Category Archives: Leadership

Business, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Leadership

Community Through a Life of Pop-Ups

Leadership – Living it, Loving it, Learning within it
Pop-Ups for People
Pop-Up Communities

I think this is my work—my calling.

For a long time, I judged myself for not being a “good” community member. I thought that meant having lifelong friends, deep roots in one place, and strong ties to where I lived or worked. But my life hasn’t followed that pattern.

I’ve never worked in one company for decades. I don’t have children. I lived on Gabriola for ten years, Whitefish, MT since 2008. My longest-standing commitment may be be to The Haven, where I arrived in 1983. Over the years, I’ve been a participant, cleaner, registrar, intern, assistant, leader, part of the Education Steering group, and now the Education Council. But I don’t live there—and I still remember Ben saying, “This is not a community—it’s a business.”

Thrive! has been my longest work engagement—since our 2002 launch—yet it has evolved through many versions of clients, services, and ways of working.

I transformed my life at Haven, learned loving in my relationship of 25 years with CrisMarie but community I still struggled to figure out why that seemed so hard.

Recently, after a coaching session, I started thinking about “community” differently. I realized I’m very good at creating pop-up communities.

A pop-up community can be anything—a project, a start-up, a couple, a family, a movement, even a counrty. The United States itself began as one: people united around the idea of freedom. When Washington became the first President, he didn’t want the job, but there was a group of people determined to create something new, free from Britain and the Church. They had to figure out how to operate as a community. The Declaration of Independence and their efforts to separate church and state were attempts—imperfect but remarkable—to protect freedom.

The two greatest challenges to any community or organization are time and size.

  • In the early days, when the vision is fresh, energy flows and possibility feels limitless.
  • Over time, those with history become protective or defensive of what they helped build.
  • As size grows, a few leaders end up trying to defend and direct something that may need to evolve.

Every project, business, or relationship has to keep changing—recognizing both its strengths and its growing pains.

For me, that’s where leadership comes in and down to three things:

  1. Living – Not just creating something, but staying connected to the aliveness within it.
  2. Loving – Not clinging or defending, but loving in an active, trusting way—even when you don’t always like something happening.
  3. Learning within it – Staying humble, knowing there’s always more to discover, and being willing to listen and see new possibilities.

Leadership isn’t a title—it’s the choice to show up fully. Communities “pop up” everywhere, all the time. The people may change, but the energy of community is constant. It’s like a spiritual frequency we can tune into.

When we lose that trust and connection, what was alive can fade. But when we stay open, community—like communication—becomes eternal, even if no single form lasts forever.

I used to want to be like an old-growth cedar—deeply rooted and unchanging. Now, I see the wisdom in being more like bamboo—flexible, resilient, able to spring up anywhere.

Ultimately, it’s about knowing how to show up and engage in the moment. That’s what allows a community to truly commune. It may not be forever—but it is eternal.

Communication, Connecting, Connection, Leadership, Valuing Differences, Vulnerability

The Power — and Challenge — of Being Immediate in Community

When I’m in the middle of a rich, real community moment, I want to be all in. I want to name what’s happening, address it, and keep the connection alive right now.
That urgency can be a gift — and sometimes, a challenge.

I’m a very immediate person.
Sometimes that comes across as pressure or like it’s “all about me.”

At the recent Haven Faculty meeting — a deep, rich, and swirly experience — I threw myself into what I call a “pop-up community.” For me, the Haven is the best place to strengthen my skills in real, relational, and self-responsible living. It happens in programs, leadership, weekend meetings, and even online. But it takes intention — being present with what’s visible and invisible, owning mistakes, laughing, crying, and practicing patience.

That patience is my growth edge. In the moment, I often feel a strong urge to address issues right away, fearing they’ll grow if left alone. I’ve learned to speak my truth, then step back if others aren’t ready, leaving with clarity when I’ve invited full exchange.

Not everyone processes instantly. Sometimes insights or tensions surface later, away from the group. As a leader, I want to get better at supporting that — whether through a follow-up process, online sharing, or other ways to integrate after the fact. It’s one reason I’m developing Camp Connection.

I left the weekend with a few incompletes, so I’m reaching out, reflecting, and staying connected to that community energy as long as I can — to integrate, to strengthen both the branches and the heart of Haven, and to keep showing up real, relational, and self-responsible.

Communication, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Leadership, Vulnerability

Coming Alive Is Questionable – Check With Yourself Before Entry

On a morning walk during our recent faculty weekend, I passed this small campground with a curious sign:

AREA QUESTIONABLE – See Supervisor Before Entry

It made me laugh—and then it made me think. Later in the day as we gathered as a faculty, I realized it was the perfect metaphor for our topic: The Haven’s Code of Ethics.

The intent of the code is good—to offer process and clarity, to provide a path for complaints, and to protect the Haven, its faculty, and participants. But here’s the challenge: our real purpose is to create a community where people can Come Alive and be fully themselves. And “protecting” that? I’m not sure it’s possible—or even helpful.

Which brings me back to that sign. Maybe, I thought, ours should read:

Coming Alive Is Questionable – Check With Yourself Before Entry

What if a code of ethics wasn’t a rigid set of right/wrong rules, but an invitation into dialogue? Legal language tends to close doors with absolutes. Coming alive is messier—it lives in the grey, the “questionable area.” And maybe that’s okay.

That campground, after all, was a beautiful, vibrant place for kids and adults. Yes, there were risks. But life—real, alive life—always carries risk.

I’ll admit, I’ve had a complicated history with codes of ethics. As a therapist, patient, healthcare provider, and business owner, I’ve mostly seen them as legal shields—documents crafted to prevent lawsuits rather than foster connection. So when I first heard The Haven was deep-diving into a new code, my walls went up. This place I love for its realness, mistakes, and growth suddenly sounded like it was drafting hospital paperwork.

But thanks to Jane K and the commitment of our faculty to wrestle with this, something shifted. I started to hear that this wasn’t about legal cover—it was about creating a shared path through conflict, a way to open dialogue before we ever head toward litigation.

It won’t be perfect. No document can guarantee safety or resolve every dispute. But if we keep it living, breathing, and grounded in relationship rather than bureaucracy, it can serve our purpose: to support people in the vulnerable, risky, beautiful work of Coming Alive.

The sign still says it best: safety not guaranteed—enter at your own risk. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point.

Communication, Connecting, Leadership

Reviving Lighthouse Coaching

I am reviving my Lighthouse Coaching. More than ever, this feels like a time when we need to find our way and connect.

I like the idea of being a lighthouse. Someone who is willing to locate themselves by self-defining and shining their light out into the world. Inviting those who may be unmoored a way to navigate and find their way.

I know that I can be a lighthouse and I appreciate those who are and have been lighthouses for me.

Change can be seen as the next new adventure or it can see as the next crisis. How I interpret my travel is fully up to me. Sometimes I do feel tossed and turned. I believe I am a victim to the storm upon my path. But when I can breath and invite connection – grace – and know I am not alone – I realize I have agency and resource.

It’s not always comfortable or easy. Sometimes the best navigation I’ve been offered is when someone as shared their distance in defining themselves in relation to me. In those moments I’ve been given a gift that can help me locate and move out of just reaction and into clarity and curiosity.

Of course I like that best when delivered with kindness and care and I also know that I have choice even when it is not.

As a Lighthouse, I do my best to be straight and clear. When I am clear, I can be present and curious for whatever comes back.

My promise as a lighthouse coach is to hold you as able because that is what I want in relationship and life.

I return to those lighthouses who hold me as able because I know they will be clear and defined and in that I can find ME.

It is with this intent that I want to recreate Lighthouse Coaching. We’ll see what happens.

If you want to have a conversation and see if Lighthouse Coaching is for you – reach out.

Communication, Connecting, Embracing Unknown, Leadership, Voice

Refusing To Hide: Finding Strength in MLK

How can I move forward and not hide.

I can—hide – because my life and liberty aren’t immediately threatened by today’s seizure of power.

But that doesn’t comfort me. It doesn’t erase the fear and pain my brothers and sisters are feeling.

I feel bile rising in my throat as I read the news from DC —I can’t even imagine hearing it spoken aloud.

What have we done?

I’ve been meditating daily, working through A Course in Miracles and following Dr. Joe’s teachings. But none of it feels like enough to carry me through this moment.

I want to move. I want to run. But not to hide.

I could hide. I could pretend that the deportations and disenfranchisement happening now are for the “greater good.” I could lie to myself, imagining that God sides with power and privilege—that Christ would support this madness.

But that’s not the truth. That’s not who we are, and I can’t betray what I know to be right. I can’t hide because I care.

I care about my brother, born to parents who crossed borders to give him a chance at life but are now being told they don’t belong.

I care about my sister, who might one day need an abortion to save her life—and the laws won’t protect her.

I care about this fragile planet that needs us to unite to save it.

I understand we have problems. I know the concerns of people in middle America are often overlooked or dismissed.

But Trump isn’t fighting for us. Maybe for himself and his allies—but not for us.

I’ve listened to his words today. There’s no humility. No heart. Just fear and division.

I hope I’m wrong—I’ve hoped that many times before. But time and again, he’s proven me right.

Tearing families apart and throwing people into detention camps isn’t justice. It’s cruelty. Ignoring the Constitution and appointing cronies to positions of power isn’t leadership—it’s dangerous.

And yet, here I am, unsure how to respond. That’s his greatest weapon—forcing us to react, to lash out in anger and fear.

But I won’t give in. Today, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I will remember his legacy.

I’ll stay nonviolent. I’ll hold my anguish close but let it drive me to action where I can have an impact and touch hearts.

I know I can not change minds with fury and force. But I hope I can reach hearts and that we can find strength again together.

I’ll refuse to hide.

Communication, Connecting, Connection, Leadership, Life Experiences

When Old Patterns Pull You Back

There are endless programs, methods, and strategies for shifting from a victim mindset to one of growth. They’ve been around for decades—I know because I’ve been working on that shift for over 40 years. And it has truly been life-changing.

But here’s the thing: I still get caught in spirals. The crises may not feel as dire as they once did, but that almost makes it harder. Without the proverbial 2-by-4 of life smacking me, it’s easy to stay stuck in discomfort instead of pushing for change.

Maybe it’s a lack of steady clients or income. Maybe it’s tight jeans, restless nights, or feeling stiffer and less flexible. Little discomforts pile up until they feel like a wall.

And then, bigger waves hit—like elections. I want dialogue, exploration, connection. Instead, I often find polarization, fear, and attacks. There are glimpses of deeper conversations, but not enough to break the storm.

Post-election, messages pour in urging people to fight, resist, battle. And while I understand that drive, it’s all too familiar to me. Fear and rage, blame and combat—they’re paths I know well, but they aren’t where I want to go.

Here’s what I’ve been sitting with: We’re in a river of change and uncertainty. It’s bigger than any one election or person. I look at the government now and see a massive shake-up. Where it leads—democracy, autocracy, something else entirely—I don’t know.

But fear? That’s a choice. So is fighting.

What feels like a real change for me is staying present. Staying here. Meeting my community—neighbors, friends, strangers—with curiosity and care. It’s like stepping out after a storm, checking who’s okay, seeing where we stand.

These moments can forge deep connections if we let them. I want to meet them with vision, not old survival patterns. And yet, I feel that familiar pull: to blame, to rage, to scream. I catch myself in it. I take a breath.

Yes, we elected a bully. A liar. It’s infuriating.

And yet—stop. Breathe.

What if something can come out of this?

I think back to when my doctors told me there were no options left for me. That was a wake-up call. This moment feels like another quake. It’s clear now: the government—just like the medical system—isn’t going to fix me, my community, or our unique challenges. Systems don’t do that. People do.

Maybe I thought we were ready for big, systemic change. But real transformation isn’t something we demand and wait for. It starts in the daily work, the unglamorous trenches of our own lives.

Change means living more in the unknown than the familiar. It means choosing the present moment over old, comfortable patterns. It means staying open-hearted even when fear tries to take over.

So that’s the work: not on grand systems, but in my own day-to-day. Let me meet this moment with courage. Let me have the heart to do the work.

Communication, Connecting, Connection, Leadership, Vulnerability

Waiting For Grace

I don’t know.

I am in an unknown space between the lessons I thought I learned from the past and the stories I made up about the future I wanted.

My stories spook me about what lies ahead.  I don’t think that is helpful.  Because , I don’t know.

Years ago, my medical team gave me a very terrifying outcome.   Death in three to six months.  It’s been almost forty years.  I am still here.

Not because I got rid cancer.  I just decided it wasn’t going to be my focus.  I wanted relationships and living.  Not dying.

Let’s face it, we are all going to die.  At least this body, or vessel is, and it isn’t what defines us.  Our soul.  Our spirit.  Our consciousness.   Our connections. That is our legacy.

I know that and sometimes I still get wonky about an agenda I have.  Like my desire for equality.  My wish that we’d have a woman, President.  My desire not to elect a bully or be the bully. My wish that if I had unlimited resources, I’d pass them on and share the wealth.  That if someone was terrified, I would have the courage to see through the fight and hold a space and shine a light.

I’m still in this shell of flesh and bones. My own created box of stories, beliefs, values and experiences, walls that need to be cracked.

This election did that. 

I don’t like the results.  I can scare myself with the President-elect.  But I don’t want to keep living on fear and fight.

My cancer (s) taught me to be relational and not a victim to old stories.

I feel as though in some ways the cancer is back unless I can listen and be curious and creative instead of hateful and enraged.

Let me bigger than myself.  My ego. My story.

Let me be a fractal that simply keeps surrendering to the unknown and showing up with light shining through.

I may be more reflective and silent for a few days.

I recall Maya Angelou being silent for eight years so she could her find her voice. (and she did)

I don’t anticipate eight years AND I want to hold until I have the capacity to awaken down.  Waking to the wails, the fears, the pain and allow grace to rise and walk me forward. 

Beyond the duality of parties and politics.

I will wait before I judge.

Connecting, Leadership, Uncategorized, Valuing Differences, Vision

Why Kamala Harris Should Lead

As November 5 approaches, I find myself strongly hoping to see Kamala Harris become President. It’s not just about my fear of another Trump presidency, though I am genuinely terrified of that. More than that, I believe Kamala Harris is the right leader for this moment.

I understand that my thoughts might not change the outcome or influence decisions already made. But writing is how I process the emotions swirling within me during this time of uncertainty and angst.

Many people acknowledge Trump’s flaws but defend him on policy grounds, arguing he’s been good for the economy. Others doubt Kamala’s readiness or feel she’s too tied to Joe Biden. I disagree with both perspectives.

Kamala Harris doesn’t claim to have all the answers or push for blind agreement from those around her. Her understanding of leadership isn’t rooted in domination or control. True leaders in a democracy don’t impose their will—they collaborate, listen, learn, and connect. That’s what Kamala Harris has demonstrated.

Since stepping into the role, she’s shown her ability to rise to the occasion. She’s raised money, rallied people, faced tough questions, and listened. In my experience working with business leaders, I’ve seen that it’s not the smartest or most domineering ones who make organizations thrive—it’s those who understand how to manage differences, value their team’s input, and recognize both strengths and weaknesses. Great leaders know when to admit mistakes and make changes.

I don’t see that in Donald Trump. His lack of humility and accountability, combined with a seeming disinterest in people outside of his circle—especially those who aren’t wealthy, male, or white—is deeply concerning. While I might not fully understand him, his behavior signals a self-centeredness and a fear of failure so profound that he can’t admit any shortcomings, which is frightening to me.

Kamala Harris, on the other hand, has shown that she’s the better leader and, frankly, the better person. I trust that, when it comes to policy and making important decisions, she’ll surround herself with capable, smart individuals whom she will listen to and trust. That’s the kind of leadership we need—not just from a Democrat or a Republican—but from a leader of all people.

Communication, Connection, Leadership, Vulnerability

Beyond the Instinct to Attack: Embracing Choice

Attack mode seems to be everywhere these days. Why is that?

The usual explanations: “They started it” or “I had to defend myself.” Maybe. But let’s be honest—we’ve drifted far from the ideals of kindness or turning the other cheek.

I’m not here to recount biblical stories about how Jesus handled things. Those have been quoted and misquoted so much that if Jesus were still in the grave, he’d be rolling over by now.

Instead, I’d rather look at more recent figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Peace Pilgrim, or Pema Chödrön—people who truly understood that nonviolence is a choice. Violence is a choice too. It’s up to us, and it’s never easy. Our decisions reflect the internal struggle of perception, interpretation, and emotion.

Nelson Mandela once said, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” We’re pretty good at enhancing our own freedom, but respecting and enhancing the freedom of others? That’s where we fall short.

It’s always easier to make the other side wrong. But the danger in blaming others isn’t necessarily that they don’t bear some responsibility. The real issue is that blame often blinds us to the role we play. Judging others isn’t the problem—our judgments can be creative or insightful. The issue is that we often don’t fully own the story we’re creating. We project it onto others and convince ourselves that it’s their problem, not ours.

What if our judgments are primarily, if not entirely, our own creation? If we truly grasp that, we can make better choices about whether to attack or not. When I realize that I’m the creator of my interpretation, I gain power over how I respond. If I perceive an attack or a threat, I can pause and reassess.

Take Michelle Obama’s famous line, “When they go low, we go high.” I see that as her response to perceived attacks. She steps back, views the situation from a different, higher perspective, where more possibilities emerge.

It’s natural to feel the instinct to attack or withdraw when faced with danger. But our minds, for better or worse, go beyond pure instinct. That’s the downside of being so analytical—we think we can interpret reality with precision. And often, in our attempts to do so, we make a mess. Or worse, we create war.

Communication, Connecting, Leadership, Valuing Differences, Vision

Bridging the Divide: The Power of Honest Conversations in Montana

What a week it’s been, and I was only watching from home! The energy, joy, and revitalized spirit of the Democratic Party in Chicago was palpable, even here in Montana.

I capped off the week on Sunday by attending The Blue Jam, a local event supporting Democratic candidates in the Flathead Valley. The vibe was infectious—speeches that were raw, real, and personal, with candidates sharing their reasons for running. No flashy rhetoric or attacks, just genuine conversations. Although the turnout seemed small, I later learned it was the largest gathering of its kind in the area for quite some time.

Love this song played at The Blue Jam here in Montana

Living in a predominantly red state like Montana, I didn’t expect such enthusiasm. Yet, the Democratic message from the National Convention resonated with me:

  • Public education for all
  • Affordable and accessible healthcare, including Medicare
  • The right to autonomy in healthcare decisions
  • A nation where hard work leads to a decent wage, homeownership, and a family-friendly life
  • Protecting LGBTQ+ rights

These ideals felt more aligned with Montana’s values than what I’d seen at the Republican Convention a few weeks earlier.

So, why is Montana such a strong red state? Personally, I lean towards a more “purple” approach—less about parties and more about people. I believe the issue lies in how we consume information: micro sound bites that polarize rather than foster meaningful dialogue.

At The Blue Jam, I repeatedly heard that when candidates take the time to connect with voters, even lifelong Republicans are open to voting for a Democrat—not because of party allegiance, but because of the genuine conversations.

This experience reinforced my belief in the importance of creating more opportunities for dialogue and connection. It’s not just about saving democracy; it’s essential for our collective well-being.

I want to understand why so many of my neighbors support a Trump/Vance ticket. I want to discuss public lands, healthcare, housing, wages, and education—not through the lens of political rivalry, but through real, honest conversations.

I realize that labels and assumptions—like associating a Confederate flag with racism or dismissing liberals as “taking over”—oversimplify complex realities. These snap judgments, while they may hold a grain of truth, do more harm than good.

It’s easier to hurl an attack than to engage in a curious, vulnerable dialogue. I’ve been advised not to display signs for my preferred candidates due to potential risks. Many avoid political discussions altogether, whether at home, work, or among friends. I even heard about a study from Harvard where students fear speaking their minds.

This is not healthy for our society.

We need to get back to talking with one another, understanding each other’s perspectives, and finding common ground. Only then can we truly move forward.

Join me at my next “Dialoguing for Democracy” event, Thursday, September 5th at 7PM MT, and let’s start creating healthier, more connected communities.