innovate Archives - Julianne Harvey

In Culture, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

Renewal

Julianne HarveyJune 29, 2019June 29, 2019

My word for the summer of 2019 is renewal. I want to rest, first and foremost, but with the intention that the rest is leading me somewhere new.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about fresh ideas. In our current social media-frenzied world, where trite memes are shared by the millions every hour, thoughts that carry some weight and meaning are more valuable than ever.

I had coffee with a new friend recently, and when I told her about the speaking and writing I’m doing, she offered me her marketing services. “We’ve got to let more people find you,” she said. My answer was, “I don’t want everyone to find me. Only those who are really invested in the kind of work I’m doing.”

I’ve been ruminating on this conversation, because when she said that short videos could help me reach a wider audience, I could see that this was probably true, but I said, “I don’t want to do what everyone else is doing.” To me, the interesting part of the work is innovating a new way to communicate and operate. I want to focus on my own path, not trod the same one others are already walking.

Which leads me back to renewal. Ideas are valuable and we must nurture ourselves in order to be in the right frame of mind to implement them. Having a crazy busy schedule doesn’t allow space for innovation to bloom. Rest, white space and peace are required ingredients for the work of renewal.

Lately, I’m understanding just how critical rhythm is to creativity. We need a dormant phase for the ideas to develop and grow in the dark, before they are ready to inch forward into the light. It’s lovely to feel the stirrings of something new and refuse to give in to the temptation to rush the process. This summer, I’m determined to allow renewal to happen by making the space for it.

This past week, we celebrated William’s graduation from grade 7 and Ava passing her written test for her learner’s driving license. High school for William and driving for Ava: two new steps to fit into this summer theme of renewal. I’m so ready to leave elementary school behind with its daily agenda messages, endless parent emails and field trip driving. On to the next stage.

Happy start of the summer to all of you, my wonderful and treasured readers and friends. May we all experience renewal in our spirits, bodies, minds and hearts.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Writing

Ask for What You Want

Julianne HarveyFebruary 21, 2017February 21, 2017

We often spend far too much time afraid to ask for what we want. But what’s the worst that can happen? The person or company you approached tells you no. So what? Then you can move on to someone else and see what they say.

I used to be so afraid of looking stupid and that would stop me from asking for what I wanted. I was less worried about rejection than I was about embarrassment. But now I’m in my mid-forties and I finally feel more secure in who I am, so I’m willing to look a bit foolish from time to time.

Recently I put myself out there to an editor that I really respect with what I knew was an unusual request but I filed it under the “nothing ventured, nothing gained” category. Well, the response was polite but essentially I was told that what I was asking was unprofessional.

Cue the shame spiral. I started to go down, fast and hard, berating myself about burning bridges and looking like a classic moron. But then I grabbed myself by the metaphorical lapels and talked myself through it, in a gentle, soothing voice. “It didn’t hurt to ask. It’s good to think outside of the box and go for it. A ‘no’ here is not a ‘no’ everywhere. Don’t worry so much about it.”

Giving ourselves permission to fail is just as important as building up our own confidence. We have to know that we aren’t going to get everything we want, but the lesson is in summoning the courage to ask the question. It’s good for my soul to step up, face my fear of doing it wrong in some vague manner, and be willing to accept whatever answer I receive.

Living small doesn’t serve any of us. It’s beyond time to move past that terrified reverence of the gatekeepers to our biggest dreams. The decision-makers in any organization are people just like you and me. I’m determined to keep trying new ideas until I find the right place for them, because the process of trying to innovate brings me life and stirs my passion.

Will I make mistakes? Most definitely. It’s so wonderful to be able to extend grace to myself when I hear yet another no. Asking the question takes guts and that’s worth celebrating. Eventually, somewhere in the future, there may come a yes. And if I never get to the yes, I’ll find another new question to ask and maybe that one will be more successful.

The bottom line is: life is short. We all have things we desperately want. Playing it safe doesn’t inch us closer to those dreams. You may as well ask for what you want. I’m tired of waiting. When I have an idea now, I don’t want to overthink it to death. I want to act on it, and see what happens, for one day it’s going to connect with the right person at the right time and then a new opportunity will be born.

In Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

Not Responsible for the Outcome

Julianne HarveyJanuary 26, 2016April 24, 2016Leave a comment

Last week I had a profound epiphany. Not the kind that happens in the cold, clinical brain, but the one that settles gently with a thud in the centre of your being, where your experience dwells.

I was getting ready for bed, puttering around applying Flexitol on my heels to prevent cracking and putting Blistex on my lips, when this crystal clear phrase landed in my spirit: I am not responsible for the outcome. Instantly, these seven words loosened something that had been jammed up inside of me. I felt lighter, more whole, complete. I began to cry, equally grateful for the revelation and the fact that Jason was out of town so I could work through this on my own while crawling into bed.

All good epiphanies have a lot of significant moments leading up to them. Without these preparatory steps, the big paradigm shift wouldn’t carry as much weight. My breadcrumbs included this podcast from Rob Bell, this kind comment on my blog, this tweet from an author I respect, and this beautiful post by Glennon Doyle Melton.

I’ve been struggling for a few weeks with a sense of purpose in my writing. I’ve been unmoored, adrift, afraid. This fog had nothing to do with the work itself, but everything to do with how others reacted (or didn’t react) to the product I put out into the world. I got mired in the familiar self-doubts, the ones that taunt, “You are wasting your time. Go do something better with your life. You’re never going to get anywhere with the type of writing you do. It has no meaning for anyone but you.”

Most of us face these soul-crushing thoughts from time to time. For me, it rips at a very old and weak scar in my psyche. I want to protect that wound at all costs because it didn’t heal properly and will throb like hell if I allow any air on it. This one goes way back to early childhood, filed in the YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH folder. It’s soaked in shame and regret. I don’t want to look at it and I sure don’t want to show it to anyone else.

But to heal it, I know that I have to face it. So Jason went out of town for a week and I used the time on my own to stare this beast down; to intentionally stop running from my fear of scarcity and instead list why I do what I do. I made a long list of my career priorities, then knocked out one after another until I could see the core. I brought my three priority words for 2016 back to the forefront of my life – strong, clear, optimistic – and made sure they fit with the writing, speaking, nurturing and innovating goals I identified as most important.

All of this led to the revelation that I am not responsible for the outcome. My job is to follow my curiosity, be true to myself and my vision for the work I’m doing, and then let go of it. I love it when Glennon says it’s not our job as writers to defend our art. We write because we have an innate need to create, but then we must let go of what happens to it out in the world.

For the new forms I’m experimenting with, particularly Literary Salons and my Nurture is Valuable project, I’ve done my part if I show up and do my best to connect people in a meaningful way. That’s it – that’s all I can do. The rest is not up to me. Knowing this is true in my very bones and marrow suddenly makes it fun and simple again. I feel refreshed, happy, ready to rock and roll.

I’m responsible to show up and do the work. Everyone else is responsible for the outcome.