How often have things not gone according to plan? You think you’ve planned everything and then the unexpected happens and all your plans have to be set aside or altered . . . or reconfigured. It brings to mind the story of the young Scottish poet Robert Burns overturning the home of a mouse while plowing his field. It certainly wasn’t what the mouse planned on when he built his home and it leads Burns to consider how humans respond to the unexpected with despair when they were hoping for joy. That story came to mind again recently but instead of despair, the unexpected provided an invitation to find something quite different. Let me explain.

Back in March, I completed my certification for a Guided Autobiography Instructors course. With my certificate, curriculum and resources in hand, I set out to find places where I could offer my services. I found one in a local retirement and long-term care facility where I’d been volunteering, offering a monthly storytelling session.

Thanks to a passionate Events Manager, we struck an arrangement whereby she would find six or seven willing participants and provide a suitable room to work. I would prepare and facilitate the 6-week program. 

Come the day of our first session, I felt ready. With my “Guide for Facilitators” and handouts ready, I entered the facility.

Although I knew that I would be facilitating a group of seniors, I wasn’t prepared for how old they might be or what limitations they might have. Four out of the six were in their 90s, the oldest 98 years old. One is legally blind and uses a magnifying glass to read. She told me she was there to listen as she found writing too difficult. Another was near deaf. I had to put my face up next to his ear and shout so that he could hear me. All had physical limitations and some cognitive challenges. My training hadn’t prepared me for this. It was becoming obvious that I was going to have to reinvent the course agenda to meet the needs of this group.

What the group did have (that I don’t) was long-term memory. When I gave them a writing prompt to get them started, it triggered memories of their childhood homes. I was astounded at the level of detail they recalled. They remembered the names of the streets where they lived, the names of kindergarten teachers, of friends and neighbours. One woman from Northern Ontario remembered people living in sod houses, another from the prairies of Saskatchewan recalled her parents digging “dugouts” – holes in the ground to collect rain and groundwater for drinking and household use. I asked them to draw floor plans of their childhood homes and recall one room in particular that gave them positive memories. Most chose kitchens and described the meals their mothers and fathers made there. Most of the group chose to draw and add a few sentences but when it came time to share, they relied on their memories and spoken words.

While this was meant to be a memoir-writing course (with the emphasis on writing) I realized that telling stories orally was going to be our primary mode of expression here. Fortunately, as a storyteller in the oral tradition, I knew I could accommodate this kind of sharing. These folk might not be able to write multi-page stories but we’d share their stories one way or another. A colleague suggested I record their stories and have them transcribed and present them back to their owners.

I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that no matter how well-prepared you think you are, a situation will always arise in which you find yourself unprepared. Accept these situations as gifts – opportunities to learn and acquire new insights. Rather than complain or sink into despair because the situation wasn’t what I had prepared for, I saw the opportunity to call upon my other skills and experiences – my teaching and storytelling experiences, for example – and use them to adapt to the circumstances. Be prepared to be unprepared, for as the Scottish bard Robert Burns once remarked, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry” or, as the more contemporary Murphy’s Law would have it, “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” When it does, be prepared to be unprepared . . . and then prepare to discover something new.

The last few months of this year have been humbling and challenging. So, I’ve crafted a mantra into my meditations of “I approach my anxieties with self-compassion by turning them into positive actions”. I’m now centering myself in gratitude and appreciation for how my journey in life has continued to evolve over the past two and a half years since closing the chapter on my corporate experience.  

I closed that chapter with the perspective of Joseph Campbell’s retelling of Native American wisdom and advice, “As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think.” 

I’ve closed several chapters in my life journey, with that quote inspiring my heart, spirit, and mind. Every jump I’ve undertaken has been a milestone, none of which I’ve ever regretted. 

My most recent jump was leaving my 20+ years of corporate experience and stability behind in 2021. What I thought would take me six months has taken me on a 28-month journey so far. To quote Tom Waits, “If you wanna make God laugh, tell him your plans.” And, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, “So it goes.” 

Over the past few months, I’ve entered what I refer to as an “austerity phase” of my life and business. Entering into that phase came an overwhelming amount of vulnerability to negativity and panic levels of anxiety. 

My solution to this has been to double down on my spiritual and philosophical virtues and passions. I reframed the roles of negativity, anxiety, and challenge into three specific character archetypes: The Bully, The Child, and The Hero. I’ve written about this in deeper detail in my recent Soul Gym contribution. 

In my heart, spirit, and mind, my faith is strong that the profound challenges of resistance I’ve been experiencing are a sign that I am coming that much closer to achieving my success. As Stephen Pressfield mentions in The War of Art, it’s that moment when resistance is working hardest against us.  

Soul Gem 8 - From Conflict to Creativity

Last month, I changed my name from Elijah to Opal, and as I started coming out to the people in my life, I almost couldn’t believe how smoothly it went. Sure, the name Opal isn’t too outlandish on its own, but all of the Opals I had met before were old white ladies who spent their days crocheting Afghans and baking snickerdoodles. I was scared that the world wasn’t ready for Opal, the 28-year-old gender-expansive, Colombian-American, Siren of the Soul. I thought for sure that I would be met with looks of confusion and judgment. But each time I asked someone to call me Opal, they took to it almost immediately. I let out a sigh of relief. People actually wanted to know the real me.

 I was on cloud nine, and I was soaring higher and higher. And in an act of sheer hubris, I decided to visit my dad. It really is quite remarkable how 10 simple words, “I hope you don’t mind if I call you Elijah,” sent me into a fiery tailspin. It was all I could do to keep myself from screaming at him, “Do you even care?” “Did you ever care?” I made my way outside as quickly as I could, my eyes wide with contempt and my throat pulsating with grief. Rage and resentment boiled inside of me. And in the days that followed, the joyful relief that I had felt before was completely overshadowed by a dense storm cloud of hurt. And even though it felt absolutely dreadful to be stuck in the middle of this storm cloud, there was a part of me that wanted to stay stuck. I could hear this self-righteous voice inside of me that said, “He’s not gonna change. He’s too set in his ways. Just cut him out of your life.” 

But even in the midst of that storm, I could make out a tiny mote of golden light. A memory of my dad enveloping me in a warm embrace and saying, “I love you, sweetheart.” And even though the pain was still there, I knew that there was still hope that I could salvage something from this mess. So, I sent my Dad a text: 

“There’s something important that I want to talk to you about. Would you be available for a 30 minute phone call this weekend?” 

He responded almost immediately: “Yes.”

In the days leading up to the phone call, I was spinning my wheels, mentally rehearsing what I would say to him. I believed that if I just made my case and said exactly the right thing, he couldn’t possibly misunderstand me, and then he would have no choice but to do what I wanted him to do. I soon realized that I didn’t want to go into our conversation with this nervous, controlling energy, so I decided to stop rehearsing, and instead just show up to the phone call with openness and curiosity. And this made all the difference.

Near the end of our phone call, my dad said to me, “I just can’t bring myself to call you anything but Elijah.” I could’ve ended the call right there, and vowed never to speak to him again, but instead, I brought in a little bit of curiosity, and asked, “What does the name Elijah mean to you?” He said, “There really isn’t anything quite like having your firstborn son. The second is the second, but the first is the first– and it’s intense. Elijah is the name that I gave to my firstborn son. And I just can’t bring myself to let that go.” I paused for a moment, giving myself some space to let his words land. I said, “I had no idea that the name Elijah meant so much to you. I had never really thought that me being born was such a huge turning point in your life. I feel touched…”

I began to tear up. I took a deep breath, and said, “I understand now why it’s so important for you to see me as Elijah…and you get to have that.” 

“Thank you,” he said.

And then, I was hit with a sudden flash of inspiration. “You know… I really like it when you call me sweetheart. Whenever you call me sweetheart, I remember how much you care about me. I’m totally fine with you referring to me as Elijah when I’m not around, but when we’re together, I would like you to call me “sweetheart.”

 “Okay,” he said.

I felt a warm glow of joy radiating from my heart. “I love you.”

 “I love you, too.”

I'm going on another trip even though I have way too much to do to get ready... I'm purchasing a new workout system (lifting with bands and platforms) even though it's a lot of money... and I set up a webinar of 5 steps to something before I knew what they actually were. It's tomorrow and I just jotted them down - five simple steps.

And I love that. 

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