The Last Jedi

The Last Jedi

I’ve taken 2017 off from writing movie reviews, but The Last Jedi was such an emotional experience that I find myself longing to write about it.

Don’t worry if you haven’t seen it (although you really should go now!) as I don’t do plot spoilers. Don’t listen to the crabby haters online who are moaning about how Episode VIII should be wiped from the Star Wars canon (thank you, internet criticism, for creating a group of angry “fans” who demand a creative product meet their specific demands like it’s SO simple and easy to make a successful blockbuster franchise movie). Go see it for yourself and decide.

The Last Jedi is truly a stunning achievement. It’s packed with all of the action true fans long for, plus a host of witty, silly quips and special moments that linger in your mind long after the final credits roll. But more than that, this instalment gives us even more women as leaders worthy of respect (hooray!) and some deep explorations of complicated and important subjects.

This movie does not shy away from topics like the devastating effects of our rabid fame culture, honest questions about identity and belonging, the punishing personal cost of war, corporate greed ravishing the environment and the ever-widening soul-crushing gap between the wealthy and the poor. I love it when I can sink my teeth into these relevant issues and engage my kids in a lengthy morality debate on the way home from the cinema.

Our world is a broken place. The Last Jedi mirrors much of this sorrow in a relatable yet still entertaining fashion. Luke Skywalker, always my favourite from the original trilogy, is back here but damaged, older and considerably more fearful than we’ve seen him before.

Rey, a hero I adored in The Force Awakens, found Skywalker at the end of Episode VII and is desperate to learn what she can from him. But Master Luke is an unwilling teacher, pushing Rey toward Ben Solo, the tortured son of Han and Leia who has turned to the dark side. This connection between “good” and “evil” moved me deeply, particularly the image of Rey trying to answer the nagging question of who she really is and where she comes from.

Each one of us has the power to write our own story. If we don’t like our past, we possess the ability to change our present so that our future becomes something different. Nothing special is required for this. Only bravery. That’s the central message of The Last Jedi, and it’s one we need desperately at this precarious moment of human history.

Go see this movie. Return to a time when you went to see a cinematic story unfold without a thousand other voices in your head telling you what’s wrong with it. Simply go and be entertained. For me, The Last Jedi is powerful, hopeful, beautiful, stirring, emotional, satisfying. We need peace, purpose and courage to light our path, now more than ever.

May the force be with us, always.

Showing Up is Brave

Showing Up is Brave

Often we think it’s the big gesture that counts as bravery, but it’s not. Showing up is enough. It means we are invested in developing our own courage and that we care enough to be present with other people.

My beloved hero Anne Lamott says, “The people who show up are inevitably the right ones.” The older I get, the more strongly I adhere to this truth. When life is hard and we feel beaten down, we demonstrate bravery when we simply show up.

This week I fly to Edmonton to present three sessions at a teachers’ convention (the first of three I will be speaking at this February and March). I love speaking, particularly when the message I’m delivering is one I believe to the core of my soul, but that doesn’t mean my knees won’t still knock together when I stand in front of 200+ teachers and attempt to keep them engaged and interested for an hour.

When I feel nervous, I repeat Rob Bell’s mantra, “Butterflies mean you are in the game.” I’m challenging myself by submitting speaking proposals all over the place and when I get offered contracts, I have to believe that just showing up is what I’m called to do. It’s brave enough just to do the best I can.

I adore the song in La La Land that Emma Stone’s character sweetly sings for courage in one key audition scene. She sings, “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem, here’s to the hearts that ache, here’s to the mess we make.” So incredibly beautiful, inspiring and true to my experience.

It’s normal for our hearts to ache and for our dreams to seem impossibly big and hard to achieve. But when we take small steps toward our highest hopes and aspirations, these moments are for celebrating. I’m really working on it being enough, exactly as the journey unfolds, instead of keening for better, different, more extravagant.

Does it seem easier just to show up? It does to me, for it means that the analysis of what I’m presenting or writing or creating is not up to me. The audience gets to decide if it meets their needs or fails to meet their expectations. My part of the bargain is to be prepared, to show up and say what I have to say. I’m going to trust that it’s enough.

If you have something to do that scares you, know that you are on the right track. You can do the things you don’t think you are ready for. You’ll never feel completely ready. At a certain point, you have to jump. This is how you stave off boredom and stagnation – you follow your curiosity and stay ahead of your own comfort level. That’s the growing zone. It’s where we feel most alive.

Try it. Believe that you will have what it takes at the moment you are thrust into the challenging situation. You won’t have any assurances while you are thinking about it and preparing for it. You’ll just have to trust that you will be up to the task. That’s what I’m doing, and so far it’s working. Showing up is brave. It feels like soaring when you’ve proven to yourself that you do, indeed, have what it takes.

Going Deeper

Going Deeper

I sat down to write my blog yesterday and for the first time in six years I had literally nothing to say. I started and erased four different entries before giving up.

The U.S. election has put me in a funk. I’m fighting my way out of a cloud of uncertainty, fear and barely suppressed rage. It’s awful to watch something unfolding and have no compass for understanding why it’s occurring. I hate the direction the culture of the world is heading in. It feels like stepping back in time and losing all societal forward progress toward acceptance, freedom and kindness.

Today I feel marginally stronger and able to marshall my flying thoughts in one direction. I long to go deeper. The answers are not found on Facebook, Twitter or by watching so-called “experts” on the news. This is the way of madness; futility and bleak predicted outcomes that have no basis in reality.

going-deeperWhat helps is sitting still and breathing. Praying. Being generous to ourselves so we can give to others without burning out. Remaining calm when the world is burning is an act of radical courage. Peace provides a balm that soothes frayed nerves and overworked minds.

It takes a lot of willpower for me to stop forecasting disaster scenarios and listening to other people’s doom and gloom doesn’t help me break this cycle. The world has not ended. The sun continues to rise and set and our loved ones are still all around us. Our kids need us to show them the way through. Bravery is the currency we need right now.

Answers are found in stillness, not in social media. I’m weary of my own opinions and everyone else’s. When nothing is clear, go deeper inward, to the place where peace is buried. It’s there, under the noise and the strain and the worry. It’s in each of us, a lit candle in the fiercest, blackest storm, and I’m determined to find it and shelter its flame.

We need each other, now more than ever. It’s helpful to reassure and encourage when so much of the Internet is aflame with anger and insults. We are all just trying to find our way. We want the best for our children. We do what we think is best so gentleness is paramount, even when we cannot grasp why this series of events has unfolded and we have strong feelings about it.

I’m so glad Christmas is coming. This year, more than ever, I’m desperate for hope, love and a promise of peace. If I want stability in the world I must first create it in myself. And so must you. Let’s link hands in the darkness and whisper, “We are okay. I’m here with you.” This will help. So will going deep to find that place of stillness and comfort. It’s always darkest right before the sun rises and we get another day to do some good for ourselves and for others.

Permission Slips

Permission Slips

I love Brene Brown’s concept of permission slips: writing ourselves notes that tell us what we are allowed to do as a method for getting unstuck.

Lately I’ve been doing this and I’m amazed by how powerful it can be. Some of mine are:

  • You have permission to write what you want to write
  • You are allowed to feel successful even if no one says it
  • The goals you’ve set are achievable if you are patient
  • Believe in yourself, Julianne – you can do this!

Try it. Write your name on your permission slip so it’s not too general. Make it specific to you. Feel the liberation that comes from knowing you are all you need to pursue your deepest desires and talents. Stop waiting for someone in authority to give you the green light. You are the authority.

permission slipsI’ve been struggling with my lack of qualifications lately. Looking for a part-time job when you aren’t officially trained in one specific vocation is rough on the self esteem.

I know my value is not located in my achievements. I’m worthy of love and care no matter what my tax return lists as my income or the number of books I’ve sold. It’s the same for you. But sometimes the world beats us down anyway. The good news is, the falling down doesn’t matter. Only the getting up and trying again counts.

Confidence is a tricky beast. When it flows, we feel invincible. We can do anything. But when it ebbs, that’s the time for permission slips. We need to remind ourselves that we have what it takes to sit in the driver’s seat of our own lives. We don’t need someone smarter, stronger or braver to rescue us. We can do that all by ourselves.

I can use my experience to tell people younger than me to persevere in something they love and finish it so they receive a qualification in something. This will make their lives smoother and easier. But if I continue to feel the need for this legitimization of my skill set, I have training options open to me. As long as we are alive, no matter what age we are, we can start a new adventure. We can learn, grow, evolve, become expert in an area of our choosing.

We can refuse to settle for less than we long for. We are in charge of our own permission slips. We can move bravely forward, creating the future we desire, refusing to give up when the inevitable bumps and detours arise. No one else is going to make our dreams come true. That’s on each of us. Permission slips can help us get there when we feel discouraged. Thank you, genius Brene, for this powerful tool.

Redefining Bravery

Redefining Bravery

Last week, a friend redefined bravery to me. I was searching for the escape hatch, the red nuclear “launch” button, the excuse to reboot and start over instead of facing up to a difficult and messy situation.

She said, “Showing up when it’s hard is brave, too.” I really, really needed to hear this. When it gets dark all around us and we can no longer find our way, it’s human nature to want to flee. And sometimes, of course, this is the right course of action. But many times, the courageous act is to stay strong when the storm is blowing. To refuse to run, even though it would relieve the pressure and make things easier for a while. But there are also great lessons to be learned from staying put.

I’m so grateful to this friend, for she had the guts to give me her honest thoughts. She did not say what I hoped she would, in my moment of desperation with my bold plan to sell everything we own and go on a madcap family adventure. Instead, she listened and offered another perspective, one born from her own painful experiences with loss and growth.

redefining braveryBravery takes many forms. When life is unforgivingly tough, as it often is, our courage can desert us when we need it most. This is why the community of loved ones we have invested in and built up is so critical. When we lose all perspective and a good deal of our common sense and optimism, we need people who know us and love us to talk us out of the darkness and back to the light.

Stability is no small thing. It matters, to us and to those who count on us. When we feel lost and bereft, it’s tempting to go for the rash and daring option; to shake up the status quo and let the damn chips fall where they may. In certain seasons and stages, this can be entirely appropriate and helpful to jump-start a necessary change, but at other times it’s the coward’s way.

Everything shifted for me during the course of our conversation. It was like putting on glasses so the fuzzy edges came into focus. The fever dream had passed and I could stop thinking about surviving each day and move my vision out by a year or two. Jason and I needed a fresh heart-to-heart, so we could redefine the future we committed to when we joined our lives together nearly eighteen years ago.

It all looks different again, even though nothing outwardly has changed. Life is still hard. I continue to long for something new and hopeful. Every one of us needs extra breathing space in our soul from time to time. We are birds who must summon the courage to stretch our wings and take flight. We all need each other, for support, encouragement and care.