls. And don’t even get me started about that article! It’s not going to appear in some top-flight academic publication, after all, but rather in a little journal rooted in the faith tradition of barely a score of colleges around the country. If I were worth my academic salt, I’d be publishing a book of ground-breaking criticism or a Pulitzer Prize-winning play. But I’m not doing those things, so I must be bogus. I don’t measure up. I fall short. You must find me laughable, pathetic.

A third true story: I’m blessed. I’m learning so much about sound design that will be useful in the theater and in the classroom, and I’m working with wildly enthusiastic and surprisingly skilled people, who have enough discipline and moxie to pull this off. And I’m helping them do it–and I’m having a blast. And then I get to immerse myself in Shakespeare for THREE MONTHS! For me, a lover of his language, this is to die for. Plus I’ll learn so much about both acting and directing–and a thousand other things about theater–that I can weave into my own practice and teaching. And I’ll be doing this with people whose skill level will force me to raise my own, while collectively we enable a few thousand people to experience the work of perhaps the greatest dramatist ever. What an opportunity! And in the meantime, I’ve written something that will catch the attention of several hundred serious and thoughtful people (as opposed to the handful who read any given article in most academic journals), and generate authentic discussion about issues they find important. For a writer, what greater gift? Like I say, I’m blessed. You must think I’m . . . well, actually, it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m blessed.

Again, these stories are all true: that is, all of the claims I’ve made in each one are accurate. And each of them has its value. The first story is my marketing story: the one I’ll tell my dean, when I return from sabbatical. The second story is the one I tell myself when I start taking the first story seriously. This is my reality-check story. But the story most likely to lead in a personally productive direction is of course the third, because it focuses on the real value of my experience, to myself and to others. This is a love story. When our stories are all about our success or our failure, or about how we’re being perceived, we’re missing the point. Better to count our blessings, and marshall our facts of life into a narrative of gratitude and joy.

A Heavy-Handed Analogy for Choosing a Direction

It’s been over a year since we moved in to our house and my husband and I are finally ready to paint the downstairs. We painted the 2nd floor rooms in distinct, bold colors before moving in and have now grown tired of looking at creamy white walls on the 1st level. Living in an open-style row home with rooms that flow together, we want three complimentary colors for the sun room, living room and dining room.

So two nights ago, off we went to Lowe’s, which has a nice selection of affordable, no-VOC paints. We opted for samples, preferring to err on the side of caution (note: I’ve painted entire rooms only to later discover I don’t like the color).

Lowe’s visit #1:
Sand and Sage, Creamy Chocolate, Foreshadow

Totally didn’t work. All the colors were darker and more purple than we’d ever have imagined. They reminded me of eyeshadow I wore in the 10th grade.

Lowe’s visit #2:
Azure Snow, Shoreline Haze, Tea Stain

Or so we thought. Turns out the dude behind the paint counter, who appeared hopped up on speed, actually skipped Shoreline Haze and gave us Tea Stain twice. But these colors we liked. There was nothing dark enough for the living room, however, and I wasn’t convinced that Shoreline Haze, the original color we expected to sample, would cut it either.

Lowe’s visit #3:
Shoreline Haze, Fairmont Penthouse Stone

Looking good! Seven samples later and we’ve actually found a palette we can commit to. We’ll be buying gallons this evening.

(The Wall of Samples)

I promised a heavy-handed analogy so here it is: choosing your paint colors is much like choosing your direction in life. Here are some parallel lessons:

Lesson 1: It’s a good idea to do a little sampling.
I was really tempted to take our first choices, spend many hours, roughly $120 on several gallons of paint and just hope for the best. I would have been very disappointed and frustrated. I also would have found some way to blame my husband for this error, since disappointment and frustration always bring out my best.

Lesson 2: Sampling too much may not be helpful.
Truth be told, there’s a part of me that would prefer to sample about 10 more colors. At least. But experience tells me that 10 more colors won’t make me any happier with the final result because choosing something always means not choosing something else. No matter what excellent choice I make, I’m missing out on another good possibility.

Lesson 3: You can always change your paint colors.
Let’s say it turns out Fairmont Penthouse Stone makes us feel like we’re hanging out in a cardboard box drinking out of a mug with more than one Tea Stain while we’re being smothered by a Shoreline Haze. Well, then it’s back to Lowe’s we go. A hassle? Yes. Doable? Absolutely.

Your True Story: A Pilot Coaching Program

Stories are everywhere.

There is the story of your day, your week, your first love, your career, your professional development, your body. Since the beginning of time, we have been making sense of our world through story and we use stories every day to inspire us, hinder us, explain ourselves, understand difficult concepts and more.

At this very moment, you are in the process of writing your own story.

Because your story is integral to how you experience yourself and your world, I am SO excited to be launching a pilot coaching program to help you create your most powerful and authentic story!

Click here for pilot program details.

After you read the program details, my guess is that you’ll quickly have an inkling if this is the right program for you. The following list of reasons might also help you decide:

  • You’re feeling stuck
  • You keep experiencing the same problem over and over again
  • You have similar symptoms in many areas of your life
  • You’re ready to take a truthful look at your situation and take action based on what you discover
  • You have the time and energy to devote to a powerful, life-changing process
  • You want structure and end dates
  • You always wanted to experience coaching
  • You like significant cost-savings without a decrease in service
Keep in mind that this pilot program launches in August and that I’ll only be signing up participants (who are getting a deep discount!) through the end of this week. If you are ready to craft your own true story, schedule a time with me to talk. I would LOVE to support you in this process!

    Get There Now


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