Archive for the ‘Life and Leadership’ Category
April 7th, 2015
About three weeks ago, I was driving my Prius to a trailhead about 10 miles from town when the “maintenance required” alert came on. It’s still on because I still haven’t taken the car in for its service, or to have it looked at for anything that may need repaired.
Howdy.
Seeing this alert always reminds me of what it feels like when I’m not honoring a value, or when I’m ignoring or avoiding something or someone yearning for my attention.
In my work with others, and in my own life, I emphasize and value the importance of having clarity about who and what are most important, and knowing what our values are. Having this awareness is critical to our well being. The more self awareness and clarity we have, the more we feel it when we ignore these people or things that matter so much to us, or when we fail to honor our values. It’s as if our own “service engine soon”, or “maintenance required” alert comes on.
Is this happening for you right now?
I’m not talking about feelings of guilt, necessarily, but those can also provide constructive signals. I view feelings of guilt as being those twinges (or feelings similar to heavy bricks weighting us down) that we experience when we’re not delivering on others’ expectations of us. Guilt, by the way, isn’t always a negative thing, despite the inconvenience it often causes us.
Brené Brown said it best in a post called Shame v. Guilt: I believe that guilt is adaptive and helpful – it’s holding something we’ve done or failed to do up against our values and feeling psychological discomfort.
I define shame as the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging – something we’ve experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection.
I have grown to sense when I’m not fulfilling a value or relationship in the way I would like to. Some examples: I want to have meaningful connections with each of my three sons on a regular basis – several times each day. I want the same with my husband. I want to carve out time to spend with my mom and my dad, my closest friends, and so on. When I’m not honoring any of these wishes, I sense it. It’s like a signal or an alert. Sometimes it can be many signals going off at once. Usually, for me, these “signals” come in the form of waking in the night and realizing what is out of check.
Another example is writing. I want to write more frequently. This is an important goal of mine. And yet I haven’t been honoring it. (My last post here was March 16!)
Like the “maintenance required” alert that is currently on (and has been for 3 weeks!), when I drive my Prius, when we ignore or fail to honor a relationship or value that’s important to us, we can probably continue to ignore it for a while without major consequence. But sooner or later, if it goes unchecked, it’s also possible that we’ll find ourselves a little (or a lot) broken down on the side of the road.
Thankfully, tending to our people, values and goals – our best, most Epic life – is something we have control over.
I dare you to take a minute – or 5 minutes – right now. Reflect on signals you’re receiving/feeling but ignoring. Address one or more of them TODAY. I think that you’ll find that your life will almost suddenly feel more at ease. You will immediately be happier.
As for me, I wrote this post. I’m also going to reach out to some people I haven’t been making a high enough priority. And, I think I’ll schedule an appointment for my Prius this week – if for no other reason than to get the alert to go away. 🙂
Thank you so much for reading. I would love to hear from you. Please feel free to share about your own “alerts” or anything you’d like to contribute to this topic and post.
March 16th, 2015
“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”–Joseph Campbell
Hi there.
If you want to be uncomfortable and exhilarated all at once, enter a deep, dark cave.
I hope you’ll read this post to the end. In it, I’ll cover 3 things: 1) I’ll share about an exciting local caving adventure; 2) I’ll share why I think it’s scary – and important – for us to enter caves; and, 3) I will share thoughts from a blind person that provided discoveries for me that will hopefully serve as insights for you.
GOING CAVING
I live in Lander, Wyoming. Nearby Sinks Canyon State Park is home to many caves. The one I am most familiar with is the Boulder Choke Cave. My family has embarked on the adventure, and I have taken a group of women I was coaching into the cave. Most recently, I’ve been taking turns going with my sons’ classes when they explore the cave as part of their science curriculum. About a month ago, I went along as a helper with our 7th grader son, Hayden, and his classmates and teachers.
To start the caving adventure, we hike from an area called The Rise to what is an unassuming hillside. It is here, in between a few small boulders, that we’ll enter the cave. One by one, we carefully maneuver down through the tight “entrance” of the cave – a series of boulders that are by nature, stacked randomly and vertically. Entering the Boulder Choke Cave is a psychological experience. After all, you go from being above ground, out in the open, illuminated by bright sunshine, to deep underneath it after only a few strategic moves. If not for our headlamps, we’d be in total darkness almost immediately.
Crawling deeper into the cave.
Once in the cave, we start on all fours, crawling for a stretch before we can stand up and walk and examine the cave all around us. A highlight is a section where we swing on a big rope to get down a small chute. Otherwise, this crawling-then-walking-then-crawling continues for most of the one-hour exploration.
For this year’s tour, though, there was new side trip added, which meant not only a belly crawl, but a belly crawl in a very tight tunnel that goes for about 25 yards to a little pool where we were fortunate enough to spy and watch a cave fish. This little side trip was such a tight tunnel that I had to remove my thin backpack or I would have gotten stuck.
As I crawled, my face smashed against the dank dirt of the tunnel’s floor, I imagined I was an inchworm. I used all of my body to scooch myself forward and slightly uphill as I followed a student in front of me, whose feet were pretty much in my face. During this stretch, my breath kept hitching, meaning I kept making little gasps. Aware of my anxiety, I stopped and took some deep breaths and coached myself to calm down. I won’t lie – I was looking forward to getting this part over with. Two things made it even worse: Finding out during this crawl that this was an out-and-back side trip that meant doing this not once but twice, and also, realizing that no matter how uncomfortable this was, I had nowhere to go to get out of it. To make matter worse, I imagined what it would be like if someone above ground decided to lock the cave’s entrance gate, locking us in. Good times…
Why do most of us avoid and fear caves and otherwise tight, dark places? I think it’s because we can’t see, which means there is a lot of unknown territory when we enter a cave. Not only can we not see anything, but the darkness that causes us to not be able to see our surroundings is scary in its own right. We often think of dragons and snakes and bats and spiders and other sneaky, nocturnal creatures. There is also a feeling of not knowing if you’ll be able to find your way out, or even if there is a way out.
When Joseph Campbell said “The cave we fear to enter holds the treasure,” he meant we ought to dare to explore the dark, scary places of our lives. The corners and edges of our beings. And that in doing so, in exchange for our being uncomfortable and brave, we will make a discovery and in fact even be rewarded with a treasure – “the treasure you seek.”
A fan of Joseph Campbell’s work – particularly the Hero’s Journey, which I use as a template for my Epic programs – I often dare the people I coach, who are feeling “stuck,” to identify the caves in their lives. These caves can be a particular relationship or past event, a bad habit, a way of being or coping, a place of pain and heartbreak – anything that would require us to be vulnerable and to enter the unknown for purposes of exploring it and trying to release its hold (and limitations) on our life.
Campbell argued the trips into our caves are worthwhile ones. “The goal of the hero trip down to the jewel point is to find those levels in the psyche that open, open, open, and finally open to the mystery of your Self.” He said, “It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life…. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for.”
Still, exploring our caves is a tall order. When we enter a cave, sometimes we have to belly crawl through passages to see where they lead. Sometimes we have to slay dragons. But often, it’s just a matter of entering the cave and sitting – being – in its darkness for some time, learning, before exiting and using the experience for the journey ahead that is your life.
Right now, take a minute and try to identify a “cave” in your life. I wouldn’t ask you to do something I’m not willing to do, so I’m thinking about my cave(s) too… Entering our caves is terrifying, but if we really value our life, it’s important that we do the work.
TOTAL DARKNESS
But back to my real life caving field trip. Alas, that little exciting side trip did eventually end, and after returning and regrouping at the “lunchroom” section of the cave, David Lloyd, the 7th grade science teacher, instructed us to turn off our headlamps and to sit in silence.
My favorite part of the caving adventure is this brief moment when we sit in silence and total darkness. Even as a mother of three energetic sons, I am fortunate to experience silence often. But total darkness? If not for these caving adventures, never.
Sitting in total silence and darkness is an experience I can’t find words to describe. All I can say is in this total darkness you cannot even see your hand in front of your face. Your eyes don’t adjust like they do when you’re at home at night and “in the dark.”
After one minute of silence and total darkness, we were instructed to turn our lights back on. After we did this, I could hear Mr. Lloyd and some students talking about the total darkness we had just experienced, and Mr. Lloyd asked, “I wonder if it is like that all of the time for people who are blind?” or something to that effect. It was a great question, and I wondered about it, too. Curious, I made a mental note to reach out to my social networks later in the day to try to connect with someone who is blind in order to ask them that question.
Upon my return from the caving field trip, I logged into Twitter and asked my followers if any of them could connect me with a blind person. Within an hour, a contact from eTourism Summit (Laurie Farr), replied saying she would introduce me to her sister, Wendy Poth, who has been without sight for 52 years.
After an email introduction from Laurie, Wendy and I scheduled a phone call. Once on the phone, I asked Wendy, “As a blind person, do you live in total darkness?”
Her responses to this question, and others, were surprising and fascinating.
“I am without sight, totally blind. I can’t see a bloody thing,” explained Wendy, who is 60. When she was almost eight, a genetic defect that causes others to become near-sighted, caused Wendy to lose her sight.
But just because she can’t see a bloody thing, doesn’t mean she can’t see. Wendy explained, “My camera is broken, but there’s nothing wrong with the film. My visual tape is constantly running. Seeing is really a brain activity. It’s not a virtue of the camera – the eyes – at all. What I cannot do is see nothing. Because my visual cortex is active and alive and firing… I’ve constantly got a picture in my head.”
Wendy added that a person without sight not only does not live in total darkness, he/she will have a harder time experiencing total darkness than those of us who have our sight. Wendy explained that when she walks into an unfamiliar place, “I can hear that the room is tall and long and not that wide, and I hear people standing around talking, and I hear sound bouncing off a chandelier or I can hear people talking at a lower level so I assume they’re sitting down, if there’s three, they’re on a couch… I constantly ‘fill in.'”
Because she’s used to filling in empty spaces, Wendy said she’d have a hard time imagining total darkness. If she were in a cave, she’d be filling in information she senses. “I struggle to see nothing,” she said. “When I want to allow myself to do that drifting… I have trouble giving up my visual cortex.”
Wendy’s generosity and sharing with me provided an insight into people who have no sight – people we refer to as blind. For one, it might be better to refer to people who have no sight as people who have no sight, rather than blind people.
It wasn’t easy for me to reach out and talk for the first time to someone who cannot see, and to dare to ask questions that would fulfill my selfish curiosities. But the treasure of going into that cave was learning, gaining new understanding, and making a new friend.
Near the end of our phone call, Wendy said something that really struck me: “Black is something. If you think about the color spectrum… black is the opposite of what people would intuit. Black is not the absence of all.”
Perhaps this is why when we enter a cave, be it a literal one or one of the emotional caves we fear to enter, we can’t see anything, and yet we can feel that something is there…
Thank you for reading my blog. As usual, I’d love to hear from you below in the comments. Share an experience or ask a question – whatever. I’m just happy to be connected to you. Thanks again.
February 11th, 2015
“The years tell us what the days cannot.”
Hi there.
I don’t know whose words these are, but I love them. How often do we go through events or struggles that frustrate us and make no sense at the time, but then later make all the sense?
I wrote here last time that one of my resolutions for 2015 is to write more frequently. To help me do this, I challenged our two older sons, who also want to write or create more regularly, to join me in a game where we draw a card from our Reverse Charades game every week and whatever word or phrase is on the card is what we have to write about. (The last card/topic was bald eagle.)
This week’s card is basketball. Drawing this card is requiring me to write about something that has been in my “mental queue” for several months now, waiting to be shared.
A short detour first, though. Around the same time I first heard “the years tell us what the days cannot” quote, I was in conversation with the Missoula YMCA to facilitate some leadership development for its leaders. I love Missoula, and it will always be a particularly special place for me. After all, I came of age in Missoula. I received my college degree there, started my first career job there, and I got married there.
But I left Missoula 22 years ago, and I hadn’t thought too much about the town, or my years there. That was, until I heard the “the years tell us what the days cannot” quote and was faced with the prospects of returning to Missoula for some work. These two things caused me to look back and connect the dots of my past in a way I hadn’t previously done. In doing so, I made all kinds of significant realizations, most of which are the result of what was probably my most spectacular failure, which is 100% related the subject of the card we drew for this week, basketball.
As most of you know, I’m an outdoor enthusiast. I hike. A lot. As in, 1,000 miles a year. But during my youth I wasn’t much into the outdoors. Rather, my passion was basketball, and I was pretty good at it. In fact, I received a full ride Division I basketball scholarship to University of Montana in 1986. If you aren’t aware, the University of Montana Lady Griz basketball team is legendary. The Lady Griz coach is also legendary. Robin Selvig is in his 33rd year as coach of the Lady Griz, and has led 22 of his winning teams to the NCAA Division I playoffs. The Lady Griz inspire awe and almost always win. If my research is correct, Lady Griz teams win about 80% of the games they play.
But back to me. So there I was in Fall of 1986, a Lady Griz. Let me try to describe what that was like… For starters, most of the my teammates were very tall, as in 6 feet tall and up. Tall is not a word anyone ever used to describe me. If I round up, I’m 5′ 5″. Every single player was phenomenal, and better than any player I had ever played or practiced with. In the world of basketball, I had arrived. Despite the amazing talent surrounding me, and feeling a little out of my league, I was eager and excited to level up, and to be a part of such a dynasty. I worked really hard, and was optimistic.
Unfortunately, about a month in, I blew my right knee (ACL) out in practice. I was redshirted, and began recovering from ACL reconstructive surgery and rehabilitating my knee. The injury was a setback, but I followed the doctor’s orders, worked as hard as I could, and was determined to make a comeback.
In the end, I didn’t come back fast enough. During my rehab, other point guards were recruited, and the truth of the matter is my ship had sailed. In year 3, Coach Selvig and I had a meeting. I’ll never forget that meeting because it marked the first difficult conversation I had ever had with an adult other than my parents. In that meeting, coach Selvig more or less informed me that there was another player who had walked on, who was performing better than I was, and as such, was more deserving of the scholarship. These were hard words for me to accept. Still, Coach was kind, and encouraged me to stay on the team.
I left the office and never returned to the team. I quit.
I’ll be honest, when I first looked back over all of this, it seemed trivial. I mean, losing a basketball scholarship, in the big picture of life, is not a huge deal. To be sure, things could have been much worse. But I was 20 years old, a long way from home, feeling humiliated and alone, not to mention the path I had been on – the only one I had a map for – was no longer my path.
Remember – the years tell us what the days cannot. During my recent look back at all of this, I realized the things I did in the months following my aforementioned failure not only made a significant difference in my life during that time, but continue to inform my life, and my work. Let me share a little about what those things were/are:
HIKING
“In every walk with nature, one receives more than he seeks.” (John Muir)
One of the first things I did once I didn’t have basketball was I started hiking. I hiked to the “M”, located right on the edge of the UM campus. Soon after, I was hiking past the M, and all the way to the top of Mt. Sentinel, sometimes every day of the week. It was the combination of moving under my own power, feeling my heart pumping, letting my mind wander, and the feeling of fresh air and sun on my face that caused me to fall in love with hiking. Add to that, I always felt inspired following my hikes.
Today, one of my biggest passions is long distance day hiking. I view my time walking in nature as one of my competitive advantages – one of the secrets to my happiness and physical and mental health. Hiking is also a significant part of my family’s life, and my work. In November, I returned to Missoula for work with the YMCA, and I got up before sunrise to hike to the top of Mt. Sentinel. What an amazing experience that was, having come as far as I have, and given so much of my epic life started on that very trail 26 years ago. I don’t know what my life would be like if I didn’t have hiking, and the fact is, I did not really start hiking until I no longer played basketball.
SOLITUDE
“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.” (Joseph Campbell)
After I lost my scholarship, I remained friends with the Lady Griz players. But the fact was my world was now different from theirs, and I needed to find my new way. At first, this meant spending a significant amount of time alone. Spending time alone, and in solitude, was a completely new experience for my then-social self. Previously, I had thought of solitude as an activity for the lonely. Wow – how naive and wrong I was.
During time alone, we are available only to our self, and we are able to listen to our thoughts, including the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s a time to take stock, to reflect, to solve problems, to experience our feelings, and to imagine our dreams.
Socrates said “Know thyself.” In my humble opinion, self awareness is our most important pursuit, if we are to be our best, and live our best life. I believe that solitude is the medium for self realization, and that’s why I challenge everyone I work with to incorporate some of it into their life. Until losing my basketball scholarship, I had never invested much time in solitude. It was 26 years ago that I discovered the value of solitude, and I can’t imagine my life without it.
BOOKS
“Man does not simply exist but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become the next moment. By the same token, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant.” (Viktor Frankl)
Until the months after losing my scholarship and quitting basketball, I wasn’t much of a reader. Sure, I read books that were assigned in school, but that was about it. I just didn’t love reading. That all changed when one of my journalism school professors, who knew I was having a little bit of a hard time, shared a copy of Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor Frankl. I was so inspired by Frankl’s story of surviving the Holocaust, and an Auschwitz concentration camp. Frankl’s belief that we get to choose our existence helped me to realize it was up to me how I would respond to my circumstances, and that I had the ability to create meaning in my life. Reading the book also put my struggles in perspective real fast!
Reading Frankl’s work not only provided wisdom and inspiration during a time when I needed it, it also marked the start of my love affair with books, and reading. Today I am a voracious reader. I read 50+ books a year, and find them to be a tremendous source of inspiration and knowledge. I can’t imagine a life without books and a lot of time spent reading.
LEVELING UP
“We cannot lower the mountain, therefore we must elevate ourselves.” (Todd Skinner)
People who know me and work with me hear me say, frequently: We can go farther than we think we can. I believe this so much that it could be my personal slogan. Marcus Aurelius, the great emperor of Rome from 161-180, and known for his Meditations on Stoic philosophy, said “We know that deep down we learn and benefit from failure and adversity.” And Benjamin Franklin said “The things which hurt, instruct.”
Playing on the Lady Griz basketball team was one of my first opportunities to level up. Not having what it took caused me to reinvent myself and create a new path for myself at a relatively early age. It caused me to turn trial into triumph. Perhaps, then, it’s no coincidence that my mission is to inspire others to explore their edges, to “sign up for” and try things that are so challenging that the outcome is uncertain – to dare to fail.
There is one more thing I want to mention before writing the conclusion to this post. I am grateful for my time on the Lady Griz team. It was an amazing experience, and I made many good friends who I am still in touch with. It was truly an honor and a privilege to play for coach Selvig, and to be a member of such a great program.
Finally, upon making all of these realizations, I have come to the biggest realization of all, and that is that my spectacular failure was not a failure at all, but rather an opportunity to learn and become more than I was before.
Thank you for reading this blog post. My hope is that it will inspire you to look back on your own life and connect the dots to recall particular struggles and to see the difference they may have made, or continue to make, in your life, and to help you trust that somehow things you’re challenged by in your current life will connect to your future and make sense one day.
And, of course, I’d love it if you’d consider sharing a story in the comments. Thanks again!
Books I recommend that are related to all of the above:
January 27th, 2015
Hi there.
We have three sons. Our oldest, Wolf, 14, is a budding writer. He’s working on his second book and really wants to have it be published. Recently, when our family shared our new year’s resolutions and discussed our family’s goals for 2015, Wolf shared he wants to write more this year.
I’ve also been yearning to do more writing. When we had our first company, I wrote about 100,000 words of copy every year for YellowstonePark.com, Yellowstone Journal, and 99 Things to Do in Yellowstone Country. When we sold the company to Active Interest Media, and I began my personal and professional reinventions, I wrote 200+ blog posts on HaveMediaWillTravel.com. That was between 2009-2013. If you visit my HaveMediaWillTravel blog, you’ll see my last blog was in – gasp – November of 2013.
I have resolved that in 2015, I will write more. I will publish more blog posts here, and I will also return to adventure and travel writing on my HaveMediaWillTravel blog.
About a week ago, Wolf was saying, given his goal to be a writer and to finish his book, he was really disappointed in himself for not writing more. I shared that I was struggling on the same front. I referenced “The Resistance” that Steven Pressfield writes about in The War of Art. I shared the excerpt about procrastination: “Procrastination is the most common manifestation of Resistance because it’s the easiest to rationalize. We don’t tell ourselves, ‘I’m never going to write my symphony.’ Instead we say, ‘I’m going to write my symphony; I’m just going to start it tomorrow.'”
I’m big on intentions and commitments. As a life and leadership coach, I’m always challenging my clients to develop rituals. If we want to be in the best shape of our life, we have to eat the right foods and move our bodies on a regular basis. If we want to be writers, we need to write on a regular basis. If we want to be mindful, we need to practice meditation or mindfulness on a regular basis. These all need to be practices – rituals – if we are to take our goals seriously.
I suggested to Wolf that we pull a card from Reverse Charades (a game our family occasionally plays) and we’ll write for 15 minutes about that topic. (I’m not sure Wolf is on board or not, but I’m guessing he will be – especially if there is extra popcorn or hot chocolate involved.)
The card I drew is bald eagle.
The card I drew for this week's writing topic.
When I drew the card, many memories of bald eagle sightings came to the surface of my recall. But one stands out more than the others.
In 1992, newly married to my awesome husband, Jerry, I was finishing my second year as an advertising consultant at the Missoulian daily newspaper. It was my first career job after graduating from the University of Montana Journalism school and it was a good one! But I was growing a little bored with sales and eager to cut my teeth on the other aspects of publishing.
At the time, my parents were owners or part owners of several community newspapers, including the Winner Advocate in Winner, South Dakota. At that time the newspaper was struggling. If Jerry and I wanted to make a go at it as publishers, the opportunity was ours. (Come to think of it, I have got to be one of the only persons in the world who had a great job in Missoula who chose to move out of Missoula?)
I remember my mom trying to talk us out of it. She knew how much I loved Missoula, and Winner is a lot different from Missoula. But we had made up our mind. Jerry, who’s a teacher, (in his 20th year of teaching), at the time was also eager to try his hand at operating a business.
We moved on Christmas day of 1992. It was the worst Christmas ever! I was throwing up-sick, and literally having to pull our uHaul over every 30 minutes to “get sick.”
As we left the mountains and foothills of Missoula, about 15 miles out of town, a bald eagle swooped down and flew parallel to us. It was a spectacular and unforgettable sight as the eagle stayed with us for what was a significant amount of time.
Bald eagle in flight. (Carole Robertson photo)
Seeing the eagle was a highlight of an otherwise challenging trip, what we me being so sick, and then driving in white out blizzard conditions for much of the way, and I was, as I mentioned, quite ill.
But, after 14 hours, we were finally approaching what would be our new home base, Winner. As we entered the area, a pheasant swooped in front of us.
Pheasant. (Photo by Tom Koerner/USFWS)
It was then that we realized we had traded eagles for pheasants. (There are eagles near Winner, but there are more pheasants. Winner is known for being “the pheasant hunting capital of the world.”) And, for the record, pheasants are also amazing birds. I guess I say we traded eagles for pheasants to say that, at least in our case, we traded a wonderful experience for a learning experience.
We lived in Winner for almost 2 years. It was a challenging experience and I missed the mountains, but the people were wonderful, and it was one of the greatest learning experiences I’ve ever had. Jerry and I both agree that while we wouldn’t want to do it again, we wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I’m curious: What memory or story do you think of when you think of a bald eagle? Or, when was a time when you consciously traded a preferred experience for a challenging one?
January 11th, 2015
Go straight to the BROCHURE
If you are looking to change your life, then I’m looking for you.
But first, a quick backstory: I’m 47 years old, and over the years, at various times, I have needed to change my life. Working with a life coach on several occasions has helped me to transform my life.
What is a life coach? That is a great question, and one that I get asked often.
Hi there.
My 7-year-old son, Finis (“Fin”), once explained, “my mom takes people up tall mountains, and also talks to people on the phone at night and makes money while doing it.” Both are true. I guide people up tall mountains when clients sign up for a guided Epic Adventure with me, and, I often have coaching calls with clients in the evening to accommodate their busy schedules, for which I am paid.
Most of all, I do help people climb tall mountains – but they are their mountains, not mine. In the last 5 years, I’ve worked with, and coached, more than 100 individuals in some capacity. I’ve worked with women, men, and leadership teams. I’ve learned a lot from the work, and the people I champion.
Epic Life Offerings...
I describe what I do this way: Someone who wants to, or has to, climb a tall mountain – i.e. make, or endure, a big change in their life – will often enlist me as a coach to help them make the climb. People hire me when they’re thinking about (metaphorically) climbing the mountain, or when they are at the base of said mountain. Often I get “called in” when they’re already en route up the mountain but they hit a particularly difficult patch and they feel they can’t go it alone. They want to stay the course, but could use some help. Rather than bailing and giving up on the climb, they hire me as their coach.
In other words, I’m not a helicopter that gets called in. I’m not in the rescue business. Rather, people hire me to help them lean in and stay and persevere through the hard part(s) of their life. I’m in the championing and “guiding” business.
I’d love to work with you, or your organization. Please check out this brochure or email me to schedule a call.
January 9th, 2015
You have an Epic Life. The question is, are you living it?
We have a golden retriever named Buddy. He is such an awesome dog. He is our constant companion and a vital member of our family.
My Buddy – lying around and waiting...
Do you have a dog? If so, what is he/she doing right now? I know – what an odd question for a blog on this site. But stay with me, I’m getting to the point, and it’s a good one…
I live in Wyoming, in a small mountain town, and we get out a lot. (Our family’s rule is “if our fingernails aren’t dirty, we aren’t having fun.”) This is all to say that Buddy gets out. A. Lot.
But lately I’ve been so busy at my computer and on the phone developing my business and trying to book more clients and work, that days have gone by where Buddy doesn’t get out. When this happens, Buddy’s life is pretty mediocre. Sure, I keep him company. We’re home all day together as I work. I have great intentions… But mostly – and I’m very sad to admit this – Buddy is not paid enough attention when I’m consumed by my work.
So, Buddy moves around from couch to recliner to the floor, just laying there, waiting, and hoping that his master will get her hiking shoes on and motion for him to leave the house to go out and… live.
Seeing Buddy lay there, waiting to be tended to and played with, reminds me of my Epic Life – the times when it’s with me, but I’m not living it. I hope you’re doing better than I am this week! I resolve to do better by Buddy (and my epic life) next week…
Thank you for listening. I would love to hear your thoughts and get some comments and conversation going about this. 🙂
P.S. If you’re interested in life and leadership coaching, a keynote presenter to light a fire for your team or organization, leadership development facilitation, or a guided Epic adventure that’s bundled with life coaching and a training program that will get you in the best shape of your life, please check out this brochure or email me to schedule a call.
October 7th, 2014
What is something that you are wanting or needing to do, but you’re not doing it because it’s hard? You are afraid. Afraid you will fail. Afraid you will disappoint yourself, or others. Afraid you’ll look like a fool. Afraid it’s not a good idea. Afraid (insert your reason or fear here).
Name it. Then, do it. TODAY. I dare you… I would love for you to comment on what it is you’re going to finally do, and report back here so we know you did it. And I thank you in advance for doing so. The rest of us will learn from, and be inspired, by you.
I would never ask you to do anything I am not willing to do. So I’m going to do it too. For the record, I’m going to give up my cell phone on the weekends for 30 days. Specifically, I’m going to turn off my cell phone at 6pm on Friday evenings, and not turn it back on until 8am on Mondays. I’ll do this for the next 4 weekends. It’s a start. This is hard because I value connectivity and do quite a bit of sharing via the device that is my cell phone. In other words, I use it for good, and I am effective at not letting it suck my time. However, what I do allow it to do is distract me. It divides my attention.
When one of my sons is talking to me and I’m taking a photo or reading Brain Pickings on my phone in the morning, my multitasked attention bothers me. I’m tired of my attention being divided, and am grateful that I’m at choice about doing something about it!
Clay Shirky, author of Cognitive Surplus, and Here Comes Everybody, and professor of new media at NYU, says when he asks students to turn off their cell phones during class, “it’s as if someone has let fresh air into the room. The conversation brightens.” (See this article –– it’s a fascinating and worthwhile read for anyone looking to be more present in this time of technology-enabled multitasking.)
I want to move toward undivided attention, and this is how I will start to accomplish it. I encourage you to hold me accountable. (Just please don’t “patrol” me – simply support me. I will do the same for you)
Thanks, and good luck!
May 2nd, 2014
“The summit is for the ego and the journey is for the soul.” (origin unknown)
These were the words of our lead guide, Thomas Greene, of Sierra Mountaineering International, as we wrapped up our gear issue in the parking lot of the Dow Villa Motel in Lone Pine, California.
Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the Lower 48 states, and the mountain we had come to climb, loomed in the background.
I loved Thomas’s quote, and vowed to remember it for a future time when it would come in handy, such as in a speaking presentation, or during a future coaching session. At the moment, its relevance eluded me.
Months earlier, I began assembling a group of intrepid men and women to embark on a Mt. Whitney mountaineering trip. It marked the first co-ed epic adventure for Epic Life. Leann, Karla, Chuck, Helen, Craig, Cutter, Grant, Jackie, Jenni and Sonja came from near and far to climb the mountain.
Group photo at the start.
Our backpacks loaded, we convoyed to the Whitney Portal trailhead, and started up the trail. Our plan (Plan A) was to hike to Lower Boy Scout Lake for the first night, then on Day 2, advance to High Camp, from which we’d make our summit bid, and at which we’d spend 2 nights.
The first mile is a nice, well-used trail, and as is typical, and wonderful, the members of the group started conversing and discovering more about each other. At the one-mile mark, we refilled our water bottles from a creek, and received some lessons from the guides about pressure breathing, and the “rest step,” both of which would be useful during our mountaineering adventure.
Enjoying the first – and easy – mile of the adventure.
At this point, we left the hikers’ trail and started what is commonly referred to as the Mountaineers’ Route. We hiked over a rough trail and through some deep-and-soft snow. At times, a leg would post-hole to the knee or lower thigh. Otherwise, so far so good. The day was a stellar one. Bluebird sky, chirping birds and inspiring scenery.
Next up would be The Ledges. I knew from my experience climbing this mountain last year that The Ledges would be one of the most notable features of Day 1’s backpacking.
Leann, making her way over one of the ledges.
The Ledges represent a section where we use hands and feet to scale our way up over some cliffs. The “ledges” are narrow, but plenty wide. It is the exposure and what if’s that make it exhilarating. Our mind wouldn’t be free while scaling the ledges. We’d need to be focused in order to stay safe. Other than that, The Ledges are a blast to ascend, and I knew that the members of our group would either love them or at the very least, find them memorable.
From The Ledges, we continued up a pretty steep trail. One of our guides, Zach, stopped us to point out a “lenticular” cloud that we could spy over the tall granite mountains ahead of us. He said something to the effect of “That means change is coming.”
Hiking toward Low Camp. Note the lenticular cloud ahead and over the tall granite mountains we were heading for.
We were all aware that the weather forecast for our four days was not ideal. It called for “unsettled” weather, including an 80 percent chance of snow, and high winds for Day 2, and into the morning of Day 3. We weren’t thrilled about this, but we also knew that the weather in the high Sierras is highly variable and that the forecast could be wrong. As we made our way toward Mt. Whitney, I was hoping the forecast would shift in our favor.
By mid afternoon, we arrived at Lower Boy Scout Lake, which would be our home until the next day. We set up our tents, and got ready for a demonstration of a very important skill required on a Mt. Whitney mountaineering adventure – How to Poop in a Bag.
“Wag Bags” are a requirement if you want to climb Mt. Whitney. And, although this is something many cannot fathom doing, can you imagine if it weren’t a rule and people could just go #2 anywhere? The result would be unacceptable and awful for all kinds of reasons that you can surely imagine. So, we dispose of our human waste in a bag…
As I handed off the teaching of this skill to the guides, I emphasized to the group, “Trust me, if you can poop in a bag, you can climb any tall mountain. (And, no, this would not be a live demonstration!)”
Guide Zach demonstrating how to use a wag bag.
I wish I would have captured photos of the looks on some of the members’ faces as they learned how to manage bowel movements in the high country, but I didn’t. Next we enjoyed some soup and hot beverages before snarfing our dinner – epic burritos with extra beans. (Just kidding!)
Our camp site was extraordinary. The evening was cold, but clear and beautiful. And even though I live in the Wind River mountains, which are in many ways similar to the Sierras, including the fact that the weather can change in an instant, I found it hard to believe that our stellar conditions were about to change so dramatically.
Our first evening at camp was a little chilly, but otherwise amazing, complete with great company, a clear sky, extraordinary scenery.
I awoke early the next morning, and walked to the back of our camp to get a look at where we had come from the day earlier. I was greeted by a breathtaking sunrise. Despite the unfavorable forecast for the hours ahead, the sunrise gave me hope.
This is the sunrise I was greeted with on the morning of Day 2.
By breakfast time, it was obvious from the weather that our Plan A was out. By 9am, as Mt. Whitney and the surrounding peaks started to go behind a white curtain, we started battening down the hatches, and our plans to advance to High Camp faded.
When I coach my clients, I often challenge them to consider the question, “What if Plan A doesn’t work out?” I value this question, and use it in my own life on many occasions. The value of doing so lies in the fact that Plan A often does not pan out, and it’s better to have a Plan B than to give up if Plan A doesn’t work. In fact, I’ve had some Plan B’s that turned out better than my Plan A could have possibly turned out.
Nevertheless, as Thomas and the guides explained the dangers of advancing, setting up camp, and living exposed at 12,000′ in gale force winds and a blizzard for the next 24-plus-hours, I silently cursed the Universe for driving home this point about Plan A not always working out, which, for the record, I already was well practiced in.
Mt. Whitney and surrounding peaks became less visible at start of Day 2.
Posing with Grant, and the wine we were not drinking.
Since we couldn't advance to High Camp, we geared up to practice some skills we would need during our summit attempt.
Our new plan (Plan B) was to hope for a break in the weather in the wee hours of the morning of Day 3 so that we could execute a summit attempt from our current location. It wasn’t ideal; it would make for a very long summit day. But we wanted to climb Mt. Whitney, and what other choice did we have?
As the morning wore on, wind blew through our camp and a blizzard dumped snow upon us. We did the only reasonable thing – we hunkered down in our tents. By early afternoon, though, we wanted out of our tents, so the guides taught us skills that would help us on summit day, including how to use an ice axe as a hiking stick on steep snowy terrain, how to self arrest, and how to hike with crampons on. We went for an uphill crampon hike in blowing snow. It felt good to move, and doing so warmed us.
Hiking with crampons on during a blizzard on Day 2.
Cutter, Craig and Sonja, being champs during the blizzard.
Upon returning to camp from our hike, I sensed we were all feeling invigorated. We quaffed soup and hot beverages as Thomas instructed us on what we needed to have ready for our summit climb. We ate dinner and tried to be hopeful. The guides indicated that our best case scenario was for the weather to be clear at 2am, at which point we would be awakened, and we’d start our trek to the summit. He added that if the weather didn’t clear in the wee hours of the morning, then we’d hopefully still have a chance, although not an exceptional one, come 6am. (I considered the 6am start our Plan C)
As leader of this group I wanted my people to be comfortable and warm and rested, and I wanted for them to get a shot at Mt. Whitney’s summit.
Based on my experience that night in the tent with Sonja and Leann, as well as feedback shared by members of our group later, Night 2 was “noteworthy” for its challenges. As the one responsible for bringing everyone to this mountain, I was nervous and excited. I was certain I wouldn’t sleep, and the weather made sure I didn’t.
High winds hammered our tents all night long and carried, and dumped, snow on our camp. Every hour or so we’d shake the snow off of our tents. Even though we vented our tents, the snow worked hard to bury us and the result was condensation and water dripping inside our tents. The harsh conditions outside, combined with the restlessness inside, left us feeling uneasy. For my part, I lay there praying for strength, if not for a break in the weather.
Night 2 was a different kind of challenging for others in the group. I won’t name any names, but three people who were sharing a particular tent reported feelings of claustrophobia and unpleasant fumes. It is important to mention that the telling of this story by the aforementioned tent mates gets more humorous with each telling. And one of the members of the tent went as far as to say he is grateful for having had the challenging and unique experience of that night in their tent, because it is something he’ll never forget and will enjoy telling others about for years to come.
Another tent group had what one described as “something close to a slumber party.” We heard them giggling and making a loud request for wine, which I’m quite certain went unanswered. They shared snacks and applied various skin treatments. “Who knew we had the makings of an entire spa in our tent!” said one of that tent’s members when I asked her to recall Night 2.
But we weren’t having a party in our tent. I knew Leann and Sonja weren’t sleeping either. Have I mentioned it was a challenging night? On the upside, for a lack of other things to do, and because we could, we ate a lot of chocolate during the night. A lot, a lot. (File under #NotOurFault)
As I lay there trying to be strong and hopeful, 2am – and our Plan B – came and went. 3 am, 4am and 5am passed. Snow continued to fall and gusts of wind continued to blow. But then, around 6am, as if by a miracle, the snow had stopped falling, and the wind had stopped blowing. At our wake-up, we were greeted by a snow-covered camp and most importantly, a clear, blue sky above. Could our Plan C be possible? I wondered, with optimism.
The scene at morning of Day 3. We were snow-covered, but it was a clear and stellar day. A summit attempt, although it would be a hardy one, seemed possible.
Huddled with the guides, we learned Plan C was off.
It was a cold but spectacularly beautiful morning. Eager for coffee and tea, we huddled around the stove as it boiled our water. Our guides informed us that they hiked a ways above our camp and snow was deep but not problematic. However, the conditions up high were likely unstable, and high wind gusts were predicted up top. Plan C was out.
Our last remaining option (what I will call Plan D) was to not summit Mt. Whitney, but to take an optional uphill hike to Upper Boy Scout Lake, then return to Low Camp, dismantle camp and hike down the mountain. Most of us did that, and it was an amazing excursion. As we hiked up, we passed two parties coming down. Both had attempted alpine starts for the summit, from higher elevations, and were turned around due to unstable snow and avalanche danger. Not that we needed it, but hearing their reports validated our decision to not go for it.
Enjoying a hike toward Mt. Whitney on the morning of Day 3.
No filter on this sky. I promise it was that blue!
It was fun to get out in some of the snow that dumped on us the day before.
We had a great hike down the mountain under a blue sky before enjoying $5 showers at the Hostel in Lone Pine, some pizzas, beer and wine. We spent our third night camped in the famous, beautiful, and warm, Alabama Hills. We had a huge fire and slept under a star-filled sky. The morning of Day 4 was spent doing some scrambling with fixed lines, followed by a fun rappel – things that were in our original plan.
I was honored to share this adventure with an epic group of people. (Helen: I'm sorry you are not in this picture!)
Since our return on April 28, I have found myself reflecting on our Epic Life Mt. Whitney adventure. While we didn’t stand on Mt. Whitney’s summit, we did go mountain climbing.
I wanted our group to stand on Mt. Whitney’s summit and for our group to not risk our lives. We accomplished the most important of those two objectives. For me, the adventure, which provided lessons in leadership and humility, as well as a lot of fun, will remain an unforgettable and amazing memory.
And as someone who climbed to Whitney’s summit one year ago, I have come to the conclusion that not summiting the mountain was more difficult than summiting it, which is ironic. Not summiting due to things we couldn’t control was not only harder to accept, but harder to do. As a result, this year’s unsuccessful summit effort will likely be more informative in my life and work than the successful summit bid in phenomenal weather last year. I wouldn’t trade either experience.
I often remind clients, and audiences I present to, that an epic life is not an easy life. I tell them that an epic life is full of mountains and hills to climb, including those we put there and those we don’t put there but that nevertheless must be climbed, if we are to become actually what we are potentially.
And then, for the first time since the start of our adventure, I remembered the quote Thomas shared at the outset: “The summit is for the ego, the journey is for the soul.”
Indeed.
A special thank you to Leann, Karla, Chuck, Helen, Craig, Cutter, Grant, Jackie, Jenni and Sonja for signing up. Thank you to our awesome guides, Thomas, Lyra, Lindsay and Zach, and to Kurt Wedberg and Sierra Mountaineering International. Thank you to Sonja’s mom and grandparents for their yummy treats and support pre- and post-adventure. And finally, thank you to Jerry (my best half), and to our three sons for their loving support as I develop this business and frequently find myself away from them camped in faraway mountains.
January 20th, 2014
Hi there.
I’m currently vetting for my 2015 Epic Women program. Epic Women is an annual program that bundles individual life & leadership coaching with a guided 6-day Epic backpacking adventure in Wyoming’s spectacular Wind River Range, a customized personal training program to get you in the best shape/health of your life, new and lasting friendships with other epic women, inspiration, clarity, discovery, and the list goes on.
Email me if you’d like more information and/or to schedule a call. There are 8 spots left, and it will fill fast!
THE BROCHURE–click the below to zoom in: – 
& 
May 5th, 2013
At Mt. Whitney’s high camp.
People don’t hire a life coach so they can keep operating in their comfort zone. Rather, people hire a life coach to dare them to leave their comfort zone. Change cannot be made in the confines of our comfort zone, within the confines of our fears. So we have to dare to explore the edges, to dare to enter a space that is full of uncertainty.
To grow and develop — and follow our bliss — we have to explore the edges of our abilities. We must level up, and I’m so compelled by its value that I’ve built Epic Life around the concept.
Every year I “sign up” for at least one major adventure — what I’ve come to refer to as an Epic Adventure. It could be a hike that covers a greater distance than I’ve ever hiked in a 24-hour period, such as the Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim day hike I did in 2010, or the 50-mile traverse day hike of Zion National Park I did in 2011. Or, it could be climbing the Grand Teton, or Mt. Whitney. Or, many times it’s not outdoors-related at all but it’s still an epic adventure. It could be a proposal or call I make to a high level executive or corporation, or a speaking gig to a high profile audience I dare to accept. For example, we’re about to embark on a 30-day family trip to Europe. Talk about an epic adventures. This is a dream-come-true that is a big financial investment and a lot of time to be a long way from home. We are mostly excited, but nervous too. That is how you know if you’re exploring your edges — it’s something you want to do, and yet it makes you a little, or a lot, uncomfortable.
That said, I do make lots of room for epic outdoor adventures because so much growth happens and in a setting that will inspire me for days and months and years.
In leveling up, at some point during the adventure, I am not enough. I will not have what it takes. This is scary and uncomfortable. This is when I will find myself asking “whose idea was this?” and remember that it was mine. It’s also a powerful point in the adventure because at this crux, I can make a choice: I can quit, or I can continue — learning the skills I need along the way. The adventure becomes a journey of personal discovery as I’m forced to explore the edges of my abilities — to see what I’m made of, and also to discover what’s possible.
If we are to live our best, most epic life, we must dare to live and operate at these edges often.
Living at the edges is not unique to outdoor adventure. Often we are at our edges at home and at work.
Exposure. Or, scrambling up the last section of Mt. Whitney’s Mountaineering Route.
Think of some of the most nerve-wracking moments you’ve experienced — especially ones that you consciously chose to be a part of. I remember when my friend, Debbie Cohen, chief of people for Mozilla, so generously offered to host a brunch at her San Francisco home for women corporate leaders in her circle so that I could practice my pitch/presentation for Epic Life. I would have been nuts to say no, right, especially given corporate women are my target market. So I said yes. But as the event drew closer, I started negotiating with myself, and looking for a way out. It was all too much. It was too big. What was I thinking? Despite this second-guessing, I hung in there with my commitment to the brunch presentation.
On the morning of the presentation, as women starting arriving at Debbie’s, with about five minutes to go before my presentation was to begin, I retreated to a guest room and became paralyzed in fear. I can experience those emotions of stress and fear by recalling the experience. I was hunched in a chair trying to get myself together, to get “in state.” But instead I was freaking out, nervous and sweating. Hiding, really. I second-guessed myself and my presentation, and Epic Life. “What if these women don’t find what I have to say compelling? What if they’ve heard it before? What if nobody but me cares about what I am here to say?” And so on. Finally, it was time to present, and so I left my hiding place and entered the living room to give my presentation.
The presentation went well and the women were lovely. They provided enthusiastic support for my message and my business, while providing valuable feedback. Even if the presentation were a bomb, the experience of leveling up (raising my game) would have been beneficial in that it caused me to develop new skills and to “cowgirl up.” The experience made me better. And I’m grateful to Debbie, one of the biggest champions of people I know, for giving me the opportunity to rise up.
Just daring to level up is the equivalent of standing on a summit of a mountain. While I love standing on the top of a summit, in my humble opinion, daring to start up the mountain in the first place can be more significant than standing on top of it.
An example of leveling up in my personal life would be the fact that our oldest son, who just turned 13, will be going on a jet, alone, to a junior leadership conference on the East Coast for a week. That will not be easy for my husband and I, and Wolf’s brothers. I will be a mess putting him on a plane. Yet, it will be an amazing experience for our son.
Ascending the couloir, while being short-roped into my summit team.
There are many more experiences like this that I could list. I challenge you to reflect on your own experience of living at your edges.
Regardless of how different our experiences may be, the emotions related to each are the same: fear, stress, anxiety. During these times at our edge(s), we yearn for safety.
Recently, I had the tremendous honor of climbing Mt. Whitney with Backpacker magazine editors and readers who raised a combined $250,000 for Big City Mountaineers, an organization that provides wilderness mentoring and experiences for disadvantaged urban youth. (Thank you to Sierra Mountaineering International for the phenomenal guiding)
It was an amazing opportunity to raise money and climb a mountain for such an important cause. And, sure, climbing Mt. Whitney would be an awesome adventure that would give me another interesting story to tell. But more importantly, the adventure would require me to be at my edges. Frequently. So of course, I said yes when my friend, Jon Dorn, informed me there was available space on Team 4, and invited me.
Ascending “The Ledges” on Day 1.
Yeehaw! (On the summit of Mt. Whitney.)
Since returning from the adventure, I have reflected on the many times I was operating at, or beyond my edges during the adventure.
They include:
–Backpacking with 11 strangers. (I knew two of my teammates; the other 11 would be people I would meet in person for the first time) As usual, per these epic adventures, I left Mt. Whitney with many meaningful new friendships.
–Being in unfamiliar country. It would be my first time to the area.
–I had to wear rigid, really warm mountaineering boots. This may not sound daunting to most, but to me, someone who typically hikes in trail-running shoes and who has blister-prone feet, it would be uncomfortable for me.
–The Ledges. On our hike in, shortly after leaving the Mt. Whitney hiking trail, we’d have to ascend “The Ledges,” which were composed of about 400′ of granite slab(s) we’d have to use hands and feet to get up and over.
–Loaded. I would be hiking with a 44-pound backpack on my back. (Normally I hike with 15 pounds on my back)
–”Wag bag.” Alert! (Sorry for the gross nature of this item) This perhaps was the most difficult (uncomfortable) aspect of the entire adventure. We were each given a wag bag at the start, and instructed that during the adventure, “#2” had to be done in the bag — our same bag — and hauled out with us at the end of the adventure. I totally understand and appreciate the need to do this. If it weren’t for the wag bag requirement, the High Sierras around Mt. Whitney would resemble a poop landfill. Still, it is not natural to poop in a bag, over the course of 4 days, and then haul it out. Talk about leaving your comfort zone… By the way, clients and future clients, as far as I know there won’t be any wag bags on Epic Life’s adventures.
–”Self conscious sleeping.” Sonja, one of my two tent-mates, gets credit for this phrase. I, too, would call myself a self conscious sleeper. In a tent with two other women, I worried about snoring or talking in my sleep. As a result, I didn’t sleep very well.
–Ice axe, crampons, helmet, short ropes. These are things I hadn’t used in combination before, and the fact that we’d be using them at all meant the stakes were higher than they are on most of my outdoor excursions. The terrain was steep, frozen in areas, and loose in others. Using all of these tools was a new experience for me.
–”Shitty shit.” This is the term we coined for the loose scree that was on a very narrow and steep couloir that we ascended and descended on summit day. One thing that hiking on the scree reminded me of is that even if you take your steps very deliberately, it’s still possible the entire earth below your feet will give way. It’s the same in life when we dare to go off-trail, or/and higher.
–Class 3 & 4 climbing. The last “obstacle” to Whitney’s summit was a 400′ foot rock climb/scramble. While this section was not that difficult for me, personally, the exposure was significant, and therefore left me feeling apprehensive.
All of the above were opportunities to practice being uncomfortable, to practice leaning in and daring to go beyond my comfort zone. The result of doing so is self discovery. I return more, and better, than I was before.
What is an edge you want to be dared to explore?
(I want to give a special thanks to Jerry and our sons for their continued love and support, and to all of my family and inner circle of friends, to Jon Dorn, and also to Debbie Cohen and Kate Roeske-Zummer for daring me — and to all of my family, friends, colleagues and clients, who make me better, and who generously donated to the Mt. Whitney climb! Also, thanks to Mike Lilygren and NOLS, who helped me “gear up” for the adventure. THANK YOU!)
- Categories: Adventure, Life and Leadership, Travel
- Tags: Adventure, challenge, comfort zone, epic, fear, growth, leveling up, mt. whitney, summit
- Comments: 5 Comments
