I Don't Know...and Other Musings

Derailed

2008-10-24T10:59:00.002-05:00

Two weeks ago, my family and I went on a long-awaited trip to Disney World. This trip was really a big deal. We had scheduled the trip for nearly a year ago, but had to postpone it when Grant’s tumor was discovered. His tumor was found on a Monday; we were to have departed for Florida that Friday. So once Grant finished chemo and was doing well, we decided to make the trip.

We went to the happiest place on earth along with nine other family members and played hard. We rode the rides, watched the parade, enjoyed some treats, met some characters, danced on Main Street USA and got wet on Splash Mountain – and that was just one day of the trip!

In spite of the fun we had, it has taken me two weeks to recover from this trip! I realize that vacation tends to throw one off-kilter in terms of the normal cadence of their routine, but this was a bit extreme. When we returned from FL and perhaps before we even departed, I felt incredibly imbalanced, anxious and out of sorts. I felt this imbalance physically, emotionally and spiritually. My train of balance and centering had truly derailed.

While on the trip, I thought I was doing a good job of keeping some of this balance intact; I was doing daily yoga and making mostly healthy choices when dining. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to keep me chugging along in my happy zone. Too much food (although mostly healthy), too much wine, too much caffeine, too much stimulation (not enough downtime or introspection) and a complete disruption to my circadian rhythm all led to the derailment.

I’ve taken lots of trips before and played similarly or even harder, but hadn’t experienced quite this significant of a derailment. What changed? What was different this time?

Perhaps it was due to my aging self. I fully recognize I am not 29 anymore…nor do I care to go back to that age. I like myself and my life better now than I did then. I am continuously creating the life I want to live.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that I’m healthier now than ever before and this deviation from the norm created a more acute recognition of the changes?

Perhaps it was just clear feedback from my body, mind and spirit saying “I don’t like what you’re doing to me! This isn’t good for any of us. Stop!!”

All in all, this derailment has reinforced to me the delicate balance between my mind, body and spirit. While I do have room and flexibility to push or stretch in these areas at times, I clearly pushed too hard and too far while on vacation. This experience has also shown me once again how intertwined these three parts of myself are. If one is out of balance, the others easily and soon follow.

Now that I’m back chugging along in the land of Homeostasis, I am grateful that my mind, body and spirit communicated the imbalance. Next time, I’ll be more mindful of the potential impact of my activities and actions (or lack thereof).

When you look at your own train of life, what needs adjustment to keep you on track? To what degree is your train chugging along toward Homeostasis?

Tigger and Tracy

2008-10-01T10:19:00.001-05:00

Recently I was encouraged to bring more of my “inner Tigger” to my life. Yes, I’m talking about that lovable, playful, sometimes annoying, bouncy friend of Pooh. Curious about what that might look like; I decided to explore it here related to three elements that call me forward – leadership, balance and inspiration.

So join me on this wonderful, magical exploration…

The first question that came to mind is: how would Tigger lead? Tigger would joyfully engage his friends on some type of adventure – one that brings out the best in everyone. The Hundred Acre Wood would forever be changed. He would lead with a smile on his face and bouncing the entire way, but with compassion and care for his friends.

How would Tigger inspire? His own lust for a playful life would spread like wildfire. That energy would spill from one person to the next. What would Tigger do to inspire his friends and others? His energy would be a visible and audible invitation for others to join him in his play.

And how would Tigger stay balanced? Tiggers require great physical prowess to be able to bounce and playfully pounce. Without Tigger’s attention to physical strength, he would lose these trademark abilities. He likely takes lots of catnaps too.

So if I adopted Tigger’s approach on these three elements, what might they look like in my life?

As a leader, it sounds like I need some type of a fabulous adventure! Or maybe it’s just shifting the way I see my current life. I’ve recently started coaching multiple clients and I’m really enjoying it. I feel like I’m on a fabulous adventure with each of them, supporting each as they are creating their ideal life. Fun is definitely present here; maybe I just need to pull it out a bit more. Not only is the journey with my clients a fabulous adventure, I need to remind myself that the life I’m creating for myself is too! A delicious journey for all!

On the balance front, I’m doing pretty well although my pendulum does swing between the two sides. I’m doing daily yoga and run every other day. What more might I do to gain more physical balance? Get more sleep, kick the sugar habit (or at least move past the temporary sweet tooth), and get back on track with more fresh fruits. Maybe I need to take more cat naps. That’s what Tigger would do.

And finally, how might I bring out the inner Tigger more from an inspirational side? I’d embrace my own lust for life and joy in whatever adventure might be in front of me. I’d let go of my worry and replace it with curiosity and wide-eyed wonder. The inspiration that results will come from authentic actions and not from a forced message.

I’m inviting these Tiggerish facets of living into my day-to-day. I shared with my husband yesterday that I’d like to do as such. I confessed to him that perhaps I’ve taken my job and myself too seriously in the past. He nearly drove off the road with laughter. This declaration was clearly NOT a news flash to him.

So what might happen if you released the inner Tigger in you? What facets in your life are calling for Tigger’s playful guidance? Perhaps it’s time to schedule a play date with your inner Tigger today!

Ouch!

2008-09-16T14:37:00.005-05:00

I just hurt my freaking back doing yoga. I was doing a shoulder stand and thought I was actually doing it right for the first time. But then, I felt it. An emerging kink between my shoulder blades. The next pose was fish pose.

"Ahhhh," I thought. "This will loosen that kink that just worked its way into my back. I just need to tilt my head...a bit....more...YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Instead of feeling a loosening sensation, I felt a slow searing pain replace the kink that was housed in my upper back just moments before. Not quite the solution I was looking for.

Just last night I was reading about the gentleness of yoga -- how it isn't competition, it is not a race, etc. Instead, it is a means to find balance between the mind, body and spirit. Plus, it is a gentle way to relax while building muscle strength and flexibility. Ooops. I clearly forgot the reading from last night.

So what was going on with me that caused me to push myself too far in not only one pose, but two? Why had I forsaken one of the primary tenets of yoga?

Hmmmm...well, Blake did get up early (waaaay to early) and was playing the role of spectator while I finished my practice. Could I have been showing off for him? "Hey! Look at what your old mom can do?" Perhaps.

Could I have felt invaded by those perfection police who often visit my spirit and responded to their pressure to "Push it! You're not doing it far enough!"? Perhaps.

Or could it have been my impatience screaming at me to "Get more from what you're doing! We want more results faster!" Perhaps.

The cause of my injury could have been each or all of these possibilities. Regardless of my motivation to push it beyond my own edge, I recognize that I clearly went over it -- my neck and shoulders feel like hell.

So where in life do we draw the line between gently approaching the edge and jumping straight off it with a courageous "Yeeee-haaaaaaaaaw!!!!)? This I do not know -- but I'd love to hear your thoughts about how you discern when it's time to approach the edge gently and when it is time to get a running start and leap from it.

Now, where's the Tylenol?

Damn Bugs!

2008-09-10T14:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I went for what I intended to be a walk. The weather was beautiful, but my legs didn't feel up to a run. A part of me was screaming to run, but I overruled myself and decided a hefty walk was just as good.

I got dressed for my outing -- complete with my visor, watch with lap counter (which I still haven't figured out how to work), running shoes and sunscreen slathered on my face, ears, neck and arms. I started walking and settled into a nice cadence as I passed my "start running HERE" point on my route. I acknowledged the pull to run, but once again politely said, "No thank you."

Within about 50 yards, I encountered a small swarm (is there such a thing?) of little black flying bugs. They were smaller than a fly, but larger than a gnat or fruit-fly -- the perfect size to be completely annoying. The little insects buzzed in my ear, clamored against my face and even flew towards my hands. I swatted at them left and right, attempting to dismiss them from their annoying routine. After noticing the areas to which these nuisances were drawn, I realized they were attracted to my sunscreen.

This battle continued for another 50 yards. By then, I was no longer irritated. I was getting downright pissed at these flying pains in the ass! Twenty-five more yards of swatting unsuccessfully.

"Enough!" I cried in defeat. I realized I had only once choice to rid myself of these pests. I had to run. So, I started running.

Within seconds, the flying nuisances were removed from my personal space. I kept running for extra measure -- just to be sure they weren't trailing me.

No sign of the bugs.

Thirty seconds later, still no bugs, but I decided to keep running. I really wanted these things left behind.

Two minutes later, I concluded the bugs were behind me and were not likely to return. Still, I kept running.

By then, my cadence had fully shifted from a walk to a bug-fleeing pace and I was feeling pretty good. Slowing down now felt like taking a step backwards. I decided to keep going.

By the time the run was over, I'd traveled my intended route plus another mile, my endorphins were rushing through my body and I felt great. In fact, my legs felt strong, healthy and supple.

While those bugs could have stopped me from getting any exercise at all, they actually propelled me into the action my body, mind, and spirit needed. I damned them throughout the early part of my route; I now thank them for being the catalysts for my run.

What's bugging you in your life? How might it serve as a catalyst for what your body, mind and spirit need?

3...2...1...

2008-09-04T13:16:00.000-05:00

Wow. I've nearly catapulted from one side of the busy-ness spectrum to the other. I had so much spaciousness while on leave of absence, I was often bored. Now I'm going full speed towards a tremendous amount of structure. Not only have I returned to full time employment (which really isn't that busy yet, but soon will be), I've also taken the leadership role for my boys' school's parents' organization AND I've decided to embark on a six month journey of education towards being a professional coach (which involves one weekend each month). All of this has frankly made me a bit, well, stressed!

You know, when I just wrote that scope of my structure, it didn't feel that big. And these are all things I have chosen to do. Plus, I'm excited about them. Perhaps the stress is just the shock or resulting emotions after moving from one end of the spectrum so far to the other. Maybe it's like the rush an astronaut feels when the space shuttle goes full thrust into the atmosphere. I imagine the G-force experienced initially is an incredibly intense amount of pressure as the shuttle's engines fight against the Earth's gravitational pull. But when the shuttle moves further away from Earth, the effects of gravity lessen and the shuttle seems to coast more gently as it leaves behind the atmosphere and makes its transition to outer space. At least that's what it looks like in the movies...

Maybe that is somewhat like my experience (or anyone's experience) during change or transition. At the beginning, there's great resistance to leave the status quo. But once we get moving, the transition into the great beyond eases in difficulty and becomes a peaceful glide. Perhaps I'm in the midst of heading out of the atmosphere now...

Perspective

2008-08-26T12:52:00.000-05:00

In Disney's movie Ratatouille a food critic named Ego requests some "....fresh perspective..." as his dining option when visiting a restaurant where (unbeknownst to him) the head chef happens to be a rat. The shocked waiter fumbles for an appropriate response to such an odd request. Finally, Ego says the chef should "hit me with his best shot." The scene's words, Ego's intonation and the image leave an imprint on the brain.

(WARNING: movie spoiler ahead) As it turns out, Ego receives exactly what he requested -- fresh perspective as the surprising little chef gives him the meal of his life. Upon recognition of the creator of such a divine meal, Ego is forever changed. Funny how something as simple as "perspective" can rock our world in such a profound way.

This happened to me yesterday admist the adminstrative stress of returning to my full time employment. This return is part of my "pushing off the river bank plan" on which I fully departed yesterday.

Not long after the innertube started moving, I got fussy....really fussy. I wasn't happy with the inner tube (my "job" or lack thereof), the direction it was taking (who the hell knows), nor the speed at which it was traveling (slower than my 4 year old trying to get dressed on a school day). It all pretty much sucked.

But in talking with one of my friends/advisors/gurus (she's all of these things), I started seeing my role, my direction and my speed of progress as just fine. In fact, I saw how they each were contributing in a significant way to one of my key stops down stream. That small shift in perspective helped me see the great value and have great appreciation for the tube, the direction and the speed.

Nearly all of these blog entires describe some slight shift in perspective and the power behind them. Author Stephen Covey calls it "changing your see" or "changing your paradigm." He notes in The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People that after his paradigm shifted on one occasion, "...I saw things differently, and because I saw differently, I thought differently, I felt differently, I behaved differently."

Where in your life are you being called to alter your perspective? What gifts and power might unfold for you by changing your perspective ever so slightly?

Assumptions

2008-08-15T07:12:00.006-05:00

You've likely heard what happens when you assume -- it makes an "ass" out of "u" and an ass out of "me." I just had an assumption of mine revealed before my very eyes. And true to form, it made me look like an ass to none other than my own very self by keeping me stuck on the river bank rather than excitedly engaging in the flow.

So what happened? Well, I assumed my husband would not be supportive of me embarking on some learning opportunities -- opportunities that are expensive in both time and money. I kept wanting to discuss these with him, but the right timing never seemed to materialize.

Then yesterday, Roger asked me about a date in October and whether we had any plans. I realized that was the same weekend as one of the opportunities. Now is the time, Tracy...

I told him about my interest in the training and desire to go. No long after that, Roger inquired, "What's stopping you from signing up?"

Wow. I wasn't expecting that question from him. Door number two just appeared. I described to him my interest in the three separate and increasingly expensive opportunities. He suggested doing two of them this year and the third in the following year.

!!!!!!!!!! (that's my assumption being shattered)

I suddenly felt a woooooosh of movement as my inner tube left the river bank.

This situation revealed a lot to me. First, the power of the story in my mind. Life Coach extraordinaire Martha Beck talks in Finding Your Own North Star about the narrator in our minds. She notes that "we all walk around, day in and day out, telling ourselves the stories of our lives...The information we choose to include or excludes determines whether we see our lives as comedy, tragedy, romance or action-adventure." Clearly, my assumptions and the corresponding power of my own narrator kept me stuck on the river bank.

Second, I recognized just how deeply I wanted Roger's permission. I've been in such a financially dependent mode since I went on leave of absence. My return to work date is later this month and I'm recognizing yet another gift unfolding via my return.

While talking with my dear friend Sharon last night, she noted how important it is for us to live our lives and invite our husbands/partners/significant others to join us. Waiting for them to give us permission or agree to accompany us only keeps us all stuck. I do believe in partnership with a spouse, but I also believe in the criticality of living one's own path. Khalil Gibran wrote in The Prophet: on Marriage "...let there be space in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you...and stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, not in each other's shadow."

So what assumptions or stories are you playing in your head? How much are they holding you back? For me, I'm finally pushing off from the river bank. See ya downstream!

My Big Toe

2008-08-10T21:53:00.003-05:00

I've made decent progress on my list of actions to push off the river bank. On some items, my body and inner tube said "adios!" to dry land and are ready for my Becky Thatcher-like adventure. But my big toe still is anchored into terra firma. It's longing for adventure, but isn't ready to just heave-ho with a giant shove.

Yesterday, I had a lovely and long overdue chat with my dear friend Laura. She spoke directly to my big toe (not literally, I mean we were on the phone and obviously my phone doesn't have ears). Her gentle, but inviting and supportive words told my toe directly just how incredible it is to engage in the current.

I accept that I'm not ready to give dry land a giant shove. But what if my big toe just let go....? THAT I can handle!

Pushing Off

2008-08-10T21:35:00.003-05:00

These last two weeks of flowing downstream showed me that doing so is a beautiful, nearly effortless ride which can bring some amazing gifts into my life. The stream I've been floating feels connected to my book writing as well as care of my child with cancer. It all could be larger than that someday, but for now that is the obvious connection. It will continue to let this flow take me downstream.

Meanwhile, I've realized my RED inner tube for some big things in life is still sitting on the river bank. I need to give it a shove, hop on and then let the float trip begin. If the inner tube isn't yet in the water, it's kinda hard to go with the water's flow.

So, I've created a plan to push off from the river bank. Some of the items on the list scare me -- I don't know how rough the water is down any of those forks. No matter; it's not as if I really know what any given day might bring me, right? I recall going on an adventure with a group of former colleagues at the U.S. National Whitewater Center in Charlotte, NC. Located on the banks of the Catawba River in Charlotte, N.C., the U.S. National Whitewater Center is the world's largest artificial whitewater river and an official U.S. Olympic Training Site. My fellow raft mates and I (along with our guide) chose the gentle route first. After a few exciting trips around this path, we realized we were soon going to be quite bored.

"Are you ready for the big one?" asked the guide.

We all looked at each other sheepishly. Then one by one, we agreed. "Yeah, we're ready."

OMG. Within minutes we were full-on in Class IV rapids (man made, but who cares when they're freaking Class IV???) dropping more vertical feet than I care to recall. We made it through safely and decided to go again. As it turned out, this was an incredible thrill. The key we quickly learned (as our guide coached) was to paddle like hell into the huge vertical drops. This kept the raft pointed downstream and moving in that same direction. The last thing we wanted to do was go over the rapids sideways or backwards. That's when boats were more likely to flip over and people could potentially get hurt.

Amazingly, none of us fell out of the boat nor was anyone hurt (not true of all rafts that day). Although I had a good time, I was happy to get off the river that day.

With that in mind, I'll push my own raft into the water (this one is bigger and redder than the last...and you better believe I have a guide on this trip too!!!). I'm ready to paddle like hell and keep my raft pointed downstream should any rapids appear.

Bon voyage!

"Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs..."

2008-07-25T13:10:00.004-05:00

As I’m ambling along this highway towards my future self, signs are popping up left and right. Some of these have been completely obvious and smacking me in the head repeatedly. Others have become apparent in only their absence (I’ll explain more in a minute).

I wrote last week about downstream flow versus paddling like hell upstream. Noticing these signs has given me a bit of insight which method (flowing or paddling like hell against the current) is working better for me.

As far as floating downstream is concerned, here’s how one idea I feel passionate about is launching into who-knows-what….

My neighborhood book group is reading Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. It’s a fascinating account of the author and her family’s year of consuming only locally grown food (everything they eat is grown by their family or by someone else in the county). I have been completely captivated by this book and it has rekindled my interest in a vegetable garden. This reawakened interest spawned me to plant a winter garden with the boys (80 carrots should be able to grow in a 14” diameter pot, right? The boys got just a wee bit heavy-handed with the seeds).

Before we planted the garden, I picked up an organic gardening book at the library. Fortunately, it contained info about how to make compost – a topic I’ve been interested in learning more about.

Within a few days, Roger and I had a conversation with Blake’s teachers about how unfortunate it is the school’s leftover food must be thrown away. I suggested, “Why not make compost?”

Roger inquired, “For what?”

And out blurted from my mouth, “For a garden…”

Within seconds, I was sharing my idea for a school garden with the teachers based on a special I’d seen on PBS years ago regarding Alice Waters and her Edible Schoolyard. The idea moved me years ago. This week it moved me again and it enrolled Blake’s teachers as well.

The next ripple along this downstream float trip came as I was lighting our grill two nights ago. I pulled a months-old newspaper from our deck box to use as kindling to start the fire. As I was crumbling up the paper, two words caught my eye – “food” and “pupil.” I stopped crumbling to investigate. Lo and behold, the article was about Debi Gibson, director of the Seed to Table program in the Maplewood-Richmond Heights School District (St. Louis area). The program is a hands-on teaching method in which students plant seeds in the district's gardens. They then harvest the food and help prepare it for meals that they then eat.

Could all these happenings just be coincidences? Sure, but I prefer to think of them as powerful threads in a synchronistic fabric; each pulling me in the direction I’m meant to follow (the downstream flow versus the upstream struggle).

Meanwhile, on the side of my formal job search, I’ve sent several resumes, posted resumes to executive search firm boards and reached out to my former personnel partner at my old employer. Care to guess how many responses I’ve had in two weeks? Nada, zip, zilch, zero. See what I mean? The absence of any response serves as a sign.

According to Medicine Cards by Jamie Sans and David Carsa, “Prairie Dog Medicine” is that of “retreat.” They note “there is ample strength available if you quit pushing and go with the flow.” Wouldn’t you know it – my Medicine Card for the day yesterday was Prairie Dog.

So, I’m kinda diggin’ this downstream flow. I’m going to kick back in this big RED inner tube for awhile and see where floating takes me.

Paddling upstream or flowing downstream?

2008-07-17T20:28:00.005-05:00

Isn't it funny how life sometimes takes us in a direction other than what we expect? I'm experiencing that now as I'm looking to gain more structure (and, oh yeah, income) in my life.

On one hand, I'm working hard to do all the things I "should" do -- all those typical job search strategies like updating my resume, sending it to head hunters, networking with former colleagues, etc.

Meanwhile, the things that are taking off with rocket-like propulsion are those driven from my feminine creative side -- I've been asked to write an article for an organization I am passionate about; I had a meeting today with a woman who is president of an organization of women where I may find fabulous support for Pink Tutu (and who knows what else) as well potential speaking engagements; and, I just developed a partnership with a fantastic woman who will contribute to my book. All these things that are gaining such momentum align to my passion and purpose (and there's a healthy dose of play in there too!).

Could it be that alignment which results in energy and movement? Whereas the lack of alignment to passion, purpose and play might create the feeling of paddling upstream while trying to avoid a waterfall?

Stay tuned in the coming weeks to hear which path really takes flight and which one doesn't. In either case, it is going to be quite a ride!!

Being Available

2008-07-11T11:30:00.003-05:00

The boys and I had an usual opportunity yesterday -- to help a stranger in need.

We were playing at a playground near Grant's school. The playground was virtually empty other than my boys and two other children and their mother. I noticed the mother sitting on a nearby park bench while talking on her cell phone.

Within a few moments, I noticed the woman was now reclined on the park bench. I couldn't help but notice how she was disengaged from the activities of her children.

I gave the boys their five-minute warning before departure and wandered towards the other side of the playground where the woman happened to be on the park bench.

Just then, the woman sat up crying and asked me to take her phone and talk to the nurse on the other side of the phone line. The woman was having chest pains, rapid heart rate and was about to pass out.

The nurse asked if I was a friend of this woman. I explained that no, I just happened to be at the same park. The nurse explained that this woman needed to call 911 and asked me to make sure she did so. I told her I would.

The woman ended the call with the nurse, called her sister-in-law to pick up her children, tried to reach her husband and then called 911.

After the calls were placed, I offered to help her move from the park bench (which was smack dab in the blazing sun) to a shaded location a few feet away. She declined noting that she would pass out if she moved. Instead, I stood behind her on the park bench to shield her from the sun.

Within minutes, the fire department and ambulance arrived with the woman's sister-in-law close behind. The boys were of course fascinated by the fire truck, ambulance and corresponding excitement. But they were also a huge help trying to play with the woman's children to keep them entertained.

I continued to stand as the resident shadow-maker as the paramedics evaluated her. I shared with them the information I knew. Before we knew it, she was off to the hospital.

Both the woman and her sister-in-law thanked me for my kindness and help. They acknowledged their appreciation for the kindness of a stranger.

The entire episode made me feel good. I was happy to have had a purpose in being at the park that day (in addition to quality time with my sons). I actually felt honored in having been there at that time to help. Just being available made all the difference to this woman.

I recall a number of times when people were available to me, especially throughout Grant's journey. So many people helped during that time. My neighbor across the street was a master of availability. She was supportive in very gentle and consistent manner. She never pushed or forced any help, but was constant through her e-mails, phone calls and prayers. Thank you Charla!! (NOTE: the number of people who offered and provided support during this time are too many to list here. Please know I deeply value and appreciate every loving gesture every one of you offered!!!!)

I invite you all to look into your lives and consider how you are being available to those in need, whether a stranger, a loved one or an acquaintance. Let your availability be known and feel the honor it brings to you.

And Tabor, wherever you are, I hope you're doing well!

My Not-So-Spicy Life

2008-07-03T08:52:00.001-05:00

I recently came across a beautiful photo in an old National Geographic Magazine. The photo showed a woman in a brightly colored dress standing by a table filled with small brightly colored cloth-lined baskets, each filled with a different herb or spice. The colors, the contrast and the energy I saw in this photo really struck me. It made me stop and think about the colors and flavors in my life. Is it richly hued, bursting with flavor? Is it subtly seasoned with herbs of a delicate nature? Sinfully spicy? Or boring and bland?

I love food. I love to cook. And I love flavor. It’s no wonder that about 18 months ago I came across a great herb and spice store in Maplewood (an area of St. Louis) called Penzey’s. I’d heard about it when we lived in Charlotte, but had never stepped foot into one of these places. Whoa!! Talk about variety!! Five types of peppercorns, four types of cinnamon (in three different forms), three variations of paprika and don’t get me started on the chilies!! Forget about grocery store bought herbs and spices – this place is the bomb!!

Then on our recent trip to Michigan, I came across an adorable store of similar construct in Saugatuck called Spice Merchants. On that particular stop, I was drawn in by the teas and departed with a magical little potion-maker that helps me start my days.

With all this delight and enjoyment over spices, flavors and variety, where the hell is it in my life? If I enjoy these things so much, how could they be on hiatus in my daily reality, their void creating boring and bland tastes?

It’s time to kick things up a notch (thanks, Emeril!). It’s time to bring the richness of spice back into my life. And yes, I realize doing so can also create complexity of flavor. I don’t want overpowering and overloaded flavor. I want richness in my day-to-day living that stems from pure, simple and high quality ingredients that set my taste buds on fire.

So, how spicy is your life? Are you ready to move beyond boring and bland to embrace the flavors of each day? I am.

Now, please pass the Ancho Chile Powder. I have some cooking to do.

It's All About Balance

2008-06-26T10:56:00.004-05:00

Well, here I am. The pendulum has once again swung to the other side. While I desperately needed spaciousness from work around the same time Grant got sick, I’m now finding myself becoming (do I dare say it?) bored.

I, Tracy Bautista, do hereby fully claim the need for more structure in my life. And, oh yeah, I don’t want to lose my spaciousness either.

Admitting this urge to gain more structure in my life, while maintaining spaciousness has caused me to notice my inherent need for some type of equilibrium. My former life as an executive is not what I want; yet I know I need more structure than I have now. It’s all about balance – that ever elusive state of wellness.

So many of us tend to try to find this equilibrium by trying to hold the pendulum where it feels right at the time. It ain’t gonna stay there, sister! Things go out of kilter in nature and also our in our lives. Call it “organized chaos.” Supposedly there is a beautiful pattern to all of this chaos. While this pattern of concentric circles or spider webs or whatever pattern it beholds may have beauty, it still sucks. Amidst this land of ick and discomfort, our lives swing in so many ways – mental, physical, spiritual and social elements of our lives get out of whack; we live either on the spectrum of the masculine or only on the feminine; we lean towards exhaustion or laziness; structure and spaciousness…you get the picture. Of course any time we stay in one of these areas for too long, that damned organized chaos kicks in again and sure enough, we swing to the other end of the spectrum. Hence, where I find myself now.

This morning I did my yoga practice on balancing poses. I was struck my something the instructor said. He noted, “be gentle with yourself, forgive yourself, let it go if you are unable to hold the pose.” He then went on to note how tree pose, just like a tree, does sway in the wind. Its fluid movements come as a direct response to the environmental changes around it.

This fluid dance of the tree pose made me stop to ponder to what degree am I allowing myself to fluidly move in response to my surroundings? If balance is not a permanent state, but a constant flow, I cannot expect myself to stay put in any one place for long. The ideal is to respond to the invitation to find a new state of equilibrium. I need to heed this call for more structure and also honor the desire for some spaciousness too.

I also noted one of the keys in balancing poses – find your focal point in front of your gaze and hold it constant. This focal point provides a means of centering and constancy amidst the wobbles and bobbles of the pose. How appropriate this concept is in our daily lives as well! When I’m pushed and nearly falling due to events and people around me, what is my focal point? That “something” that holds my gaze and centers me? Now that I see the connection between the focal point to my daily balance, it all makes sense. My focal point is the vision of my future self – the badass speaker and author who is an inspired teacher for women leaders around the world.

As I venture into this next change in the elements around me and respond fluidly to the pull towards more structure in my life, I will keep my gaze centered on that inspired teacher off in the distance.

As you go about your day today, I invite you to consider how the limbs of the tree of your life are responding to the elements around you. Also consider where your gaze is held. Are you focused on the vision of your future self?

Procrastination

2008-06-23T21:34:00.002-05:00

....I'm still working on this one...

Gratitude and Baldness

2008-05-20T13:48:00.002-05:00

April 2008

A giant, pink, fluffy “Thank you!!” for your tremendous outpouring of support, encouragement and delight for my workshop and website!!! I am having great fun as my inner inspired teacher takes another step onto the public stage. Please continue to let me know how I’ve inspired you and how you’d like more!

My family shaved our heads this week. Some of you may be thinking I’ve completely lost it, while others know I lost it awhile ago! My husband Roger, Blake (4), Grant (2) and I all shaved our noggins in preparation for a photo shoot for St. Baldrick’s Foundation -- the world's largest volunteer-driven fundraising event for childhood cancer research. The Foundation asked us to do the photo shoot after seeing Grant’s photo as one of the honored children for the fundraising event held at Helen Fitzgerald’s here in St. Louis in March 2008. We’ve found a very strong connection to this organization, so we gladly agreed to participate. Plus, professional pics of the Bald Bautista Family will be treasured family heirlooms, I’m sure. http://kellyparkphoto.blogspot.com/

What has struck me since then is the power of our action and the equal and sometimes opposite reaction. The action itself has been a huge life lesson for our four-year-old, Blake. He’s learning what being a leader truly means. It is not about how fast he runs, or scoring more points, or having an arbitrary title bestowed on his head for a day. It’s about stepping forward to do what is right. It’s about stepping outside the box and making an impactful statement for a good cause. It’s about acting with love.

On the other hand, I was saddened by the reaction of one of Blake’s little friends. When she saw our hair (or lack thereof), a confused look of disgust come across her sweet innocent face. My heart sank in recognition of what just happened. Society’s view of what is right for women (and perhaps men) had already programmed her response. I sent a little prayer that she and so many others in our world today begin to see that being a woman is not about the length of my hair, the height of my heels, the length of my skirt or the color of my clothes. It is something that comes from deep within. It’s a God-given source of calmness in my heart, fluid creativity flowing from my pen and warm love filling my soul.

The Original Pink Tutu Story

2008-05-20T13:37:00.006-05:00

-- March 2008

Many of you are likely wondering “What’s up with all this tutu stuff?” For those of you who know me, this is likely a perplexing image, as I am anything but dainty. Or frilly.

It all began with the little girl in the McDonald’s ad. You may have seen it…the little girl couldn’t be more than five-years-old, running playfully away from the camera toting a box full of yummy delight and wearing a fluffy pink tutu. The image stopped me in my tracks.

The image reminded me of the carefree, blissful moments of yesterday….pretending my bed was a stage while I danced for hours wearing one of my many tutus. It reminded me of summer road trips to Michigan for our family vacation. A lunch stop at McDonald’s was always one of the highlights.

How I longed for those simple pleasures – not only the childhood joy that comes from a box containing a cheeseburger, French fries and a little toy, but more significantly the freedom and playfulness which comes from wearing whatever I want, wherever I go and not worrying for a second if it is appropriate or makes someone laugh.

Who knows where the little girl in the ad had been or where she was going. Without even a glimpse of her face, I saw her joy. She and her pink tutu sparked the idea of playfulness in my life…and how much I’ve missed it.

Where had that playful little girl of my own yesterdays gone? Where was that part of myself? Was she still within me? Could I resurrect her? Or had I become too much of a “grown up?”
After that brief encounter with the girl in the pink tutu, other tutus started appearing in my life. I saw them in clothing stores, in magazines, running down the street as a group of tutu-wearing women fluttered by like blissful pixies. It was as though the Universe was calling out to me, “Come play!” I kept finding reasons to decline.

“I can’t run with these women. I have to work today,” I resisted. I reasoned with myself that my boss likely would not find running while wearing a pink tutu as an acceptable reason for missing a 10 AM meeting. I hated the dissonance. I felt pulled to play; but Responsibility kept calling.

“You have a full time job, you can’t play,” Responsibility yelled through the phone line. “You have two children who need clothes, food and an education, you can’t play. You’re the primary breadwinner, you can’t play…”

“When did Responsibility start ruling my life?” I complained.

A month or so later while on a business trip, a friend and I went out one evening. We decided to go to a fun little store filled with all things playful – yummy PJs and robes, funky jewelry, fun books, crazy plates and kitchen accessories and – you guessed it – pink tutus. Once again, the sight of the tutus drew me in like a shoe sale at Nordstrom.

“Buy me,” it called.

“Oh, I can’t…it’s too expensive. And look, it’s made for a child, not a grown woman,” I lamented to my friend (or possibly to my higher self).

“Buy me,” it called again.

Something in me became entranced and began to loosen the resistance. I started to dream.

“What if I actually could run with those women wearing the pink tutus? What if I didn’t have to attend meetings that weren't aligned to my higher self? What if I wore what I want wherever I go and didn’t care what others thought? What if my life was on my terms…?” I fantasized.

The pink tutu and I merged that very moment. I realized this tutu was much more than some pieces of fluffy fabric. It was a piece of art, a symbolic totem of my purpose, my playfulness and my passion.

When I returned from my business trip, I hung the tutu in my office. That act was met with some disapproval.

“Do I have to look at that every day?” protested my husband.

It would have been easy to take the tutu down to please him, but I recognized doing so was an action that no longer aligned to my new fluffy pink self. This tutu made me feel happy, playful and fun.

“Yes,” I replied to my husband, “or you can just look the other way.”

From that point on, my life has slowly become more aligned to my terms. The crazy part is that my life since then has been amidst some really unpleasant circumstances.

Just a few months after the fateful shopping trip to the funky store where my tutu and I merged, my two-year old son was diagnosed with a Wilms’ Tumor -- a rare kidney cancer that primarily affects children. Also known as nephroblastoma, it's the most common malignant tumor of the kidneys in children. At a time when many would crumble under the shock, fear and stress, I felt the power of my pink tutu really come to life. At times, I almost felt guilty for leaning into the power of this pink fluffy thing.

“My child has cancer,” I argued with myself. “How can you even think about yourself?”

But I knew in my heart that I needed to heed the call from my higher self or risk falling apart when my son – no, my entire family -- needed me most.

The pink tutu led my choices from there. I took a leave of absence from work – I can now run with the tutu wearing runners if I choose! No more boring meetings! I shaved my head in support of my son who has lost his undergoing chemotherapy! Who cares if people point and laugh -- bald is beautiful!

Embracing the pink tutu also brought me closer to someone. It introduced me to a part of myself I didn’t know – the Badass Fairy in the Pink Tutu. She is not a roller derby queen, but instead is the grown up version of the little girl in the McDonald’s ad. She’s playful, she’s powerful and she’s passionate in all she does. The pink tutu unleashed someone inside me who is far more fun than the person I was, she has strength beyond my wildest dreams and she lives more fully than the Me of yesterday.

Who knew layers of pink tulle could have so much power?