Today is Day 3 of my podcast on Non Violent Communication, a 21-day intentional look at how non violent communication can work in my life.

Day 1 is here.

You can listen here:

Or, to download, right click on the following link and then choose “save link as”:  download

This episode comes in right at 7 minutes. I’d love to have your input and feedback, so do leave a comment.

Back again? That's awesome. Good to see you again!

Technorati Tags: compassionate communication, Marshall Rosenberg, non violent communication, NVC

It’s day two of my “non violent communication podcast”, and I’m talking about little things that are big.

Find out the two interconnected things I deeply wish for in my own life, and a couple of stories about how these wishes are expressed in my own life.

Or, to download, right click this and select “save link as”:  download

Want to share a story of your own, or a reaction to this?

You can leave a comment or, if it’s something more private, feel welcome to email me via liz@lizmcgowen.com

The episode takes about 7 minutes. Enjoy!

Technorati Tags: compassionate communication, Marshall Rosenberg, non violent communication, NVC

Now, for something completely new.

Today is the first day of my self-created 21-day challenge, exploring the topic of “Non Violent Communication” via podcast.

I was inspired by Mark Silver, whose 14-day video challenge is up and running (and awesome). I’m completely and utterly freaked out by video, but wanted to do “a something” about this topic, hence a podcast.

Or, to download, right click this link and select “save link as”:  download

This intro recording runs about 7 1/2 minutes, and discusses why I’m doing this and why it makes me a bit uncomfortable. Feel welcome to leave comments or your own thoughts on the material.

If you’d like to follow along, the book I’m using is by Marshall B. Rosenberg, Ph.D., Nonviolent Communication:  A Language of Life, 2nd edition. You can probably find a copy at your local library (yay! support local libraries!).

Technorati Tags: compassionate communication, Marshall Rosenberg, non violent communication, NVC

Fair warning:  This is quite possibly going to be a completely ridiculous post.

Meaningful, hopefully.

But ridiculous.

Yesterday I read Havi’s brilliant post about Bolivia, and I must admit to having a v-e-r-y strong reaction. Please read her post, if you would be so kind. Read it a couple of times, because it is truly amazing. I love it.

The post talks about Bolivia, but also about choice. My Bolivian-ness has become a huge part of my identity, so much so that I can’t really remember what it felt like not to be here.

Understand that I didn’t want to come, at least not when I did. I thought I would be much better prepared.

I was not prepared at all.

The thing I wanted to point out is that, prepared or not, part of my choice happened after my arrival when I needed to figure out I was going to do. The choice was not in going to or not going to Bolivia. It was what to do once I had arrived.

Does that make sense?

I think that is probably similar to the experience of many people, no matter what their destination. They are taken somewhere. Sure, they might get on one plane or another, but they will eventually end up in that place.

They are not prepared. They make the best of things. In the process, they realize that the destination is not good or bad. It just is.

You see, journeying to Bolivia and being here amid everyone, has now become who I am. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t come.

Sure, it is because I am now Bolivian that I rarely get a complete night’s sleep. It is the reason I am revisiting the horrors of sixth-grade math and why my living room looks like I’m doing research for Mattel. It is the reason my shopping list includes ridiculous amounts of cucumbers (which I detest), why my spaghetti sauce is full of ground-up vegetables, and why I am constantly in search of socks that match. It is why I know that “Camp Rock: The Final Jam” comes out tomorrow.

There are interruptions (which has been oh-so-hard to adjust to). There are other people to consider in everything — from something as simple as “what’s for lunch” to something more complex like “what will I do for a living.”

There are now things that I cannot do.

Limitations. Ugggghhh.

I cannot work in a traditional nine-to-five structure, because I have to spend my afternoons frisking people’s backpacks and monitoring play dates. I have a mini-van. Ugggghhh again.

My first trip into Bolivia was unscheduled. I had always wanted to go there, had planned to start preparing, but then one day I just found out I was going. I didn’t really realize that I wouldn’t actually come back — for some reason, I thought everything would just go back to normal once I arrived.

The trip was awful — filled with unexpected health ickiness and a final landing in which I threw up repeatedly. Fortunately, after the landing everything went relatively smoothly.

Of course, there is the hilarious story of the bear:  Good friends had sent us a Teddy bear. They also sent a darling jacket for the bear, which was shipped separately for some reason. I thought the jacket (which was real and lovely) was for… well, you know… and when it didn’t fit I spent over an hour on the phone with the store trying to figure out how to get a different size until a manager finally revealed to me it was a bear jacket. I’m sure they still tell that story and fall off their chairs laughing.

There was a subsequent trip that was planned — quite carefully, in fact — and that didn’t happen. That one was particularly difficult because almost no one else knew it was scheduled to happen. It was hard to convey why I was so sad at the time.

It was also at this time that I realized my work (as a bureaucrat) wasn’t really where my heart was, since I had such difficulty explaining and justifying why I needed more than a couple of days off to deal with the unexpected return.

I had begun to accept my innate Bolivian-ness, and to recognize that it was more a part of me than I thought.

Right around the time of my final trip, I realized something very important — that my way of changing the world has to do with my work that has developed since I came to Bolivia. Little things that are an extension of myself, like how we really and truly love others, are now what I spend much of my time on. Figuring out how the practice of “nonviolent communication” happens amid sharing toys or eating ones’ vegetables is my larger challenge.

I say all this to let you know that, Bolivian or not, we are all at times given passage to places that are unexpected. We knew we might end up there someday, but it’s not where we planned to be, at least not now. We don’t want this now. We expected to be well prepared, to have completed [insert important thing here], and to be packed and ready to go, with all the supports that we’ll need.

I know from personal experience that’s not how it works. We end up where we are. Sometimes we fight it tooth and nail, wanting to get back to where we were and to the freedom we once had.

For me, the significance of the trip has not been the choice about whether or not to go to Bolivia. The real issue has been making the choice to accept where I am.

I’m only now beginning to stop fighting to leave, and to make the choice to be at peace with this place.

Technorati Tags: fluent self, havi brooks

Today I’m announcing a slight expansion of my coaching services.

Up to this point I have only taken a very small number of people as coaching clients — because that’s what I felt like doing.

I’ve decided to expand to a few more coaching clients. This is for three reasons:

First, my passion is working with people who want to make the world a better place. Our world needs you, and if I can help you do a better job of being-as-you-as-you-can-be, then we both win.

Second, I have an amazing group of people  in my network — hey, that’s you! — and I truly enjoy all of you. Whether we communicate on the blog, on twitter, via email, or in some other way, you rock. I get so much and learn so much from our interactions. I want that to expand and I want to see where it goes.

Third, my kids are older now, and it’s either this or start spending more time mowing the lawn — and will the world really benefit from my lawn being well manicured? I don’t think so!

I’m not sure how long I’ll have this offer out there, but if you’re interested in working with me, now’s the time.  Visit the “Hire Me” page now.

Bring it on!

There’s a very short story by Dr. Seuss called “The Zax.”

One is a North-Bound Zax and one is a South-Bound Zax.

The two meet, face-to-face. Because neither of them is willing to take a step to the side, each stands angrily and waits for the other Zax to move.

Eventually, a freeway is built around them as they stand, waiting.

I read this story last night to my four-year-old, and wondered how many times I refuse to get out of the way of my own Zax.

It feels so good, sometimes, to be on a path. It feels sure. I’m headed in a direction, and I can point it out to anyone who asks.

One of my own patterns is my hesitancy to step aside, to alter my path, even when it would be ever-so-easy. I cling to that path.

I’ve always wondered what would have happened had either of the Zaxes moved. Would the one who moved have gone back on the exact same path, or would he have found a slightly different route?

Would moving aside allowed the other Zax to accomplish something great? Was his path the crucial one?

What did the world miss because the two of them were stuck?

What would you do, if your Zax met you?

About two weeks ago, I needed an intervention.

No, not the kind you see on reality shows where an alcoholic or drug user is confronted and hauled into rehab.

I mean an intervention to get me to do what I am supposed to be doing. Where Mother Nature or God or the Fates or someone to come in and say, “Hey, you’re supposed to be an amazing [insert cool thing here]. You keep saying that’s what you are going to do when [insert life event here]. What’s up with that? Why aren’t we doing anything to get it going?”

With three kids, a husband , a home to run and a business to nurture, I spend a lot of my time doing.

I get up and immediately begin doing. There’s a never ending list of doing required to make even the most insignificant activity happen.

If one of the links in the chain doesn’t happen, the whole thing breaks down. There are no socks. There is no jam for toast. The dog doesn’t get walked. People get grumpy. We are late for stuff.

Things deteriorate quickly.

But what if you are supposed to be [insert cool thing here] and you’re not working on that at all?

What if, in all the doing of the day, your [insert cool thing here] gets lost?

What if it gets pushed to the end of the list repeatedly because it’s also part of the hard or the that’s-too-big or the I-don’t-know-how-to-get-started?

Or what if it keeps getting pushed aside because you are, maybe deep down inside, just a little bit afraid of what might happen if you did do something?

I don’t really have any answers right now. I can just tell you how I’m starting to tackle this. Some things are easy, and can go on autopilot. But some are hard, and require introspection and commitment. They might require me to take a long look at who I think I am meant to be and then figure out what has brought me to this point — rather than where I want to be.

It’s like a lot of career hats we try on when we are young — the ones we sometimes feel inexplicably drawn to. The comedian. The teacher. The artist.

And then there’s the person in our life who says something like, “That’s a terrific idea, dear, but how will you make m-o-n-e-y?”

Next thing you know, we’re signed up for freshman biology and declaring a pre-med major. Or slogging through grad school. Or a bureaucrat with an incredibly complex benefits package and a job that drains every ounce of self out of us.

Hmm. That last one sounds vaguely familiar.

The question becomes this:  why am I waiting to be creative, like I need a special outlet that only exists at a specified point in my life? When will I begin to add fuel to the fire of me?

I’ve seen the downside of that kind of waiting so many times — with my mom, who finally retired only to succumb to health issues in what seemed like a matter of months. My dad, who then couldn’t cope and spent his remaining years in a fog. With friends who were so gifted and full of dreams, but who were taken from this earth long before anyone expected.

I know it is a lot. With all the doing there seems to be no time to do for ourselves and for our dreams. But I, for one, decided to get the fire going.

I frequently find myself getting lost watching people. One of my favorite games is to watch someone, and then try to fill in the details of their life. It’s funny, but I can’t remember not doing this.

A couple of recent people stand out. One was the homeless guy walking past my house the other day. He had a yellow shopping cart brimming with what I assume are all his worldly possessions. It struck me as odd that he had as many brooms as he did. I don’t think I have that many brooms. I wondered whether he uses them to hold up an awning during the rain, or whether there are odd jobs he does where sweeping is useful. I was certain they must be useful — critical — otherwise he would surely not lug them around.

Another standout was the guy at the library. He stands all day, checking out books at an enormous desk. They are busy enough that people with more specialized needs, such as getting change or asking questions, go to other people. He’s there nearly every time I visit, which is often.

I wondered, what makes his job bearable? He seems to take a good look at the books we check out, and must have though it interesting that my most recent trip included five “Junie B. Jones First Grader” books for my 5-year-old as well as a book entitled “Hitler Youth” for my 10-year-old’s book report.

Do you do the same thing? Do tell…

Today is the birthday of my dear daughter.

Happy birthday, darling.

You arrived in my life after a long, long wait. From the first moment I learned you were coming and always, I will love you with all my heart.

Today is a day for immense laughter, joy, and being thankful for the blessings of having a Tessie in my life.

I hope, dear readers, that all of you will have an opportunity to share a special birthday with someone you love this year.

Have a wonderful day.

The other day, I was reading something by Mark Silver of Heart of Business. He’s brilliant, and has a ton of wisdom available on his site.

The thing that hit me like a ton of bricks was the idea of trying to “be less”.

As someone whose baby formula was probably infused with some sort of protestant-ethic-and-the-spirit-of-capitalism ingredients, this turns my life on its head.

Be less?

I’ve always been told to be more.

Hmmm.

I started thinking about it, and thought about how to apply this. It’s a little scary, so perhaps there’s some sort of “secret” way I could test it — very gently and quietly — and see whether it is something I could do.

So I thought of one of my big issues. My house.

Four years ago, my husband and I realized we needed to find a house. We have three girls, and the idea of continuing to live on the second floor of an old house was, um, exhausting. Doing the laundry and getting the groceries inside were like aerobics training. It was a hard decision, because our landlord and his wife were the nicest people ever, like grandparents to our kids. It was like leaving part of our family.

But it was time.

We found a little tiny house in a nice neighborhood. The reason we could get it:  The whole house smelled like Vegas. Seriously, that’s what one of our friends said when he walked in for the first time. It was owned by two retired people who smoked multiple packs a day. Even today, after four years of no smoking, the walls in the bathroom still bleed nicotine and need to be washed down every so often.

We got it for a good price, and started decontaminating. But the problem was — is — that we never really had time to do the rennovations we originally planned. Sure, I put up a few shelves in places that desperately needed them. We took out carpets and did our best with rugs here and there.

But that’s about as far as it got.

Life, and things like working and getting kids to school, always got in the way.

Everything we want to do seems like such a big thing. Painting everything. Dealing with floors. Redoing the kitchen. That mysterious thing on the kitchen ceiling. Making the basement usable.

All together there are just too many things.

It stops me dead in my tracks when I start thinking of the time and money involved.

Resulting in:  nothing. No forward motion.

Overwhelm leading to complete shut-down.

So I’ve decided to follow Mark’s advice and see if I can do less. Take one little, tiny thing that I can change, cut it in half a couple of times (I tend to be a bit too overachieve-y), and do it. Followed by another little tiny thing.

Baby steps.

Before I go:  Let’s have a word of the day.

Todays word:  ”Poppener”. As in “bottle poppener”. Opener of the cans and bottles, as created by my 4-year-old this morning.

Have a great day.

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If you enjoyed this, you might also like:

Rules and problems, which talks about my many issues with housekeeping!

The beauty of kindergarten, about having a problem and moving on