The world presents a different perspective when you are face down in a snow bank.
The lesson? Well, take a lesson when you want to learn something new.
I did. Last week, I took a cross-country ski lesson and got the perspective of an untethered marionette as my arms and legs were flailing in all directions.
It was cold. The skis were long and skinny. No balance for this puppet. The 30-year-old bamboo ski poles from my garage were not an asset.
But the sky was a brilliant blue. The snow was crisp. My body was deliciously warm from all…
I can feel the tightness in my chest and the blood rushing to my brain. My fingernails leave trails on the desk as I push down the anger boiling up.
I am trying desperately to respond with patience. “If I recall, I said I needed this spreadsheet done today.”
My administrator nods. “You did. You told me what to do, but I didn’t understand what the result needed to be. And without that, your instructions did not make sense.”
My mind flicks back into the Rolodex of conversations. …
Time slows as I adjust my goggles, lean on my poles, and survey creation from a mountaintop.
The awe flooding through me slows time even more as I peer through ice-speckled goggles: azure sky, snow ghosts, sunlight sparkling on fresh powder.
I’m late for a meeting, but I let the feeling wash over me before I cruise the freshly groomed run.
“You will never find time for anything. If you want time, you must make it.” — Charles Brixton.
It’s January: a new year begins, and I am getting older.
It is a big, beautiful world out there and there…
I discovered I can time travel while sitting at my desk.
As I scroll through my school alumni Facebook group, I am back in time, back in my small hometown.
When I read posts from people years older than me and posts from my classmates’ children, I am reminded of my formative years, and friends, teachers, neighbours.
I relive the seemingly profound events — lapping Main (street, that is), attending the annual church picnic, standing as a wallflower at the country community hall dances.
In these time-travel wanderings, I received the most touching gift. Ever.
In a recent post, my…
Six kids were dancing, yelling and hyperventilating to Jingle Bells as they performed an annual ritual: trying on new running shoes.
The clerk was as stressed as Santa’s elves as he ran to the back of the sports store looking for the right shoes, in the right colour, in the right size. He did it enough times that his soles needed Shoe Goo.
He wasn’t as festive as the kids or the music; he looked like he was going to cry.
But we — parents and grandparents — were never in a rush. …
I imagine myself as Captain James Tiberius Kirk every time I click into a Zoom meeting.
“Beam me down, Scotty,” hovers on my lips as a new world comes into focus.
As I click, I cross my fingers — and toes and eyes — hoping this world, this meeting, this time, will not be as boring as the last and I won’t spend an hour with my elbows on my desk, head in my hand, fighting a yawn, as bored as Mr. Spock on a dating site.
I’m tired of incomplete/talk-over-the-top-of-each-other Zoom room discussions. …
“Can I drive?” my six-year-old, vibrating with possibility, asks as he tugs on his seatbelt and reaches for the steering wheel.
“No! That’s silly. You’re only six.”
“Can I have a cookie?” The ever-optimistic four-year-old looks at me with wide, blue eyes as he tugs on my apron.
“No, you know the rules. You have to eat your dinner first.”
Ewwww. That shut-down feeling. The rejection.
Let’s try that again.
“Can I drive?” my six-year-old asks, vibrating with possibility.
“Yes. When you’re 17.” I always want to give myself some grace. He could get his licence at 16.
“We will, we will, rock you. Rock you.”
It was Friday night lights, also known as city-wide high school football Friday night.
The throbbing bass from the classic Queen team spirit song splintered the chilly fall air.
My son’s team, like him, was in its inaugural year.
I knew nothing about football. Except. The voice inside the speaker would shout excitedly, “And Carson Park snags the pass.”
Translation. My son was at the bottom of a tangled mess of misplaced football pads, askew helmets and sweaty bodies.
It was his favourite place in the whole world.
Fast forward 10 years…
Most companies are colour blind when they hire.
Sure, they grab the good ones but often put them in the wrong job.
But colour-coding people into the right jobs can keep companies out of the red — and their employees happy and productive.
Count on this: there will be a colour clash if a green is forced to do blue job or a red is being squeezed into the role of a yellow. It doesn’t matter if it’s in a small welding shop or a big tech company; the colours won’t run together.
I found this out when I was…
I raced down the highway, desperately trying to make the 2 p.m. commitment I’d made to meet a friend at a restaurant 35 kilometres away.
Too unrealistic of a to-do list, with too unrealistic estimates of time for each task, meant I was leaving 10 minutes late. It was 1:50 p.m., and my GPS said it should take me 30 minutes.
My optimistic, assertive nature was certain I could make up the time driving. After all, speed limits are guidelines.
The less optimistic police officer standing outside my window does not think the same.
As I breathe in, trying to…
Lifelong entrepreneur who works with organizations and individuals to turn their passion into impact.