Motivated and Hopeful

Every sunrise is a blessing, it’s an opportunity to learn something new and to create something that can benefit others. It also gives a chance to make amends. Use it wisely before sunset.” – Eugenia Herlihy

Have you ever seen that math exercise where two people stand something like 20 feet apart? And with each move, they divide the distance between them in half so after the second move, they are 10 feet apart and after the third, five feet.

In the end, the point is that there is an endless number of moves because they’ll always be some distance, even if infinitesimal, between them.

There is no finish line.

It reminds me how I feel about my self-improvement. There’s always room for growth.  

Three recent things have inspired me to keep feeding a growth mindset. When Vicki and I talked with author Andrew Mayne, he described the year when he wanted to become an author. He set a goal to write ten books in a year. He’d write a book and then read a book on writing. I’ve been intrigued by the “feedback loop” as Andrew described it, even since that conversation.

Elizabeth from the Bleuwater blog took a photography course this Spring. As she shared her lessons on speed, aperture, focus, I realized how much I don’t know about photography, especially when I just grab a picture with my phone. You can see Elizabeth’s incredible photography that she submitted as her final here.

Vicki Atkinson wrote a fascinating post about editing last week, Learning to Rewrite. The conclusion that grabbed me? “Pack a punch with fewer words. Make every sentence count.”

The math exercise reminds me that we will never completely occupy the space of another person on this planet. These recent posts and conversations remind me that there are never ending ways to inspire each other and improve. Taken all together, it makes me feel so motivated and hopeful…and never bored.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I co-host a author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about collaboration and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Spring Training

Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.” – Babe Ruth

It’s Spring! I know because my five-year-old son, Mr. D, had his first Little League game.

My friend Eric quippedIsn’t a Little League game at this level where a batter hits and then everything that happens next is an error?

Well, he wasn’t far off. The games last for an hour. Each side bats their entire lineup and then they switch to the outfield. A batter gets four coach pitched balls. If a hit hasn’t happened by then, they bring in the tee for the child to hit off of. Each team got to bat twice.

In the outfield, the whole team of 10-12 players go out. Figuring out who to throw to is understandably confusing. Who’s on first? Practically EVERYONE.

In one play, a kid on the other team fielded the ball hit by his own team as he ran to second base. Eric laughed, “I wouldn’t even know how to score that. He gets a forced out and an assist?

The teams practice getting outs but no one actually sits down on the bench as a result.

It struck me as a great lesson in low stakes learning. How to set up environments where hits and errors are all just scored as lessons. Even for adults, we can learn pickleball or improve our writing without going full-on into performance or competition mode.

So here’s to learning to pitch things and trust they’ll teach us something. To swing for the fences and be able to laugh when it all goes wrong and the ball ends up behind us. And maybe if we don’t want to consider sliding for home, we can at least pounce on the finish line when we find it.

 Because even if we’re not in the Spring of our lives, we’re still in training! Right?

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about collaboration and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Trying New Things: A Journey Beyond Comfort

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I ended up where I needed to be.” – Douglas Adams

My nine-year-old daughter, Miss O has started walking by herself to the neighborhood grocery store. She comes back with the most fabulous things. Not only the lemon I asked for but great stories about what she saw and experienced out in the world. The crow tapping on a wire and the longest dog howl ever, for example.

Also, the lessons learned. The first time it was that the automatic door sensor doesn’t work for her so she had to tailgate behind a taller person. The second time it was that she didn’t know that the checker was trying to hand back her change so she gave him a fist bump. The third time it was that she needed to wait for her change.

There are so many things to learn when we try new things. And in that spirit, Vicki Atkinson and I went scriptless for the latest podcast with author and blogger Mark Petruska in Episode 101: Out of Our Comfort Zone.

This format was Mark’s idea – to do a podcast without any prompts. To be fair, it’s not that different than our standard format. Usually we go into an episode with three or so prompts of things to talk about. But as all you listeners know, we clearly go down any side roads and questions that occur as we talk.

But in this episode, we each came up with a question for the others to answer. No predetermined topics or heads up.

And you know what? It was fun. Kinda like a great dinner party conversation. It opened the forum up for off-the-cuff storytelling.

I’m confident you’ll love the scenic and beautiful places we explore as we share the power of going out of our comfort zones to do unscripted storytelling!

We know you’ll love it!

P.S. I turned off comments on this post so you can just enjoy watching. If you want to comment, you can on the Episode 101: Out of Our Comfort Zone with Mark Petruska post.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor: Episode 101: Out of Our Comfort Zone with Mark Petruska

Episode 101 Transcript

AND subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this Episode:

Mark’s book – a brilliant thriller: https://www.amazon.com/No-Time-Kings-Mark-Petruska/dp/1614344604

Mark’s blog: https://markpetruska.com/

Other Episodes with Mark:

Episode 96: Embracing Tech and Non-Tech Change with Mark Petruska

Episode 65: How to Be the New Guy with Mark Petruska

Episode 41: Enter if You Dare with Mark Petruska

Episode 33: Love Lessons with Mark Petruska

Episode 26: Eye of the Tiger with Mark Petruska

Episode 18: No Time for Kings with Mark Petruska

From the hosts:

Vicki’s book about resilience and love: Surviving Sue; Blog: https://victoriaponders.com/

My book about my beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

(featured photo from Pexels)

Use Your Words

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

As a mom of a 4-year-old and 8-year-old, I frequently find myself using the phrase, “Use your words.” The other day, my youngest wanted something on a high-up shelf and was pointing to it. I looked up and there were only like a gazillion possibilities. So I said, “use your words.”

At his age, his words are imprecise. Last night could mean the night prior but it could also mean anytime in the past. Orange might be anything on the spectrum between yellow and magenta. But even words that don’t guide directly are more helpful than guessing.

It made me think about all the ways we can use words, especially in writing. Here are three of my favorites:

Direction-instruction

Our ability to teach other people what we know or have discovered is astounding. If I had to draw it out or act it out, we’d all be here for a LOOOONG time.

“The capacity to learn is a gift; The ability to learn is a skill; the willingness to learn is a choice.”

Brian Herbert

Whether I’m reading how to replace a board on my deck or the finer points of philosophy, I’m so grateful that others use their words to communicate what they have learned because it helps me immensely.

Process-connect

“The words you speak become the house you live in.”

Hafiz

I frequently don’t understand “life.” I wend my way through the day and it seems like there are some unifying threads running through it if I could just see it from enough distance. But then I slow down to write it down and something magically pops. Here’s an example.

The other day a co-worker unloaded in an out-of-character way. I was so surprised and impacted by this that I wrote it down as a story, simply for my own use – almost a transcription of “they said” and “I said.” By the time I’d gotten the words out, I felt as if I’d created a storage space for the event; a way to buffer the rest of my day so that the after-effects of my conversation didn’t layer on to all the rest of my interactions.

Then two days later I got an email from the co-worker apologizing. They let me know about some personal stuff going on that colored their conversation with me. We can process it now (and maybe save ourselves from having to apologize) or we can process later, but putting words to the experience helps sort it all out.

One of the most impactful ways I think we use words is this full-circle processing and connection. We write to understand and then, for the stuff we publish, it connects us to others and their experience.

Amuse-entertain

At bedtime the other night, I was warning my 8-year-old daughter not to hit her brother. She retorted to me, “What? Do you want to me to grow up all Martin Luther King like non-violent?” I was so surprised by the out of the blue reference that I not only stopped talking, but also burst out laughing. And then we were all giggling and whatever had caused the kerfuffle was forgotten.

Words have magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair.

Sigmund Freud

Yes, I do want my kids to grow up all non-violent. They probably have a better chance of that if they remember to use their words, hopefully in ways that invoke the best use of that magical power.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Learning the Essentials

The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.” – Albert Einstein

The other day my friend Eric asked my son, five-year-old Mr. D, how he was liking Kindergarten.

Mr. D said he loved it [thank God] and he was learning a lot.

Eric followed up to ask what he was learning.

Mr. D replied, “I’m learning about recess, the lunchroom, art, and music.

I know you are laughing alongside me as you read this.

Learning his way around the school, including the specialist classes (art and music), has been a huge part of the first three weeks. I can’t imagine how many neurons are firing just to create a mind map of this new experience.

But as you’re smiling, consider this. Aren’t recess, the lunchroom, art and music still a big part of your days today?

(featured photo is Mr. D’s line heading in to class on the first day of school)

Writing Worth Doing

Words have magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair.” – Sigmund Freud

Last Friday was Mr. D’s last day at his pre-school/daycare. He’s been there for nearly four years. In three different classrooms with so many great teachers, this school has been such a wonderful influence.

When I went to write the amazing staff a thank you note, I did so through a veil of tears. When I was done, it felt like a piece of writing as worthy as anything else I’ve composed because:

  1. It was from my heart
  2. I provided others with a perspective on their impact that would be hard for them to know otherwise
  3. The feelings it elicited were worth rippling out in the world

Here’s the note:

This morning before [Mr. D] left for school, he took his plate to the sink, washed his hands after going to the bathroom, and used his words when he wanted to play with something his sister had. Those three skills are just some of the wonderful building blocks that he learned in his time at GLPCC.

I know it’s hard to measure the positive impact that you have on one child or one family’s life. Just as a stream doesn’t count the rocks it touches as it flows, the kindnesses and fundamentals you all bestow with your patience, creativity, and caring make such a difference.

I get choked up thinking about all the ways your consistency and hard work have made my life better during the years D has been at GLPCC. From the pandemic to surviving the hard drop off days, I have been able to navigate life and work because I was absolutely certain D was in good, kind and loving hands.

So I send you all immense gratitude for the amazing work that you do. And if there is any day that feels tough – think about what our world would look like if everyone took their dishes to the sink, washed their hands, and used their words when they wanted something. It would be amazing. You all are building a better world.


Have you written something simple that turned into a worthwhile project?

(featured photo from Pexels)

It Makes Me a Learner

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” – Mary Anne Radmacher

A couple of days before Miss O had her field day at school, I mentioned it to her. Much to my surprise she groaned.

Why that response?” I asked, thinking of past years where she loved all the silly games like the Mustache Dash where you run with a piece of licorice between your lip and nose, and the water balloon toss.

My almost nine-year-old daughter replied, “I don’t like it when I try my best and don’t win. It makes me feel like I’m a loser.”

Oh. All I could think to say in the moment was, “Well, the only way you have a chance of winning is to try.”

But I couldn’t stop thinking about how early we learn that it hurts not to win and the feeling of competition.

I think the trait that has served me the best is my willingness to try. So I find it fascinating to consider all the things that teach us not to try.

To be fair, parenting has also given me insight into the many things I’m not interested in trying. Weird foods, holding insects, and playing with slime come to mind. Even trying comes with some limits. Or wisdom. Whichever way you want to look at it.

Fortunately, the topic of field day came up the next day so I had another shot at handling it. Miss O brought up the topic of practicing. And I concurred that we don’t practice things like potato sack races on a regular enough basis to have any predictable chance that we’ll win.

But then I was magically gifted the next thing to say, “When I don’t win, I don’t think it makes me a loser. It makes me a LEARNER. There isn’t a thing I can think of that I’ve lost that hasn’t taught me something.

Funny how hard it is to continue to stay open to being a try-er!

(featured photo is Miss O trying a game at field day)

It’s Just Like Riding a Bike

I have great respect for the past. If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.” – Maya Angelou

Riding bikes with my kids has given me a new appreciation for the learning process. That is to say, I’ve come to see “two steps forward, one step back,” in a more growth-minded way.

I bought eight-year-old Miss O a bigger bike (24 inch wheel) with gears. She hopped on and owned it. It was like she aged five years in that one move because it was bigger and sat her up higher.

As a result, four-your old Mr. D got her old bike, a medium sized bike (18 inch wheel). I moved the training wheels over from his small bike. But even with training wheels, he got a huge boost in confidence and speed from having a bigger sprocket.

We’ve spent the week riding everywhere and in all sorts of conditions. We’ve gone round the block so many times we must have worn a groove. Then one night we rode around our local little lake to get pizza. The next night we went up the hill to get pie. All the while, I’m riding behind Mr. D watching him wobble back and forth before he gains his balance, my fingers crossed that the training wheels will hold.

Then, we got the small bike out of the garage to pass on to another kid in the neighborhood. Mr. D hopped on his old bike, now without training wheels.

I held the back of the small bike for a moment. Before any of us could really think about it, Mr. D took off – riding the bike without training wheels. So, Miss O and I took turns running up and down the block a dozen times holding the seat for the start until Mr. D mastered that too.

All this has made me think of the rhythm of growth. Sometimes you have to go back a step to see how far you’ve gone.

It makes me think of the feeling I get when I go back to the town where I went to high school. With the swirl of old memories all around, it’s easier to see where I’ve grown.

Or when I dust off an old favorite recipe and discover how I’m better at trusting the timing.

Or when I hike a familiar trail and feel the burn of my muscles within the certainty that I can make the summit.

Or when I re-read something I wrote years ago and I can discern how it’s gotten easier to put my authentic self on the page.

Sometimes we have to go back to figure out how much we’ve learned.

Going to the Next Level

I am convinced all of humanity is born with more gifts than we know. Most are born geniuses and just get de-geniused rapidly.” – R. Buckminster Fuller

We are coming to the end of our school year. 28 more school days in third grade for Miss O. And 50 days until Mr. D graduates from his preschool program. Do you remember that feeling as a kid? Being not only ready for summer break but also ready to ascend to that next level?

It has me thinking of what milestones we have in our lives as grown-ups that celebrate our readiness to go on to the next level. There are some big ones like becoming an empty-nester or retirement. Or we have annual ones like birthdays, anniversaries, and New Years. But often, I find myself at those moments planning on what I’m going to do next instead of commemorating what I’ve learned.

Let me suggest that we take a moment to bring back that feeling of finishing a school year. To actually name something we’ve graduated from and celebrate it. I’ll start:

I’ve come to believe that I am enough. Or at least to understand that pretending to be someone else is ineffective. So if a situation or expectations make me feel otherwise, I try to slow enough to double-down on being me long enough to get through.

And by graduating, I don’t mean being done. It brings to mind another graphic from Miss O’s 3rd grade teacher:

It seems fitting on this last day of teacher appreciation week to honor our teachers by naming what we’ve learned. Are you with me? If you are stuck, maybe visit the list from Pick Three Affirmations to find a place to start.

(featured photo from Pexels)

For a story about the circle of life, please listen to our Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast: Episode 66: The Power of Story with Wynne and Vicki.

We are changing our format starting with this episode. Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. To set the stage, we will be starting with someone telling a story in each episode.

To listen to the podcast, Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts. Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Great Teachers

Those who know, do. Those who understand, teach.” – Aristotle

Last week when I was dropping off Mr. D at his pre-school, I heard one of the teachers in his class encouraging a little girl who was starting potty training. In a class with 20 kids aged three to five, and three teachers, it surprised me that they could tackle potty training as well. I thought all the kids did this in the younger classes before ascending. Hats off to teachers who teach skills, mold social behaviors, and tend emotions as well. And I’m not just talking about teachers for kids.

It’s teacher appreciation week in our schools this week. So I am pulling together some lessons I’ve learned from the amazing teachers in my life.

Call and Response

In Mr. D’s preschool classroom, whenever a teacher says, “Holy Moly,” the kids answer, “Guacamole” and it gets their attention. It makes me think of how effective it is to train some automatic responses.

Fall! Or Falling! is called in climbing when someone is falling and others need to try to anchor a fall. It’s intended to get an immediate reaction to drop down and arrest. When trained well, no one stops to look around to find out what’s happening before they act – it’s action first and assessment after.

It’s Going to Be Great is a phrase my dad used to say when we were early on in the envisioning and creation stages of a project. When I say this to myself like he used to say to me, especially when working on a project, it gives me a shot of confidence to overcome the self-doubt.

Calm the Body to Facilitate Learning

My friend, Katie, does some specialized tutoring with kids. In her teaching space, she has a wobbly chair that allows kids to bounce, stuffies for hiding, and games. Her thoughtful approach gives a nod to the conditions in which we learn as much as the content.

It reminds me of the classes I’ve taken from my meditation teacher, Deirdre. We never go straight to sitting in meditation, it’s a series of exercises to help us drop-in to a calm and receptive state.

Vicki Atkinson has written about the snacks she kept when she was a professor. Minds can’t learn when the body is screaming for something.

Nonetheless, I often forget this when I sit down to learn a new technology. I’m on the clock and then get right to it as if I can just think myself ready. But soon enough, I’ll find myself frustrated and pacing. The body wins sooner or later to get its part in learning.

Portable Lessons

My dad liked to talk about making his sermons portable. Something people could take away with them as they walked through life and unpack when needed. I can think of several examples that are take-aways from great teachers:

Keep small things small: Miss O’s second grade teacher had this catch phrase to remind kids not to let mistakes or distractions take away from the bigger point.

Is it a window or a mirror?: This question from Miss O’s third grade teacher is a writing lesson. Writing can be a window for experiences others haven’t shared. Or it can be a mirror when we write about something familiar that is an opportunity for readers’ self-reflection.

Parked in my small space: This phrase from my meditation teacher, Deirdre, has transformed my awareness of when I’m feeling small and closed. When I’m working from my small space, my reactions are often guarded, judgmental, or defensive. Awareness has given me the choice to stop, take a deep breath, and try to shift into my more expansive and curious mode.

So hats off to all the teachers in this world. Thank you for bringing your mind, body, and spirit to the job so all of us can grow and learn!

(featured photo from Pexels)