Recently, I wrote a post about "My Amazing Machine," a look at how remarkable our human bodies are. (3/30/14) Almost as quickly as I published that post, I had the thought, "What about your amazing spirit?" Hmm. I wrote a note that has been on my desk for two weeks: My Amazing Spirit. Well, what about it?
First of all, my spirit isn't the only one that is amazing. One of the remarkable things about us as human beings is the human spirit. I've written a lot about intention, listening to our hearts, and aspiring to do what we know is right in our hearts. When we have the spark of something in us, we seem to be driven to do it. A few months ago, I wrote about Olympic gold medallist Gaby Douglas, who was vaulting across her front yard as a pre-schooler. I recall seeing a movie about jazz singer Billie Holiday; she was singing with jazz records as a tween. If we listen, the "code" is within us, as much as our DNA.
Writing has been in me since I could hold a pencil. I have a knot on the side of my middle finger that I can remember forming probably by junior high school. I can't imagine what it would look like if computers hadn't come along 25 years ago. Well, maybe I could. My grandmother had the writer gene and had a knot on her middle finger that got gnarly as she grew older, suggesting there was something interesting to learn from this 92-year-old woman.
Our ability to experience wonder sets the human spirit apart among species. Whether when I walked on errands this afternoon amidst all the beautiful flowering trees, perfuming the air with their fragrance, watched the first sprout of a tulip breaking through the soil this week, or upon waking this morning noticed that bright spring green begin to show on budding trees behind my apartment, our ability the gasp in wonder is emblematic of the human spirit.
We also have an incredible capacity to feel connection. Sometimes I feel connected to a friend half a world away, remembering times spent together. Other times, I feel connected to those I don't even know, like this evening when I watched an interview with the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees, as he shared the plight of those impacted by war in several African locations. On truly remarkable days, I feel connected to all that is--God, nature, humanity: I can feel a ribbon of love that moves through all of us.
Closely related to connection is our ability to experience community. Community may be experienced in our families, churches or synagogues, schools, or neighbourhoods. Even our workplaces can allow us to feel the connection of common purpose. I've worked in newspapers, hospitals, and now a space agency, and in each there was the experience of pulling together to do something important.
Over the last several weeks, as the collegiate basketball season wrapped up in the United States, we had the opportunity to observe that sense of community that is team many times.
I am sure there are many ways in which our spirits are amazing, but I am often astounded at the resilience of the human spirit. I literally lost everything and somehow found the will to bounce back. I have had a couple of significant health challenges, but through will, and with the help of capable medical professionals, I fought my way back.
This evening I watched "The Book Thief," a remarkable story of a young woman in Nazi Germany, who lost two families--her biological one and then the one into which she'd been adopted, her closest friend, and her home. Literally out of the ashes she found her way to a fulfilling life.
I have reflected many times about former U. S. President Jimmy Carter, who suffered the worst defeat of any sitting president and resurrected himself to be author, humanitarian, Nobel Prize winner, and human rights advocate. The past 40 years of remarkable world service have been the result of his resilience in the face of that defeat.
So my "still small voice" within me that whispered, "What about your amazing spirit?" was right. The human spirit is pretty remarkable. Now that I think of it, I'll bet part of what is written on the back side of our hearts is how to be human, and, if we listen closely, how to fully experiencing the wonder of the human spirit.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Emotional Intelligence and Intention
Way back in graduate school, I remember studying the levels of learning: the next-to-highest level of learning was teaching. I intellectualized that concept, but it was much later, when I actually was teaching on a regular basis, that I really started to "get it."
Probably in my second year teaching at the university, I remember presenting something one day, and all of the sudden having a personal Aha! moment during which in an instant I connected content that I knew well in a whole new way. It was like a jigsaw puzzle that suddenly rearranged its pieces and created a totally different picture. It happens to me now and again, even with topics that I've written about significantly. If I say the new understanding out loud, it doesn't sound all that different than what I may have written, but on a gut level my understanding is quite different.
Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said that her understanding of "energy anatomy" came to her while she was teaching a related class. I suspect that most of us who have taught material we know well have experienced something like this.
That is how one day I related "emotional intelligence" to "intention." Now I understand why I've enjoyed writing and teaching about both.
Because I am an Organization Development consultant and not a trainer, I rarely stand at the front of a classroom and teach any more. Instead, my coaching and consulting often afford me "teachable moments." By far more frequently than any other topic, emotional intelligence presents itself as a teachable moment. One day when I was coaching someone and writing on the board in back of my desk about emotional intelligence, it just came to me that my words were similar to ones I'd used with intention.
A number of authors and researchers have written about emotional intelligence, so the language is slightly different depending on who is writing. Five generally accepted elements comprise emotional intelligence:
My Aha! about emotional intelligence (EI) and intention came when I was talking about EI the day after I'd been writing about intention. The self-awareness piece of intention is that in order to live my intention, I need to listen to my heart and to learn what is written on the back side of it. Then, can I manage and motivate myself to act in accordance with what I know in my heart?
As simple as that. I say that tongue in cheek because I know full well how very difficult self-awareness, self-management, and self-motivation are. I've written in blog posts as recently as yesterday about my struggle being able to do what I know I need to do. Slow down, rest, exercise, skip sugar...you've heard them all.
I believe that none of us ever gets those pieces 100%. At least not in this world. A coaching client once surmised that when people got close to the 100% they were "called home." They had nothing more to learn.
What is important is that we have an awareness of what we want to create and, when we don't succeed, like falling off a horse, we climb back on and give it another try. I actually sat and ate lunch today. For two nights in a row, I've left the office only 30 minutes late, and I walked for 30 minutes through the beautiful spring weather and abundant blossoms. And, instead of preparing for a job interview I have tomorrow, I am doing what I love--writing. For this moment, I am totally at peace, and this moment is the only one that really counts.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Probably in my second year teaching at the university, I remember presenting something one day, and all of the sudden having a personal Aha! moment during which in an instant I connected content that I knew well in a whole new way. It was like a jigsaw puzzle that suddenly rearranged its pieces and created a totally different picture. It happens to me now and again, even with topics that I've written about significantly. If I say the new understanding out loud, it doesn't sound all that different than what I may have written, but on a gut level my understanding is quite different.
Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said that her understanding of "energy anatomy" came to her while she was teaching a related class. I suspect that most of us who have taught material we know well have experienced something like this.
That is how one day I related "emotional intelligence" to "intention." Now I understand why I've enjoyed writing and teaching about both.
Because I am an Organization Development consultant and not a trainer, I rarely stand at the front of a classroom and teach any more. Instead, my coaching and consulting often afford me "teachable moments." By far more frequently than any other topic, emotional intelligence presents itself as a teachable moment. One day when I was coaching someone and writing on the board in back of my desk about emotional intelligence, it just came to me that my words were similar to ones I'd used with intention.
A number of authors and researchers have written about emotional intelligence, so the language is slightly different depending on who is writing. Five generally accepted elements comprise emotional intelligence:
- Self-awareness
- Self-management
- Self-motivation
- Empathy
- Social Skills
My Aha! about emotional intelligence (EI) and intention came when I was talking about EI the day after I'd been writing about intention. The self-awareness piece of intention is that in order to live my intention, I need to listen to my heart and to learn what is written on the back side of it. Then, can I manage and motivate myself to act in accordance with what I know in my heart?
As simple as that. I say that tongue in cheek because I know full well how very difficult self-awareness, self-management, and self-motivation are. I've written in blog posts as recently as yesterday about my struggle being able to do what I know I need to do. Slow down, rest, exercise, skip sugar...you've heard them all.
I believe that none of us ever gets those pieces 100%. At least not in this world. A coaching client once surmised that when people got close to the 100% they were "called home." They had nothing more to learn.
What is important is that we have an awareness of what we want to create and, when we don't succeed, like falling off a horse, we climb back on and give it another try. I actually sat and ate lunch today. For two nights in a row, I've left the office only 30 minutes late, and I walked for 30 minutes through the beautiful spring weather and abundant blossoms. And, instead of preparing for a job interview I have tomorrow, I am doing what I love--writing. For this moment, I am totally at peace, and this moment is the only one that really counts.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
If it is 12:29, it must be...
If it is 12:29, it must be time to swing the office refrigerator and grab some food to eat on the way to my 12:30 meeting. It is a good day: I have time to pick up the food on the way to my meeting. Some days I don't; other days it is 4 o'clock before I have time for my racing-grab-and-eat.
I have shared my struggle to find time to exercise since starting this blog seven months ago. I thought my struggle for time to meet basic human needs--food, exercise, rest--was me being out of control of my life. At the very least, I've conjectured, the problem is one of living in Washington at these times of brutal cuts in government budgets and the struggle to do more and more with fewer people. (We have about half the people we had a year ago, doing more work.)
This morning's paper informed me I am wrong. While I won't say those things aren't true, the article began quoting several people struggling with increasing stress levels as a result of the race with our clocks. The punch line, though, was that those quoted weren't Washingtonians, caught up in the frenzy I've experienced: they were all in Fargo, North Dakota. Now that was a shocker.
Running on the hamster wheel seems to be a common human state these days. I don't know if I feel pleased to learn that in a misery-loves-company sort of way, or depressed that there may be no hope of jumping off. The article says that those who have managed to jump off usually discover that life is short and there is a lot they want to do...so they jump back on.
Can this hamster-wheel approach to life really be considered...life?
When I think of the most wonderful moments of my life, they are the result of being totally present to the simple things in life. They have been things I've written about before: a simple dinner and movie with a friend on my coffee table, tending my garden, a wonderful Viennese waltz, a stroll through the woods on a spring day, or the touch by a loved one to my cheek.
Sadly, a lot of social pressure exists to stay on the hamster wheel, accepting four more assignments with deadlines this month and working longer and longer. I know that my productivity declines when I work like that and certainly my creativity comes to a dead stop. It would have been tragic if instead of leaving only 30 minutes late, I had stayed another 90 minutes and missed the walk I took through magnolia trees, forsythia, and daffodils in the majesty of a sunny-with-cobalt-blue-skies day in the nation's capitol. I did so with people watching me leave "early," which has come to mean only working 30 minutes late.
The lunacy of this whole situation is that I spent at least 30 minutes today in a meeting talking about the importance of work-life balance with the very people who were assigning the work that keeps me late. Go figure!
My intention--my target--has been to work sane hours and enjoy life, but I don't seem to have the will to stop. I really hope that the social pressure hasn't numbed my personal will. I am far ahead of where I was 24 hours ago. I hope reading that article and writing this post will reinforce to me what is important in life. I figure that even if I have to start over 100 times, that is way better than numbing out and being unaware. So, once again I refocus my intention on what is important...and hope I remember it at 5 o'clock tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I have shared my struggle to find time to exercise since starting this blog seven months ago. I thought my struggle for time to meet basic human needs--food, exercise, rest--was me being out of control of my life. At the very least, I've conjectured, the problem is one of living in Washington at these times of brutal cuts in government budgets and the struggle to do more and more with fewer people. (We have about half the people we had a year ago, doing more work.)
This morning's paper informed me I am wrong. While I won't say those things aren't true, the article began quoting several people struggling with increasing stress levels as a result of the race with our clocks. The punch line, though, was that those quoted weren't Washingtonians, caught up in the frenzy I've experienced: they were all in Fargo, North Dakota. Now that was a shocker.
Running on the hamster wheel seems to be a common human state these days. I don't know if I feel pleased to learn that in a misery-loves-company sort of way, or depressed that there may be no hope of jumping off. The article says that those who have managed to jump off usually discover that life is short and there is a lot they want to do...so they jump back on.
Can this hamster-wheel approach to life really be considered...life?
When I think of the most wonderful moments of my life, they are the result of being totally present to the simple things in life. They have been things I've written about before: a simple dinner and movie with a friend on my coffee table, tending my garden, a wonderful Viennese waltz, a stroll through the woods on a spring day, or the touch by a loved one to my cheek.
Sadly, a lot of social pressure exists to stay on the hamster wheel, accepting four more assignments with deadlines this month and working longer and longer. I know that my productivity declines when I work like that and certainly my creativity comes to a dead stop. It would have been tragic if instead of leaving only 30 minutes late, I had stayed another 90 minutes and missed the walk I took through magnolia trees, forsythia, and daffodils in the majesty of a sunny-with-cobalt-blue-skies day in the nation's capitol. I did so with people watching me leave "early," which has come to mean only working 30 minutes late.
The lunacy of this whole situation is that I spent at least 30 minutes today in a meeting talking about the importance of work-life balance with the very people who were assigning the work that keeps me late. Go figure!
My intention--my target--has been to work sane hours and enjoy life, but I don't seem to have the will to stop. I really hope that the social pressure hasn't numbed my personal will. I am far ahead of where I was 24 hours ago. I hope reading that article and writing this post will reinforce to me what is important in life. I figure that even if I have to start over 100 times, that is way better than numbing out and being unaware. So, once again I refocus my intention on what is important...and hope I remember it at 5 o'clock tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Co-creation in Community
In The Alchemy of Fear I wrote about what I called co-creation in community. What I meant is that a group of people who work together to create something new that none of us could have created alone, but because of our shared commitment to a goal and our varied gifts and talents, we make magic happen...together.
In Leading from the Heart I told about a daily occurrence of co-creation in community that happened at the newspaper where I worked for the first several years of my professional career. In every 24-hour period, people from throughout the building would pull together separately, and somehow every day we produced a newspaper. Although it happened, literally, like clockwork at 1:10 p.m. every day, to me it was always a wonder.
Last week a group of people from my organization, many of whom had never met, assembled from sites all over the country. Together we co-created in community. It had been a very long time since I'd experienced that feeling. Work projects in recent years have almost always been assembled parts of individual work. The knowledge work equivalent of the old assembly line in factories.
Divide-and-conquer is how I used to describe it to my university students when I'd been assigning a group project. "I will know whether you have divided up the work and prepared your pieces individually or worked as a team," I'd say. Yet, in any given semester, rarely would more than one group actually work as a team. And, I did know it. In fact, their classmates knew it as well, but they may not have known exactly what they were observing. The students rated each other's presentations, and, inevitably, the ones that scored the highest were the ones that I thought had worked together as a team--unified in a common goal.
The design project in which I participated last week demonstrated the best co-creation. Each of us brought significant experience in design, but our various expertise was in different aspects, colored by different experiences in different organizations. Although there were a couple people, who tried to divide-and-conquer us, with the exception of one time, we resisted. The resistance wasn't unpleasant, and in fact, it might be more accurately described as persisting as a team rather than resisting fragmentation.
At the end of the second day of design, I am certain that we had accomplished way more than any of us had anticipated could be done in two days. Not only did we get more done, but the quality of the work was much more solid because it incorporated so many perspectives. Often an idea would be brought forth and we would play with the idea, collectively moulding it into something even better. It was the knowledge work equivalent of an old "barn-building," when everyone would assemble to construct a neighbor's barn in one day.
The word "team" or "teamwork" gets thrown around a lot these days: we have discovered the magic of co-creation in community in both expediency and quality. Yet my experience has been that the activities assessed as teamwork are really divide-and-conquer assembly of parallel projects. It happens everywhere: at work, in our families, in community groups, and even in churches.
Co-creating in community is really a sacred thing, touching the souls of those who engage together in making something that none could do alone. Doing so lifts the human spirit. I worked very hard last week, and at the end of the week, I had more energy than on a day off. My spirit had truly been lifted. I am grateful for this opportunity to have been touched by my work with this exceptional group of colleagues.
In Leading from the Heart I told about a daily occurrence of co-creation in community that happened at the newspaper where I worked for the first several years of my professional career. In every 24-hour period, people from throughout the building would pull together separately, and somehow every day we produced a newspaper. Although it happened, literally, like clockwork at 1:10 p.m. every day, to me it was always a wonder.
Last week a group of people from my organization, many of whom had never met, assembled from sites all over the country. Together we co-created in community. It had been a very long time since I'd experienced that feeling. Work projects in recent years have almost always been assembled parts of individual work. The knowledge work equivalent of the old assembly line in factories.
Divide-and-conquer is how I used to describe it to my university students when I'd been assigning a group project. "I will know whether you have divided up the work and prepared your pieces individually or worked as a team," I'd say. Yet, in any given semester, rarely would more than one group actually work as a team. And, I did know it. In fact, their classmates knew it as well, but they may not have known exactly what they were observing. The students rated each other's presentations, and, inevitably, the ones that scored the highest were the ones that I thought had worked together as a team--unified in a common goal.
The design project in which I participated last week demonstrated the best co-creation. Each of us brought significant experience in design, but our various expertise was in different aspects, colored by different experiences in different organizations. Although there were a couple people, who tried to divide-and-conquer us, with the exception of one time, we resisted. The resistance wasn't unpleasant, and in fact, it might be more accurately described as persisting as a team rather than resisting fragmentation.
At the end of the second day of design, I am certain that we had accomplished way more than any of us had anticipated could be done in two days. Not only did we get more done, but the quality of the work was much more solid because it incorporated so many perspectives. Often an idea would be brought forth and we would play with the idea, collectively moulding it into something even better. It was the knowledge work equivalent of an old "barn-building," when everyone would assemble to construct a neighbor's barn in one day.
The word "team" or "teamwork" gets thrown around a lot these days: we have discovered the magic of co-creation in community in both expediency and quality. Yet my experience has been that the activities assessed as teamwork are really divide-and-conquer assembly of parallel projects. It happens everywhere: at work, in our families, in community groups, and even in churches.
Co-creating in community is really a sacred thing, touching the souls of those who engage together in making something that none could do alone. Doing so lifts the human spirit. I worked very hard last week, and at the end of the week, I had more energy than on a day off. My spirit had truly been lifted. I am grateful for this opportunity to have been touched by my work with this exceptional group of colleagues.
Friday, April 4, 2014
A Walk On The Beach
After our second long day of design work, several of our team raced for planes. I wasn't able to make connections for tonight, so I decided to walk on the beach behind my hotel that had been seducing me since I arrived three days ago.
Heaven! If there is anything that will more instantly unwind me after several days of hard work than a walk on the beach, I certainly don't know what it is. This was a nearly perfect day for beach-walking: sunny, comfortably warm without being hot, and a slight breeze. As I hit the beach, a large tug boat with a cruise boat in tow pulled her far enough that she was able to carry her passengers on under her own power. Soon I spotted the tug returning without her precious cargo.
At one point, I stood and looked at the ocean on wonder. There was a timelessness about my gaze. Before me flashed all the other beaches I've walked on and other oceans, seas, and, as a girl, even the Great Lake Michigan. The children building sand castles, boogie boarders riding the small waves, and even the two white-haired women enjoying body surfing could have been on any of them.
What is it about any and all beaches that so mesmerizes me? There certainly is a magic of the ebbing and flowing of the tides, which so mysteriously, yet so predictably that there are tide tables, come and go twice a day. OK. I understand about the gravitational pull of the moon, but even how something on the moon changes the flow of the water on Mother Earth is a bit of a wonderment to me.
Yet as I continued my long walk, I thought what was the most wonderful and mysterious thing about beach-walking to me is that as I walked along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean at that very moment on the other side of these waters there were black, brown, and white people, speaking many languages also walking o beaches. There were undoubtedly children building sand castles and old women body surfing just as those around me. Somewhere on the other side of these waters there were young lovers and old couples holding hands and lingering for a kiss just as those around me.
I think that is a wonder: that as different as our looks, clothes, and tongues, we are probably more alike than different, and we are connected by this massive and timeless body of water.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Heaven! If there is anything that will more instantly unwind me after several days of hard work than a walk on the beach, I certainly don't know what it is. This was a nearly perfect day for beach-walking: sunny, comfortably warm without being hot, and a slight breeze. As I hit the beach, a large tug boat with a cruise boat in tow pulled her far enough that she was able to carry her passengers on under her own power. Soon I spotted the tug returning without her precious cargo.
At one point, I stood and looked at the ocean on wonder. There was a timelessness about my gaze. Before me flashed all the other beaches I've walked on and other oceans, seas, and, as a girl, even the Great Lake Michigan. The children building sand castles, boogie boarders riding the small waves, and even the two white-haired women enjoying body surfing could have been on any of them.
What is it about any and all beaches that so mesmerizes me? There certainly is a magic of the ebbing and flowing of the tides, which so mysteriously, yet so predictably that there are tide tables, come and go twice a day. OK. I understand about the gravitational pull of the moon, but even how something on the moon changes the flow of the water on Mother Earth is a bit of a wonderment to me.
Yet as I continued my long walk, I thought what was the most wonderful and mysterious thing about beach-walking to me is that as I walked along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean at that very moment on the other side of these waters there were black, brown, and white people, speaking many languages also walking o beaches. There were undoubtedly children building sand castles and old women body surfing just as those around me. Somewhere on the other side of these waters there were young lovers and old couples holding hands and lingering for a kiss just as those around me.
I think that is a wonder: that as different as our looks, clothes, and tongues, we are probably more alike than different, and we are connected by this massive and timeless body of water.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Keeping My Word When It's Not Easy
We are a month into Lent now, and since about the first week, my pledge to give up sugar, and by extension alcohol, has been pretty easy. There was one evening when I had a friend for dinner and a movie when I really would like to have joined in a glass of wine with dinner and some chocolate truffle cake afterwards, but once I was in the rhythm of coming home and fixing my unsweetened iced tea, I just haven't thought about it much.
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Beauty and Inspiration
I love dance, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I am a pretty consistent viewer of "Dancing with the Stars." Last night I joined almost everyone in their audience in weeping openly at the most amazing performance.*
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
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