Category Archives: Life Experiences

Our Thanksgiving Adventure!

We thought we had the perfect plan.  Every year we have a Canadian client who plans their executive off site the week of our Thanksgiving. We don’t really have a huge issue with this, except the travel part of the equation. Being on the roads or in the air during the week of Thanksgiving is generally not such a great idea. So this year, with the location being in Toronto, I made the plan to stay an extra day and fly home on Thanksgiving day. I figured most folks wanted to be home for the holiday, thus the airports would be less crowded and things would be running smoothly.

The idea was working well coming through customs in Toronto. Our line was short and easy to navigate. Arriving in Minnesota, we had time for a matcha green tea at Starbucks and some snacks before getting to our gate for the last leg of the trip home. Our plans were to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with our friends at The Green Tea House.

As we were making our way to the departure gate, we saw the first sign of an issue. The word delayed was parked next to our flight number to Kalispell. We went to the nearest Delta desk to inqure. The answer was discouraging: “Wow, I have no idea what this code means, but the computer says your flight is only 30 minutes delayed”. I never like hearing, “I have no idea what that means.” I’ve heard that before and it generally means trouble.

Once at the gate, we saw that the delay was still showing as only 30 minutes. However, the folks at the desk were whispering amongst themselves, and I had a bad feeling about what might be coming next. Sure enough, the desk folks told us there was a maintenance issue, but that it wasn’t the plane but the gas line from the refueling truck. This should be fixed quickly.

The next sign of further issues came when some folks watching the plane out the window commented on the cloud of smoke coming from the back. At that point, it had been at least forty-five minutes since an update. With the crowd moving to the window, the desk folks made another announcement. This time we learned there was indeed a plane issue, some type of fuel line leak inside the plane. At this point they offered us food vouchers. I think they were hoping most of us would stop looking at the window.

There were various reactions to the news. I was frustrated with the inconsistent information but grateful we were not going to be boarding a smoking plane. Most folks were grumpy but not too upset. One woman started on a major rant about why anyone ever came to Montana and her appreciation for living in New York City. I briefly wanted to encourage her not to visit Montana again after sitting next to her while she complained to everyone she knew on the phone.

The desk team still held out hope for a flight but soon there was the first mention of a possible cancellation. Plus, the flight crew, which had boarded earlier, came off the plane. The pilot assured us the plane was too cold and they were just taking a break for warmth. Truthfully, he seemed nervous about having to inform the crowd of another delay. This really started the flurry of activity. There was only one other option for getting back to Montana that day, and it involved switching to Alaska Airlines and flying through Seattle. As an Alaska Gold member, I thought this, at least, sounded better than a night in Minnesota. So I called the member line to hear my options. The biggest issue was the fact we had already checked our bags. I could book and make the flights, but if we left without the original flight being canceled our bags would become the security risk that grounded the flight. At that moment, I did not care and basically shared this with the Alaska reservation person. She handled this amazingly well and talked me down, assuring me the reservation could wait. Apparently, neither flight was full and even if all fifty folks from this flight shifted, there would be room for everyone. Okay. I quit being so self-involved and came to my senses. I was not going to be the one who grounded a plane even if I was very frustrated with the Delta system.

Time continued to pass and it seemed more folks were opting to switch to the Alaska flight. A few were making this happen through tears and stories of why they had to get home. The New Yorker woman gave an Oscar performance. The tears were not believable to me because I had been sitting next to her and did not believe her sob story about how she had to get to her family. Other stories were much more heartwarming and gut-wrenching. One woman was traveling alone and not only was she missing her family, it was her birthday.

Because I had been sitting next to New Yorker woman I decided I could not let myself become like her. It’s within my abilities, mind you, but I just did not want to become that negative and she was giving me a fantastic mirror of what I can be like when upset. I started finding ways to make it work. We had friends who were tracking our progress and were willing to pick us up at anytime – even the late midnight Alaska flight was okay with them. We had a voucher for food and even though it really only covered another Matcha – that was something. I also booked the Alaska flight just in case, and learned that I would not ground the flight. I also moved away from the New Yorker woman and discovered some friendly folks who had been dealing with much worse circumstances and who were in great spirits. (They were the newly trained ATT Wireless folks coming home after three weeks of training, having already spent an extra night in Memphis. I was inspired by their spirit and loved the fact that this did truly mean Verizon was going have real competition.)

Finally, six hours later, we got the news our flight was going to be canceled. BUT the Delta team had asked for help and Compass Airlines was bringing in a crew and a plane to take us home! The news bought cheers and applause.

The next bit was surprising. We were leaving in less then fifteen minutes and had to leave the C gates rush through the airport to another gate, G7. The Delta desk folks shared with us a short cut and sent us on our way. Basically, there were forty of us running or at least walking very fast most of the way around the airport. Upon arrival at the G gates there was no sign of our flight. The desk folks there checked. There was a mistake. It wasn’t the G gates but the D gates. So off we went again, basically going back the way we came (the D Gates were right next to the C gates). It was somewhat comical.

Other than the Compass Airlines folks, the D gates seemed closed. Instead of the fast departure we had anticipated, we soon learned that going from one airline to another was not that simple. Everyone had to be rechecked in. Plus, there were suddenly all the folks who had made their cases for switching to Alaska who had to be transferred back again. Though no problem for us, the shift was a bit of a computer nightmare for the Delta and Compass folks. In many ways, a comical trip around the airport and the hours of uncertainty had bonded us together. Once on the plane, the Compass crew announced that they too had been called in special, just for our trip and we applauded their efforts.

The flight was smooth. It was clear that the flight crew were not regularly heading into Montana. They had no idea how to pronounce Kalispell (Cowsbells) and assured the passengers that gates agents would assist us upon arrival with any missing baggage. (Anyone who has flown into our airport after 7pm knows that there are no agents at the gate, just one security guard and one baggage person.) Still, they were great and had become part of our drama. Upon touch down, a large cheer went up. Indeed, we were all grateful to be home. (Well, I am not sure about the New Yorker woman, though I did see her with family at the baggage claim and she seemed much happier.)

Though not what we expected, I have no doubt this will be a Thanksgiving we won’t forget. We even made it to The Green Tea House in time for a late evening taste of the wonderful meal which had been saved especially for us. Our friends stayed to keep us company and I knew I had some great blog material. What more could I ask for!!

Let It Snow!!

Last night we got our first significant snow fall.  In truth, it is only 3 to 5 inches, however, there is simply something magical for me when the first snow falls.

As soon as I awaken and let the dogs out, I notice the silence and stillness that comes with the snow.  A blanket of white makes it easy to see outside without the need to flip on the outside light.  The real joy comes watching Bailey and Sooke, initially tiptoeing into the fresh white powder and then sprinting through the yard.  Bailey is especially cute in that he still attempts to catch the falling snowflakes with mid-air leaps while lunging in a somewhat forward direction. He usually ends up flopped over and covered in powder.  Not really a fan of the wet and cold, he is quick to jump up and shake it off.  That alone generates a giggle, igniting my own desire to find my snow boots and gloves so that I can join the party.

Bailey enjoying our First 2010 snow fall

Then there is the work side of the snow.  Our driveway is not really snow friendly.  I wasn’t nearly as neurotic this year about getting our snow tires on the car. As a result, only one of the cars ready for snow.  And the other, the VW Bug, is now sitting in a Les Schwab parking lot full of other cars waiting for their winter tires to be put on.  Here in Whitefish, Les Schwab seems a bit like the CPA’s office in April, with a major rush of activity during the first snowfall. I imagine that is when they make their big bucks.

I am still new to living with a true winter season.  I am still thrilled with the falling snow and don’t fully grasp the reality of having snow on the ground for the next four or five months.  By March I will probably be jaded and sick of the snow.  But today I will just let myself enjoy the silence, the stillness, and the beauty of Montana with it’s first few inches of snow, fully accepting the coming of winter and all that it offers.  Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Reflecting On Electing

It’s an election day and I realize I am totally unprepared. Up until this year, I have been voting in Seattle. Though not an overly-involved political person, I did take the time to review the issues, read through the voting materials and make sure I mail my ballot well ahead of the deadline. In Montana, however, I am not yet engaged in the local issues or even the bigger state elections. I imagine it will take a couple hours today to review the ballot before I am ready to head to the polls before closing and cast my vote. I read in the news about the Tea Party rocking and rolling the traditional party lines. This election will likely reflect a country angry and frustrated by a House and Senate that has still not made significant gains in healing the economic crisis or ending the current wars. I should be engaged, but really, though I am discouraged by the progress of this administration in some areas, I don’t think it is fair or smart to judge and radically change my commitment to the course that Obama set in motion just two years ago.

When trust has been broken in a couple or family, it can take years for the family system to get back on track. In organizations, one of the biggest factors in high turnover rates is burnout, fatigue and transition overload (meaning one change after another without addressing the psychological factors involved in shifting too fast and too often). Our country is like a big family or organization and trust had been broken. Though I might not agree with all of Obama’s decisions, I honestly do not believe Obama has done anything to further breakdown trust. As a matter a fact, I think he has been steady and clear in his direction; repairing international confidence in who we are, taking responsibility and accountability for a war he did not believe in from the start, recognizing that our economy is not a quick fix problem. We may not like him for his honest, transparent and non-heroic style, but in terms of rebuilding trust—well, that is what it takes. There are no heroic solutions for rebuilding trust, just disciplined, honest and vulnerability-based effort.

Tomorrow we may wake up and find our world has shifted. The voters will have spoken and there will be stories about the changes. It’s either a vote of confidence or a vote of no confidence. I would hope that whatever happens, Obama stays steady. He wasn’t making much progress with the House stacked in his so-called favor—so really, what would be different?

There are no magic pills or politicians that are going to solve our economic situation overnight, or get us out of Afghanistan, or off a terrorists’ hit list within the next year.  The best thing we can do is stop looking for the quick fix and stop blaming the other party.

That is why I haven’t been too excited about this election.  Like many, I am not satisfied with the current state of affairs.  I guess I don’t want to assume changing policy is really the root of the problem.  We are a country with shifting paradigms.  We are no longer Top Dog, just one of a pack. The Top Dog stuff shows up so clearly in our politics and it’s course in every election.  Are we Republican or Democrat?  Who’s on top and really does it matter?  Isn’t it time we stopped that game?

I don’t care who wins today. I am only interested in getting beyond the Top Dog stuff and getting back to caring about people and how we play together in our playground and out in the world.

I am ready to be part of the pact and work together. I am not certain that I will vote locally today but I will commit to whatever the outcome is. To me, that means working in my world to keep rebuilding trust, to be honest, humble and responsible for the choices and actions I take.

How Will I Measure My Life?

Last week I lead the Come Alive program at the Haven Institute.  When I arrived on the property and discovered the group was significantly smaller than I had thought, I found myself disappointed. I imagined the week was going to be challenging because sometimes, with smaller groups, there isn’t the same level of energy, and if there is any degree of resistance among participants, it can become even greater because one person’s engagement or disengagement has a greater impact.  Plus, I wanted to cover my travel expenses and though I hate to make leading programs about the money, it is a factor. 

However, once I got to know the folks in the room everything changed.  I loved the week. Yes, Carole and I were called to be more creative in offering experiences that engaged everyone.  We could not rely on the usual structure to fill the week. But this was great and I think we both liked the challenge.  Also, with a larger group, there is less demand for my own vulnerability and personal connections, assistants and interns becoming far more connected to folks than I.  So again, this past week offered me the chance to connect on a deeper personal level with each member of the group. In the end I realized it wasn’t really the numbers that mattered at all.  The group was special because they were engaged, committed and willing to step forward throughout the week. 

This brings me to the next piece for discussion.  What measures a successful, fulfilling life?  This question surfaces for me as a result of an article forwarded to me by a colleague.  The article is the most emailed article this year from HBR (Harvard Business Review).  Here is the link in case you want to read the article yourself:  http://hbr.org/2010/07/how-will-you-measure-your-life/ar/1.

I enjoyed reading the article and quickly realized that the way I measure my life is by my level of aliveness. Aliveness to me means engagement, commitment and willingness.  When these three conditions are high I have a felt sense of fulfillment, joy and success.  In thinking about these three conditions, I realize they are each something I have a choice in creating in the context of anything my life presents. Sure there are activities that naturally invite these elements because of my own likes and dislikes. But really, even is life is presenting some stuff that is not to my fancy, I have found that attitude adjustments related to these areas can make all the difference. The Come Alive was a relatively easy example.  Because I love and am generally always curious about people, I knew that once I engaged, the rest would follow. 

There are other areas and situations in my life that are far more difficult. I have been in groups where I have disliked the path we were taking or found members of the team or group very difficult to deal with.  In those situations, my level of engagement has declined. I become less committed to outcomes, and I suspect others in the room might call me willful and not at all willing.  The degree to which I let these barometers slide without notice or attention becomes a key driver in aliveness.  For me, the worst is not cranky or willful, no, the low of lows is when I become disengaged and apathetic.  When that occurs I can go without oxygen and there is a numbness and deadness that, once set in, becomes very hard to shake.

So in the end, how I measure my life becomes a daily opportunity—a moment to moment invitation. Am I engaged? Am I committed? Am I willing? If not, what can I do to adjust?  Generally speaking, the answer involves a revealing of myself.  There is something I need to say that I am withholding or there is something I am feeling that I wish not to expose or reveal.  Once I take care of that, my aliveness returns and though things around me might not change, I see and experience the world quite differently.  I am curious, I am able to connect, and I am deeply in touch with loving myself and others in the world around me.  That, to me, is success!

It’s Showtime Here In Whitefish!

CrisMarie is engaged in the local community theater again this year. She is once again playing the part of the family maid. This year’s production of Dividing the Estate, though billed as a comedy, has some quite realistic themes of fighting over money and other dysfunctional family dynamics that can cut close to the core. Her character, Mildred, the maid, gets a bit caught up in the “When do I get the money” theme of this Horton Foote play.

I have now seen the play three times. It has not been as easy to enjoy as last year’s zany comedy, You Can’t Take it With You, but I am beginning to appreciate Foot’s ability to show a slice of middle-American life.

I think we would all prefer not to recognize how we could be one of the members of this play. I hate to think I would hire lawyers and argue about the division of money and property the day my parents die. However, I have no doubt that if feeling desperate and fearful about my own security and livelihood, I too, would likely resort to unfavorable human dynamics in order to survive.

What is interesting for me during this annual theater experience and seeing the play so many times, is that I’m seeing aspects of the characters that I would otherwise never fully appreciate. Stella, the matriarch of the family, at first pass seems controlling and demanding. Three shows later, I am much more aware of her deep desire to have her family close. Though she doesn’t listen or connect to anyone other than Doug, the older servant, I get that she wants to give something to each of them. When one of her children is in trouble, she drops her crusty attitude and does whatever is needed. Stella’s unwillingness to divide the estate is much more about keeping the family together than holding on to money and land.

I could go on with each character, but unless you live in Whitefish and are around this weekend, you may never see this play. I don’t think it is one that shows regularly.  Still, I am reminded how much I like live theater.

In my many years at the Haven with Ben and Jock, I would always enjoy listening to them share their views of plays they would see in New York City.  Each year they would spend a week or more watching two plays a day, if possible, and come back using the stories from the stage as a connecting point for all of our lives.  For them, theater was so much like life.  Throughout the year at The Haven leading groups, these guys would work endlessly with the stories of peoples’ lives.  The hardships, the pain, the joy, the craziness—would be played out in group after group.  Ben and Jock were masters at directing people and assisting them in seeing how the choices they were making in their lives provided them with possible new interpretations on ways of living.  I loved learning from them.

I get it now. Each day of my life is like live theater, always acting with some objective in mind.  There is always a back story influencing each interaction. I have lines that I use and often forget.  I have a choice at all times to either respond in the moment and connect with the others on my stage or simply live life from the script without fully making an impact or connecting.

I get it and I am grateful for my annual community theater experience, and joyful that CrisMarie loves acting.  Maybe this year I will even make it to New York City for a week of seeing plays.  I know for sure that I will be at the Haven directing, assisting and participating in the rich and wonderful stories of others who join me on that stage.  Hopefully, I’ll do as well as Mildred and the others in Dividing The Estate at bringing all of me to the stage in whatever part is mine to play!

Super Seniors

Recently my folks were out for a visit.  They came via train with my sister Penny and her husband, Rob.  I believe this was Penny’s idea and I loved the idea of having everyone out to Montana.  I am not sure I would have been willing to board a train for an overnight sleep in coach seats, especially with my parents. I have heard it is not so bad, and they did arrive in excellent spirits. Still, I thought my sister was crazy. Apparently, I was wrong! I had quite a lot to learn about just what’s possible even when traveling as Super Seniors!

On the first day of the visit, while Penny and Rob relaxed at The Hay Moon Resort, my folks ventured out with CrisMarie and me to the top of Whitefish Mountain.  I went to purchase tickets for the gondola ride to the top, pulling out enough cash to cover tickets for two adults and two seniors.  The woman at the window took a look at my folks and asked if either were over 80.  They both qualified, my mom, Bernie, is 82 and my Dad, John is 90.

“Well, they are Super Seniors and they ride for free!”

My dad was thrilled.

He proudly shared this new honor with anyone willing to listen, including the chairlift people, who were more concerned about helping him safely on and off the lift than his Super Senior status. The gondola ride up was soon replaced with the chairlift ride down so my folks could enjoy the fresh air and swing their legs freely. As I spent the next few days with them, I found myself gaining a much greater appreciation for just what a great description Super Seniors is for these two adventuresome people.

The next day, we drove up to Logan’s Pass in Glacier National Park. I wasn’t to sure what we would be able to do up there. The trail options were a bit more demanding than I thought my folks could handle.  We opted to give the Hidden Lake trail a try.  This trail is only 1.5 miles, ascending 800 feet in elevation. It is covered mostly via a boardwalk, however, the boardwalk has no guardrail, and there is a significant incline, meaning there are steps that can be anywhere from the standard 6 inches to a foot and not always level. My folks assured me they would take care of themselves. Of course, I was worried anyway.

Penny, CrisMarie and I took off up the trail, with Rob, John and Bernie walking behind.  As the gap between us increased, we looked back and could see that we needed to reevaluate the plan.  My folks had gone a pretty fair distance from the Visitor Center, but the going was slow, and they realized it wasn’t going to be a trip that was in their best interests to continue.  Still, the scenery was amazing. So they wanted to find a rock to sit on and relax.  Apparently, they had come prepared with some books and a sketch pad (with only one pencil). We got them settled on some rocks, and off we went.  They assured us they’d wait for us to return and we’d help them on the way back.

We enjoyed the rest of the hike, seeing some goats and big horn sheep. We were heading back when we realized we’d been a bit longer then we had planned.  I took off at a jog to get back to let my folks know we were on our way.  As I got back to where I should have been able to see them, I could see they were gone. I started moving much faster.  I listened for sirens, looking further ahead for some assistance.  When I got back to the Visitor Center, I found my Super Senior folks shopping.  They had made their way back just fine.

I apologized for taking so long, asking how it had been. They laughed. They had had a grand time.  They showed me sketches they had done of each other and of the scenery.  When they had gotten tired, they simply asked someone for assistance getting off the rocks and back to the path.  Indeed, the stairs going back were a bit more challenging but they had simply taken one step at a time, supporting each other down. Bernie would go down one step supporting John. Then she’d take the next step.  Slowly, but very effectively, they worked their way back to the Visitor Center.

“We knew we’d be just fine if we helped each other and had no need to get anywhere fast.”  I sure wish I applied that wisdom to my life more often, but I guess that’s how they got to be Super Seniors!!

Apparently, all my worries were for nothing.  My Super Senior parents may look fragile and have to go slower than the average person, but they sure do know how to make the best of their time together.

I can only hope that if I make it to Super Senior Status I can live with as much creativity, purpose and adventure as they do!

Celebrating Life Haven Style

I am on my way to Oakland for our annual two days with my Table Group colleagues.  I enjoy these days; however, this time I am coming off an intense weekend of celebrating the birthdays of two of my mentors and the passing of a very dear friend.  It seems appropriate to write this blog as a make my way from Gabriola to Oakland via Vancouver and Seattle.  My eyes are tired from the tears that flowed today as many old and new friends gathered in the lodge and later in Phoenix to say goodbye to Dianne.  My heart is full from Saturday’s birthday celebration of Ben Wong (80) and Maria Gomori (90).  Ben is the man behind The Haven and pretty much the sole example about everything I have learned about being human.  Maria, (90), is a force of nature who’s life spans everything from wild escapes from death marches in Hungary to career changes that include being a high-level Hungarian political economist, to being a human psychologist in Winnipeg, and a world-traveling facilitator who still runs workshops from early morning to late evening.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make the birthday celebrations.  The dates were tricky, and I was already booked before and after.  However, when Dianne died and the news spread that there was going to be a ceremony for her on the weekend, I knew I had to come.

What was most amazing was the people who gathered.  Many were faces from much earlier in my life.  People who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years, all returning because one of these three masters had so deeply touched or transformed their lives that they wanted to come and celebrate.

The birthdays were special because on the stage sat 170 years of experience.  Jock in his purposeful, strategic way had planned an interview of the pair.  He had a vision and with commitment and drama and took us with him. However, I believe in the end, the masters steered us off in other directions: Ben, with his wonderful wit and provocative wisdom, and Maria, with her own agenda to make sure this was really about Ben (and Jock) and just how they had saved her life so many times.  I am not sure if things went as Jock imagined, but I believe what he intended was delivered.  We all were captured by the stories and the deeper messages about the importance of freedom, integrity and in the end, human connection.

The evening was musical, poetic and spanned between the East and the West.  It was Haven at its finest.

Sunday bought a different flavor to the day. This was a gathering to celebrate not a birthday, but a passing, though this time not quite choreographed, planned and directed. But once we gathered and Dianne’s family joined her extended family of friends, those who agreed to guide the flow of feelings, demonstrated the grace of The Haven in yet another way. Much like a Come Alive, there was just enough structure and thought to bring the day to life.  The circle was powerful and a wonderful way for each of us to speak and let our loving of Dianne flow through songs, stories, tears, poems, laughter and hugs.  Dianne would have loved it!

I didn’t know how important it was for me personally until a young man commented at the tightness in my shoulders.  He noticed that my shoulders were slowly rising towards my ears and was willing to check out his story with me. He thought something was wrong.  I knew in that moment I was doing what I can do so well, shutting down the feelings and detaching from my heart.  His comments were very early in the day and left me with plenty of time to make a different choice.  I took a breath because I knew wanted to feel.

Now, sitting on the plane, my eyes are quite tired from the many tears I let flow. I am quite full from the weekend and not sure how I will be able to transition to tomorrow’s focus.  Right now though, I am full and grateful once again for The Haven, my friends, my family, and all that I learn when I am willing to show up, open my heart, breath and trust.

Learning To Love The Downhill

As I have mentioned before, I grew up biking. When I was five I got my first real bike. Today, it’s what is referred to as a Lowrider; back than it was called a Stingray. I didn’t have any gears but I could go up any hill, and though I probably never took on any mountains, I imagined I was good at the hills, even back then.

I wouldn’t really call myself a biker. Over the years I have used my bike to commute to work. I’ve enjoyed mountain biking, road riding and just cruising around beach towns. I currently have three bikes: a road bike, a mountain bike, and a hybrid (that one is staying on Gabriola for now). Still, I am not as serious about biking as my Dad.

This summer I have learned some interesting things about myself while biking. The most interesting thing has been my relationship to climbing. I love going uphill. Apparently I smile when I start up a major incline. When I first heard this, I thought it was more of a grimace than a smile, but after getting feedback from a number of folks, I realize I enjoy taking on a mountain.

</p> <h1>Always A Smile</h1> </p> <p><a href="www.veeple.com" alt="Veeple Interactive Video">Veeple Interactive Video</a>

I have learned over the years how to shift gears and position myself for good climbing. I like enough tension so I can rise up off my seat for some good leg work and then to sit back down, keeping a good steady accent.

I’m not particularly fast; however, I am consistent. I like breathing hard and feeling a bit of strain in my legs. I love reaching the top and feeling that sense of accomplishment when the climb has been significant.

Oddly though, I don’t like going down. It’s okay. I am generally not fearful but just don’t seem to get the same joy cruising down as I do pedaling up.

Being in Montana with many great climbs close to home, I have had the chance to give this lots of thought. Since I believe; ‘how you do anything is how you do everything’—I am curious about my relationship to mountains and how that might apply to my life.

It’s true, I do my best when facing difficult odds. There have been many examples of this throughout my life. Back when I took tennis, I excelled naturally and was quite good. I could coast and generally win with ease. However, I found myself much more interested in basketball. I wasn’t very good at basketball, but I was determined. Tennis, like riding a bike downhill, was okay, even fun. But basketball, I loved, though it was far from natural. I probably was working harder than anyone else, surprised everyone by making the team, and was best known for my scrappy, not graceful defense. I attacked basketball just like riding up a mountain. Not great, but very consistent, tenacious and always smiling.

Then there’s the whole cancer challenge. In many ways I found life easier facing down chemo, or radiation than dealing with colds and flu.

There are many other examples, like our work. I, for years, enjoyed working with the hardest, most dysfunctional teams. I always found that easier than a team that was doing okay but not great. Related to work, I started to get rethink this approach, and a while back and put a lot of effort into not doing crisis work, and finding the joy and challenge in making a good team, great.

Still I wonder. I imagine life is more like coasting downhill, and yet I’m not sure I would be satisfied with that. Maybe the Croatia coastline was the perfect blend of up and down. No mountains but some great climbs. And while there, I did let myself love the downhill, mainly because the views were awesome.

I am definitely comfortable when climbing. I know what to do, how to pace myself. I am not so good at coasting. I feel sort awkward, not pedaling or not doing anything but steering. It’s so easy to lose control on the downhill. Maybe I am just a touch afraid of letting go. Still, when I turned fifty, many people said, “It’s all downhill from here”.

I have faced and climbed enough mountains. I do believe it’s time to enjoy coasting downhill or at least riding the perfect coastline, letting myself enjoy the views!

This summer in Croatia there were a few major climbs.

Good-bye My Friend!!

Today my good friend Dianne passed away. I got a call about her death just after finishing a yoga class. I cried, laughed, cried and laughed. I wondered about my response, judging myself for feeling such joy and laughter just after hearing she had died. But as I sat and started thinking about Dianne and our many moments together I knew that really the tears were just for me knowing I would miss my friend and the laughter was my joy that she was free at last.

Of course I am sad that Dianne is gone and I will miss her laughter and physical presence the next time I am at The Haven for a Come Alive or any other program. However, Dianne has been struggling in her physical body for a long time and today I had a moment when I thought for sure I could hear her laughing and playing somewhere out there; as light as a feather and without a care in the world.

For me, Dianne was such an interesting person. She in many ways was one of the most grounded, direct and straight-shooting people I have known. I could call her up and start telling her some saga in my life and she could quickly call me on all the many blocks and screens I might toss out there to avoid looking at my own stuff. She could do that with me and she could do that with pretty much anyone who showed up in a group, defended, resistant or overly self-involved. There she was this over-weight, quite unhealthy woman; who was brilliant with group process and making contact with those folks who most would have given up on. Even the last time I saw her and she wasn’t even able to get out of her chair, I found myself just loving talking with her. It was easy to connect.

Sure I was annoyed that she never took care of her own health and that she loved reading much more than walking. I was furious that she would eat cake and too much food yet I still loved Dianne. Her body was always a paradox for me. There she was doing just about everything she could to kill herself and yet her inner world, her spirit was something truly special, a gift for all who were willing to deal with the paradox and get to know Dianne in spite of the war- zone that represented her body.

Even as I write this I feel badly saying negative things about her body. However, that’s just it – she was such a paradox. I loved her deeply and over the years wrestled with how to stay connected even though I had judgments and didn’t like the way she took care of herself. Still I loved it when she was in a group with me either as a participant, an assistant or a leader. I loved working with her. She could be brilliant and many, many times she reminded me why I loved The Haven, the work and what really mattered. Dianne was the essence of the Velveteen Rabbit – she was worn and torn, the stuffing was coming out but she was REAL and she was LOVED!!

Today I imagine much like the story of The Velveteen Rabbit – Dianne is able to jump, leap and let her spirit soar!!

Please Lance, Man Up & Live Strong!

Lance Armstrong doesn’t believe he should be part of any ‘witch-hunt’ type investigation of illegal doping because, “I have done too many good things”. Wow! Though a witch-hunt is not a valuable use of time and money, his argument suggests that he is somehow above being investigated.

As I read on in the USA Today article, there were concerns from others that if Lance is found guilty this could cause deep distress and possible setbacks for cancer survivors who have been inspired by Lance. This is the most ridiculous defense, in my opinion. First, if Lance was illegally doping to win bike races, he should be identified as such. Illegal doping has nothing to do with overcoming cancer. The two are not related. It is as though he and his legal team are using surviving cancer and doing good deeds as a reason to let him off the hook.

Lance Armstrong used his story and his image to inspire people. That’s great. Of course I will be sad if the evidence against Lance indicates illegal doping in months ahead. But I would not be surprised. Let’s face it, the world of sports is filled with heroes that have fallen because of these type of charges.

Still, the Livestrong campaign is not about winning bike races. It is successful because Lance Armstrong put his face on the program. And Lance’s cancer story makes the news because of his bike racing. But anyone who survives cancer, I believe, is inspired by the story not because of winning bike races, but because someone else lived, battled and engaged in life after cancer. That part of the story will not change even if Lance is found guilty of illegal doping.

The people who invested either their money, their time, or their story into the Livestrong campaign were not supporting bike racing or Lance—they were fighting cancer. That has nothing to do with these doping charges. The fact he has bought that into the picture is what makes me angry and less confident in Lance.

The odd part about doping is that we are the ones who make winning so important. We pay tons of money to put athletes up on high pedestals and then wonder why someone takes an illegal substance to stay on top. When we make Superheroes out of mortal men and women, and we are setting them and ourselves up for a fall.

I don’t want to make excuses for Lance Armstrong. I don’t even care if he is investigated or not. However, I don’t like that he is playing the cancer card and his few good deeds to get out of the spotlight. Lance, man up. If you are innocent, great, and if you are not, well, it just proves you’re not any different than other human beings—you make mistakes.

I still believe in Livestrong, no matter what happens to Lance Armstrong. I simply wish he would live up to his own tagline—Live Strong. Don’t hide behind a few good deeds and drop the cancer card in order to get out of being investigated. That is not Living Strong!