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Sign Posts To
True North
By: Silken Laumann
A t eleven years old my father, my siblings, and our Maltese cross, "Bimbo"
(yes, right name, long story) trekked across Canada from Ontario in a
silver Volvo sedan prone to overheating. When we eventually arrived
in Vancouver, I stood in front of the Vancouver Clock Tower and announced
to my father that I was going to live here. The dream was as instant as it
was certain. Seven years later the only university I applied to, and was
fortunately accepted into, was the University of Victoria in British Columbia.
As a four-time Olympic athlete, the value of having dreams and setting goals
to make them come true was programmed into my young mind if it wasn't
already in my DNA.
And yet, there was a randomness to how I arrived in Victoria, with a dream
of becoming a marine biologist, recruited for my rowing talent, and one
good friend in the city. I've always held my dreams, in some form, my entire
life. This doesn't mean they always occupy the forefront of my mind, many
times I forget until I notice them in images I tear out of magazines, or in
the charitable work I'm drawn to, or people whose company I delight in.
That, "the dream never dies", is indeed true, dreams become etched in our
imagination so deeply we can hardly remember where they started and we
are rarely completely finished with them.
Dreams and goals are interconnected. Dreams are what we imagine, the
things that excite us at a cellular level; perhaps the image that once conjured,
puts a gentle smile on our face. In order to move toward these dreams
we must learn the skill of setting some short and long term goals. A plan,
however naïve, is a powerful tool.
My first plan when I starting rowing was to make the National Team in the
first year I tried. I launched this plan by writing away for the National Team
training programme and once it arrived I followed that programme to the
letter.
Ignorance was my secret weapon, because I simply didn't
know how hard it was to master this sport, and how physically
demanding it really was.
I believed if I followed the National Team programme I would make the
National Team, and this belief squashed the fear and limiting beliefs that
rose to the surface. I did indeed make the National Team that first year. Most
plans however, involve many missteps and disappointments. In both my
rowing career and my speaking and writing career I've experienced far more
rejections than affirmations. If we simply look at success as the marker for
whether we're on the right track or not, we'll soon become discouraged.
Success came quickly for me in the early years of my rowing career, but I also
regularly got dumped into the river; as if to remind me that sogginess was
part of the experience.
Setting some short term goals for my speaking career has kept me motivated
and immersed in lifelong learning. Whether I set a goal to attend a writing
workshop, book ten new clients, or develop a new presentation; all of these
goals move me closer to living my ultimate dream. For most of us there is not
one singular moment when we start living "The Dream". In rowing, I simply
got better.
My realistic short term goal became winning the Nationals, then making
the World Championship Team, then winning a World Championship medal
and so on. My dreams of writing a book, helping kids in Africa, and winning
an Olympic medal have all come true, but in all of these cases it was only
afterward that I took a moment to acknowledge and marvel what I had
actually accomplished.
Dreams continue to be what makes life so fun. I love that I can
close my eyes and still feel thrilled about what I want to do. I
wish this gift for others.
Goal setting is widely understood in our culture as imagining something
you want and taking steps toward that accomplishment whether monetary
or otherwise. Most ten year olds have been told by teachers, parents, and
coaches that they need to dream big and have goals. Targets and goals are
built into sales cultures, our health care, and most large organizations. And
yet, over the years of speaking andlecturing, I've noticed that asking people
to step back and reflect on their dreams can create looks ranging from
disconnect to complete terror. Last week a woman confided in me that she
knew she "should" have a dream, but she hadn't yet found her passion.
Some of us knew from a tender age that we wanted to be a veterinarian, a
poet, or an Olympic athlete. For most of us reconnecting to our dreams and
discovering the things we love to do is a matter of paying attention. Listening
for those murmurs of contentment when we're engrossed in the garden, or
noticing how quickly hours go by when we're helping a neighbour organize
their home.
We need to look for joy, as if we're a miner panning for the tiniest
trace of gold. Whether it shows up for a brief minute while
serving on a community board, or organizing a game for young
children, or while we're listening to a commentary on CBC, even
the briefest feelings of joy are like sign posts pointing us to our
true north; the place we're meant to be heading.
I find joy while raising funds to help kids, I find it in a yoga position that
I've wound my way into for the very first time, I find it on a rainy afternoon
spending hours writing on my computer. All of these moments give me vital
information about what feeds my soul, my intellect and where I have some
talent.
There is a common misunderstanding of what it means to have found our
calling; that those that have found it always love what they do, they find
joy everyday and in most minutes. I can tell you that there were many days
and weeks where I hated getting up in the rain to row another kilometre.
It was cold and rainy and my hands were raw from all the pulling. But the
moments of joy came frequently enough and intensely enough to keep my
enthusiasm high. Having met a few great novelists, I understand that the
process of writing a work of art has moments of sheer drudgery. –Our calling
isn't always painless.
If we can't find some of that feeling in what we're doing, some
fun, some wow, some delight, there's a very good chance we're
not on our true path, or that whatever path we're on, we need to
change course enough to include aspects of what bring us joy.
We may not be ready to quit our jobs at a major bank, but we may need to use
some of our time there educating single mothers on budgeting or financial
planning, we may have loved nursing for the first decade but have found all
our promotions moved us away from what we love, patient care.
It takes courage to change direction mid journey. The fear is that too much
will be wasted, that we're turning our back on security in order to find greater
joy.
I think of change in ten degree intervals. Most of the time we don't need to
do a one eighty in our life, we need to reconnect with the things we loved in
the first place, we need to include more challenge, or more mentoring, or step
away from a cynicism that has crept into the way we look at our work.
Ten percent shifts have an amazing way of transforming our lives, a ten
percent shift in the wrong direction can move us miles away from our desired
destination, on the other hand readjusting our course just a little can connect
us to our deeper purpose, imbue our work with meaning and reinvigorate
our lives.
While looking for the perfect dream, the true deep purpose for our life, many
of us miss the signposts that show us we're moving in the right direction.
As we lament that we don't know what our dream is, or that we have to find
something that inspires us, we miss what we're doing right now in our life
that brings us joy. Whatever it is that brings us joy; we want more of that.
Sometimes our desire to have a clearly defined dream can be
so great, it paralyzes us from taking humbler steps in the right
direction.
In pursuit of a dream, nothing is more powerful than action; any movement in
the direction of our dreams is worthwhile and consistent action transforms
us. I meet people every day who are desperately looking for their passion
and their "life work" by sitting and thinking about what they want to do with
their life.
Even if we're not absolutely certain what our ultimate dream looks like, we
can find clues by paying attention to what interests us and what goals would
feel great to accomplish. I may want to write a work of non-fiction that will
inspire and encourage millions, but today I write this article and that is a
movement in the direction of that dream.
Whenever I find myself waiting to discover the perfect course, I
consider that fear and doubt may be playing their mind games
and delaying those humbler actions.
When I am really honest with myself, I acknowledge that all this uncertainty
and soul searching may really be fear. Once I take those first few steps, the
fear seems to lessen. Reaching my dreams doesn't seem to be as important
as embarking upon them in the first place. Every pursuit of a dream has led
to growth, increased courage, and new opportunities. Any step toward my
dreams, no matter how small, changes and stretches me, and is success.
I have a belief that is vague on details but goes something like this: our life
is a book already written whose chapters have multiple endings. Depending
on the choices that we make, a chapter takes on a new direction, but the book
moves forward with a relentless rhythm and aspects of inevitability.
There are things that we're literally meant to do, and they appear again and
again in the story until we eventually do it. And no matter how we try to
avoid it, or tell ourselves we're scared, or it is too hard, the things that we're
really meant to do in our life keep showing up in various incarnations.
I've decided to pay attention to what moves me, what inspires me, and
what delights me. From these clues I've developed a plan for my life, a plan
that has been worked and reworked a thousand times depending on what
hurdles, new information, and unforeseen circumstances I've encountered.
The present plan is barely recognizable from those first sketches of my life
I once drew, but I am deeply grateful for every aspect of the reality of my
dreams.
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