kind. compassionate. earnest. open. poet. earthy. wise. strong. cherished. beautiful. nurturing. artist. believer. mother. sister. friend. traveler. soulful. triumphant. whole. genuine. trusting. gentle. spirited. committed. vibrant. passionate. inspiring. real.

Her words are evocative. Her poetry is generous. In this piece which she has graciously shared, I was moved to be exactly where I am.

Contentment aligns elegantly with my quest for zest (not in that rainbows & butterflies way of happiness).

To her readers, Jena asks what contentment means to us?

For me, in this very moment, contentment is …

my puppy’s sigh when he settles against me for a nap, a sound so special it’s been named: the schnurfle.

hearing my children laughing and playing alone together.

noticing the changes that come from years of real work.

night blooming jasmine and the purple rain of jacarandas losing their flowers all over town, natural reminders of a season having arrived.

friendship, true, deep, honest and giving.

the graceful passing of time.

And you?

***

Contentment, by Jena Strong

15JUN

She paused to scratch the puppy’s belly. “Absolutely, 100% worth it, no question,” she thought to herself as she smiled at her sweet young companion. “I’d do anything for him.”

The latest anything she was thinking about was the dive she took on the garage floor earlier in the day, simultaneously banging her face against the side of her car and both knees on the hard cement while successfully grabbing the puppy’s collar and keeping him from running into the street. The bruised knees told of a much happier story than most of the alternatives she imagined.

Her head-on collision with her Volvo’s door was the last in a series of unfortunate events that week. The day before, she’d succumbed to a bout of food poisoning she attributed to her food court lunch, a quick bite between getting the kids’ hair cut and sturdy new shoes for summer camp. She was thankful that only she was ill, not her children, thankful that her fever broke before she crawled into bed which eased her fears of getting much worse before she was any better. Who would she call if she found herself needing to go to the ER in the middle of the night with all of the adults in her family out of town? Who would come to care for two kids, one of whom could at any moment be on the verge of an ER visit with the same symptoms, and two dogs, one of whom she’d tripped over in the night which had her researching orthopedists, hoping her the relentless soreness in her shoulder wasn’t going to lead to surgery? No one else could do this. It had to be her.

She sat on the kitchen floor and wept, everything hurting at once. Wedged between the recycling bin and the cupboard, she found herself sobbing and allowed the tears to flow.

In her mind, she asked the Universe, “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?! Why do I keep ending up on the floor? What am I supposed to see from here?”

No answers came. The puppy retreated to his crate, and her daughter breezed by, blowing kisses and sending wishes that mommy would feel better soon.

***

The kids were snug in their beds, their next day’s outfits chosen and lunches packed, a huge win considering the day – and week – she’d had. Her daughter had tucked herself in; waiting a few minutes while her brother got the first bedtime cuddle had taken too long. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Have I ever not come?” the woman replied, without a breath of defense or exasperation. With at least ten kisses, hugs, and promises of eternal love and devotion, the little girl said goodnight. Gently closing the door behind her, and picking up one stray sock in the hall, the woman thought to herself with a loving and knowing sigh, “I’d do anything for that child.”

She peeked into her son’s room, noticing the silhouettes of partly formed Lego statues against the pale blue walls. It seemed that the boy had fallen asleep the second his head had hit the pillow. The toddler who moved into that room eight years ago would be finishing the third grade in a matter of days. The woman found herself saying to anyone who would listen (mostly her friends with children the same age and in the same state of disbelief), “I can’t believe I’m going to be the mother of a 4th grader. I remember 4th grade.”

The thought occurred again, what she’d do for her boy. Anything. A text of encouragement to her husband – out of town and needing to hear just the right words to support a difficult decision. Anything. What she’d do if asked, what she’d do if needed, what she’d do if called upon and could not conceive of saying no. Anything.

Sitting down in front of the television with a popsicle for dinner and a bag of frozen peas numbing her aches, she wondered how it was that she would do anything for someone else, but struggled so much to define the anything she would do for herself with as much passion, devotion and urgency.

Something had to change.

In the years that passed, we grew up and through the miracle of Facebook, we reconnected. Twenty years later, I remember exactly why we were – and are – friends. He is smart, funny, kind, genuine and a great lover of life (and animals!). The time has done us well. We have become so much more ourselves.

In response to my latest zest request, he graced me with his words and insights which I am delighted to share with you.

***

This is not a “How-To” guide. Also, not all of these ideas are original and many that are, are spun out of the thoughts of others. All I know is that they work for me. I have definitely had my share of being unhappy but I really do believe that I am happier now because I had those experiences to learn from. Pretty sure you need one to know the other. [Thank you, Karen Pery, for inspiring me to collect my thoughts.]

Stopped Trying To Be Perfect

Good luck with that, right?  Well I tried all through high school: honor student, team captain, academic decathlon, Eagle Scout, student government…. All great things – I have no regrets in fact I’m happy that’s who I made myself. I enjoyed it all at the time for the most part although I do remember a meltdown at some point my junior year. My first year of college was fairly dismal emotionally. I was struggling with the concept of coming out and as I felt trapped between self-truth and worrying what others thought I grew depressed and unmotivated. I got the first “C” in my life. That changed when I met an amazing man in September 1989.

Took Risks

The day I came out to my parents was INCREDIBLY difficult. And so it was for a while, for them and for me. I know my parents had a lot of “what will other people think” going on and also didn’t have the facts. (Remember this was 1989 – a very different word for gay and lesbians and their families and friends.) I had always been afraid of what others would think and do to me. In the end I lost a couple friends but have gained tons more, deepened the friendships I already had, and opened myself up to a bigger world. In the end the hardest part of coming out was the NOT doing it.

Adopted Pets

What can I say? A best friend, unconditional love… you get it. Also, the whole having responsibility of caring for another. These things opened my heart even wider. Also, the loss of them. They have brief lifespans compared to ours. What a gift! To experience the entire course of life as a friend and caregiver. From six weeks to 16 years of age. They have taught and are teaching me how to stay more in the moment: to stop regretting the past, and to stop worrying over the future. They are also reminding me to remember that there is always a reason to smile.

“Take This Job And Shove It”

Boy did I have a few of these. Thing is I kept repeating the soul-sucking job routine. Don’t get me wrong, a couple were great. And in those two I see now the common elements: I believed in their means and goals, and I enjoyed my day-to-day time with my co-workers. Both the jobs resulted in friends I still have today. And by the way, I make FAR less money than I used to and I’ve never been happier. Just sayin’ it ain’t everything. What I love about money is the experiences I can have by using it: travel, concerts, gardening supplies.

“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”

Big city living was grand but when I decided I couldn’t work at a soul-sucking job anymore, I left Oz and went back to the farm as Elton John’s song describes. I always knew I loved nature and I have to say it is the source of my vibrational “set-point.” All I have to do is sit in my yard, hear the birds, smell the pine trees, and pet my dogs and I am so quickly rejuvenated it is frankly amazing.

One of my dogs and a few of his, April 2009

Experienced a Bunch of Heartbreak

Why have I experienced so much? Well it turns out that’s what happens when you open your heart and allow yourself to be vulnerable. I’ve also experienced massive love and joy. I have found that only by being open and honest with others have I been able to really connect with them. Those people and animals become woven into the fabric of my soul and so, when they make their transition, and I am “left behind,” it’s a genuine loss. The pain is huge and it lasts a long time for me. In a darker place I once made a list of everyone I have “lost.” It was really long. I then proceeded to cry even harder about it all, which by the way I think is a good thing in the long run. Just try not to get stuck there. In brighter times I can think of the pantheon of beings that have moved on and it makes me really happy because now I remember the times we shared and lessons we helped each other learn. I am a far better person for having known them. The pain is miniscule compared to the joy and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Got Spiritual

I’m not a religious person, but I am spiritual. What does that mean for me? Well, for me it’s the lifeforce I see in everything: people, animals, trees. It’s the energy cycles of the earth. It’s also many inexplicable experiences I have had and many speakers and authors I have run across. Point being that it’s something that inspires me to see the possibilities and beauty around me. I think everyone needs things to believe in. Be that spirituality, or a cause, or an organization: something that inspires you and gives you a sense of broader connection.

Get Medicine If You Need it

I believe my well-being springs from many things as this entry makes obvious, and for me one of them is medication. Mental issues such as depression are still so ignored and “shamed” in our society. It’s much better than it was, but please, I see even close friends get uncomfortable when I bring it up. It’s as though people believe if they need medication it’s because they “aren’t trying hard enough” or are imagining it, or are weak. Oh bullshit. Right – so if a person has diabetes……

Chilled Out

Will this matter to me a year from now? That’s what I ask myself. 99% of the time it doesn’t. Knowing that fact from life experience gives me calm when “problems” arise. Breathing is good too.

Photography and Gardening

These are no-brainers for me since I am such a fan of the natural world. Gardening calms, inspires, and centers me. It’s a form of meditation to me because I am in that moment, focusing my energy and intention and thoughts on something I love. And while I’m no Ansel Adams, I’m as good as I am because I started looking FOR beauty and it turned out to be all around me. Now, simply deciding “I’m going to look for beauty” isn’t how it worked for me. It’s sort of the chicken or the egg deal. Because I notice beauty around me I like to photograph it and whenever I photograph it I find more beauty than I saw before I began. Now it’s an addiction of the best kind. I always have a camera nearby no matter where I go and guess what? There’s always something beautiful to see.

Every Coin: Two Sides

I may not agree with someone about something but that doesn’t mean I have to get upset and bent out of shape. There are so many things I can’t control and I have learned that trying to do so, trying to always be right, trying to make others change makes me sad and crazy. I used to FREAK out over politics. And guess what, it pretty much never made a difference and just left me and the other person in a worse state. Many may accuse me of apathy but that’s not it. Believe me I care deeply about many things. I used to be more of the activist in my youth and if that inspires a person I say go for it! Remember I’m not here to say what’s right or wrong. I’m just telling the story of what makes me happy: full-charged, relaxed, inspired, centered, and appreciative. I sleep well at night because I know that the way I live each moment of my life is what I am adding to the world. Each interaction I have with another is my legacy as Maya Angelou said in so many words.

Laugh, Play, Sing, and Dance

I happen to be one of those people who is comfortable “not acting my age” as some say. I make jokes, I sing out loud, I roll around on the ground with my pets, I listen to my favorite music as much as possible, I still ride roller-coasters, I play the fool with friends, I still ride the swings in parks, I go to concerts, I watch funny movies, and I constantly talk about things I enjoy. In fact I am much goofier and playful than when I was at 20. That’s mostly because I care very little what others think of me and guess what? Those who don’t match up with my true self drift away and I attract those who do. Positive feedback loop. Now that’s a recipe for happiness. At least, it’s mine.

 …it’s not enough to fix what’s wrong. You also need to focus on what’s right. – Kurt Shuster

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been reading and hearing a lot about happiness. I am fascinated by the research and science that gives a strong backbone to the work of transforming relationships, businesses, and individual growth. There are wide and practical applications – macro and micro shifts – I am using in my life and in my work with clients. It’s really cool stuff, and I’ve only dipped one toe into this vast pool of knowledge.

(Having just said this, I do not actually agree with the idea of striving for happiness, nor do I align with the pursuit of balance, but those are soap boxes on which to stand another day. Happiness is awesome — and it is also fleeting. For my purposes here, when I refer to “happiness,” what I intend to communicate is fulfillment, connection, resonance, engagement, presence, meaning, and/or a positive and satisfying quality of life. It’s not only unicorns and lollipops.)

One Harvard study explains that maintaining a positive focus builds “a reservoir that impacts well-being and performance, even longevity.”  That reservoir is built, brick by brick, with being aware of (and grateful for) what’s going right and correlating that with where you are already strong. There is agreement in the scientific community around a 3:1 ratio of positive experiences to negative that build an individual’s, or team’s, resilience. Dr. John Gottman’s independent research on marriage and divorce reveals a similar ratio, encouraging couples to build upon their positive emotional reserves to promote relationship longevity. According to Dr. Barbara Frederickson, 80% of Americans fall short of the ideal 3-to-1 positivity ratio.

I am determined not to be one of them.

***

Flipping through the March 2011 Fast Company, I read about a class called “Designing Happiness” taught by Stanford researcher, Jennifer Aaker; in that class there was a blackboard-sized mural …

It is a patchwork of 1,300 snapshots of everyday moments: mangoes, pink Converse sneakers, cupcakes, beer pong, clean laundry, a convertible, and Halloween. With its bright yellow border, the mural is titled “This Makes Me Happy.” Aaker points to a photo of a latte, its brown and white foam swirled into the shape of a flower. The froth, she tells me, was her happy moment of that day. [...]

She also had them use a custom-built smartphone app to take at least one photo of a happy moment every day for 30 days, and then rate each moment on a scale of 1 to 10 to quantify their feelings. Soon, the class saw patterns.

They learned that the anticipation of a pleasurable experience feels as good as finishing an onerous task (like a marathon or an exam). They discovered that a meaningful experience (acquiring a new skill, volunteering, or spending time with family) often makes people happier than moments of pure pleasure. And they learned that happiness shifts with age. Younger people feel happiest when they are excited, while older people equate happiness with peacefulness.

I’m creating that mural now, too, though I guess instead of it being a vision board, it’s more of a present board.

***

My quest for zest is not about going from Eeyore to Pollyanna in 60 seconds, but there is something to that which rings true.

In launching this project, I am doing so to harvest my happy thoughts, to build my reservoir of positivity, and to allow for and invite whatever else emerges from this shift.

I will be blogging often, journaling offline, updating on Facebook, and am toying with the starting a daily zest photo pool on Flickr echoing Aacker’s happy moments mural (without the attention to quantifying the feelings for research!).

Tell me, experts of your own lives, what else could I do to capture these positive moments in my quest for zest? Feel free to comment here or on Facebook, or send me an email (karen at karenpery dot com). I’ll try just about anything for this, so long as it is easy, fun, and possibly inspiring.  And thanks! I really appreciate it.

How could you not when your child looks like this?

Oh, the heartache!

***

I’ve been writing something with the intent to publish it for a few weeks, but I never post something that doesn’t honestly reflect where I am in the moment.  (Noted: if it’s taken weeks to write, likely the moment has passed.)

I had written a small treatise on my pursuit of happiness (aka zest!*), and my commitment to find more, to be more, to see more joy and adventure in my world.

It is real and true.

Yet there is a part that was as incongruous as my description of my six year-old next to the images of her hopping around in the yard.

I’d made a big point about how sometimes I feel lost, like I am untethered from my dreams (true). That sometimes I feel like I’m phoning it in, doing what needs to get done to pass the days (also true).

And as I was thinking and writing this, my intuition went into overdrive. Something was missing! Where there is truth, there could be an equal and opposite truth. There are two sides to the coin.You can be lost and still be solidly grounded in the present. You can impatiently and half-heartedly pack lunches and still be a good mother.

Into my mind popped a conversation I had with my rabbi about living more consistently with my values, integrating the practices of my beliefs into my life with care, intention, great spirit and connection and how I am often frustrated with feeling like I’m not doing enough, knowing I could do more.

The rabbi wisely said (in so many words), you want consistency? To always act the same? To constantly move forward, reaching only towards your potential and never falling short?

Get over it. You’re human. You have ups and downs. Such is life.

My coach’s words echoed in my head: savor what’s happening, stop looking for what’s missing.

Then I read the words of another great teacher, Karen Kimsey-House. In her post “Water the Fruit Trees, Not the Thorns,” she writes about her experience in a class on body image, in the incongruity of how we see ourselves and how others see us:

I remember being shocked at the vast discrepancy between what these women saw when they looked at themselves in the mirror and what I saw. At times, it was as if we were looking at two completely different images. When it came my turn, I was once again surprised at the discrepancy between what I saw and what others saw. Except this time, the roles were reversed. I was the one standing in front of the mirror. As I heard the words of others, my image of myself began to shift.

There is truth in my struggle, of course. But there is also a greater truth that I am tapping into, something quite the opposite of struggling. The image I have of my life has begun to shift. I can’t keep thinking that my life isn’t one great adventure when all the evidence that surrounds me tells me that it is.

I am working from a new perspective in which I am engaged in living my story as an epic tale, filled with romance, intrigue, hope and laughter. I find my old story — the mental soap opera, not the life history — tired and boring.

It’s time for a new chapter; this marks the beginning of my quest for zest.*

What is your quest?

*Per the VIA Survey, the quality of Zest/Enthusiasm/Energy is defined as regardless of what you do, you approach it with excitement and energy. You never do anything halfway or halfheartedly. For you, life is an adventure.

I’ve been working with my coach for almost a year and a half. I hired him more than a year after I’d met him, and several months after a discussion we had where he said things to me no one else would dare to say to me that compelled me into motion.  For a year, his words hung around in my head: “If you ever need someone to kick your butt, give me a call.” (By the way, he said kind and lovely things, too.)

I imagine situations as metaphors when I hear what’s happening with my clients at the start of a call; for some, it feels heavy, plodding and cumbersome, as though their feet are deeply immersed in thick mud, or it’s like they are tentatively discovering a new path through a light misty fog – unsure of which way to turn. Perhaps they are finding difficulty listening to themselves and tuning into the clear station of their inner wisdom with all the other noise, static and competing signals they are getting.

In my sessions, I feel like I’m tangled up in a big jumbled word search. I grasp for adequate language. I notice myself unconsciously holding onto my breath — as though the hesitation of speaking some thoughts out loud will somehow diffuse them.

A visual interpretation

If I were being self-critical, I’d tell you that I overthink things, but I don’t judge myself as harshly as I used to. (In my house, we are divided into two factions, the Talk-A-Lots and the Think-A-Lots. I am one of the latter.) It’s fair to say, though, that my mind is a fertile place of wonder and analysis, and in my service, my coach works with me to pull apart the ideas and concepts that propel and detain me, to get clear, to bring what’s unconscious present.

I heard Dave Logan speak a few months ago on The Three Laws of Performance; loosely paraphrasing some of his key points, when we change the words we use, we change how things occur to us (and to others). In coaching, words are our tools, our playground, our board room. When our words change, our worlds change.

I often cry in sessions (my coach says, “humans leak” – without judgement or attachment to the tears). Just as often, we laugh. Some of the stuff we come up with … well, outside of a session it would just sound absurd. You hire a coach to get a different perspective, some objectivity where you have none. It’s like having someone else hear you think, who then asks questions to discover how you feel, what makes sense, and what will move you forward.

When it comes to moving, we do move through stuff at a rapid pace, except when we don’t. I noticed after a period of time that my notes from our sessions reflected the same things in different words.

I asked, “am I circling the drain?”  His response: your stuff is your stuff and it’s going to keep showing up until it doesn’t.

I believe this to be true, and even though I have a hard time trusting in my growth, I do it anyway. I’ve never felt more myself.

***

I’m an active Facebook user and I engage in it pretty frequently in my day to day. On that Thursday night, as I scanned my Facebook feed while delaying my American Idol results viewing (and simultaneously seething reflecting on the conflict earlier in the day), a handful of friends had posted SHOCKING SPOILERS!

Of course it isn’t life or death to know something before you intend to know it (or even to save the comfy chair when someone else wants to sit there); in practicality, knowing the results in advance saved me an hour of TV time, but the surprise is part of the fun for me, just like talking about as soon as possible is part of the fun for someone else. It’s not something I would do, but it happened. It’s a failure in the invocation of The Golden Rule. What bothers me doesn’t necessarily bother you, but it still bothers me and that doesn’t make me wrong or you wrong either.

***

As a recovering perfectionist, the idea of being wrong doesn’t always sit well with me, but I’ve opened up a lot. In my work, ANY and EVERY time I lead a workshop or begin a coaching relationship, I start with one simple rule: no one gets to be wrong. Not you, not me. You might not like your results, and I might try something that doesn’t work but it doesn’t make us, or what happened, wrong.

What’s even better? There is something beautifully right in being wrong, too. After watching this TED Talk and getting its core message (I thought one thing was going to happen, but instead, something else did), I began to consider a hundred different things that didn’t happen the way I thought they would, and how my life is better for both the things that have happened and the amazing and wonderful things that didn’t.

I might start looking for ways to be wrong just to see what happens.

Joss Stone: Right to Be Wrong

Zen Habits: 18 Practical Tips for Living the Golden Rule

The shop had a nice buzz of activity – not too busy, not too empty. Sometimes when I go, I have to jockey for a table and chair, but not today. Today I got the comfy chairs. A treat!

As I eased myself into the chair and positioned myself with the stacks of stuff that define my zone as my mobile office, another patron approached me and asked if the neighboring seat was available.

With utmost sincerity, I replied that I was expecting someone, so no, the seat was not available. Without pause, she questioned reproached me: you can’t save seats! How do you know when they’ll arrive? Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? A half hour? Why don’t you sit somewhere else until your party arrives? You don’t need two chairs! It’s just not right, she told me. You can’t do that.  It’s not cool.

I looked at her with an expression that, had I seen my own reflection, most likely resembled the way my puppy looks at me most of the time. With confusion and befuddlement, I responded.

I’m sorry, I offered. I expect the rest of my party to arrive at any moment.

She left and I assumed we were done. With so many open places to sit, so many empty chairs and empty tables, I didn’t feel obligated to make other arrangements for myself in the interim.

I was, after all, there first.

I noticed her talking to the store manager, saw her shuffling about with her newspaper and pastry. Abruptly, she assumed the seat next to me.

It’s not right, she said again. Not cool at all. She told me that she would sit there until my guest arrived, and when that happened, either she or I would find another seat.

Puzzled, that’s what I was. Yes, the seat was technically not occupied. No, it was not my own office where I might influence who sits where and for how long. I sat with my internal dialog, feeling my anger, confusion, indignation, accommodation, questioning, boundaries threatened, wanting to make nice and yet not wanting to be nice at all.

I’m a rules follower at heart, as well as being hypersensitive to the unstated norms and operating conditions that define a space or relationship. If I was in the “wrong,” I’d adjust, but I wasn’t sure that I was, or wasn’t.

On the screen of my iPhone was an open e-mail which included a practice in becoming present. Well, wasn’t that just a fine moment of irony. I glared at my device, reading along and attempting to follow … I gently slammed my eyes shut, scanning my body for where I had internalized this conflict. I noticed that my head was tingling, I imagined myself as a cartoon character who’s hair was a flaming inferno, a raging wildfire out of control.  No, not cool at all.

As if on cue, my guest arrived. We greeted, and the other patron didn’t move. We exchanged pleasantries, having not seen each other in person in several months, and the other patron didn’t move. There we were, this awkward troika, caught in a weird musical chairs-chicken-fight moment.

Now what?

She saw us there, and she didn’t move.

I didn’t move either.

(They are exceptionally comfortable chairs.)

Now, I’m no stranger to talking to strangers in coffee shops. But picking fights? Not my thing. And yet, I believed we had an understanding and agreement, a certain expectation, so I braved the question: ma’am, will you please excuse us? My guest has arrived, and since you offered to find another seat, would you mind doing that now?

The line of questioning that followed baffles me. Eventually my fellow patron decided that because my guest and I were in a professional relationship (which she believed was most likely true only after interviewing my client friend), she would vacate the comfy chair.

And life went on.

***

Parallel to this external conversation was my internal conversation: what’s really happening here? What’s most important? How do we co-exist in this situation where neither is right or wrong? What exactly am I saying no to? What is uncomfortable about this? What is it I can’t be with? Where am I taking a stand? Where am I compromising? What am I compromising? On what can I not compromise? Who am I being in this moment? What is my responsibility? What am I learning or what do I need to learn to be complete about this? What is the impact I am creating? What is the cost of being “right?”

I’m stumped. This one might take me a while.

I made my first vision board a few years ago because my coach assigned it to me as homework. I scoffed at the idea. Questioned her judgement. Challenged her (oh yes, I’m that  kind of client). The concept of the vision board felt way too woo woo for me.

I didn’t buy the idea, but I had bought my coach’s time and expertise. Since she said to do it, I did. I’m stubborn but willing like that. Sometimes.

Anyway, I sat with a pile of magazines and tore out words and images that moved me or resonated with me in some way. (Martha Beck gives great instruction on how to do this in an O Magazine article.) I glued them onto a piece of poster board. I sent my coach the picture and basically waited for the magic to happen.

***

Mine is a wordy thing: wonder, vision, home, curiosity, support, freedom, let your inspiration become reality, grateful, vibrant, hope, belief, change, nurture, frolic, play, connections, celebrations, heart, moving forward, reinvention, sanctuary, thrive, embrace calm, the thrill of choosing which way to go, lighten (and brighten) up!, energy, nourish, dare, explore, make a difference, be your own boss, amazing mom, share what you know, give back, parents gone wild, love forever, best friends, strength, surprises, dreams, give thanks, find happiness, indulge every day, active, creative, compromise nothing, life is magnifique!

As I read them now, I see these words and phrases as core to how I see myself and the world — though I don’t know that I knew (or believed) that when I created the map. Those chosen words are essentially my personal mission statement.

And the images?

Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you that I was both in a hot air balloon and the top of the Eiffel Tower in 2010 even though I’d put both on my vision board a year before.

***

A vision board gives you a place to go, even when you’re not sure of the direction you’re headed.

The idea I have about vision boards is this: there is a place in our subconscious from which we gather information that is unlike any other source. I play with words like intuition or inner wisdom to suggest that one can look inward to create, not needing to go anywhere else for guidance or validation. There is no right or wrong answer. Vast openness and possibility are born from imagination. Being able to quiet all the noise of shoulds and expectations of how things are “supposed” to be, and really, realllllly listen, deeply and intently, ideas emerge that guide future actions.

Now, glue those ideas on a piece of paper, and you’ve got yourself a vision board.

Filed under: choices ]]> http://karenpery.wordpress.com/2011/05/10/inner-vision/feed/ 0 Karen vision http://karenpery.wordpress.com/2010/10/27/birth/ http://karenpery.wordpress.com/2010/10/27/birth/#comments Wed, 27 Oct 2010 20:49:44 +0000 Karen Pery http://karenpery.wordpress.com/?p=761 Continue reading »

I just repurposed a piece of my writing in a new space about my daughter’s birth – not so much the story of the birth itself, but the shift that happened that gave room for her to be born.

It’s easy to see when babies are born. Ideas, less so.

The idea for Motherhood Reinvented came about one rainy day in January almost three years ago. The idea itself was a big one, and following it has since changed the course of my life and at least a few others along the way. It’s been amazing!

I’ve had some big realizations in the past year that have had me looking at what it all means. Am I my brand? What is this work I’m doing? Who am I helping? What is the impact? Who am I? Where am I going?

What’s interesting and noteworthy, to me at least, is that the baby that was born on that rainy day in January doesn’t look the same to me anymore.

It was bound to happen.

I mean, look at the evidence. All I have to do is look in the mirror.

(top) Me, around age 4.

(bottom) Me, around age 40.

Same girl.

(But time and experience certainly changes how we look and how we look at things.)

All that said, this is the long and short way of explaining that I’ve moved. I’m closing the doors of Motherhood Reinvented on November 1. I’m still doing phenomenal, life changing work with incredible people, but I’m doing it in a bigger and broader sense that can’t be contained in this womb for another minute.

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