Stop Waiting; Start Inviting
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I just returned from a month-long trip in France where I co-hosted a retreat and then went on a six-day solo hike through the mountains of Haute Provence. I’ve returned feeling energized, calmer (the small stuff doesn’t bother me as much), and more prepared to handle challenges that come my way. This has me thinking about authoring our own stories; it was the theme of our retreat, and I've found it's been an important theme in my own life lately. (The thing we teach is often the thing we most need!)
I hope you’ll read on if this is intriguing to you because I’m putting together something that will help you do this very thing.
Authoring our own story.
As leaders in the professional and nonprofit world, and if you’re reading this, you are one of the two, we can vastly improve our perspectives and performance if we stop watching our stories unfold and start authoring them.
In his memoir A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller said, “If story is just life without the meaningless scenes - I wondered if life could be lived more like a story in the first place.”
I was determined to deliver this at our retreat last month, to help each attendee live into their best story. Of course, before you can live into it, you need some clarity on what it might be.
That’s where the morning workshops came into play: we reflected, journaled, and talked, each person inspired by the others and leveling up their thinking and ideas.
One afternoon, I had booked us a kayak adventure to experiment with this idea. Three of the six women signed up, and the other three were happy to explore the neighboring village. (Adventure, after all, is subjective and not scored or compared with others) On the kayaking front, I can honestly say that a few times during the afternoon, I was surprised by how spicy the river was - rapids and cold water, oh my! The spring-fed river was ice cold, and the women in the front of their kayaks got soaked. I was relieved to see the laughter and big smiles, especially during the optional body float down the rapids.
After we regrouped in the van for the ride back to our villa, I sat back and listened to the animated storytelling, including the village explorers. Everyone had been sufficiently pushed. And I felt affirmed, having done my job.
The next morning, my colleague and co-host, Rebecca Sutherns, suggested that, when it comes to taking action, we consider picking one big yes.
I had a big yes about 20 years ago when I was working a corporate job in Seattle and was offered a job at a ski resort in a mountain town in Idaho. There was no doubt in my mind - it was a big yes. And, after packing up my life, I drove to Idaho and cried the entire way.
What's your big yes even if it makes you cry the entire way?
This past summer, Kelsey Pfendler became the first American woman to row solo across the Pacific Ocean from California to Hawaii in a 21-foot fiberglass rowboat. When NPR’s Ailsa Chang asked why she chose to do this, she said, “I love rowing and hard things.”
“I think there's nothing more humbling and special than putting yourself in a place that's so much more powerful than you… And there is very much something spiritual for me about just being with a place that is so strong, so beautiful, so powerful and also just something that requires you to have humility in the face of what it really is.” (NPR)
Ailsa Chang responded that she gets seasick on a cruise, so something like that is beyond her reach. On the other hand, she hosts All Things Considered and speaks to millions of people on the radio every day. Adventure is subjective. Meaning is subjective. The question we might consider is how to lessen the meaningless scenes in our stories and increase the meaningful ones.
What is it that puts you in a position of humility - in a place that is more powerful than you? What is that next big yes that makes sense even if you cry along the way and wonder why you did this to yourself?
Why this matters to people in leadership positions.
It might go without saying, but I’ll say it. Those humbling moments, when we face something bigger than us, shift our perspective and improve our performance at work on Monday. The little stuff doesn’t affect us like it used to. We are more energized and ready to face challenges - they become relished rather than dreaded. We can navigate differing perspectives on our teams. We simply become better leaders.
What am I suggesting - sign up for a record-breaking, life-threatening trek? No, I’m suggesting that living our best story might start with one easy thing: Instead of waiting for an invitation, be the inviter. Do the thing you’ve been wanting to do - visit the new museum, see the new movie, take the weekend trip to that place. If no one wants in, or you don’t have just the right person to go with you, go on your own.
After I returned from hosting the retreat and doing my solo trek, I thought about how accomplished I felt. How happy I was to return home, to family, and to my work projects.
I realized I was waiting for another opportunity to host a retreat. Instead, I’m going to be the inviter. Stay tuned - I’m putting together a retreat for the Spring of 2028 that helps you live your best story. It's for those who want to travel to interesting places, do some storytelling, writing, and reflecting, and get out, move your bodies, and see the world differently.
Curious? Contact me, and you’ll be the first to know as plans come together.
In the meantime, stop waiting and start inviting. Let me know how it goes.
Take care out there.
