Down in the Valley

Life has natural peaks and valleys.

You'd think at 26, I would have realized and come to terms with this fact by now. It just seems to be the natural order of things - what goes up must come down, etc. For every high there is a low; for every low, there is a high. The moon shines brightly at its fullest, then disappears as a new moon. The tide comes in, it goes out. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. You get the drift.

So the rational mind can accept the existence of these valleys. And yet, when you're in the midst of a valley (in the doldrums, so to speak); when you look around you and all you see is dim; when there seems no way out of the low; when there are all these outrageous mountainous obstacles surrounding you and you can't seem to muster the strength to take one more step, let alone climb... the rational mind kind of stops mattering.

What takes over is that little voice in your head that seems to whine, to whisper coaxingly, "We're so tired. Can't we just stop? There's not really a point in going forward, we're not getting out of this valley anytime soon..." It's so tempting to listen to it, too. To just throw your hands up and to give up, to give into the fear and the doubts and the self-questioning and the mistakes and the failures and the plain old negativity that seems to surround you.

I know this feeling all too well, as it might seem clear to you. The semester has taken its toll, and my little heart is about ready to throw in the towel for 2014. I'm just... done. My empathy has worn thin, my patience has worn thin, even my optimism seems to be in rare supply these days (although hopefully I'm hiding these things pretty well when interacting with other people :) ).

I say this not to be a "Debbie Downer," nor to make anyone worried, but rather, to be open and vulnerable about where I am right now, in hopes that perhaps my struggle will help someone, maybe even you, feel a little better about the #strugglebus you're riding.

I don't have some clever fix for surviving this valley, or any valleys I'll encounter going forward. I don't have some brilliant management tip, or quote, or anything to put some pep in your step. All I've got is faith, and experience, the two best teachers of all. You see, I've been in a valley before. Lots of them, actually. Some have been deeper than others; some have been wider and longer than others, but the beautiful thing is that they've all ended. They end in a climb, of course, which is a challenge in and of itself, for what goes down, must come back up. On the other hand... it can only go up from here.

So if you find yourself in a valley today, know you're not alone. There are a few of us hanging out with you in this valley. And let's take a moment to appreciate that. Not only can we be thankful for this togetherness in the hard times - we are never, ever alone in our struggles - but we can also appreciate the valleys, for they make the heights even more joyful and beautiful than they are.

It is only after being in the valley that we can have an appreciation for how far we've climbed, how much we've grown and learned, how much we can see and understand from the peaks.

all's quiet on the Western front

The soft sounds of Pandora (Katy Perry radio; you're welcome).

The autumn wind gusting outside my windows.

The soft hum of my office heater.

The click-clack of my keyboard keys as I type.

The quiet murmur of the facilities workers performing maintenance.


These are the sounds I hear this morning, in this restful quiet. The students of IU are officially on Thanksgiving Break, and I'm in the office, ready to be productive and really barrel through my to-do list, uninterrupted. But before I start off into my Csziksentmihalyi "flow" time, I wanted to take a moment to be thankful for the quiet. My little introvert heart rarely gets this time to rest, focus, and refocus, and I intend to wring greatness out of every moment of today. It is the week of Thanksgiving, after all, and I'm trying to take time to be thankful in the midst of all circumstances.



Ahhhhhhhhhh. The quiet.

When words fail

I've begun and then dropped this blog post 3 or 4 times over the past couple of weeks. Each time I begin it anew, I take a look at what I've written, and delete. Call it writer's block, call it busy-ness, call it pickiness, but for some reason I just have not been able to put "pen to page," metaphorically speaking, for the past month or so.

Today, I woke up to the news that there was a shooting in Strozier Library at Florida State University, my graduate school alma mater. Three students were shot (one is in critical condition), and the gunman himself was killed in a shootout with police. We don't know why this happened. We can be thankful for the swift action of FSU and Tallahassee police, and the caring and open hearts and arms and offices of student affairs professionals across campus, who are helping students seek the help they may need today.

It is this senseless news that unlocks the flow of words within me... and yet, I can't really find the words to describe how I feel. Shocked, that the warm family I remember from FSU would be so attacked. Thankful, that so few students were injured, and that the situation was resolved quickly. Worried, for the students who will be affected by this, and for my colleagues and friends at FSU who will be caring for and counseling the students - and each other - through the aftermath. Grateful, and immediately guilty, that I am not there - how would I handle this news if I were still in Tallahassee? How would I help students? How would I handle my own worry, my own grief?

How am I handling it now?

Sometimes, words fail us. This is shocking to me, as an English and communication double major, but it's true. Sometimes, we must feel without being able to express; let the emotions course through us and just live in those feelings, without saying (or doing) anything other than feeling. That's what's been happening to me today. Words have failed; all I can do is feel. All I can do is sit, and be sad, and be not understanding of why things happen the way they do, and be thankful for the outpouring of support for Florida State, and be thankful for my colleagues and students and friends, and just... feel.

Hug someone today. Let someone know you care. Send a message of love and support to someone you haven't spoken to in a while. Let's take the time today to make this world a little more loving, a little brighter. Let's take the time to inhabit our emotions and not repress them through words (as it's sometimes easy to do), but to sit and stew and know what it is to be happy or sad or excited or angry or clueless or overwhelmed.

Take a moment to let the words slide away, and just feel.

Boil, boil, my pasta pot

Being a quarter Sicilian (where my paisans at?), food is an integral part of my life. I'm not just talking for basic survival purposes, which is, of course, accurate, but I really mean that food - good food - comes in near the top of my Maslow's hierarchy of needs, right up there with love, belonging, esteem, and self-actualization.

Image via Wikipedia - pasta fits right in the middle of that purple "self-actualization" section

Not only do I describe food as an interest in my life; I'd call it (and eating) more of a hobby. I'll let my ever-evolving waistline speak for itself when it comes to health, but again, food for me is much more than sustaining my body; it's a way to feel, to think, to live, and to connect with people.

I say all this because I had an epiphany last Thursday morning. I was up at 6:30 a.m., making my mom's spaghetti sauce. For those of you who have never had Harriet's spaghetti sauce, let me tell you, it is a TREAT. First of all, the recipe makes a TON, so it's good to share and to have beaucoup leftovers. The real beauty, though, what makes it so delicious, is that all of the ingredients simmer all day long in the crock pot, marrying their flavors for a delicious conclusion at dinnertime.

But that delicious saucy conclusion takes a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. First, there's the early wake-up call (and yeah, I could have made it later in the day, but then it wouldn't have been able to simmer as long! Remember, simmering is key). Then, there's all the prep work that goes into the sauce - browning the meat, chopping the onions and garlic, prepping all the spices, mixing it all together... it's quite a commitment to make this sauce.

There's the rub, though - the delicious outcome is a result of the commitment. Only through the sacrifice of getting up early, of investing precious time in the preparation of the meal, can the meal truly be enjoyed at the end of the day. Making my mom's spaghetti sauce is a labor of love, and the proof is in the pasta sauce.

My epiphany came from consideration of that labor of love. How much more would other pieces of my life benefit if I committed myself to them in the same way I commit to my mom's pasta sauce? Isn't every good thing, every thing that benefits others, worthy of some hard work and sacrifice? Sure, if I give of my utmost self and abilities each day, it's going to make me tired, it's going to feel like I'm "emptying my bucket" with no immediate prospect of filling it again. But eventually, all of the hard work will come to fruition.

Someday, I'll see the finished product of my labors, much like I get to come home to a delicious pot of pasta sauce after a long day's prep work and simmering. But in the same way that I have to trust that my early morning work on my cooking will result in my favorite conclusion - a delicious meal - I must trust in my daily life that my hard work will someday be of benefit to others (even if I don't see it now).

Where can this mantra of "trusting the process" (as cliche as that might seem) benefit you in your life? Where might you dedicate yourself better to your work, believing that in the end you'll benefit from that commitment? What can be your labor of love, your "pasta sauce," today?

These are the questions I ask myself this morning, as I contemplate my mother's pasta sauce (which is also making my stomach rumble). Pasta makes me think of home, of family, of togetherness, of blessings. I want to try to find the same joy in my work process today as I do in cooking, even if the outcome is not as delicious. I want my life to be a labor of love, committed to making the world a better place, one "pot of pasta" at a time.

This post is brought to you in part by Strega Nona

Slow Growth

Now is the winter of our discontent /  Made glorious summer by this son of York - Richard III, Act I, Scene i, Lines 1-2

The lines above may seem a little incongruous considering that summer is now over. Soon gone are the days of 9-5 office hours; kiss the lazy summer weekends by the poolside goodbye. Long-term project thinking must take a backseat to short-term proactivity and reactivity (read: firefighting). Bloomington has doubled in size once again; the roads are clogged with new students just trying to get to Target to buy that new futon. Soon, the hazy summer heat will melt into breezy days and cool nights of fall, soon to be replaced by steely gray winter days once again.

Summer, as I've written before, is one of my favorite times of year. And yet, this summer was rough.

Nothing major happened to me; no family trauma or personal tragedy befell (praise God); and yet, I was discontent this summer. I felt rushed through the days, stumbling headlong through programs and travel, and when I blinked, summer was basically over and it was time to prepare for fall and our Welcome Week programs. I turned 26, and once again found myself beset by the quarter-life crisis: What the hell am I doing with my life? I have a great job, great friends, success... why can't I be content? What am I missing? Should I be seeking something more? Anyone who has wrestled with these questions can tell you that there's no easy answer.

I still don't have an answer to these questions, months later, as we now kick into high gear for fall and another new school year. And yet, the discontent has melted away. I have made a commitment to be more present, to live IN the present, and I find myself feeling more at peace. Sure, I still ponder my next steps; sure, I'd say I'm still in the grips of yet another quarter-life crisis. But contentment is the secret word for Fall 2014, and my one "new year's resolution."

As I think about this shift in personal perspective, I think it's the result of slow growth. If you look at a plant every single day, you may think that nothing has changed. The leaves are no bigger, the stems are no taller. And yet, if you compare the plant to where it was a month ago, it has grown, even in the most subtle of ways. It has changed. It has adapted to its surroundings and found a way to push out new life, new leaves, new growth.

That's the way I feel right now. No growth spurts, no sudden bursts of insight or wisdom. But I am not the same woman I was 3 months ago, 6 months ago, a year ago, two years ago. I am the accumulation of my experiences, good and bad, and I have changed, thanks to that inevitable, creeping slow growth. I can be proud of that change, too. It's noticeable from the outside, even when I don't always acknowledge it from the inside. It's there. It's present. I am learning, growing, and becoming better, day by day. The icy nerves of my "winter of discontent" are melting away, to be replaced by rest and relaxation in the "glorious summer" of the knowledge that I am learning, and that I know more today than I knew yesterday (and, I'll know more tomorrow than I know today). I can be content, at peace.

Contentment is the name of the game, folks. I challenge you to find evidence of your slow growth this fall. Let the winter of your discontent melt away, and find a glorious summer in the knowledge that you are continually learning and changing. Find your peaceful moment in today.

#mightykacy

Courage is a scary thing. You can reach for something, and miss. You can jump, and not have anything to land on. You can ask a question, and be told "no," or "you can't."

For those of you who haven't seen it yet, here is a video of Kacy Catanzaro, my new (s)hero, DOMINATING the Dallas finals of American Ninja Warrior. In under 9 minutes, Kacy takes on HUGE, seemingly insurmountable obstacles... and overcomes them with (seeming) ease. She leaps across huge gaps, she climbs intimidating heights, but she does it all with grace, and gratitude for the support she's receiving... and fear.

Watch her take on the course. There are a few moments when Kacy gets stuck, or is on the verge of slipping or falling, or when she has to psychologically prepare herself for the obstacle in front of her. You can see the fear in her eyes, you know that she is dealing with the mental obstacle of being the first woman to go as far as she has in the competition.

#mightykacy

And yet, she keeps going. She keeps moving forward. She steels herself, then makes the leap. She dangles for a moment, and then reaches for the next bar. She mentally focuses, and then OWNS the obstacle in front of her.

I don't know about you, but I could stand to channel more of #mightykacy in my life. I had an epiphany recently that, in my mind, I equate confidence with courage. Having trust and belief in yourself - confidence - takes INCREDIBLE courage. There is a possibility that you might fail, slip, fall, disappoint others or yourself. There is a chance that your outcome may not be what you promised, envisioned, or imagined.

But you MUST believe. Without trying at all, you might never achieve, never succeed. Fear might be standing in your way, trying to convince you that the thing you want to do isn't worth it, but courage and confidence are the decision to just go ahead and do it anyway.

There have been many moments recently that I've been scared. A seemingly insurmountable obstacle stood in front of me, and I was tempted to walk away from the course. I was tempted to say, "No, not today. I'll come back another time." But channeling that courage - knowing what I wanted to do was scary, but then just going ahead and doing it anyway - and channeling my confidence, I took a step. And then another. And then another. And then another. And after a time, after some steps, some sweat, I looked... and I was done. I had climbed the "spider walls," I had jumped my way through the "pole grippers."

So next time you get scared, pause for a moment. Think of #mightykacy, and steel yourself for the task ahead of you. Know that your years of training will help you in your endeavors. Know that there is a crowd SCREAMING your name, ready to watch you gracefully succeed. Breathe. And make a step. Start the obstacle course. Enter the arena, as our good friend Teddy Roosevelt would say.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. (source)

Have courage. Have confidence. You CAN. You ARE. You WILL. 

Treat Yo'self.

If you're anything like me, multitasking is NOT your strong suit. I have tried and tried to develop multitasking as a skill, and you'd think that as a part of the Millennial Generation I'd be a pro at hopping from task to task, but more often than not I find that multitasking confuses and exhausts me. I much prefer to focus on one task at a time, working towards that task's completion (or at least to a good stopping point).

The problem, of course, is that the nature of my work - fast-paced, people-oriented advising and event planning - doesn't really allow for a "slow and steady wins the race" mentality. More often than not, I find myself juggling 3 or 4 assignments or requests at a time, then pause that work to speak with a student or co-worker, and then I come back to my desk to find 5 more tasks awaiting me. Although I very much enjoy my work, it's no wonder that I very often don't feel a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day; I hop from task to task so much that it feels like I only make baby steps toward the larger goal.

My shining moments, however, are days when the office is quiet, and I can really get to work, either zooming down my to-do list, eliminating task after task, or spending an entire morning or afternoon on just one project, focusing and trying to get into "flow" (for the curious, I highly recommend Mihalyi Czikszentmihalyi's TED Talk). I truly do feel happier and more productive when I am single-mindedly focused on just one thing at a time.

Although it's summertime and the workload and busyness are predicted to slow down for us education folks, I have found that this summer has been challengingly busy so far. Although the workday doesn't feel the same as it does during the school year (especially since I'm working magical hours - 9 am to 4 pm - as opposed to my usual 9- to 10-hour day), my days are still filled with meetings, discussions, and endless lists of tasks to get done. Shockingly, I find myself almost as exhausted at the end of these summer workdays as I do during the academic year. Unfortunately, summer is the perfect time to work on both short-term tasks and long-term projects, so burnout is something that I desperately need to avoid in order to be my most productive self.

So how can I slow the burnout?

Please note, I do not enjoy fire as much as Bellatrix Lestrange.

Knowing myself as I do, the surest way to rejuvenate my interest and energy is to find my "one project" on which I can focus. When I sat down at my desk this morning, I decided that my imminent and semi-urgent tasks on my to-do list can in fact wait until the afternoon; this morning will be spent working on a project that I enjoy and am passionate about (in this particular case, re-working my syllabus for the leadership class I'll be teaching in the fall). I will, without guilty feeling, focus for the entire morning on this project. Then, after lunch, I'll dedicate the rest of the day to crossing tasks off of the to-do list and fighting the small fires that erupt.

It's summertime, it's a Thursday, and life will go on. For now, I'm going to focus on something that gives me energy, and then I'll be able to bring that energy and interest back to my everyday work this afternoon and tomorrow.

I pose this question to you - what small decision can you make to fight your own summer burnout? How can you find ways to regain your energy, to "treat yo'self," as our good friends Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford say, so that you can continually bring your best energy to your work?

Why buy the cow?

This blog post is inspired by this past week's #SAchat, which jumped on the oft-thought-taboo topic of leaving student affairs and higher education, but still utilizing student affairs skills. Or, as I'd like to call it, "taking your talents to South Beach" (and yes, some Lebron-leaving-Cleveland comparisons DID get thrown into the chat!).

As the chat went on, a question came up on whether Student Affairs preparatory programs (especially master's programs) should expose their students to opportunities outside the profession. Some participants said "No way, Jose" - this isn't the job of student affairs prep programs! Why would you go and get a student affairs degree unless you KNEW you wanted to do student affairs?? Others said, "Huh. That could be a good idea" - considering how wide and varied the field of higher education actually is, perhaps HESA programs should offer more exposure beyond just student affairs!

I want to pause this blog post here, and take a moment to tell you a story of a young junior in college. Bright-eyed and optimistic, this young lady double-majored in communication and English, with no real purpose in doing either, other than she loved reading and writing, and her parents and mentors said that communication would be a "really useful" degree (side note: it totally was.Yes, this person is me. DARN IT, I didn't mean to reveal that 'til later!). ANYWAY, when asked what I wanted to do after graduation, I would immediately panic. My first instinct has always been to be a teacher; after taking communication classes, I would often say something like "human resources" or another vague corporate-related title. But I had no real knowledge of what I wanted to do after graduation. In college, though, I had an incredible life outside the classroom - I was deeply involved in several student organizations, and besides just giving me some of the best friends I've made in life, these organizations also gave me a purpose for my time in school. So, imagine my SHOCK when one of my advisors (shout-out to you, Sonja!) told me the ultimate secret - what she did, as our organization's advisor, was a FULL-TIME JOB. She went to SCHOOL for it, and got a DEGREE! I was hooked. You mean, I thought, that I would get to work with college students... and stay in college... and plan programs... FOREVER? You can see the appeal, I'm sure. So my senior year, I applied to graduate schools, and by the end of the process I was offered a graduate assistantship at Florida State University.

The rest is not quite history. You see, there were SEVERAL times in graduate school when I questioned what I was doing, and whether or not student affairs was the right profession for me. I don't blame anyone for this - I consciously chose to pursue my master's degree with the level of experience I had as an undergrad. Part of this was because I was convinced that student affairs was the right path for me. I'll be honest, another part was that I didn't have any OTHER plans, and getting a "big-kid job" absolutely terrified me, so graduate school sounded pretty spectacular at the time. The economy was awful, so why not put off the job search for two more years? Not the best motivation, I know, but coupled with my deep-seeded interest in what I knew of higher education, it was enough to get me to graduate school.

Four years later, I still have moments where I question if this is the right profession for me. I now know that that's a completely normal question, one often asked by colleagues in this profession as well as many others. Here's what I wonder, though - could my initial lack of knowledge of the field been addressed before I went to graduate school?  While my mentors and advisors did their absolute best (and beyond) to get me ready for student affairs, was there another step I could have taken for me to test out whether I really wanted to go into higher education? Or, in other words, could I have tried the milk before I bought the whole cow?

(Make sure to read the fine print before you make that bovine purchase!)

As I reflect on this question, I think about other graduate and professional prep programs, like law school or medical school. I've often heard my friends who attended law school say, "You either love or you hate law school. There's no happy medium, there's no in between." The question is, though, how will you know if you love it before you spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on that J.D.? Same with medical school - you may not actually want to be a doctor, but how will you know that until you've spent hundreds of hours studying for the MCAT and, again, hundreds of thousands of dollars on getting your M.D.? How are we giving young people the opportunity to try out the "behind the scenes" of different professions before we ask them to commit to furthering their education? Is there a better way?

My good friend Amma Marfo has blogged about this question before, and posed the answer that perhaps a gap year after undergrad is something that the U.S. (and especially higher education) should culturally consider adopting in order to afford graduates the time to experience the profession for themselves. Similarly, Tim St. John suggests that in order to "grow the profession," we should actually be giving students a more realistic look at "what's behind the curtain" rather than selling that our work is all pizza, icebreakers, and rainbows (as so many like to stereotype student affairs).

Some opportunities like this already exist: NASPA offers an Undergraduate Fellows Program to provide undergrads an opportunity to practice before graduate school. Many institutions offer "create your own" internship experiences for undergrads; my office here at IU has begun what we hope will be a long-standing undergrad summer intern program (look for posts to come about this cool opportunity!). My alma mater, Texas A&M, actually dedicates a one-year, full-time professional position with Class Councils to anyone who wants to "try out" student affairs, no master's degree required.

If these offices, organizations, and institutions have recognized the importance of giving undergraduates the opportunity of a "trial period" before asking them to buy the proverbial cow, why can't the whole profession? Why can't we, as higher education and student affairs professionals, make a commitment to better informing those interested in our work by giving them opportunities to practice? After all, ours is a profession that prides itself on tying what we learn in the classroom to the practical experiences that we have.

To bring this back to the #SAchat discussion, what I'm proposing is that, instead of stigmatizing those who leave the profession as "quitters," instead of blaming the 60% of new professionals who burn out and drop out within 5 years for not managing work-life balance better, let's as a profession take on the responsibility of giving interested parties a better understanding of what our work actually entails before requiring them to make a commitment to it. Let's offer more undergraduate internships and entry-level (meaning no master's required) jobs so that we can openly show "what's behind the curtain" to interested parties rather than requiring that you buy the cow before you taste the milk. After all, as a profession deeply concerned with transparency and authenticity, wouldn't it behoove us to practice as we preach and to be more transparent with what student affairs and higher education actually entail?

At the end of the day, I think these opportunities for pre-graduate-degree-practice would only be a win. Not only would those who commit to graduate school have a MUCH better mental picture of the commitment they are undertaking, but they would truly feel "pulled to something they love," as Amma so eloquently wrote in another blog post (as opposed to realizing 5 years down the road that student affairs just ISN'T for them). Even more, rather than wondering which of our fresh-out-of-grad-school new professionals will be part of the 60% to burn out in 5 years, supervisors and mangers in the field would have a crop of pro's who not only made the conscious commitment to go into student affairs, but who also have a year or more of professional experience prior to graduate school, as well as any assistantship experience gained during graduate programs.

In the end, I don't think it's a bad thing in any way, shape, or form to leave student affairs. I don't think it should be stigmatized, nor do I think it should be a taboo subject. Rather, I encourage us as a field to consider ways to address the cause before the symptoms start, and give interested parties a taste of the amazing things that we get to do as student affairs professionals before we ask them to make the graduate school commitment.

Always On Time

"Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

James 1:4, NIV

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know that I'm a big believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. Thanks in large part to my faith, but also to various life experiences I've had, I see purpose in my life. I see a grander design for me, doors opened (and closed), windows cracked (and slammed shut), and paths forged (and dead-ended, requiring a U-turn and a new plan).

Of course, in the midst of my optimistic mantra, there are some big issues that I encounter time and time again... 

First, "Things" don't always "happen." Sometimes, it seems like every day is unfolding the same way for me; that I'm in  my very own "winter of discontent" (or, sometimes literal winter - living in the Midwest was a CHALLENGE this year with the whole freezing cold thing). I've experienced this multiple ways in the past, my graduate job search being a prime example. I would apply for a job, get an interview, sometimes even get an on-campus... and then nothing. No offer, no encouragement. On to the next one; wash, rinse, repeat. I'm sure those of you who are job searching right now can empathize with this feeling. Sometimes, it can feel like this on the job too - day in and day out, the same activities are happening; the same students are in and out of my office; the same programs are being planned and executed. You know, "there is nothing new under the sun."

Second, if "things" are "happening," they don't always happen how or when I want them to. I can plan all I want for my life - for my one-year, five-year, and ten-year benchmarks of "where I'll be," but in my experience, whenever I do this, God likes to giggle and say, "Nope." (Apparently I'm not the only one who's ever experienced this - I think we've got some cultural mantras, i.e. "Man proposes, God disposes" and "The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley" to back me up.) I have these picture-perfect visions of my life in my head, and I will seize opportunities that will lead me to those visions, just to have the door shut and be told "It's not for you."

Whenever I'm in the middle of these issues, of course, I get frustrated. I feel becalmed, listless, inert, like nothing will change for me. I also feel annoyed, impatient, and sometimes even pained by my perceived stagnation or frustration of plans. I shake my fist at the sky and say, "Why wasn't MY plan good enough?!?" 

But the beauty and challenge of faith is the whole "believing without seeing" thing, not walking by sight but rather choosing to trust in God's plan and His perfect timing.

Because, at the end of the day, His timing IS perfect. That's the crazy amazing awesome thing about my life experiences - time and time again, I have seen that God's timing is PERFECT. My plan may or may not have been a good one, but God's plan was ultimately better for me.

I've been feeling this listlessness lately. Summer, while one of my favorite times of year because of the opportunities it affords to rest and reflect, can also be extraordinarily challenging because of the results of these reflections. What have I accomplished? I ask myself. What am I doing well? What can I be doing better? What is the next step here? What choices should I be making to lead me to the next step? When should I be stepping, and when should I be building what I've already got where I've already got it? In my head, I echo one of the funny-but-resonates-with-me quotes that one of my students keeps saying in regard to her graduate school search: "I wish I could just see a year into the future and know exactly where I'll be going, and what I'll be doing." It's funny, because that's impossible, of course. It's funny, because I COMPLETELY empathize with her frustration. And it's funny, because I keep reminding her to "trust the process," that everything will turn out exactly how it's supposed to. I know, because I've seen it, and I know because I believe it to be true. 

Whether or not you are a person of faith, believe in a higher power, or even consider yourself  spiritual, there's something to be said for "the Universe" making things work out in a funny and brilliant way. I received a timely devotional email in my inbox this morning, which is what inspired this post:

...When God wants to make a giant oak, he takes a hundred years, but when he wants to make a mushroom, he does it overnight... 

Be patient with the process. James advised, "Don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed" (James 1:4b MSG).

Don’t get discouraged. When Habakkuk became depressed because he didn't think God was acting quickly enough, God had this to say: "These things I plan won’t happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, do not despair, for these things will surely come to pass. Just be patient! They will not be overdue a single day!" (Habakkuk 2:3 LB)

A delay is not a denial from God!

Remember how far you've come, not just how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be. Years ago people wore a popular button with the letters PBPGINFWMY. It stood for "Please Be Patient, God Is Not Finished With Me Yet." God isn't finished with you, either, so keep on moving forward. Even the snail reached the ark by persevering! - Rick Warren

Isn't that an encouraging reminder? I especially love the line, "A delay is not a denial from God." God may not be saying no; he may just be saying, "Not yet."

For those of you who are frustrated and impatient, feeling like the world isn't (or you aren't) moving at the right pace, know that I feel your pain. But my recommendation? Stop for a minute. Think back on your life, and the choices and plans that led you to where you are now. See the beauty in the seemingly chaotic and convoluted paths you've walked to get to where you are, and take a moment to trust that everything is going to be okay. It's hard, and you may have to make the conscious choice to trust in a "bigger plan" every moment of every day, but a year from now, five years, ten years, 30 years down the road, you're going to be able to see the pattern that emerges from God's perfect timing, and know that He was always on time.

Persevere, my friends. The day will come when you're exactly who you are supposed to be.

A Breath of Fresh Air

Take a deep breath.

Slowly, exhale.

Do you feel it? Do you feel the tension ease? 

Do you feel that tightness in between your shoulder blades loosen? Do you feel that weight on your heart lift?

For all my education buddies out there, breathe that sweet air. That's summertime. (For those of you who are still plugging away, don't give up! The light is there, waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.)

As I've blogged about before, as much as I love what I do and the students I work with, summer is a time to breathe easy. It's a time when the rush, hustle, and bustle of the school year dissipates, and calendars open up to days without structure, days full of free moments. Of course, this doesn't mean that idleness reigns supreme; on the contrary, summer is a time when I seek to be more productive than ever. Summer is a time when I can break out that ever-growing project list, and block out whole uninterrupted hours of my day to get things done (as opposed to the school year, when my students pop in and out of my office like the Caddyshack gopher). 

But summer is also a wonderful time to reflect on the academic year past - I have completed 2 school years at IU now (and the calendar two year anniversary is in August). It is a time to think about how I've grown as a professional, and how I can continue to stretch myself. It's a time to reflect on all the things I've learned, and to ponder what lessons I still have yet to learn. 

I'm going to be productive this summer, for sure. I plan to do quite a bit of writing this summer, both here on the blog and also some professional topics. I plan to clean and organize my office and my apartment, continuing my #OneWord theme of "simplicity" and practice streamlining my life. 

But more than anything, I plan to breathe the sweet summer air. I plan to spend time with friends, making memories to last a lifetime. I plan to relax, to stop pressuring myself to perform 24/7 and to just spend some time just being, living, breathing. 

Take another deep breath.

Slowly, exhale.

It's summertime, y'all. 

Somebody Needs the Light You Have

The end of the year is a challenging time for everyone. Whether it's my colleagues in education and we're on the cusp of summer, waiting for empty classrooms, towns, campuses, and residence halls; whether it's our business fellows, waiting for the end of the fiscal year so that their budgets (and companies) can turn over and turn around; whether it's the world waiting for December 31 to turn over to January 1, for the old to become new and for a clean slate, to start fresh... the time before the "new year" can seem interminable.

Especially in higher education, I know that my colleagues and I are on the "struggle bus," riding uphill both ways in the snow 'til the quiet, relaxation, and project-based time of summer (with the exception of my Admissions and Orientation fellows; Godspeed, my friends). Spring semester is especially a rough time - programming ramps up as the year moves toward its end; as the weather gets warmer, students get antsier to get out of Dodge, headed for internships, study abroad, and summer vacation; the weeks FLY by with seemingly no rest or respite for the weary, weary educator who just wants ONE quiet moment to BREATHE and REFLECT and for goodness' sake FINISH A TASK. (Can you tell I've been feeling the crazy this spring?)

Especially here in the Midwest, winter was HARD and seemingly never-ending (cue the Game of Thrones references), and then, even as the weather started warming up (it's a beautiful and balmy 66* here currently), so did work. Task piled upon task; program piled upon program. Conference after conference took place; email after email piled up in inboxes. Offices and desks got messier and more neglected; self-care flew out the window in favor of trying to accomplish something at work, to cross just one task off of the to-do list.

I don't say all of this to get sympathy or empathy from you. A few student affairs colleagues just had some great conversations about "The Glorification of Busy" (see the #SAchat transcript here, and some good processing blog posts from Amma Marfo here and from The SA Collective here), and the last thing I want to do is try heap up sympathy for me when, honestly, I brought a lot of the "busy" down on myself.

No, instead, what I want to talk about today is the important reminder that I got in the midst of the hard time.

I'll be real, I don't handle long-term periods of stress well. I've gotten better at it over time, but I still largely react to stress and busy-ness with unhealthy behaviors (more Netflix, less exercise; more eating out, less cooking for myself; more alone time, less time with friends). I start to let the "burnout" get to me - I emotionally and mentally withdraw from my daily life; I question my choices and my actions each day; I take critiques personally and react to situations with gut-driven emotion rather than brain-based logic. (For those of you who have stayed my friend during these times, THANK YOU. Your love of me despite my inability to handle stress means the world to me.:) )

This spring semester has felt harder than most. I am wrapping up Year Two of my job, and I question if I've accomplished or learned anything at all. My students ramped up their programming toward summer, and I questioned if I've really been supporting them and teaching them in the ways that they need. All I want is to hide away in my house, or run away from everything on a loooong vacation, to cover my eyes like a kid and say "If I can't see it, it's not real."

But the other day, I was driving to work, dreading the stress of the day, and a beautiful reminder came on the radio, that I wanted to share with all of you. The song is a Christian worship song, and yet contains an important reminder that I think all people can benefit from. Here is the first verse, and the chorus:

One million reasons why, you shouldn't even try.
After all you're just one heart, a single candle in the dark.
And there are shadows here, feeding on your fears,
That you don't have what it takes - who are you to make a change?

But oh, oh, don't underestimate the God you follow.

Whatever you do, just don't look back.
Oh somebody needs the light you have.
Whatever you do, just don't lose heart.
Keep on pushing back the dark,
Keep on pushing back the dark.

What a beautiful reminder, huh? Even in the stress, the darkness of the world, even in times when you may feel like you don't matter, that you can't possibly contribute - I know I've felt that way, many a time - somebody needs the light you have.

So even when it feels like you can't take one more step; even when it feels like the "burnout" is so bad that you need to bathe in aloe vera to treat the heat... keep on pushing back the dark. Because somebody - and you may never know who, but somebody - needs your light. Somebody needs to see you "keep on keepin' on." You may never see the fruit of the seeds you plant each day, but isn't just the idea that you're planting a seed worthwhile? Isn't the picture of the darkness, with even one candle shining, the most hopeful thing you can imagine? Let your light keep shining, however you need to do that. Somebody needs your light. Keep on pushing back the dark.

(song: "Pushing Back the Dark" by Josh Wilson)

LeaderShape, Day Six (and beyond): Staying in Action

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.
Previous LeaderShape Posts: Day Zero, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five

Waking up on Day Six of LeaderShape was absolutely surreal. As anyone who has participated in or facilitated a LeaderShape experience can tell you, it is at once the LONGEST and the SHORTEST week of your life. On the one hand, you wake up on Day Three and think to yourself, "We still have THREE MORE DAYS of this?!?" On the other hand, you blink, and all of a sudden, it's Day Six. The participants are packing their bags, we're cleaning our family cluster meeting rooms, we're wrapping up the thinking and learning and growing that's been taking place... and you can't believe a whole week has flown by.

The end of a LeaderShape experience is a special time. It consists of several pieces - first there's a wonderful commencement ceremony. As we all know from graduation speeches long-past, "commencement means beginning." As this is a meaningful concept to ponder for graduations from school, so it is for LeaderShape. The end of the retreat is only the beginning of a time back out in the world. We have spent the past six days with the participants, challenging them, having deep conversations with them, laughing with them, crying with them. We have looked inward to look outward. We have dreamed the biggest visions of all, and then simulated the often-heartbreaking and always-exhausting return to real life with all its challenges and oppression. But then, on Day Six, it's time to look forward... what will Day Seven (and beyond) look like for the participants? How will they stay in action?

This leads to the second big piece of Day Six - the concept of Day Seven. Every day after LeaderShape is considered "Day Seven" - if you let your life be a continuation of the growth you've experienced on the retreat, then every day onward can be a part of your special LeaderShape experience. I love this concept of continuity; I love the idea that each day can (and probably) should serve as a reminder of the growth that occurred on LeaderShape.

Of course, this idea is not without its challenges. I've been taking part in extended retreats for a LONG time - first with the Emmaus and Chrysalis Christian retreats in middle and high school, then with Fish Camp at Texas A&M, and now with LeaderShape - and I can tell you that the hardest part of being a part of a "mountain-top" experience like that is coming back down into the "valley."  Retreats are an amazing time to get away from the world and be reminded of the important things... but what happens when you come back? Can the concepts you've learned, the realizations you've had, the ideas you've birthed, stay alive in the toughness of everyday life? Can the relationships you've formed stand the stress and tests of the nine-to-five grind? Can the "process of life-long leadership," as LeaderShape describes it, continue?

I think the answer is "Yes, but it won't be easy." 

LeaderShape begins Day Six with a quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes: "A mind once stretched by a new idea never regains its original dimension." On the LeaderShape experience, the mind, the heart, and the soul have been stretched. Sometimes the process hurts, sometimes it feels like your mind should have been stretched all along; regardless, the experience changes you in a fundamental way. Then, returning to the "real world"... things are different. YOU are different. You see the world in a different way, hopefully never to return to your "original dimension," because the new way is infinitely better than the old.

But again, these changes are not without challenges. Friends and family may not see eye-to-eye with your new perspective. You may be ready and energized for radical change; the world may say, "Whoa, whoa. Who do you think you are with these new ideas? Slow your roll, buddy. Things are the way they are for a reason." Coming back down into the "valley" of everyday life can be exhausting, disheartening, and can knock you over 'til it feels like you can't get back up.

So how do you deal with this process? How do you retain the energy and inertia you gained in your experience? How do you stay in action?

To be honest... I'm still figuring out the answers to those questions. As you can tell from my past reflections on this experience, LeaderShape changed even ME, a facilitator, in a fundamental way. I questioned my ways of thinking and my values right along with the participants; I built new relationships and new visions for how I wanted the world to be. I was in it right along with everyone else, and it was a beautiful thing. And now, I am practicing what LeaderShape calls "resilience," because I am right down in the valley with the participants. The mountain-top seems far away and forever ago, and now I'm living in the nine-to-five grind again... but I am different. I am practicing getting back up after falling down (or being pushed down), because I've started to realize that my life, my values, can and should mean SO much more to me and be SO much more of a part of my life than they are. 

It's not easy. But it is my privilege and my responsibility to carry forward the lessons I learned and the joy I gained from LeaderShape, and to try to change the world - my world - a little bit at a time, every day. 

~

It's now over a month since LeaderShape ended. It's a rainy day in April; the school semester ends in 12 days. My engine has been running on all cylinders for the past month since I got back; my mind is mush and my energy is low. But in the grey murk of this Monday, there's a little spark for me, as I think back on LeaderShape. As I consider the amazing things I witnessed, the amazing students and facilitators I met, the spark glows brighter. As I remember my promises to myself to stay true to me and to my values, the spark turns into a little flame. And I smile, because I know that, as long as that flame is there - hell, as long as that spark doesn't go out - I am going to make it. Today will flow into other days; the world will keep turning; I will try my hardest to be a spark for others. I will keep my flame lit, to try to light the way in the gray.

LeaderShape, Day Five: Living and Leading With Integrity

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.
Previous LeaderShape Posts: Day Zero, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four

As the LeaderShape week winds to a close, the concepts that the facilitators work on with participants get more complicated. LeaderShape works on the principle of self -> group -> community development, and you can really see that trajectory through the themes of the days... the participants start by looking inward to discover who they are; they continue growth in groups as they learn to work together as a team; they end the week by looking inward AND outward simultaneously in order to better serve (and improve) the world around them. Day Five's theme - Living and Leading with Integrity - begins to ask participants to tie everything together. LeaderShape's mission includes the plan that "all lead with integrity," and on Day Five, participants and facilitators explore what that means.

Per the dictionary, integrity means "adherence to moral principles; soundness of character; honesty." To LeaderShape, integrity means values congruence - is what I believe in reflected in how I act? Or, am I "walking my talk"? Who do I want to be, and how do I "show up" to the world around me?

What a heavy, yet critically important concept to explore with college student participants. It's so hard to name your values, your TRUE values, at any age, but especially as a college student. Then, the challenge goes even further - are you acting out those values? Does your life reflect the things you believe in?

I've had many an occasion throughout my life so far when I've dealt with values congruence. Some of those situations have come out with a "win," and some of them, I'm sad to say, led to me making the choice that was best at the time rather than one that fit my values.

As a "win," one only needs to look to three short years ago, when I was finishing my first year as a graduate student in Florida State's Higher Education & Student Affairs program. My graduate assistantship was with the FSU Alumni Association, advising the Student Alumni Association group. As much as I was thankful for my job, and as much as I learned about alumni affairs and development, the values of the office - namely, a focus on relationships and development post-graduation (as opposed to during students' time in college) - did not mesh with my personal and professional values. As hard as it was, I decided (along with my supervisor, who was incredibly supportive) to look for other graduate assistantships that would better fit what I needed out of my time in graduate school. Thankfully, I ended up with an offer from the Student Activities Center, an office MUCH better suited to both my interests and to my values. This experience has proved incredibly important in my professional development - in order to be successful, I needed to know my values, and then I needed to realize when I was not "walking my talk"... and THEN I needed to be brave enough to take steps to live in more values congruence.

Of course, I don't always lead with integrity; I can be vulnerable enough to say so. Right now, for instance, in the first few years of my professional career, I am struggling with my value of self-care and with making that congruent with my lifestyle. You see, working as a new professional in higher education, the temptation (and expectation) exists to work hard and often, and to branch out into as many different pieces of the profession as you can. The culture of student affairs for grads and new professionals is often to make work your life, as opposed to just having it be a part of your life. (I have blogged about this expectation here.) And so, as much as I am aware of and AGAINST the idea of over-commitment... I am honestly over-committed right now. I work too much; I am bad at separating work from my personal life; I am not good at saying "no." And while I love the opportunities that are on my plate right now, I am exhausted, which is making me less effective at carrying out the duties that are expected of me. I am walking the path to burnout, something that many new professionals in higher education experience (leading to a 50% "dropout" rate within five years). I have identified my values, I have identified that I am not living in congruence... but this time, taking the steps to live with integrity is more challenging than I could have imagined. I keep saying I'll address it, but then... I don't. How, though, does this show up to my students and colleagues? What does it mean for me to tell my students to go home and not spend the night in the office, when I'm working 60-hour weeks? What does it mean for me to tell my friends that I miss them, but then have to cancel on plans because I'm "too busy"? I am not showing up as the person I want to be, and that's a problem I need to face, head-on. It won't be easy, nor will it be much fun, but for my own integrity - and sanity - it's something that I need to step up and address, before it's too late.

I'm sure you can think of areas in your own life where you've lived and lead with integrity, and where you may have fallen short. I think it's time that we celebrate where we are showing up as the person we want to be, and that, when we fall down and make mistakes, we say "How fascinating!" and try again. Learning to live with integrity, to "walk my talk," is a challenge that won't be easy, but it is one that is vital to make me be the person (and leader) that I want to be. It is a challenge that will test my mettle, that may break me down more than once, but one that is worth it, and one that I want to undertake - and meet - each day for the rest of my life.

Day Five of LeaderShape served as a wake-up call for me to live with more integrity. Where are places in your life where you can better practice "walking your talk"? Where is it time for you to step up, say "This isn't me," and take steps to show up as the person who you want to be?

LeaderShape, Day Four: Bringing Vision to Reality

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.
Previous LeaderShape Posts: Day Zero, Day One, Day Two, Day Three

Halfway through the week of LeaderShape, it's easy to feel exhausted. Not only are the days long - breakfast begins at 7:45 a.m. and the last piece of the day usually ends between 10 and 11 p.m., with faculty meetings after - but the experience is emotionally exhausting (in the best way possible). Participants are delving deeply into who they are, how they operate, and what drives them. LeaderShape is most definitely what many people call a "mountaintop experience" - the week feels like a bubble in which all participants grow and are encouraged, and then going back to the real world after can feel like a drag and a half.

That's why Day Four, "Bringing Vision to Reality," exists. On this day, not only do participants set some tangible goals and action plans to literally bring their LeaderShape vision to life, but they also get a few "reality-checks" throughout the day (the most meaningful of these is the activity Star Power, which happens at the end of the day... I won't go into detail about this activity, but if you've been through it, you know how wrenching and gut-checking it can be). You see, life is not as flowery and passionate and happy-go-lucky as LeaderShape can make it seem at times, and it's important that participants get a real and visceral reminder that their job is to be leaders in a world that is often unjust, harsh, and is imperfect. 

Totally a downer, right? Well, not entirely. Part of this message about reality is couched in a wonderful video called Radiating Possibility, which is about the conductor of the Boston Philharmonic, Ben Zander. Zander is also a motivational speaker, and his messages about the world are both positive and powerful. (Here's a TED Talk from Zander if you want to get a picture of both the man and the message!)

Zander makes five points in his video, but the one I most remember and want to enact in my life is point #2: your life will be infinitely better if you see mistakes as "fascinating."

Isn't that a wonderful adage?

The world is NOT perfect, nor are we as human beings (and ESPECIALLY not as leaders). We're not going to make the right choices all the time; mistakes are inevitable. However, what if we viewed mistakes as opportunities to learn and grow, rather than life- (or career-) ending moments? What if, instead of blaming ourselves (or others) when mistakes happen, we instead say, "How fascinating!"

I am often a self-bully when it comes to making mistakes (see a blog post about my 2013 wake-up call here). I hold myself to a crazy-high standard of perfection, don't ask for help, and then panic when things go wrong. It's not a healthy way to live, nor is it productive. However, I am MILES better at handling mistakes than I used to be. My mom can attest to this - there would be moments when I would send her a LONG, self-defeatist email talking about how my life was over when I made a mistake. Thankfully, I am not quite at the same self-flagellant level as when I was a sophomore in college, but I still have a long way to go when it comes to handling my own imperfections.

Then, Mr. Zander comes along, with his suggestion to say, "How fascinating!" when something goes wrong instead of to blame or shame. What a beautiful message. Just think - how much more of an empathetic, understanding place would the world be if we were all able to view our mistakes (and others') as fascinating, rather than terrible?

Brene Brown, who I've talked about before, is a wonderful academic, author, and I recently had the INCREDIBLE opportunity to see her as the closing keynote speaker at a convention (and I plan to do a blogging series after I'm done with LeaderShape about her messages!). One of her main messages to her audience is to live a life of vulnerability, to "show up, be seen, [and] be loved." I think this ties deeply into seeing our mistakes as fascinating - rather than giving in to shame, let's own up to who we are and what we do; rather than dwelling in negativity, let's learn what we can from each day and move forward knowing that, not only will we try again next time, but that we are not the only ones making mistakes.

I leave you with a wonderful quote from Theodore Roosevelt, which inspired Brene Brown's book Daring Greatly (shared in a tweet by my good friend Valerie):

Love love the Theodore Roosevelt quote @BreneBrown #ACPA14 pic.twitter.com/3fyYxD4veM
— Valerie Heruska (@ValerieHeruska) April 2, 2014

Today, I challenge you: 

Will you see your mistakes as fascinating opportunities for you to grow?

Will you dare greatly, regardless of failure (or success)? 

LeaderShape, Day Three: Challenging What Is, Looking to What Could Be

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.
Previous LeaderShape Posts: Day Zero, Day One, Day Two

One of the most powerful pieces of the LeaderShape experience is that of the vision. All participants of LeaderShape take time during Day Three to create a vision of "the kind of world they want to see." When creating a vision, you start with two prompts: 

1. What do I care about? (my passion[s])

2. What do I want to create? (the future)

Then, you think about this question: 

"From what I care about, what would I want if I could invent a bold, new future?"

What a powerful experience for the college student participants that are on the retreat... and what a powerful experience for me as a facilitator. Not only was I privileged to hear the kinds of futures that the participants wanted to create - sustainable, filled with equality of all kinds, kind, happy, just - but I had the chance to reflect on MY vision, the kind of world that I would want to see.

The vision I created on LeaderShape was intensely personal to me (as many/most visions are). My passions include leadership, supporting and encouraging young women (especially college-aged, but not limited to), and positivity. If I could create a bold, new future where these passions were a part of everyday life, every young woman would have access to a role model mentor and a network of peers to support her in her aspirations. (Of course, I would love it if EVERY young person, regardless of gender, had access to this, but for the purposes of my passion and vision I wanted to focus on creating female leadership and support networks.)

Think about that future for a moment. Women are often limited by gender, whether it is because of societal assumptions about women, or social mores that apply to women, or - worst of all - because of being blocked out by other women. Female bullying and competition is a real problem (I have experienced it myself; that's a long story for a different time), but imagine a world where, instead of feeling like they have to compete for resources (whatever those are), young women are supported through their aspirations to achieve whatever they want to achieve. Whether she wanted to be a mother, dancer, astronaut, physicist, professor, singer, actor, entrepreneur, whatever; imagine the power in a young woman being told YES, especially by the other women in her life.

This is a future that I want to see. It's not the world that is, but it is the world that could be. And it's my job, as a leader in everyday life, to try to create that world, step by step. How am I supporting the women in my life, especially the young women with whom I work? How am I affirming them, saying "YES" to who they are and who they want to be? 

I want to end with this brilliant quote from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's TEDxEuston speech, which was sampled in the brilliant Beyonce's "***Flawless":

We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls: "You can have ambition, but not too much; you should aim to be successful, but not too successful, otherwise you will threaten the man."

A challenge to the women reading this - instead of teaching the women in your life to shrink, how are you affirming your sisters? How are we working together to create this bright, bold future where our young people are told "YES"?  

LeaderShape, Day Two: The Value of One, the Power of All

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.

LeaderShape makes a point to set a theme for each day of its Institute, and these themes all build upon one another and on the learning of the participants. Day One's theme is Building Community (see my blog post on Day One here, and on our faculty training on Day Zero here), and Day Two's theme is "The Value of One, the Power of All."

This is one of the most impactful themes of the LeaderShape experience for me. It ties nicely into the basis of my personal professional philosophy: I believe that every individual has inherent value. No matter where you come from, no matter your background, no matter what you do or what you look like, you matter. This is an important thought that I try to impress upon the college students I work with (and on my colleagues, friends, family members, etc.) - every person matters. Even if you don't like someone, even if you disagree with another person's beliefs or worldview, every person matters. 

But how do we balance that with building community? How can we possibly jibe the two concepts of individual self-worth and the larger importance of community as a whole?

Well, imagine a world where every person believes that they matter. Imagine a world where self-esteem is no longer an issue; where every young child is told from the moment they're born that they are valuable. Imagine how much kinder people would be if they weren't competing for attention or to have their voice heard, because they already knew that their perspective was valuable.

Even more than that, imagine a world where every person not only knew that THEY mattered, but also knew that every person on this planet matters. Your story is just one piece of the larger whole of life, and you are inextricably tied into every other life on this planet. 

Do you have chills thinking about that? I certainly do. 

And so, thinking back on Day Two of LeaderShape, I'm ecstatic that we spent a day reminding all our participants that they matter (on a one-to-one basis), and that THEY matter (as a collective whole). Despite the discriminations and hurtful words of their past, despite the pain of their upbringing and of growing up, despite every struggle that feels like it weighs on them every day, they matter.

Having these conversations reminded me that this concept - "the value of one, the power of all" - is a part of my personal philosophy, and that I want to enact more and more each day. How am I treating myself with kindness, because I matter? How am I treating others with kindness, to show them that THEY matter? 

Thank you, LeaderShape, for holding me accountable to this belief, and for giving us the chance to build into these participants that they are valuable, and together they are powerful.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson

LeaderShape, Day One: Building Community

Note: This Spring Break, I served as a small group facilitator on LeaderShape, a six-day immersive leadership experience for college students. This was my first time working with a LeaderShape experience, so I wanted to record and process my reflections and learning here on my blog.

LeaderShape is BIG about its verbiage; I'm learning a whole new lens and language this week as I'm facilitating this awesome experience. Day Zero was a faculty training day, and we (as a team of colleagues) worked on both understanding the curriculum so we can share it with our participants and on setting goals to stretch ourselves for the week. (See my Day Zero post here.)

Day One, the day that our student participants arrive, is a day that is all about Building Community. This is practiced in several ways - we share the mission of LeaderShape with our participants so they're all on the same page with us; we do TONS of icebreakers and teambuilders so we can start getting to know the whole LeaderShape community; and we break into our Family Clusters for the first time.

The Family Cluster (a.k.a. a small breakout group) are the discussion group that the participants work with for the duration of the Institute. Clusters can run anywhere from 8-15 people, and the groups serve as sounding boards, support networks, and a tight-knit group of people with whom the participants can interact, learn, and grow.

I am absolutely in awe of my family cluster. Freshmen through fifth-year seniors; domestic and international students; students who are privileged and students who have overcome (and are still overcoming) INSANE life obstacles... I've got the whole gamut. I won't go into detail about the things they already shared with me on NIGHT ONE, but I do want to applaud their bravery, authenticity, and vulnerability. These people went DEEP with me and with each other, and I don't think I can thank them enough for sharing their stories with me. I cannot WAIT to see where we are on Day Six versus Day One (although I am, of course, trying to live in the moment!), and I cannot wait to continue to learn from these amazing students.

My Cluster chose the name "Divergent" as our Family name, after the bestselling book/just-released film. For those of you who are unaware, Divergent is about a young woman who makes life choices centered around the discovery that she is more than who her society told her she is. That sums up my Cluster to a "T" - despite their backgrounds; despite the world trying to beat them down, each day they are trying to choose to be more than who they seem to be. 

LeaderShape is going to be a pretty special experience.