But I came to love you.

I am a lazy believer in Karma. I often feel that the good things I do in life will bring me good down the way and that I will inevitably get bit in the ass for my un-intergral, ungenerous actions. I don't normally see the correlation immediately but am safely happy in the idea that it is all balancing out at some point. Funny enough lately I feel that the connections, repercussions, and generosity in my life are more clear. Instead of invisible and unnoticed it seems to pull a long shimmering strand through my life. Someone brings something amazing into my possibilities and in turn something good happens to them as a result of my actions. This subtle and yet vivid reality is bringing light to my grey days and in turn making them a lot more manageable right now as exams and projects threaten to overwhelm me.

The way I take pictures is often a very clear picture of where I stand with myself at the time. When I go hunting through my neighbourhood I am often seeking connection, finding beauty in the ordinary, trying to set roots and dig deep. When I am engrossed in sky and land and mountains, oceans deep, I am often pondering the future, and the past. Where I came from and where I am going. The big picture. My somewhat excessive obsession with iPhone photography comes from a deep need for quick art. The kind I can produce in a moment, on the fly. I do it to complement my otherwise hectic lifestyle. I do it to remind myself where my heart lies. Today was new for me. Shooting photos for someone else, for a purpose and timeline outside my own.  I jumped at the opportunity and learned quickly what it meant to be a photographer in a way I hadn't really understood before. I am not sure what this means. I think it means I may just be confident enough to learn something new and work for someone else's vision, not just my own.

Either way it was more fun than studying the airline industry for our big exam tomorrow. It was hard to find motivation today. The sun was out, low in the sky, casting a warm glow on the city all day. I drove to and from Campus with the windows down, the sunroof back and basking in the light. I turned the radio up and put sunglasses on and felt at home. Felt like perhaps I won't be so quick to get up and leave this place.

For your driving tunes and ultimate enjoyment!

Present company makes me wanna stay.

A year ago.

A year ago I was fighting battles I thought mattered. Fighting for people I didn't think could fight for themselves. I was pressing against people who I thought knew better but who my gut told me were wrong. A year ago I was unsure. A year ago I knew there was something more than what I was doing, I knew there was something out there that was a much better fit. A year ago I was exhausted. I was worn out fighting an uphill battle to a summit I didn't really want to reach.

Everything has changed.

Ok, not everything. I am still exhausted but instead of feeling like I am fighting for every little step I feel like I am at the end of a long race with a little kick still in my stride. My confidence is night and day from where it was. I am finally on the path to what I want. Things are falling into place in a real and meaningful way. I am happy, with the perfection and imperfections in my life. I am not sure how this all happened. I am not confident that I could recreate this journey again. I do know it started with trusting myself. The day I decided that one part of my life was over was the day I could step into this. It also started with trusting the people around me. Having to rely on others has been a huge step. Looking forward it I know it is what will carry me.

I am happy.

I am content in the knowledge that I am almost through this first part of this short, sweet, and challenging program. I have exceptional people in my life who challenge me and who I learn from. I feel so lucky, everyday. I am so glad for all the decisions I have made in the last year that seemed like mistakes, mess-ups, false steps. From the outside I know I must have looked like I was floundering at times, like I had nothing figured out but I am starting to understand that those decisions made me who I am. Made me the person who is surrounded by exceptional people, who feels loved, who gets to be part of things that are remarkable. Where we are is where we are meant to me. I am meant to be here now.

It's a shot in the dark

There is truly nothing I love more than a good under-dog turned miracle story. Nothing. My friends gave me one on monday. As a rec hockey team of mixed abilities they had trouble winning games at the beginning. Their goalie, having never skated but with extensive road hockey experience, wore vintage pads from the 70's. We know it was out of financial necessity but like to say he's a hipster goalie. Other team members include a young man who played hockey in the states and Europe... as his job. There were a smattering of boys who played varying levels of hockey growing up and a few who had never put on skates, even though they are exceptional athletes in their own sports. 

The first few games we watched, just two of us girls doing accounting homework by the rink, were late at night, on Mondays and often frigidly cold. We would bring a box of Timbits for the boys so they had a little something after playing hard but often losing by some margin. They tied one game before getting relegated to the division below. This is when the magic happened!

Watching the boys come into their own, compete, win was exceptional. Even in playoff games the guys who hadn't skated had ice time, were passed to, were out there just as much as the other team members. Playoffs were something else. Not only did a good number of our classmates come out to cheer the boys on against the second years of our program but so did some of our professors. The air was electric and the game often more exciting than some NHL ones I have been to.  

The last game, just a few nights ago, was unreal. Our boys were older, fewer and less obnoxious than the younger undergrads. They were one up most of the game, we would catch up, tie then they would score. Our gritty boys coming back time and time again. Our unexpected goal tender owning the crease. Near the end of the game they were one goal down, it was 5 on 3 as a result of a few penalties taken (I stock some of it up to the fact that our boys could grow moustaches and looked like real men on the ice instead of scrawny boys). They pulled the goalie in the last minute and all I could think of was that game in the first series of the 2004 playoffs, Flames vs Cauncks. I just remember the Flames were up one and there were 10 seconds left in the game... then 5... and then the Canucks scored. That was the moment I learned that it is never too late, that the game's not over until the buzzer sounds. So in the last 20 seconds of third period with 2 players less on the ice and no goalie in net our boys scored. I am not 100% sure I have ever screamed so loud.. 

Still down 2 players for almost a minute of the 5 minute overtime I literally couldn't watch. It's hard enough watching a team of underdogs when it's 5 on 5 but 3 on 5... impossible. So as I watched the clock and not the ice suddenly something caught the corner of my eye. It was one of our moustached men, hurtling towards the other team's net and in another moment of sheer belief the puck was off his stick, in the net, and like nothing else everyone was on their feet, hugging, screaming, laughing. 

You see it on TV, gritty, tired teams. Teams of men and women who play hard mostly on the strength of their hearts who win the big game. It is all throwing helmets and gloves, hugging, moments of pure friendship and joy out on the ice because though deep down they know they could win they didn't necessarily know they would win. It was amazing to see my friends like this. Just so ecstatic. I was moved.

Going for a beer after the game made it even more clear. The guys were just so stoked. Some had won bigger games, some had never won something like this at all. They all mentioned it was something that they wouldn't forget. Something that would define their time in the MBA program.  I get that. I feel the same way. When we started watching them play, weeks and underdressed for freezing arenas ago, I just wanted to watch a game I enjoyed and support my friends. Monday night. I felt part of something. As cheesy as it sounds, this is what this program, and life are about. It made no sense to sit there late on a Monday night in the cold. It may have made little sense but god, it was just so fun. 

So that's it. Our boys are champions. From the start of the season to now it is unbelievable to see how far they have come. To see underdogs win big, as big as you can in Div 2 Rec hockey (yeah, that comes with a trophy). 

Show her some beauty before all the damage is done

Sitting down to write has been challenging the past few days. In part it is a result of this being crunch time with exams and projects due left right and centre. My days are full as they are without adding obligatory creative time to each. It breaks my heart as I know my writing and thought processes suffer almost immediately without practice, like the athlete who loses strength while being injured. It is not just about atrophy but also a bit of a loss of self. A defining attribute out of use, out of practice. It is not just the time... there is much I would write but it feels to private even for this space. That is unlike me.

It's not that things aren't good, they are amazing, it is just that I am exhausted from over processing sometimes. Those are the moments that I reach for the keyboard, a multitude of started but unfinished blog posts. I feel stretched these days, not so much physically but just between what I want, what I know is possible and my default setting which is to always think the worst. Let me reframe that. I am an often obnoxiously positive person and yet when it comes to me, when it comes to things working out, when it comes to planning the future I jump to all the worst conclusions. I am adept at seeing all the road blocks and trusting that no one else wants to get past them but me, I have this sinking suspicion that I am always on my own through the rough patches. Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens, but who will hold the faith with me?

I am learning quickly though to see the beauty in what is around me. In what I am in. Vancouver is a strange place this time of year. The grass is still green, the leaves are every shade and primarily still attached to trees and yet, in some places there is snow on the ground. If this were Calgary it would be all seasons rolled up into one. It is a photographers dream out there and though my camera stays primarily on it's shelf except for hockey games my iPhone captures moments like it is my job. The rugged, harsh beauty of the changing days is reflected in my life. The first stage of this program is coming quickly to an end. It feels like I have been doing it forever and like we just started. As ever, I am nervous about the next step, about seeing less of the people I truly enjoy spending time with. Nervous that choices I made won't be the right ones. That is actually pretty consistent as fears go in my life. Even with this though there is so much going on that is exciting, challenging and new. I am energized and empowered by life these days. My life is all the beginnings of ends, ends of ends and beginnings of beginnings. 

This is how it goes though, the things that help you develop as a person are the ones where you are asked to step up, play big, get on with growing up. 

I stumbled across this the other day...

and this one too

The 2%

I haven't written in a while. If I thought life was full on a week ago it has become even more so in the last few days. The few hours left in a day to sleep are being cut into extensively. I am exhausted but happy in the satisfaction that I am getting the most of this program and my life these days.

Funny enough this aligns with a conversation my golden girl and I were having today. She filled me in on something she calls the 2%. A definition that she uses for friendships that are pure, authentic, invigorating and transparent. The kind of relationships and connections you can count on to click, to hold you accountable, to spark amazing possibilities. In life it is sometimes hard to recognize that not everyone will be in that 2% or get there right away, after all, 98% of the time people won't. And that is the remarkable part. That is what makes that 2% shine.

Thinking about this a little more it became clear what shifted some of the 98% into that 2%. People who may not have been there right away but somehow end up being the people who you connect to, the people who you reach to for coaching. What separates them is being treated like part of the 2%. Golden girl texted me the other day that if you treat people as great they might rise to the occasion. If we treat those same people like maybe, just maybe, they are part of that special few we give the the change to BE there. I am just figuring it out. Just barely starting to allow myself to see people for their potential greatness. Instead of assuming they will leave, not be able to handle something, not notice something else I have taken action and said what I needed to say, what I thought should be said. I am allowing more possibilities for that 2% in. And maybe that is what is making the difference....

You're the hope that ends disaster

I don't know what to tell you.

Today was a sweet day. It was juicy in its simple goodness. It was not a day of the remarkable or the fantastic. It was not a day of big wins or bright revelations. For all the things it wasn't, today was full of warm smiles, small gestures, subtle realizations.

There was an ease to it all. Through the long grey day, splattered with rain drops and rotting leaves, staining the sidewalks rust coloured, there was a gentle energy. Something kept me going, saw me through.  Perhaps it was because today lacked the rushing around that his filled so much of my life these days. Perhaps it was because of the four and a half hours sleep I got last night making me a little delirious.

One small victory of the day is that this will be my 200th post. I write this with half a smile thinking at all the papers and assignments I could have put this time, this sweat, maybe not these tears, into. The hundreds of pages of work, tens of hours, that could have gone into something "more productive".  The thing that makes that smile so satisfying is that this is best thing I have done. This practice, this work, what I am able to get across, without it? who knows where I would be. It filters into everything. My whole life reflects this work. And maybe, just maybe, that is why days like today are so special. That just being in something and being aware of it has so much power, provides so much contentment.

Yes, today, for all its cold and rain and long economics classes was a sweet day.

She'd take Colorado if he'd take her with him

There is a point where your long shots become the only option you are willing to settle on. The go from being wishful thinking to your new standard. They are those things you thought you couldn’t reach but given a shot at it, it’s hard to give up on what you really want. It brings me back to applying to schools. UBC was my long shot. A shot in the dark really. My grades were decent but so were my GMAT scores, neither really made up for the other. I am young, with work experience that was extensive for the few short years I was in the work force but just that, a few years worth. Really any school was a long shot at that point, late applications, late GMAT score, late references. The thing was, the more I found out about schools the more I wanted UBC. The more I realized that was the only option I would be happy taking. The only program that would leave me without “what ifs.” There is something exciting about allowing yourself to want what you really want. It’s more than wanting what others wish for you, more than wanting what you think you deserve or can handle, Its wanting, and expecting nothing less than what your silly, strong, rambunctious heart wants for you.

Talking at length today with a new friend I am hyper aware of this. The decisions that I make and how they line up with what I value, with what I really really want, not just what would fill the missing pieces. Speaking with him, coming from vastly diverse backgrounds we found common ground in what we thought and that we wanted to live our lives big. Missing out on opportunities just wasn’t an option.

I have been toying with the option lately of not getting what I want. I am impatient to a fault and can see clearly that getting what I want right now will take more time than settling for something less. The part of me that acts impulsively, that doesn’t wait for her water bottle to be full all the way because she wants a drink NOW, says just go for it. Go in guns ablaze, don’t worry about getting the best, just worry about getting something. The part of me I have been training knows this is a waiting game, like waiting for that perfect light just before the sun sets or for the right wave in a set. I am learning quickly that getting what I truly want is worth the wait, is worth giving up the others for. 

Born for Leaving.

Born for leaving. For blowing in prairie winds, swept across wheat fields, past cattle ranging, wild ponies lifting their spotted ears, for whirling through lodge pole pines, up scree slopes. For every once and a while drifting over the pacific, stopping on shorelines specked with tiny crabs and leggy little birds. Born for flitting off when feet are itchy or life gets hard. Born to run west. Born to find new Wests when West seems the end of the road. 

I remember sitting in frigid grey Kingston winters planning escape after escape. Being pulled by heart and soul across the country. Much of my life can be split up in to semesters, I rarely stick to location or relationship for more than that long.  I was simply born for leaving. I remember being young, much younger, and feeling intense anxiety about leaving person or place. Constantly worried that what I would come across next would not fill the void of what I left behind. That all changed when I was 17. I went from a summer of clinging to my camp friends, to our safe little world on the coast, to being an 18 year old who knew loss and who was afraid to have it happen again. Don't get close, always be the one to leave first. 

I spent a few years faking attachment. Giving enough to settle quickly, make friends fast. Get into and out of relationships like slipping into a pair of comfortable worn in jeans in the morning only to find that the seam is chafing by the end of the day, sliding out of them, such a relief. Saying good byes got easier. The few that were hard were real. The ones that slipped through the chinks in the armour. Years were spent split in twos or threes, never owning more than fit in a car. Travel light and make a quick get away. The old adage of what you put in you take out being a stringent rule to my ongoing development. If it got tough, people caught on I would simply move on. Seasonal work was my co-pilot, semestered school a relief. I joked to myself about my 4 month expiry dates. 

I am starting to feel this fade. Yes, like the Canada geese that migrate south my mind and heart align with the stars looking for a move, an adventure, a change of view. This time though. I am at a loss. I want to stay. I am falling for all those around me. The laughter and kindness of new friends. I made the leap thus far, whether they knew it until now or not, to truly start to connect. To fight my leaving urges and to put down roots, dig heels in deep to give this one a fighting chance. I see more here. I see worth in taking the risk to stay long enough to care. Long enough to get hurt if it falls apart, when we all take on what we came to do. Graduate and move one. 

These words are probably the hardest I have yet to put down. The last throws of ego and pride, leaving just vulnerability and transparency. I write them I think because my first exams are tomorrow and I am nervous. Scared, unnecessarily, that if I really screw this up I could lose something this good. I haven't had something to lose like this in a long time and it feels good. It is challenging, knowing now who takes the time to read this and how far flung this little blog can get, to put down what I wrote. The thing is it is what I hold on to. Not any more. 

Stay here a little while.

It's become a sad truth... I am not going to grow up to be an accountant. As much as I have loved my accounting classes and prof for the last few months, studying this weekend has brought a harsh reality to light, my greatest skills are not in creating or analyzing cash flow statements.

What comes easy, what drags my attention is writing, figuring out, synthesizing how our days and minds work. What wraps us up and what do we long to shed. I think I may be more suited for organizational behaviour, or perhaps marketing. Who knows. In addition to this realization I have got my first cold of the school year. I am grateful it held off for this long, giving me peace to write last minute case memos and study for early morning econ quizzes (yes i did study for a few of them). I am glad I was not fighting this during midnight hockey games we watched, glad I wasn't battling a runny nose while trying to determine what really counted towards business casual. I am not going to lie, I felt sorry for myself for a good half hour or so. Right around dinner time while I was ordering and scarfing down epic thai food. Have you ever tried red curry on pad thai... yup it's pretty much just the greatest thing in existence. But like all those other times I have gone and done something to diminish my ability to do something I like to think about how if I do complete these exams successfully I will know I did it with a shitty cold and that next time, healthy, it will be easier. It is just like doing my yoga teacher training with pulverized triceps and running that 10km race this spring hungover as all hell. I am usually risk adverse like it is my job. This program and a subtle confidence in myself are allowing me to shift this. Yes writing exams sick counts.

So i sit here, in the worlds tiniest room, figuring it all out. Utilization, delay, marketable securities, return on equity and the quick ratio. All the little things that come together to make me realize what I am doing and how far I've come are remarkable things. These will be the first quant exams I will have written, other than the GMAT, since high school... almost 9 years ago. All I can say is that, contrary to popular belief, I am so in it to win it.

What it takes to come alive

"This barn was built 7 years ago, I remember because it was the year that Kevin got married"

The farm and the family are one, they have been for the last 30 years since Jerry moved down the street from his father and brother to his own dairy farm. It was this deep connection to the land, to the animals and to each other that rang through the clearest as Jerry and his two sons lead us around their farm, humble but with a shy pride. It was evident how much these men knew about the business from the way they spoke to quotas, to feed mixes for the cows, to efficiencies and costs. They admitted to not having weekly "board meetings" at the kitchen table, but it was clear that the communication shared around the barns, in the fields and at meals was thier their equivalent to our conference calls. They made up an exceptional management team, each with his own specialization but all  integrated with each other. When asked about expansion they discussed opportunities for upgrading machinery and also for hiring more people to help with the milking. The first option seemed to be much preferred, the most significant reason being that Jerry, Kevin and Brian liked to have their hands on their animals at least once a day.

I get that. That is how I was brought up, with horses instead of cows. Running your hands down your horses legs, over their withers, across velvet ears and noses, that is how we always knew how our animals were, could predict illness before it got out of control. That was how we connected. Our horses trusted us and we trusted them. It is that intimacy that I feared lost in agriculture these days. It is still so clearly at the heart of things.

For someone who has avoided dairy for a few years for a handful of reasons today completely shifted my persepective. The animals that we saw were so incredibly healthy looking, clean and happy that I was beyond impressed. We heard at length about how happy, calm cows were the best producers and therefore it was in the best interest of the farm to have comfortable, healthy, happy animals. The barns were immaculate. I was also comforted by the fact that no dairy cows in Canada are given growth hormones and that, at least on Jerry's farm, antibiotics are a last resort and if a cow goes on them they are withdrawn from the milking heard for twice as long as required by regulations. It was made clear over and over again just how safe canadian milk is and from this source, looking at their animals and barns, I believe every word. I just makes financial sense in the business to have high quality milk.

All in all I was ultimately drawn to Jerry and his family, his animals and land because they were good, smart people making a living at what they loved. They reminded me of people at home. They are folk who know the feeling of land under their fingernails, hard work in their muscles and joints, and honesty in their lives.

One of the high points of this experience was getting to talk to one of my professors who made the trek out to Delta with us. I'll admit, I don't speak up much unless I feel I am truly going to be a contribution so I have remained relatively quiet in class these past weeks. Strategy is one of my favourite classes because I often find the material immediately applicable to my life and to how I view the world around me. It was a shock to me today when my strategy prof. told me he reads this blog. I am constantly astounded when people take the time, especially with the incredibly busy lives we all lead these days. What it really reminded was to always tell people what you think, what feedback you have for them whether constructive or celebratory. He made my day this morning. Made me remember why I do this, that I CAN do this. Sometimes we just need someone to let us know we are on the right track. That's who I want to be for people.

I'm here and I'm ready and I've saved you the passenger seat

The guest speakers we are exposed to are a remarkable bunch. This afternoon we sat excitedly awaiting a man who would prove to inspire all of us. Jim Shepard was not what I had expected. I can't place my finger on what I thought he would be like but I can tell you for certain that he was much more.

He started by telling us that he managed through story telling. He wove words and stories in and out of the next hour painting a vivid picture of everything from a family leaving Nazi occupied Vienna to the antics of board meetings in downtown Vancouver. Each pause, each step of the tale rang with purpose. I clearly remembered the day when my regional manager told me to stop using anecdotes, to stop using examples, to stop managing and training through stories. A little piece of me was freed today hearing Jim speak, like it has been so many times before over these past few months. One time I listened (ok, almost listened, who are we kidding I could never not tell a story) to what one person told me and I let it make me less effective. I let their opinion be right over what I saw was making an impact. This program has validated me and the way I was doing things. Jim Shepard, leading, captivating a room of exhausted, anxious, restless students, was the prime example of the power of a good story to teach, to manage.

One of my classmates, during question time, asked him what he thought was the most valuable quality for a leader to possess during a time of crisis. His response was courage. The courage and confidence to know that what you are doing, even if it was hard and full of tough decisions, would lead to the results you want. That this courage to see the big picture would create for the organization what it needed.

Courage! Storytelling! Could this get any better? The answer was yes. When asked what was one decision he regretted he spoke to a time where he was generous with his staff, upping their christmas turkey bonus. He said it felt good, the response he got was glowing. It was a win win situation until one of the managers pointed out how much it cost and that, since they had done this 2 years in a row, there was now a president. What if the company didn't do so well the next year? He took this advice, cut it back, the company made a profit and he regretted not going with his gut, with investing that extra money in his people at christmas. To me this speaks volumes about his character, about the kind of leader he is. If the thing that still makes him uncomfortable is not being able to give his staff a little extra at Christmas he must be a great leader. It is this simple vulnerability to share with us this piece that allows me to understand the greatness that lies in wait in my classmates. We will have the opportunity to make such decisions, to lead with integrity.

Selfishly this whole afternoon is part of a trend. It seems like opportunities for growth, for inspiration and for validation are filling my life these days. I am being given opportunities to learn about things I never expected to and the results are astounding. I am seeing more and more clearly glimpses of who I have long wanted to be. It is by no means there but still, I find that each day I am living more and more in line with the vision I hold for myself.

OH! and the boys finally won a hockey game. They are rockstars!