Nanette

Last night my partner and I went to see Nanette, Hannah Gadsby’s comedy swan song. It was the best performance I’ve seen in a long time. Such a powerful message, and exquisitely powerful vulnerability. I have so much admiration for the way she used the power of her voice, how she made us laugh before she made us cry. She moved us from appreciating her being heartbreakingly funny to getting what the heartbreak was about. And it’s not just a personal story, it’s a story for all of us. 

Hannah did a brilliant job of making us laugh, and helping us understand what laughing at a joke was about, breaking the tension. She took us with her as she described why she wasn’t going to do comedy anymore. She made a very compelling case for it and had us all supporting her choice by the end of the show.

Through the narrative of Nanette, she illuminated the path to her choice to retire from comedy. She showed us the deeper layers of pain and how it was really unhealthy for her. She shared the rest of the story, after the funny bits, about how badly she was treated, how she was viciously beaten and no one helped. She named the damage done through her lived experience of growing up when Tasmania was deciding if homosexuality should be legalised. She described how internalised homophobia happens.

I can only imagine how others felt at the end of the show but I saw a lot of other queer looking women as well. It felt really validating, especially after the recent vote on same-sex marriage. It felt a little bit more ok to be who we are as a female couple walking out of the theatre at the end. Hannah’s people were there to hear her, believe her and have their story told through her. She speaks on our behalf.

I felt for the woman at the end of our row, weeping, the woman sitting next to her, presumably a close friend or relative, with her arm around her, consoling her. I wanted to give her space, to wait before we walked past her. I wanted to share our collective pain, but it didn’t seem the space for it.

Despite the sadness and tension I was left with, it gave me hope for people everywhere being able to stand up and be heard, be believed. It gave me hope that these sorts of stories can help us take collective responsibility for making a change in our society. That we can heal together.

Hannah has several sold out shows and added a couple extra which means a lot of people will get the message. Thousands will be impacted by her story, her call to hold her story. It made me wonder about the ripple effect and what may come of this. Will more people stand up when they witness behaviour that discriminates or adds to the shame people feel for being themselves? How will we respond to the call to take collective responsibility, that is the subtext of her message? Will we change the way we see and react to injustice? I hope so.

 

This post is 25 in 45 posts for 45 years.

One Week Ponderings

One week into this 45 for 45 challenge I set for myself. It’s been interesting this daily blogging thing. I’ve been learning about myself in the process. I’ve been sharing more than I expected. Through the writing, elements of myself emerge in unexpected ways. I start to write about something that seems fairly basic and then it goes deeper or reveals a new view of the topic. It makes for a more rewarding experience than I anticipated.

But it also feels a bit vulnerable.  I often question what’s appropriate to share, and often err on the side of being open. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s good to say that’s not normally said and what to keep private. 

I decided to do the 45 blog posts for 45 years on my personal website rather than my business site. And I have an IFTTT recipe from ages ago that automatically shares each new blog post on my business facebook page and twitter. Where is the line between personal and professional? Who is the person behind the persona and what is being real and oversharing?

Ultimately, the answers lie in the eye of the beholder. I can only ever guess and see what feels comfortable, appropriate, and a balance of courageous and safe.  I’m always interested in feedback and if you feel I’m sharing too much, I want to know. In the end, I will make my own choice AND I would rather have your honest perspective than not. That’s enough for today. Thanks for being here.

 

Day 8 of 45 posts for 45 years.

#metoo We Have a Choice to Make

There is great potential in the tidal wave of posts related to the #metoo campaign which demonstrates the scope of how women are treated in our society. I acknowledge that women are not the only ones affected by this. Children, men, trans and non-binary gendered people are affected. It’s not an isolated issue, it’s not a simple issue, it has no simple answers. Yet several posts in my feed call for action to respond to #metoo. What will the outcome be?

From my perspective, we could go in a few directions.

One direction leads to a flop, a blip on the radar:

  • A flurry then fade effect that it inspires action for a short time before the status quo regains its hold. I can hear your inner cynic predicting this outcome. I know mine is!
  • Reactions in heated online discussion provoke further suppression. Of course, this isn’t desirable at all, and possibly our worst outcome.

Another direction could take us into new territory. Our collective voice making space for something unprecedented to emerge. What would this mean?

  • Men being inspired to raise their voice in support after reflecting on what it means for them and society. This is starting to happen on a small scale.
  • We begin to behave differently. We speak up when we witness and experience harassment and others back up these dissenting voices.
  • We educate ourselves about what harassment actually is and what constitutes assault,  adopting an attitude of intolerance of these behaviors.
  • And we are compassionate as we create this new normal, we make it ok to speak out we make it safe for those who engage in harassment and abuse to heal too.

That last part is the one I am most concerned about. I would like to think we could accept responsibility and work through this difficult issue, but that cynical part of me is quite loud. This stuff is generations old, back in the day rape within wedlock was legal. It wasn’t even considered rape, women were, effectively property. To make the shift from acceptance and tolerance of women being treated as objects to respect for self-determination is going to take a serious stepping up.

Unfortunately, I see little evidence of our capacity to make this transition well (yes, my inner cynic). It will be messy and uncomfortable. We will be tempted to simplify, stereotype and point fingers. Attacking and shaming perpetrators who speak out, sadly emulates the abusive and disrespectful behaviors we so desperately want to leave behind. We don’t know how it will turn out but we have options about how we engage, behave and advocate.

We can make a courageous choice in each interaction. It’s possible for us to take collective responsibility for how we behave toward each other and bring empathy and compassion to the healing process. Of course, that’s far easier to say than do, but despite my loud inner cynic, I also have a perennial optimist that has faith in humanity. And I will keep banging on about what’s possible for my own sake as much as anyone else’s. What will you do?

 

This is day 2 of 45 posts for 45 years. It was hard two write but I did it anyway.

Getting there – Bali to YVR

I was due to fly out of Bali 1am Monday morning. I’d been there for a week with my partner and the in-laws.  All weekend the airport in Bali had been closed due to a volcanic ash cloud over the airport. Thankfully it opened on Sunday afternoon and I couldn’t find anything saying my flight was cancelled. All the Australian flights were cancelled but I was flying to Vancouver on China Southern via Guangzhou (near HK). I said my goodbyes and went to the airport, with fingers crossed. The hotel staff had been trying to get in touch with the airline over the weekend, but their offices were closed. Not helpful!

The airport was full of people and my flight wasn’t even on the list of departures. There were lots of cancelled flights, all of which were clearly indicated on the check-in desks and departure screens…except mine. Finally it came up and I went over, I was the first in the line and only one person behind me. The line next to us wasn’t moving.TathraMeme-shedd-2

Four ladies in pink uniforms started to set up two check-in desks but no one got processed. People from the next line approached them, speaking Mandarin. At one point I heard one of the airline reps say “waiting for permission”. I noticed there was no gate assigned to flight CZ3006. There wasn’t one for the next line either, no wonder it wasn’t moving. It was a bit odd to me that no one else was getting in the queue for my flight. It was just me and a Japanese man who was pretty focused on his game device, not so concerned about what was going on around him. I decided to sit down on the floor. It didn’t stop people from walking over me, like I didn’t exist, I felt invisible. There was lots of chatter around me, I starting to get concerned that we weren’t going anywhere tonight.

I got especially worried when the head airline rep left, but the sign didn’t change. It wasn’t looking good. I asked the remaining airline rep what was happening with the flight. The woman said, “maybe cancel”, and as she packed up to leave I asked again. “Yes, cancel.” Right then!

I was unsure if leaving before the official cancellation would be wise but I decided to go. Got an offer for private taxi from a guy who said 120000 IDR which was a price I was happy to pay (approx $12 AUD), so I went with it. His car was nicer than some of the vehicles I’d been in over the last week, official taxis and tour vans included, and he got me back to the hotel super quick. I was back there by 12.30am. I emailed my travel agent on the way to see if they could advise me or get me any other information when they opened in Melbourne the next morning.

I was very grateful to have a place to come back to, lots of people would be sleeping in the airport. After a decent sleep I got up early and went to the concierge to see if we could get info on my flight. “If your flight has been affected by the volcano, press one.” I was on hold for 20 minutes which turned out to cost nearly 400000 IDR ($35 AUD). The minute I hung up I got an email from the travel agent. She’d booked me on a flight for 1pm but there was no guarantee it would go ahead and no info about connecting flights to LAX from Guangzhou. I had breaky with Emma & the Lynch’s once more, said good bye again and went to the airport.

This time CZ3009 was already on the board and the queue for check-in was very long. Where were all these people last night? How did they know not to come? I’m pretty sure there was only one other non-Asian person in queuing for the flight. I was glad to see it looked like it was going ahead, still no gate number but people were being processed, luggage was going on the conveyor belts.

It took at least an hour to get through the line. With my Australian Passport in hand, I checked-in and was told that my connecting flight would be sorted at the transfer desk in Guangzhou. The flight left after 3pm. It was smoky, I swear someone had a cigarette in the loo at least 3-4 times during the flight. It reminded me of the days when smoking was allowed on flights, back when my parents were splitting up and we flew from Canada to Australia and back a few times. This was an unexpected memory of another very difficult time in my life.

When I arrived at Guangzhou around 8pm, we were piled on to three buses that drove at least 3km across the tarmac from the plane to the gate. Thankfully, the transfer desk was right there. I went to get my passport, it was gone. WHAT!!!??! Completely mortified. I checked all my bags but I was absolutely sure I’d put it in my computer case which was under my arm the whole time. I knew it was the first thing I’d need so I’d kept it handy. I don’t know how it could have gone missing. If it had fallen out, wouldn’t someone have noticed and picked it up? Thinking about my experience with other passengers cutting in front of me in the line at the gate, I wondered if looking out for each other was a lesser value in Chinese culture, or maybe less extended to foreigners.

After we looked through my backpack and carry-on luggage they looked on the plane and the bus. I was so hopeful it would be found. I kept saying to myself, ‘It’s been found’, and imagined it being handed back to me, feeling grateful. The woman approached me: “I sorry to tell you we have not found your passport.” Then it went from bad to worse. I couldn’t travel any further without a passport. They were going to turn me back. The next flight to Melbourne was full (they wanted to send me to Brisbane!) and was told I may be waiting a day or two… OMFG! I was devastated.

I contemplated what this meant. Going back would mean being home for my partner’s birthday, I’d get to sleep in my own bed, I’d see my dogs again. That would have been ok, good even, despite the cold. I was gutted thinking about giving up on this trip to Canada that I’ve been dreaming about for a year though! The lady went back to the desk and I began to weep. Letting go of my trip was painful. It meant a lot to me. I allowed myself to feel and express the pain. I didn’t care that people could hear me. I was grieving, hard.

Then I remembered I had brought my expired Canadian passport, with the idea that getting it renewed whilst in Canada would be easier than from Oz. The lady at the transfer desk was doubtful but called the Canadian Consulate, and put me on the phone. I had a nice chat with a friendly guy with a refreshing Canadian accent. He was from Port Alberni on Vancouver Island and we talked about living in different suburbs of Victoria: Oak Bay; Fairfield, and of course Fernwood. He said he was satisfied I was legit, not some imposter. I thought he was just friendly, but he was sussing me out! I thought he was in Canada but he is stationed in Guangzhou to deal with people like me!

The upshot: my trip was back on! I was flooded with relief. Next, to get me on a flight to YVR (Vancouver Airport)! By this time it was after 10pm and no more flights tonight, which we already knew. If I had a passport they’d have put me up in a hotel until they could get me a seat, but without one, I couldn’t leave the airport. I slept on the floor not far from the transfer desk. Not fun but I managed. I was glad for the neck pillow I got just before leaving Bali. I used it under my hips instead of sleeping on polished marble flooring.

My flight the next day was at 2pm. I was stressing but used all the techniques at my disposal to accept the situation and make the best of it. I’d been listening to the Philosopher’s Notes (PNs) on Byron Katie’s “The Work” in the queue for the check in to the flight in Bali. It’s all about “Loving What Is”, acceptance, not arguing with reality and what we think ’should’ be. How appropriate. I gave myself space to feel what I was feeling but caught myself worrying, let it go, breathed, and came to a place of acceptance. It felt like the best choice to make.

I did a lot of writing while I was waiting, and listened to more PNs. The one on Introvert Power helped me realise I’d been needing space and being on a family holiday for the last week, I hardly took any time to myself. No wonder I was a bit withdrawn toward the end! I also really struggled with the noise. People talking loudly, announcements for boarding flights at the gates, on top of the fact that I’d slept on the floor and got maybe three hours sleep, it was taking a toll. I did what I could to take care of myself, I felt ok considering.

Finally I got on the plane, but not before more people cutting in front of me to get in the queue to board the bus that took us to the plane. The good thing was that this flight was direct to YVR, no stopover in LAX, and this leg was 11 hours to Vancouver.

I sat next to a UM (unaccompanied minor, I’d been one myself back in the day) and a girl on a school trip who smelled like she hadn’t bathed for a while and wasn’t feeling well. At least it wasn’t smoky this time. I think I got 2 hours sleep altogether, my earplugs didn’t seem to help. The food was good and we got two meals: one while I would have loved to have been sleeping but I was also happy to eat.

Acknowledging that I wasn’t going to sleep more on the flight I did some more writing, listened to more PNs, watched some business shows on future trends and automated manufacturing, robotics, nano tech etc. and some original CSI. Not much else was of interest. I just wanted to pass the time until the flight was over.

When we finally touched down in VYR, the tears started to flow.  The sense of familiarity was like a wave of comfort, I loved it, relished it. Vancouver Airport has become one of the most beautiful airports I’ve seen. The aboriginal art, the recreated natural environments, the light airy feel. It’s just gorgeous.

The passport machines not surprisingly didn’t work for me, but being able to go to the Canadian Passport section was great. The process was very simple: streamlined and no line ups! The expired passport was fine. I was very emotional at the customs counter, telling him about losing my Aussie passport, using my expired one, just the whole situation, so much pent up emotion, leaking out all over! The officer consulted with his colleague about my passport and then came back to me and said, Ok, thanks. Off I went! Was it really that easy?

Getting my checked luggage wasn’t too long and being in a nice environment helped. Somehow it bothered me less when a couple of people from the plane pushed in front of me again to get their bags. The fact that I was here and had no passport hassles had me feeling really grateful. Before I got off the plane I said to myself that I’d like to get on the next possible ferry and I was in luck!

I managed to get to the PCL counter 5 minutes before the next bus, and I got on the 1pm ferry! I headed straight for the buffet, had an amazing lunch of beautiful BC salmon and salad with sprouts, cuke, shredded carrot, spinach and ginger soy dressing, SO tasty! I spent a little time on the deck but it was quite windy and carting around a roller bag wasn’t great. I went back inside and found a seat with a great view and within 20 minutes of sitting down: “Attention passengers, we are now approaching Shwartz Bay Terminal…”

As I write this I’m on the PCL bus into the city and so much of what I’m seeing is familiar, some new stuff, fresh faces on old buildings, but lots is the same. I can see the Olympic Mountains on the horizon and am really loving being here. I worked my ass off to get here and I made it!

Money – Moving Through Fear

The idea that we teach what we need to learn is a powerful one. There are those who teach what they know and that’s an important and valid choice. Yet I find myself compelled to teach what I’m learning. I value vulnerability and walking my talk so it’s no wonder that I found myself being vulnerable, opening up a shame filled topic, and teaching what I know, sharing what I’ve learned on my journey. Recognising the value in what I’ve learned along the way and the opportunity I have to help others on theirs, hoping they don’t need to go through the tough slog I did.

Yesterday I co-led a workshop called Money Tools For Conscious Entrepreneurs. Even just two years ago I’d be a very unlikely candidate to be doing this kind of thing. Sure, I’ve worked hard on letting go of my baggage around money but when I think of how far I’ve come, I still shake my head. One of the things I shared in the workshop about my own journey is that I remember taking a screenshot of each of my bank accounts (spending, saving and business) all having less than $10 in each. Today I regularly have 4 digits in each and sometimes my business account has 5. When I took that screenshot of how poor I was I knew it wasn’t going to stay that way and that I’d look back at it when things were different and remember how far I’d come.

From the Workshop Presentation

From the Workshop Presentation

I had another one of those moments yesterday when we were looking at a demo company in Xero, at a profit and loss sheet and what I’d advise the company to do given what I could see in the months of income and expenditures. When I finished speaking, I had a little epiphany. I realised just how much I’d learned in the past year from working with my accountant (that I was running the workshop with) that I could interpret and advise, at least to a limited extent, just from looking at a profit and loss statement!

At the end of the day I checked in with myself about how I was feeling. I was aware that I still have shame around talking about my success as well as my history with money. I anticipated judgement or at least the potential for being judged. Although my story can inspire others who feel like they are crap with money to turn things around, I still have a background concern that people will think less of me for not living up to a standard or being too open about my own history.

It had me thinking about my work and who I am. Yesterday I delivered the workshop from my edge. I wasn’t wholly in my comfort zone. Despite years of facilitation experience, which certainly helped, I felt anxious about sharing my story and offering burgeoning expertise about something I haven’t known about for very long. Who am I to run a workshop on Money? From so many angles it seems ridiculous!

What I do know is about my own journey and I know about mindset shifting and that was the part I was bringing to the workshop, but I surprised myself at how much I had to contribute to the accounting stuff as well. Initially I expected that Bronwyn would be doing that, more or less on her own.

In the past year, I have come a long way. If I can do it, anyone can! When I think of all the people I know struggling to make ends meet, unaware or perhaps marginally aware of their own money blocks, I can only imagine what they could accomplish if a) they moved through those blocks, and b) learned how to manage their business finances.

The work Bronwyn and I did yesterday takes one small step toward enabling this vision. I imagine thousands of hippie millionaires creating subtle shifts as we move mountains. If there were more people with hippie-like values with more money, can you imagine how the world would change? I imagine people buying up land for conservation, protecting wildlife habitat, funding education for women and girls, creating paradigm shifts in social spending and political priorities. This is one of the reasons I want to help people learn about how to manage business finances and empower people to make a difference in the world by working for themselves, earning a great living doing what they love.

Emotional Intelligence

I experienced an emotional catharsis yesterday morning that has lead to some interesting reflections and social media dialogue. Where it came from is inconsequential but the expression of the pain really had me present to how alone I feel in my emotions, how I trust very few people to hold the space for my pain, to support me in a way that really works for me.

I thought about what I wanted. And how I could communicate that. I did some writing and some relevant and timely posts came up on Facebook that I reposted, sharing a bit of what I was experiencing which started an interesting conversation. What follows is some of that, as well as a response to a question a friend asked me. I’ve edited it to make it more clear and expand a bit on what I meant.

When I’m having a big emotion, a difficult, painful feeling, I usually feel most comfortable being alone. I’d love to be able to share this stuff more and to feel supported not just in principle but in a way that feels fulfilling, like I’ve really been gotten, understood.

How people typically deal with difficult and painful emotions is often with a response that leaves me feeling pitied, ugh! And we have a terrible compulsion to console. I DO NOT WANT TO BE CONSOLED or PITIED! I’m sure it’s stuff I’ve done to others in response to big emotions but I’m looking at it from what do I really want when I’m upset? And maybe I can start doing that more for others.

I want the strength and courage it takes to express and release this emotion to be acknowledged and I would love to find more people who I trust to hold the space for me to do that. Is that too much to ask?

From Facebook

For me, expressing the pain that came up for me this morning was about honouring an emotion that emerged. It’s taken me years to move from being numb to emotionally reactive (simply reacting to emotions), to emotionally aware (being aware of how I’m feeling-still working on this one!) to being emotionally responsive, where I can choose how I respond to emotions that come up, especially if I feel safe to express it and let it go. I’ve been getting better at being aware and letting go, it’s an ongoing journey. But that’s just me, on my own, dealing with my own stuff in the safety of my own holding and self love. I want to be able to share these emotions, yet often when I’m around others, I suppress them. I want to feel safe asking for support. That feels unrealistic and fleeting.

We seem to be so focused on being ‘positive’ that we eschew the real raw emotional stuff that comes up and tend to come back with things like 1) “It’s going to be ok.” (Said it myself to others heaps) and I’m not in doubt of that at all, and 2) generally trying to make our friends ‘feel better’ to avoid our own discomfort with big feelings.

I want to be acknowledged for the courage it takes to feel the pain openly, and to feel like it’s ok to express it, to honour it fully. I look forward to the day when our society is more emotionally open and intelligent. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing and honouring my feelings in the best way I can and asking those around me to work with me on creating safety to express stuff as it arises.

I hope this is coherent. If I let my perfectionist self take over, I’d totally rework it and drastically diminish the changes of this being published. So here you go, imperfect as it is.