It was 5pm on New Years Eve. A snowy, festive scene - the bottle of prosecco had already been popped, Lisa was assembling the cheese tray like a champ, the kids were playing Lego and the fellows were getting the Spotify playlist juuuust right. Present to my current joy but with an eye on the year to come, I followed my instinct to plant a couple of seeds that were germinating in my heart.

Including reaching out to the Wonder from Down Under, Julie Parker of Beautiful You Coaching Academy. I knew we would hug in 2015. Just didn’t know how or when.

Luckily…she did.

An hour after I reached out to her, she invited me to come and deliver a keynote to a group of the most lovely, receptive and generous women I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. In New York. In June. Of course.

Inspiration Day was a dream of hers, planted long ago and tended to with love, support, determination, perseverance, faith, and hard, hard work.

Thankfully, it was all worth it.

She writes in the most recent edition of her inspired COACH online magazine:

And when on the day our divine guest speaker and former inspired COACH cover girl Tanya Geisler said… “We are all witness today to a woman’s dream coming true. That’s something I would travel across the world to see any day” – I burst into tears at the realisation she was speaking about me. It took me a moment amongst all the planning and doing and creating but I got there.

Her planted seed bore fruit. The most exquisitely refreshing fruit ever.

My seed bore fruit too. We most certainly did hug in 2015. Oh how we hugged.

(Photo by Katya Nicholas)

And sometimes, we plant seeds for one another.

I was speaking with my friend and colleague Christine Francoeur. Feeling fried, tired, and weary, I was wanting something I couldn’t name.

She said, my wish for you is to take a break. Go to the cottage. Write and make carbonara.

Seed planted.

I’ve never made carbonara before. Until last night. After a full day of writing.

And what was I writing? No big deal… just the book that I’ve been holding in my heart for years. You know…the one the border guard wished into being?

Oh.

Haven’t I told you that story yet?

Right-o.

Last summer, on a long drive home from the coast, we were in that sweet and comfortable wordless space that comes from plenty of time spent together. Nothing needed to be said. Natalie Merchant crooned softly as we coasted through the White Mountains in Vermont on our way back to Canada. Present to my current joy but with an eye on the year to come (apparently, it’s how I roll), my mind kept playing out what's next in my business, chewing over options and vetting my excitement level. Wondering when I’d FINALLY make time to write my book.

The guard at the teensiest border I’ve ever come across asked the requisite q’s about alcohol, purchases, then looked me straight in the eye and asked me when the book would get written.

Dumbfounded, I sputtered that I hoped soon.

She said, I hope so too, Honey. The world needs it.

She then shook her head as if to break a spell, and waved us through.

Seed planted.

So.

Not all seeds come to fruition.

But many do.

Take a moment to look around and see the growth of seeds that you’ve planted…or have been planted for you. Relish the abundance.

And take another moment. Or twelve. And plant some wishes under tonight’s new moon. For yourself. For your loved ones. For those who challenge you. For those who enlighten you. For the earth. For the moon. For the animals. For the waters. For the babies yet to be born. For peace. For love. For yourself.

Then tend the seeds of your wishes into being.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

Follow the instincts that honour the work

In this cohort of my Step into Your Starring Role program, the brilliant participants are working through the module quite simply called “Do the Work”. Which is about, you guessed it: doing the work.

Doing the work is never quite as simple as it sounds though, is it? (Unless, of course, it is.)

I mean, we know what we’re supposed to be doing. It’s OUR WORK, after all.

Writing. Speaking. Pitching. Running. Networking. Editing. Creating. Collaborating. Launching. Planning. Iterating. Connecting. Teaching. Leading. Learning. Promoting. Researching. Measuring. Painting. Performing.

But sometimes we’re not really DOING the work…but rather, LEANING ON OUR INTENTION to do the work. You know…trying.

And trying is GOOD. But sticky.

(And trying to be good is funny…but I digress.)

Back to sticky.

For instance.

I’m trying to get back into running.

(Again.)

What does working towards that intention actually look like? May be easier if I told you what it DOESN’T look like, in this case:

• hitting the snooze button

• checking emails

• meditating

• making the Kid breakfast

All important things (even the snooze button…especially the snooze button?) But if the objective is to try to get back into running, then for me, these other tasks cannot happen first thing in the morning.

If the very first thing I do once my feet hit the floor is put on my sports bra, you can put money on the fact that I’m heading out the door.

‘Cause getting 40 minutes of getting my sweat on is THE ONLY reason I’ll subject my beloved bosom to the vice grip of luon.

So for me, doing the work looks like putting on a sports bra. That’s step 1. Then heading out the door. That’s step 2.

Your turn. And here's a simple way in: If someone asked you to host a webinar or teach a class on achieving the thing you’re trying to do, what would it actually look like? What would be first two steps that you’d teach? How about:

• Turn on the laptop. (Then find the file.)

• Open the document. (Then type the words.)

• Get out the flour. (Then start to measure.)

• Pick up the phone. (Then dial the number.)

• Light the candle. (Then tune into your breath.)

• Unroll the mat. (Then find your downward dog.)

It’s not about the perfect conditions. (They’ll never be perfect.) It's about finding your way in. It’s about following the instincts that honour the work.

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I could end this post right here. You’ve got something to think about and you most certainly know the first two steps of the THING you’re trying to do.

But Darling One…all I’ve done is remind you of what you already know. Doing the work requires you to do the work.

Here’s where this gets really important.

Because you’re already succeeding, aren’t you? It may feel tough to acknowledge this, but in truth, you’ve already had a taste of the accolades, the invitations, the success, the fame, the wealth, the purpose, the meaning, the freedom that you crave.

But not 100% of the results you desire.

Why’s that?

May I lovingly offer that perhaps you’ve not yet given it 100%? You’re really giving it only about 75%, right? (It's okay. We're in this together.)

And I don’t believe that you haven’t given it your 100% because you aren’t committed to your intention. Or that you aren’t trying. Or aren’t organized. Or don’t have the right sports bra.

Because another truth is that you’ve been holding back from giving it 100% for perfectly sound and rational reasons. In the space between giving it 75% and 100%, 25% is the buffer.

Your good excuse. (Not enough time, energy, money or ideas to fully go for it.) Margin for error. A safety net. Postponed disappointment.

And of course, it’s also keeping you from the success you say you want but actually fear.

Fear of success and the calibration required. Fear of exceeding your family’s level of success, joy, accomplishment. Fear of not meeting expectations placed upon you. Fear of being asked to lead. Fear of getting what you think you want only to discover it wasn’t what you wanted after all. Fear that you’ll have to reveal who you really are. I mean, REALLY are. (In all of your glorious contradictions). Fear of the projections that might come with revealing the full expression of your brilliance, radiance and shine.

And oh, those parts of yourself that you've been hiding in the 25% ARE the keys to your velocity. To 100%.

This is where I come in.

Vroom vroom.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

I wrote this on November 20th 2011 as a guest post for (the now-closed) Roots of She by Jenn Gibson.

Every last syllable remains as true now as it was then...so I haven't changed a single one.

Oh, how I love the timeless endurance of truth.

You too?

Yes.

I see you

I see you.

I see your compassion and am in awe of your capacity.

I see your light, even as you seek the solace of shadow.

I see your calloused hands that are soft and yielding as you massage your aging mother’s feet.

I see the scars on your heart from the times it broke and am fiercely proud that you can still love. Fiercely.

I see your struggle and adore your ability to find ease.

I see the choices you are making and how they honour your vision.

I see where you are going. You may want to consider bringing your oxygen mask.

I see your desire to be held for who you are. Just as you are.

I see what wants to be released from your life. It starts with “No, but thanks for asking”.

I see your contradictions. They’re emerging as a rich tapestry.

I see your eyes well up when the bagpipes play.

I see your reluctance. I see you as a reluctant leader. Oh yes.

I see how your presence lights the room. Mega-wattly.

I see you heal. And how you do it.

I see your belief in your intentions.

I see you dance in the space between your vulnerability and your truth.

I see your curves and marvel at your lusciousness.

I see what is busting to get out of your chest and into the world. It’s been caged for far too long.

I see your timid bodaciousness.

I see your tap root of respect.

I see the doubt. I see the fear. I see the fearful doubt and the doubtful fear. And yet…

I see your deep desire to do more. For everyone.

I see the joy in your impeccability. And I see the beauty in your hot mess.

I see your epic struggle with impatience. (You are gaining ground.)

I see you holding doors open for everyone, no matter how closed the doors can feel to you.

I see the undulations IN and the unfolding OF your story. And it quenches my thirst.

I see you.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

A big man passed me on the winding staircase at a pub. In the cramped space, his broad shoulders brushed against mine. Oh, I’m so sorry, he said anxiously and hunkered in upon himself. No problem, I responded lightly. And off we went in our separate directions.

His response stayed with me. And it wasn’t that his sorry wasn’t a reflexive polite Canadian quirk. It was his shrink-back response of the sea anemone. Like his size was an affront to me. Like his maleness was a sin.

You’ve seen him too. The man who goes out of his way to cross the road so he doesn’t come to close to you at night. Because.

His discomfort with himself (or was it his discomfort with me?) was discomforting to me.

How did we get here?

Instead of saying “no problem”, here’s what I would have liked to have said to him:

You say you’re sorry. For what? For being a man? For having broad shoulders? For taking up space? For your ancestors?

Me too, brother.

But what if you didn’t need to be sorry?

(I know it’s hard. You’ve been blamed and shamed and belittled for the wrongdoings of your forebears.)

What if we stopped apologizing and just say, started from here?

Like:

Heya sister. Heya brother. I see you. We're here now. There's plenty of room for both of us. As we are. No need to make yourself smaller for me. You doing so does not ensure that I’ll take up more space. That’s on me. I bow to the divine masculine and feminine in you. (And yes, you are oh so divine, you in your magnificent God-given frame that is a reflection of your soul. And no belittling or blaming or shaming will change that. Doesn’t work. Never did.) And from here, in bowing reverence, let’s celebrate who and how we can be. Hold space for me to do my good work without trying to control me. I’ll hold space for you to do your good work without trying to coddle you.

Let’s get this thing right, from here on out.

And while we’re here, let’s make a deal: let’s save our sorries for our own missteps, mistakes, and missed turns. Let’s learn from them.

And then let's move on.

Shoulder to shoulder.

That's what I would have liked to have said to him.

One of the most precious texts I ever received came from my friend Kate. We had been chatting on Skype and my daughter made a cameo appearance. The text came a day later:

Watching you with L and seeing all the bright shining light in her eyes told me two things: one, Tanya Geisler is winning at this life thing; two, I pray that I have that kind of closeness with my daughter.

No matter how wrong I think I’m getting this parenting thing, this text reminds me of at least one moment in time that I was getting it right. And to pre-empt myself from sounding falsely humble, I’ll claim this: that one moment was a culmination of a lot of moments.

Which is awesome, because this parenting gig really, really matters to me. Like, rouses-my-Imposter-Complex, matters.

And while I have miles and miles to go before I sleep, I’ve been paying plenty of attention to what makes for some good parenting in the miles that I HAVE traveled and I want to share some of what I know for sure with you.

But first, a story from my youth.

Like most Saturday mornings, I went to the corner store at the bottom of our street with a note tucked into my poncho.

I was seven. It was 1979. Back when the sight of a seven-year-old girl walking by herself to the store was as common as ponchos.

The note said:

I give permission for my daughter Tanya to buy two packages of Export ‘A’ Regulars and one package of Medallions Ultra Lights.

(It was signed by my dad, Richard. A distinct R then a double-looping trailing line with a dot. Ridiculously easy to forge, as I’d discover in my teen years.)

I loved this errand.

It meant I got out of most of the house cleaning and I generally got to keep the change for my troubles.

I loved the jangle of the door as it opened and handing the note over with great assurance of a kid on a mission and the accompanying ten-dollar bill.

I loved to help the cashier find the right packages amidst a dizzying array of available smokes.

I loved inhaling the heady scent of sugary bliss while I waited, and calculating in my head what treat I might get with my “tip”.

But this particular Saturday, my father had asked me to bring the change back to him. No treat this week as we were going to Mr. Greenjeans for dinner, and I’d be sure to get a “Here Comes the Fudge” sundae for dessert.

So instead of helping the cashier find the right cigarettes, I took the opportunity to grab a pack of gum and shove it under my poncho.

Swift and sure.

Where did THAT come from, I wondered as he turned back towards me, smiling and handing me the cigarettes, my change, and the note, wishing me a wonderful day.

Never having stolen a thing in my life I didn’t know what to do next, so I shoved the entire pack of gum into my mouth the second I was out of his sight.

Oh, the irony. In my hasty desire for sugar, I’d managed to nick the only sugar-free gum available back in the day: Carefree. The gum of choice for denture-wearers everywhere.

No matter. In went the whole pack. I looked over my shoulder furtively as I scurried home, certain that I was being sought after by the police.

So preoccupied with getting busted was I, that I forgot to spit out the gum…until it was too late. I had distractedly found my way home…only to land face to face with my parents, digging in the rose garden in the front.

An entire pack of gum is too much for anyone to swallow, so I just stood there, staring at them, cheeks bulging out.

What’s in your mouth? asked my Dad.

Mmmmthng, I replied.

I see, he said.

What’s in your hands?

I may have been a badass stealing denture gum, but I was still too much of a good girl to litter. So I showed him the crumpled wrappers.

To your room, he ordered.

I went.

I’m fairly sure the second they thought I was out of earshot they burst into laughter. But they got it together by the time they came to my room an hour later and sternly ordered me back to the store to apologize. And to sweep the store for the shopkeeper. And we didn’t go to Mr. Greenjeans that night. (Boy, was my sister pissed at me.)

I never shoplifted again.  (Well, except that one time. I chalk that up to peer pressure. Ahem)

And so, I give you: The 15 things I know about parenting.

#1 Consequences are good. Stealing is wrong. Making amends is right.

Not everyone agrees with me on these points and that’s super duper okay with me.

Because I know this:

#2 We’re all trying to do the best we can.

Over the last 42 years of being parented and in the past 11 years of BEING a parent, I’ve learned a fair bit and all I can do is offer you what I know. Take what serves you and leave the rest.

Because in addition to #2, I also agree with James Altucher:

#3 Nobody is an expert parent.

Truth.

Onward.

#4 Keep your promises and your commitments to yourself. Model this for your kids. If you don’t let yourself down, she won’t let herself down. This is huge. ‘Cause there’s a whole big world out there waiting to swoop in when she lets herself down.

#5 Meet them where they are. It may not be where you want them to be. But it’s where they are.

#6 Acknowledge them truthfully and acknowledge them often. Truthfully. But often. (Don’t forget truthfully.) Let them see what you see. Being seen is a gift that you still crave to this day.

#7 Allow the tough conversations to unfold. Don’t force them…or worse, get in the way of their unfoooooooooolding.

#8 Come at said tough conversations from the place of your strength. Your strength is curiosity? Get curious. Humour? Bring it. Courage? Oh, you’ll need that, Honey. Be courageous. (But don’t forget #5 + 6.)

#9 Let them see you feel. Let them see you be messy. Let them see you be human.

#10 "Be loving, be strong and you can’t go wrong." Vivek Patel shared this piece o’ poetic truth at Sunday’s (INCREDIBLE! EMPOWERING! MAGICAL!) GDay and I can’t get it out of my head. (Hallelujah.)

#11 Don’t send your seven-year-old daughter to the store to buy your smokes. Just don't. 1979 is long gone, man.

#12 Experiences over things. Every time.

#13 No matter how busy, how stressed, or how harangued you are, there is always time for a breath, a pause or a hug as needed.

#14 Grades matter precious little in the long run.

#15 It doesn’t last very long. The sweet moments and the bitter ones. They are equally fleeting. Devote yourself fully to the ones that matter (and they alllll matter.)

I’m learning, messily and sloppily and joyfully and painfully. Over on FB, won’t you share with us one precious piece of wisdom you have as a child of a parent or as a parent of a child? What do YOU know for sure? Let’s learn this thing together.

xx

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PS – You can see that this all applies to life…not just parenting, right? Yeah. I thought you would.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.