jalléCafe

When I am 50

I'm cleaning out boxes to move. (Eight years of stuff is NOT coming with me!) Found a journal from exactly 10 years ago.  The start of my career change.

Ken, who I met at the Center for Creative Leadership, had sent me this image saying that he could picture me just like this when I was 50.  I liked it, kept it. Made a dream list from it.  (I'm just the kind of person to keep such lists.)

Glad I found it now, when there is still time to remind me who I wanted to become. No, I'm not 50 yet!!!  The key points, condensed:

When I am 50...

• I live creatively, enthusiastically and with healthy humor.

• I approach life's challenges directly with calm strength, courage. I trust my intuition. I have gained maturity.

• I am an entrepreneur & a writer who helps people and their ideas grow.

• I love a man with depth, passion and a common sense of purpose.

• I contribute to the community in which I live.

• I live actively  in mind, body and spirit.

• I live simply and appreciatively in the moment.

• I have followed my own voice with the crazy enthusiastic ("god heard from within") ideas.

I didn't think I was any of those things back then, which is why I wrote the list.  I needed to change. And this woman to me looked like she was someone I would respect and be proud of. It gave me courage to look to her as a symbol. 

I cannot say I've fulfilled all of these desires, but I can say I've tried. I think it mattered that I wrote and dreamed.

Plus, someone I met thought to send me this image. And inspired me to see something new in my potential in that moment. (And yes, I'm a woman, of course he could have had a lot of motives...smile.) Yet I think I will start sending images as inspiration boosters, too.  You never know when it may really make a difference.

 

The price of sitting in Italy

I liked Coronas Cafe in Florence so well that I went twice.  Once for gelati and coffee. Then just for a quick Italian-style espresso standing at the coffee bar.

Was surrounded by Italians.  Everyone from handworkers to business men taking a break.

Didn't understand a word, but totally caught the spirit.

 Later I was so tired, I just needed to rest. So decided on another coffee, this time in the first trendy looking place I spotted, B. Gallo.  The sitting was great. Coffee OK.  Price?  4x the Italian coffee bar! 

And not an Italian (other than the waiter) in sight...

 

 

 

A diving board moment

Over lunch one day this week, I explained to a friend -- a wonderful, beautiful French woman who no girl from Ohio could ever match in allure, especially when she brings her little white dog in a quilted bag,  at which point she is exactly as I imagine all such women from Paris and I totally enjoy it every time -- that I had a "diving board moment" on Wednesday.

This means that I needed to take the next little step on something, but it felt like a huge step off of a high dive.  A free fall, not knowing exactly how it will feel when I hit the water. 

Felt this more than a few times: when quitting a job, taking a job, changing countries, starting a business.  I know that at some point, I need to stop thinking and just do it.

So, I literally said to myself, "Jill just sign the d-d! contracts!"  And pushed myself to the step of signing, mailing, transferring the deposit with a purposefully blanked mind.  Finished!

In three weeks, I'll have a new place to live, a change of lifestyle and Zurich neighborhood, a new view after eight years in the same place.

The free fall actually feels great at the moment. Although sadly I don't think there's a chance I will learn French!

2012: Outside of what there is

It's a new year. Time for new perspectives and a couple of things to decide. So I wandered around wet and windy Zurich on this 2nd day of January in search of a sign.

That's what I do when I need a sign. I walk.

I've crossed this public art at Bellevueplatz 100s of times.  Wondered what the artist meant, really. (Commissioned in 2007 from NYC artist Lawrence Weiner btw.).  Today, I suddenly, unexpectedly "got it."

 BALL BEARINGS OR ROUND STONES
MADE TO ROLL
OUTSIDE OF WHAT THERE IS

It's about leaps of faith.

Well at least that was my flash inspiration. A choice floated to the top quickly afterwards. If it feels like art as I implement it, I can thank Lawrence!

I just returned from Italy.  Christmas in Tuscany.  Incredible luxury to be there a few days - and I suspect I will look back and think it was very important, too.  Had a couple of brainstorms unexpectedly. Look forward to the New Year to see where they lead.

I will long remember a discussion with my taxi driver Lorenzo. Fairly serious Italian about my age.  Been driving us tourists for 15 years. I asked him what had changed in that time. He answered quickly, "Globalization!"  What do you mean by that?  "Now I see tourists from everywhere. Brazil, India, China. Not just the Americans or British." So many all the time that the City of San Giminano is considering to install a ticket system, closing its gates, he said.  He didn't seem to be in favor.  I mentioned that I'd read we'd triple the tourists in 10 years. Maybe we need the system.  How did he feel about that?  "Well, it's an important business here to us."  How he takes care of his family. 

It's a dilemma. Everywhere I went, even in low season - people!  I read in a local magazine about a Florence-founded group trying to ensure intercultural exchange.  Life Beyond Tourism.

I like these little efforts to chip away at a big topic.  And I like a serious, non-drinking Italian taxi drive when I want to relax with a nice local wine!

My hot chocolate promise

I wrote the following scribbles in my journal early one morning some months ago, having stopped for a simple hot chocolate, in this land of wonderful Swiss chocolate, on my way to work. Came to me quickly. I've carried it with me ever since. Last week, I shared a lunch that reminded me how important that simple hot chocolate is.

Today is 17th April

Today I promise myself to embrace my life

As I find it

All of it

My personality

My place in my family

My history

All of it

 

My pro's and con's as an entrepreneur

My challenges as a person, as a woman

My mistakes

So much I still have to learn about being non-defensive

 

I seal this promise with a hot chocolate at Spruengli

And a desire to be strong and gentle

To do my best

To be a good friend and daughter

 

With the hope I can

Create something

Bring joy to someone

Blow a fresh wind wind into all things I embrace

Love

 

But with no expectations or resentment if it

Turns out differently

Life is in the end not fair

But it is to be lived

And can be damned beautiful on the way

 

Goodbye dear men...

As I opened the Studio door this morning a sound stopped me in my tracks. 

Silence. 

Lovely, let-you-hear-your-own-voice emptiness of pounding, scrapping and shouting men at all windows.

Ten minutes later, Italian singing started.  Two guys, happily hummed along, doing a little dance of dismantling.  Soon the scaffold was gone. And they had a great time all the while.

Made me smile, too.

Welcome back Augustinergasse, in all your eclectic charm!

Dust storm on Augustinergasse

Last week employees in an office on our floor discovered a closet full of insulation. Today, it required one man four hours, eight trash bags and a professional vacuum cleaner to remove it. I am grateful for how quickly they took care of it.

It might have been foreshadowing.

Check out the reflection in these windows: those men are standing over my head. They are standing on a roof showing lots of open lumber. Can you see the square stacks of red clay roofing tiles up there below their feet?

I suspect tomorrow will be a pounding! Two weeks, my landlord promises. Just two more weeks.

 

I shall interpret it as a metaphor for positive change: the (dust) storm must pass before the lovely calm can arrive.

Modern Matterhorn

I escaped the Man Zone last week to the Matterhorn. 

I'm pretty sure this peak is also a "he" btw. He's just rough and lustig that way.  I photographed him every morning as soon as I opened the curtains. This was last Thursday. 

Turns out Mark Twain had been near where I stayed in Zermatt in 1878.

He scaled to the top of a scant mountain that just starts slanting up in the left of this photo.  I downloaded Twain's book of  A Tramp Abroad and read the essay about his climb. Hilarious.  A century later it still gave an amazingly accurate description of how the Alps feel, especially crossing them - as I learned two weeks ago myself.

One thing I guess was different for Twain:  He said everywhere you could hear loud, crashing mountain streams.  He's right.  You nearly always hear them.  Plus.  Now you can add to that continuous sensory experience flying machines!  Look at that trail across the sky that greeted my camera. Could he have imagined that?

I wonder what will be different for the person who reads Mark in 2111?

Man zone

Every morning last week between 8:00 and 8:30 a.m., I entered the MAN ZONE.  This view greeted me at all five windows of my studio.  ALL FIVE.  

As the day wore on, the men wore less.

Skin of widely ranging varieties showed above the beltlines.

Finally enough-was-enough!  This week I've escaped to the mountains, where the men are no less manly, but I'm enjoying a girlie week.

Girlie-size backpack, walking sticks made for girls and after a long hike, a girli- type sauna, a prosecco, a lie about painting my toe nails after the hiking boots make their marks.  

Man zone - we'll see you next week!

When the road gets rocky - illustrated

Found this pic when downloading my camera. 

It is my favorite view of yesterday's post!

Spot the girl on the trail?

When the road gets rocky

A friend took me for a long mountain hike over the weekend.  Might I add - a highly trusted friend. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not comfortable with heights.   The hike had lovely moments.  And rocky ones. Literally rocky.

Who on earth calls it a "well marked hiking path" when you have to climb over boulders?  Well, the Swiss at minimum.  I wasn't exactly always happy while crawling over those rocks.  It needed downright hard work. My friend kept calling out ahead trying to motivate me - don't you have a metaphor or some technique from your business that will help? 

Metaphor? I didn't want a metaphor - I wanted to be done climbing over rocks!!

There are times when your own medicine doesn't work until after the climb.   

 

Emotion, thanks

I received quite a lot of notes after last week's post asking if I was OK. And of course a call from my mother. Thanks, really for being concerned.

I guess the "I cried for an hour" surprised people a little. Don't usually blog that part of my life.

I've cried many hours as a tool for dealing with frustration. Once even in front of my boss during a performance review. (OK, I was 23 then...) I seem to rebound from crying to steely determination, laced with rebel humor and the need to do something productive as a counter to negativity. Hence last Thursday's book slamming.

I also had a lovely note from my non-blogger friend Sandra O. She and her husband have, too, been decluttering: "I also found myself thinking about all those courses I had done, all those jobs, all that effort, all those books … was it worth it?!"

That was exactly my sentiment at my lowest moment last week - has all of my effort to be a decent person and to do something meaningful been worth it? Well, what is the alternative? To stop trying and give up hope? Just can't. I guess a little book slamming among tears will have to be allowed.

Aftermath of culture shock

No matter how long you live in another country, how much you love it there, and how integrated you try to become, there will always be those moments in which something goes so differently than you expected.  Because you don't totally understand the rules.  And that can be really frustrating.

This is the Friday morning aftermath of that moment I faced on Thursday evening.

I unexpectedly received a letter that entirely complicates my plan to change apartments.  I felt the most deeply stunned and culturally helpless that I have maybe in seven years.  So of course I cried. For an hour.

Then as I rebounded a little, I suddenly decided I needed to channel this energy somewhere.  I spied my overloaded bookcase, still stuffed with random books from the last decade.  And I decided it was time to purge!  Book-by-book, the rejects landed on the floor.  Hard. Thump, thump-thump, slam!

Boy did I feel better.

On the floor:  a good 1/3 dribble about relationships (kept just two classics, the rest gone!), 1/3 once-trendy, now forgotten business books (usually received from work - again I kept the classics like Drucker, Hamil & Prahalad, Collins) and 1/3 fiction that if I haven't read it in 10 years, my Kindle now ensures I never will.

I enjoyed my Friday morning coffee surveying the pile. Feeling deeply satisfied.  Then later called in expertise to resolve the cultural crisis.  It's all in the learning. By this morning, the aftermath was neatly bagged and ready to be hauled out.

Next cultural crisis pending: What are the rules for recycling books here?  I'm sure there are rules and this time I'll try to get ahead of them.  Or maybe I'll just end up decluttering my kitchen...

Enjoying the unexpected

Monday morning surprise: our entire street now blocked by a crane in front of our lovely scaffolded building. Fortunately, it turned out to be a lot more quiet here than we were told to expect.  Good thing especially for my 10  client phone conferences and three meetings!

Lots of things this week turned out differently than I expected.

I received a surprise email about a possible new apartment that would put me in the center of what I most love about this city.  A surprise visit from a fortune teller at my Studio. (No I didn't ask him my fortune. Would rather that be a surprise, too. A construction worker had left our building door open...sure surprised me when I opened the Studio to see this man who looked and spoke like a cartoon character as he tried to hand me a business card.)

And I made several unexpected decisions NOT to do things the way I had planned. Go away for the weekend for one.

The only thing this week that didn't surprise me is that it went fast.

More planned, I spent a wonderful "girls day" with a friend who will soon have a new baby. Boy or girl, we don't know. She wanted that to be a surprise. And it is scheduled just days from now.

So next week has the great potential to be unexpected, too.  I love the feeling there could be something "curious and wonderful" just around the corner.  A few surprises go the wrong way. But the hope and possibility of something lovely just ahead makes each new day it worth it!

Under construction

In February, I said I would take a few months off to get out from behind my own shadow. In March, life gave me unwished-for help as we lost my younger brother John. Time rushed by to full summer sunshine. Finally, I'm back.

Have a new plan. It is now fully under construction like our building on Augustinergasse. This scaffolding went up on Monday. Shame to see the lovely old house surrounded by pipes and nets.

But like a butterfly, it will emerge from its cocoon in mid-September with a modern, fresh and even more beautiful new tile roof. Ready for the next decades. About that same time, my business will reemerge, too. With a new web site and way of interacting. A new blog. I'll keep this one privately, but we will have more to say as jallé!

I'm excited. Let the ripping and pounding and hammering begin. The mess is worth it.

And meanwhile, I'll hang-out here for the summer.

Cave dweller emerges, momentarily

I suddenly realized today that if I don't write a post, I will have exceeded my longest blog gap of one month. Nothing doing!  I'm in a creative period - which makes me look suspiciously like a man in his cave a la Mars and Venus. But I'm not. I'm just in the flow.

Actually, I'm working on point #6 a la Austin Kleon (blog link referred by a Zurich friend who keeps me filled with remarkable ideas, a la near the end of point #1.  May have been the first thing in March that made smile from the inside).

Hopefully I will soon pass the comma, in The Secret.

My favorite is #9.  Even screaming creatives need a foundation on which to build.  

PS Then there is point #7, which startlingly reminded me why for years I said I would be extremely grateful to see something different outside my window over my first cup of coffee.  Turns out he was born within 30 miles of my hometown. Gotta love that karma.

How many days sans prosecco?

I'm a bit late reporting the results:  four days. Four. I made it a solid four of the seven days I said I would go without alcohol in mid-April.  Then I consciously decided to give up the quest.   Thing is, I wasn't committed. 

I enjoyed some pretty energetic conversations with colleagues and friends during those 96 hours: they either didn't see the point of it or they told me I needed to commit to 30 days if I wanted to really feel it. None of them would take a glass of wine or prosecco when I wasn't drinking. (So I guess social pressure works two ways...)

I really wasn't trying to change much.  Just see what I noticed and felt. That I did.

I felt about the same.  I have energy either way.  What I noticed more is that I genuinely enjoy a glass of wine with my meal. 

So what's to report about creativity, my question which started this whole experiment?  I noticed my energy seems to come more from the passion for doing. My body acts as the vehicle, not the spark.

And mostly in truth, I am kind of relieved that it is Ok to relax with a glass of prosecco or take a nice red wine with my meal. My Methodist roots turning European at last? Who knows.  It was only a small experiment.  And I'm not one to tempt lightening bolts from above in the Spring.

Day 2 of 7 - sans prosecco

I decided spontaneously over the weekend that I will go seven days without a single alcohol-containing drink.  Started yesterday. 

I want to test a few assumptions about happiness and prosecco. 

I'm reading Creativity by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (the first ebook on my Kindle).  Cskiszentmihaly talks not about creativity of the drunk, high and inspired musician stereotype, but instead of creativity through which a productive person brings a new idea into society in a way that changes culture.

He says so far (I'm just 6% through what in print is a 500 page text) that creative people tend to be optimistic.    

What does that have to do with my prosecco?  Well these people, he says, get real joy from their creative pursuits.  And a friend said to me over the weekend, "I'll bet if people didn't drink at all, they would get up earlier, be more energetic, get more out of life."

I put two and two together into a hypothesis!  Less alcohol = more energy for more creativity and more joy.  (In fact, 2 + 2 + 1: My brother passed away one month ago today.  He would like to be here getting more out of his life.  In his honor, I'm going to see what I can learn in 7 days about finding joy in life.)

I already know that each of the next six days I will tell one person with whom I would normally happily share a prosecco that I will take "water or juice, please." They may wonder if I'm trying to beat an addiction, pregnant (at my age??) or simply depressed.  None apply.  I'm just trying something new and trying to notice the little things that come of that. Sure I'll have another prosecco in my life. Just later.

So now I'm off to Sechseleuten - the Spring Festival on a beautiful afternoon in Zurich. I've blogged the myriad otherwise normal, now costumed adults with horses and flower baskets before.  Bet I'll notice even more this sunny afternoon that the city center has blossomed with stands serving beer and brats, too. :)

The place where nothing changes, yet everything just changed

I've always said my little hometown of Wilmington, Ohio, is a place where change creeps slowly along. You can still find the Buckley Bros. grain elevator rising at one end of town. This lovely old movie theater marquee at the other.

Two weeks ago, everything about this place changed for me, as we lost my younger brother John unexpectedly. 

I just returned home to Zurich and found a lovely letter from a friend in my mailbox, written on the day of John's memorial service, that included this quote, "A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam, And for a brief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world, But then it flies again, And though we wish it could have stayed...we feel lucky to have seen it." Author unknown.

Who ever knew that even this small place -- where Main Street still looks like a 1960's photograph and I could still hear nearby farmers refer to town residents as "them city people" - is as fleeting and precious as a butterfly?

Time to change

Today I came to the mountains to get some advice.

They told me it is time to get out from behind my own shadow.

You will hear from me again in month or two, when I have at least tried....

What comes with career change

As of March this year, I will have operated my little business for five years.  "Five years and still standing."  People often say to me that if you've managed to get this far, that's a big milestone.

I am grateful for the chance to do it, the creative adventure, the dream. It's far from a sure thing even after five years.

I can also feel sacrifices - worrying at night how I'd make a living, having enough cash to pay bills.  Less free time without responsibility to check-in.  Often happy, but just flat-out tired from the intensity.

Now that I've learned a lot about how to flow with being an entrepreneur - how to live with the rhythm of it's rewards and uncertainties - I ask the next question:  what do I want it to look like at 10 years?  Is this about making a living or building something that will last? Or both?

And can I do it while still living my life?  Not letting life get away from me too quickly through narrow focus on only one part of it?  

My business has nurtured my personal growth and professional maturity - there is no "all or nothing" "right or wrong" "for sure or totally risky."  

It's more about instinct and adaptability.  Doing the best you can. Taking a minute to feel the experience.

That's the real gift of my career change that started even before my business (nine years ago now): the ability to slow down and notice how great it is to have such possibilities now, no matter how they "turn out" in the end.

Finding a healthy rhythm

Back to work it was this week!  Jumped right into client meetings Monday morning, Professional Women's Group monthly event Tuesday evening, more meetings on Wednesday.  I wondered how I'd get back in the rhythm again after the holidays and a lovely mountain vacation.  

Turned out it was less like finding the rhythm and more like flowing along with the current.

That's a good thing, btw, if you own the business.  When you don't have to think about what to do next - when your clients let you know. Lucky. I try to remember this.

Yet I know that a good rhythm needs a balance between a deadline pace and creative space.  That's one of my goals this year - finding my own rhythm, not just a "work is the main thing" one.  We shall see.

I think it will need my courage and test my strength to sometimes say the creative and exploratory is more important than the next Swiss franc.

Yet, I suspect a healthy life and business depend on it.  That's a good challenge to begin the new year.

 

Listening to the mountains

I know, I know.  I've been away from my blog a while.

It's the slowest time of the year in our business; so, after Mom left on 28th December, I spent a quiet week in the office getting the year-end paperwork together.  Then I ran for the mountains.

Here I sit today.

 

    The weather has not been perfect.  Record low snow and high temperatures.  

But mountains always look beautiful to me.  And this week, they sure had something to say.  They've given me a lot of new ideas that are bound to make 2011 exciting.

More on that soon.  For now, I will enjoy the miracle of a world much bigger than me.

My view of Christmas

Santa brought my Mom a digital camera.  I thought it would somehow be better than the 2,000 times she normally pulls out a disposable with automatic flash while she visits.  

Technology made it easier to whip that lovely new gadget out of her bag, at least 5,000 times and here's what I've seen of the holidays since then.

Adding to the decade of photo books she has created for me.  I hope she doesn't start a blog next!

The same 50 minutes

In a clash of old & new worlds, I sit now on a traditional Swiss (on-time!) train typing on my mobile phone this text which - when I hit send - will upload in cyberspace to my hosting service over the Atlantic ocean in about 60 seconds, during which I will fidget impatiently waiting to check that it posted.

When I first sat on a similar Swiss train, I had never heard of the email, which I just cleared also via my phone while sitting on a traditional Swiss (on-time!) tram 12 minutes to connect w/this train after a client meeting.

I love that the old Swiss technology is so reliable. And the new technology lets me do my job, with 50 minutes left to gaze out the window & dream via the romance of trains.

Morning commute

With only four weeks before the holiday break here, I'm using every spare weekday moment to meet client goals before year end. This minute I'm on my normal tram commute to the center of Zurich. Early-ish today. Will meet a friend, an airline captain in fact, who loves hot chocolate as much as I do. We meet early mornings around my client work and her flight schedule. Some moments are not to be sacrificed, even in the holiday rush!

An advantage of night seminars

Last week, with two of three seminars scheduled in the evening, I hoped to stay fresh for the consecutive conversations.  I'm not exactly a night person by nature and have been both surprised and relieved that the genuine people involved actually give me lovely energy. 

And then.  Icing on the why-am-I-still-in-the Studio-at-this-hour? cake...

I got a sneak preview of the holiday lights as I dragged myself late to my car.  (Won't tell you how many men with safety vests were needed to correctly hang 'em.)  "Day people" must wait til the 25th for the official illumination.

Encouragement to become a night owl.

Yet another leap of faith

My former German teacher - now friend - and I recently talked about what it takes to make a "leap of faith" toward a new dream. 

Just doing it because you know it's the right thing for you and all the intelligent reasons don't matter, he said. (Well, paraphrased. He said it in German.)

Hope, I concluded as we continued to talk, is somewhere deep inside it.

Today I realized I'm about to take another jump over the edge.  We are finishing the myriad of paperwork to officially hire my first employee.  Seems scary, with all of the costs involved.  I cannot give her as many hours as I would like yet.

Of course I will always remember the moment when I was sure it is the right thing.  She and I were talking together about her ideas, her view of creativity.  I saw her enthusiasm, capability, desire to contribute. And suddenly I knew she would be our first official employee and that I will always remember that moment with grateful pleasure for the chance to do it.

Told her so.  OK.  1, 2, 3.  Jump!!!

Saved by Daylight Savings

Our clocks "fell back" this weekend the same night that - remarkably - there were trick-or-treaters in my Swiss neighborhood.  I must have fallen asleep feeling guilty about not having candy around for them (Halloween is only recently even noticed here.  Typically we go right to Santa Claus and advent wreaths).  I was pretty exhausted anyway from the busy week.

Sunday morning, as I drowsed in what is usually a lovely state of half awake - half asleep stretching, I felt suddenly I'd been so busy through the holiday season that Christmas had come and gone.  My first thought: I didn't even drink a gluwine this year!  (This was really my first thought of shock and dismay.)

Happily, a few seconds later, I thumped into recognition that only the clock had moved, not the entire season.  It was still October.  My gluwine dreams were saved. 

I shall take this dream as a sign: when the time arrives, remember to walk slowly through the festive streets, not letting them pass by too quickly, unnoticed, untasted, unsavoured. Next thing you know, we'll be moving the clocks forward again in 2011.

The silence of happiness

Over breakfast one morning this week, a client showed me the strength of humility by telling me that the most important focus of his new role was simply, consciously doing it as well as he could (my paraphrase).

And over a Starbucks today, a colleague illustrated the potential beauty of humility by referencing a mutual client who has every credential to set himself apart yet seems so happy to be part of your day when he sees you, you end up with his smile on your face.

And on my tram ride home a minute ago, I remembered an email from a friend who never says a bragging word about his work - only talks about his passion to test his character through his next project.

I begin to suspect that humility - the silence of ego - is a rare and lovely path to happiness in this mess of a human world.

Wedding moments at work

I write this post from a comfortable chair with modern fabric and colorful pillows overlooking a clouded lake, with little to do but sit and wait.

After the mad dash of designing and planning, printing and packing, room scouting and note retracing, the workshop and I now sit waiting in the hotel for the guests to arrive.

It's gonna go how it goes now. And something will go differently than I predicted and planned, no matter how hard I tried to envision it.

Someone will arrive late just when the bride is about to walk down the aisle, or knock over the candelabra, or spill punch on the grooms white tie.

Hopefully no one will notice among all the other good energy.

But for now I am still waiting and wondering if I can manage not to trip especially at the beginning, and especially not on my own gown! :-)

The time and place for charm

This year, Zurich eagerly awaits it's new holiday lights. Several 100,000 little led bulbs will replace the "world's largest time piece" (250 florescent tubes) that lined the main street since 2005.

I know the year because that's when I first moved to a charming Augustinergasse office. Was so-o-o looking forward to walking through the beautifully lit streets in December.

Then Zurich went modern.

But not for long, happily. The new lights already hang in October! And the "turn on" date is November 25, a week earlier than usual.

Then the season of Gluwine can begin.

Old place, new look, carrying on tradition

 Yesterday morning - a cold, foggy Fall one again - I sought out a warm cafe on my way to the Studio. The low buzz of activity shares a human energy that inspires my idea scribbling.  My best conceptual ideas jump out in this context.  Been true since I was a student.

Here is Gran Café Motta on the Limmat in Zurich. A long-standing favorite of tourists and locals, it reopened in the Spring to fairly negative reviews about how it had been turned into a bland, trendy spot.

I found it totally and surprisingly charming.  The locals still sat quietly talking or reading the newspaper.  Waitress was quick and friendly.  Felt warm, uncomplicated and enjoyable.

I give them credit.  Sometimes it takes courage to carry on the best of an old tradition in a new way.

 

Old dog learns new orchid story

I padded out to the living room on this foggy, colder-than-expected morning, normal coffee cup warming my hands, and settled onto my sofa cross legged to enjoy a slow wake up. A few seconds later I discovered I was joined by two happy new blooms for the first time ever.

You see normally I make orchid blooms fall like rain. That's what happened to this plant that I bought for my Studio in June. By August I had a bunch of bare sticks.

But this time I said, why don't you drop the old "I always kill orchids" story, bring the thing home, and actually try to grow it?

After three months of watering a seemingly unresponsive stem and resisting the temptation to give up and try a different plant, I have a new orchid story!

Bet It wouldn't hurt me to try throwing out a few more stories and sticking with the new ones long enough to see them grow.

My quiet moments

 The first of the six seminars conducted as hoped

Left-over desserts and vacuumed wine bottles stored away in the cooler

Dishwasher loaded

Crumbs swept away

Chairs repositioned 

Posters and hand-outs sorted

Flowers admired

Ipod turned on

Glass of prosecco poured (naturally)

Ten minutes before leaving to walk home.  Tired, but feeling that my life has indeed become more meaningful

 

Einzigartig

Today marks one year since I let go of a large-ish client contract in the hope that I could focus more on work that meant something to me.

That single step led to a domino effect: an office, workshop projects, travel, team, a more mature understanding of myself and so much support from friends and clients.

Last year I once slumped down on the floor of this room and cried at the end of a Friday out of fatigue and wondering what would happen to me with this crazy decision to go it alone.  This year I get teary-eyed because I know how different and less magical it would have been if I hadn't taken the step that scared me.

This afternoon, my "old" and favorite German teacher stopped by what is now my studio for coffee.   What a lovely collision of my best memories here.  I was fortunate that exactly the right teacher for my personality got me started back in 2005ish.  We talked about books, writing, the trials of love and of being human.  Then, when I had very few German words to draw on, and today when my grammar still needs help. And he helped as always without making me feel less elegant. 

That is a unique way of being. Einzigartig, Alex. Thanks for my new word of the day.

Ripe and requiring change

 

Today when I arrived at the Studio, I had to crank up the heat for the first time this year.  Then I sat freezing a few hours as I focused on project deadlines. 

Nearly put on my coat again!

Over the weekend, I gathered a bunch of what seem to be simultaneously ripe tomatoes from my plant that has turned yellow and brown and nearly crinkly.

I paused a moment in bittersweet memories of its full green height just a month ago.

Nothing stays the same.  And we all must move on.  Letting go of one good thing a bit reluctantly - even when it has already faded - with faith that the next warm and satisfying moment will one day appear.

In my case, I hope it includes Raclette cheese.  But I must wait and see.

 

What to do when your rope frays

I enjoyed posting the rope analogy earlier this week.  Borrowed it from a friend who is really good visually in fact and laughed aloud when Mr. Ness posted his comment, which was also good visually and true that I used it (borrowed that one from Dave Barry's Book of Guys years ago).

Truth also is that I took the risk to illustrate with a funny story because I cared to preserve the relationship and take the edge off of rope-fraying.  

For me it was a risk to try storytelling, an informal way to go about it that seemed like it also exposed me more personally.

Several friends, including Mr. Ness and the person who first called me a frayed rope some days ago, have shown me the importance of that.  Not defensive humor, which is dangerous, but relaxed positive storytelling that gets a reluctant chuckle and maybe even a grin.

When your rope frays, I suggest finding a good friend who knows how to make you smile.

Feedback and The Frayed Rope

Recently, Sandra-the-nonblogger and I led a short workshop about feedback.  How to give it.  How to receive it.  No matter how we went around the topic, it came back to one main point: most of the time it isn't easy or fun to take feedback. 

Compliments come short, sweet and to the point.  "Ideas for improvement" seem to require long conversations often looping the topic, sometimes not ever quite getting the lasso around something positive we can do as a result.

And if someone stops us in the hallway to say, "Hey, can I give you some feedback?" we universally cringe.  Our already frayed ropes morph into imagined terror: View this photo

Having all been "feedback takers" at one time or another, perhaps it is a good idea to remember how "not enjoyable" that role is when we plan to give feedback ourselves.  We can prepare the way we would hope someone would prepare for us:  with the goal that the “taker” walks away feeling that something new and good is possible even from your negative view. 

Plus we can show the respect to let the natural human negative emotions of being the taker pass on reflection, not expecting all positive outcomes in one conversation or the immediate moment.

What to do with a frayed rope?  Well, it needs a lot of time and many ropes to build something worth having: View this photo  We can persist in the effort, never sacrificing the goal of showing respect and belief in both the person and the positive outcome - even if we get the exact words wrong. And let's face it, at least I often do!

Creative practice, addendum

Earlier this week, a writer friend who is reluctant to admit she ever reads a blog (so I know this was powerfully-considered input), shared with a few of us bloggers advice she learned from a literary agent's blog about blogging. (Follow that?)  The advice was that to build readership, you should blog every day. 

Every Day! 

About the only thing I can say I do every day for sure is brush my teeth and drink coffee.

Well, and write.  But in my journal. Or for clients. Or to others.

So on this Friday evening as I get ready to shut down my laptop, I'm wondering if it's never too late to begin creative practice for real. 

The power of an idea shared by someone you respect...

Glimmers of why I'm in this

So what about "Food, thought, and food for thought for busy professionals?" she showed us scribbled on her note pad, part of the phrase inserted with editors marks, a few trial words discarded already with lines through them.

That's it!  The other two of us who'd been batting around the concept recognized it immediately.

And later that day...

It looks messy, but I'm pretty sure I can follow it to explain, another colleague began as she unfolded five or six pages of handwritten notes that held in them a positive, insightful definition of feedback. A way of seeing it that perfectly reflected the concept and approach for which we aimed.  A definition fully soaked in years of working together to create a depth of style and energy.  We'd wrestled it a few hours the day before.  Then sitting on her own before her next appointment, she made it flow.

Two moments on the same, full day, I felt a new deep satisfaction I'd never reached before in business. The feeling of creating something fresh and lovely together with kindred spirits. Of in fact not having created myself at all, but rather having helped spark it through the platform of my little studio and team.

I want to do this.  Deeply. It's humbling to see what wonderful things people can produce. Better than I could have imagined on my own.

Somewhat sadly the last conversaton closed as she added, I wrote for so long before my evening meeting that I ran out of time for the prosecco I planned to order... 

I am so grateful for these people surrounding me now, I will make sure there's time for prosecco too.

Creative practice

This weekend, I found myself standing in an old barn looking out over a garden filled with rabbits, on behalf of a client.  A possible event site.  I had a moment shaking my head in disbelief that this is the same kind of job for which I write strategic presentations.

I'm reading lately about creativity, including a book in German by my favorite Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi - Kreativitaet / Creativity. My various readings all say roughly the same thing: you must practice your creative pursuit with discipline. Over and over. The people who really change their fields - create something - practice 10's of thousands of times.  And they practice the hard parts, not the easy ones.

While standing in that barn overlooking the local wildlife and pondering table display set-up, I smiled as I realized that some people would think this is the creative part.  I'm glad it's not.  Wouldn't want to scout barns over-and-over. And anyway it's easy enough. 

The real creativity is what happens in the barn or conference room or restaurant: getting people to enjoy talking together about a topic and then to actually do something as a result. My clue that this is creative for me is that I've done it thousands of times in 100s of settings and now for a living.  Discussion agendas are the only place I really want to attend to minute details because I know they will matter. So that is creativity? Maybe.

There's a depth to creativity worth exploring.  And it will sure be a first when I practice with rabbits watching!

Passing observation of what passes by

On Tuesday morning, I watched a young (well younger than me) business woman briskly step out of the Basel main train station some feet ahead of me.  Well-dressed in a dark pantsuit.  Black overnight bag wheeled behind her. Purse on shoulder and paper in hand, ruffled by the breeze, to which she referred as she made her way across the myriad tram lines to the tram that leads to a major company in town.

And I thought to myself, that would have been me 10 years ago.  Professional.  Purposeful.  Not unfriendly or friendly.  Just on her way.

I asked myself what was different now.   For one thing, fewer black pantsuits.  I walk slower and don't apologize that I like seeing the people and city around me like I'm still some kind of tourist.

Mostly, I walk more.  The next day, I walked out of my Zurich studio just before 6 p.m., instead of 7 or 8 or later.  And instead of being stressed by discovering a relatively unpublicized parade of police bands marching down the main street in lieu of the tram I needed to take to dinner, I walked along for a while.  And then when I started the "I need to hurry" voice in my head, I slowed down and walked some more.  That's when I saw the band on bicycles above. Last band in the parade.  New concept for me.

I'm glad I now more often know what else there is around if I'm not in such a hurry that it doesn't get a chance to pass by. 

Transition like a tomato

Last night, I harvested the first tomatoes from my balcony.  Two plants in one pot.  Taller than me and now full of reddening beauties.  I eat them slowly with good olive oil.  Such a glorious result of long summer days, I nearly get teary-eyed.

Ripe tomatoes here also signal the transition from summer to fall, my two favorite seasons. I usually like transitions and look at them hopefully with fresh feelings. What you lose in summer heat you gain in earth colors and soft sweaters. Apple cider. Pumpkins.

This second harvest signals another important transition: mine.  I've been here (mostly) to nurture them.  When not, my neighbors tended to them with shared spirit and enthusiasm. I sat with the plants often enough to notice the changes from blossom to small green balls to red.  My creativity and new inspiration ripened alongside this pot on my balcony.

Perhaps we all need a little daily watering to nurture our human spirits and creativity. I have learned that sometimes I have to slow down to the speed of developing tomatoes, to grow as well myself.

How to recognize heaven and what there is to do there

My last "summer holiday" day and it's pouring down rain.  I don't mind.  Inside with a good book feels heavenly, as it would on a beautiful sunny day by the lake with the same book. Books, actually.  Bought a few of them this summer. 

Heaven, if there is one, for me will surely be lined with bookshelves.  I'll know it's really heaven when the shelves are full of English, German and Spanish volumes. 

Pages and pages of literary nonfiction, psychology, fiction, classics. Whatever I'm to learn next.

I would wish for some Eastern languages.  Arabic maybe, or Chinese.  But I think that might mean I brought 100 years or more when reached the Pearly Gates. Not to set my sights too low, yet what on earth am I to do until I'm a century old and a pile of saggy skin on long bony arms and legs? 

Learn something new, I hope.

Supported spiritually and intellectually by my rainy and sunny day friends, the books. Shared naturally among people friends, too.

And when it's heaven on earth, with lots of hot chocolate alongside us on rainy afternoons!

Meaningful friendship

I adapted this headline from a book on my summer reading list, The Meaning of Friendship by Mark Vernon, which was first published in 2005 as The Philosophy of Friendship.  I picked it up related to my business, as I'm exploring the boundaries of friendship and employees.  I'll post that topic on my web site in a couple of weeks as a Ristretto essay.

Mark made me think of my friend who I affectionately refer to as "squared" to the power of two: G². I always liked the exponential reference to her common first and last initial that also captures the multiplier of her spirit. She and I became friends cautiously, thoroughly, often through travel now more than a decade ago. You could see her in my 24 July blog post standing in Chicago's blazing sun as we enjoyed a steaming lope along the lakeshore instead of along the Magnificent MIle lined with air-conditioned shops. A seemingly strange choice, though not for us, as we've walked miles before in New York, Paris, Zurich and along Lake Michigan.

G2 is the kind of friend that Mark references from Greek philosophy as an "other self" or Julia Cameron (in Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance, another of my summer reads) calls "a reflecting mirror." She tells you things straight (Jill, you could have been more patient. It was only bananas!) and shows positive belief in the person you are deeply without you explaining or even saying it first (When will you write your next book?)

Nearly all pschologists reference such friendships as a fundamental basis of a healthy life - underpinning the modern view of happiness, life balance and meaning - though the Greeks seemed to have known this for centuries. 

Deep friendships develop slowly. Must be nutured. Can change as people grow. 

In principle, I don't share truly private relationship details on this blog.  Out of respect for real lives, not a desire to hide.

Yet such important aspects of meaningfulness sometimes need expression. G², then, is an exponential symbol.  Perhaps I have others: Mom², BT², HEP², SON², EB², Ness².  From now on, you'll know what I mean!

The courage to hire

I know I'm on the right track - becoming an entrepreneur  - because I once again soak up Inc. Magazine like a sponge.  They ship my monthly issue here to Zurich, which I read on trains, baking in sun by the lake, lazing at home on my balcony or sofa.  Cover-to-cover while other journals languish months on my coffee table.

When I find a "gem"of an idea that speaks to me, I tear out coffee and suncreen stained pages, which warp crinkly by the time I dig them out of my bag at home.  In the May issue (read mostly on an airplane between here and Argentina), I ripped ragged edges about Tim O'Reilly.  My company has little to do with his IT expertise, but I hope a lot to do with his role model.  Though I sure don't have the arrogance to assume I'll be as successful.  I love getting the chance to try.

Lately, I'm getting the chance to bring in people who I hope will eventually become employees. A chance to set my own company culture, based on my values.  Inc's helping me with some good ideas - like Tim's comments. Thing is, I hope I can do it.  Live up to this most important challenge.  It's easier to talk about how it should be when it's someone else's business and  - especially - "their money."  Like so many other things as the owner, now it's largely up to me.  My ability to lead.  Can be daunting.

I have a evolved a deeper, more spiritual respect for entrepreneurs who succeed their way. Entrepreneurs like Tim.

What I learned from my duvet

As my alarm sounded this morning, blaring Allison Road from the Gin Blossoms, I could not believe I was already waking up under my summer duvet in my own bed at home. 

First, I couldn't believe I was already waking up at all.  I arrived midday yesterday from Chicago fully jet lagged and could have slept another week.

Plus it seemed like just a blink ago that I awoke in this bed thinking it would be 14 hotel nights before I found myself here again.  Yet, I am here again!

Life goes so fast.

I try to write down the stuff that occurs to me first thing in the morning.

Seems like the Gin Blossoms sum it all up really.  Their lead writer Robin Wilson once said he tries to create a lyrical vision that "joy and grief go hand-in-hand in life."

That was sure the beauty of it I felt as I stretched under my duvet.

Spinning the context

Context can play such a wonderful role to inspire warm memories.

Chicago is a place like that for me.

Last weekend, it took me back nearly a decade, personally and professionally, as I met-up with one of my closest friends who lives in the USA.  We've shared business meetings, laughs, Rush St bar induced headaches, and friendship here. Still do.

This weekend, it's Mom who brings my childhood memories to the Windy City to accompany our shopping bags.

Tonight, as I stepped out of a crowded Chicago restaurant stuffed with pizza, washed down with a margarita, there was Sandra.  Sandra from the Professional Women's Group of Zurich.  I had to blink a minute. She said this week's boat ride that I missed was great.

My mind spun.  Discussing a boat ride on Lake Zurich?  Here on a hot steamy night in Chicago? Mom with a shopping bag standing beside me?

Wow.  Chicago vertigo with no second margarita or jet lag in sight!