dare to dream

Kylie Hunter: Little Girls Can be Mean (Part 2)

In this second of a two-part series, Kylie Hunter shares how it felt to be bullied and what she learned -- the post is in Kylie's words as dictated to her mother, Michelle Anthony.  You can read Michelle's perspective on Kylie's experience here.  If between now and September 15, you leave a comment on either post, you will be eligible for one of two signed copies Little Girls Can be Mean:  Four Steps to Bully-proof Girls in the Early Grades.

Kylie Hunter, 10 years old, has won both state and national awards for her writing.  While Kylie has always had a tremendous imagination, it was during first grade—when she began writing letters to herself to cope with her yo-yo friendship—that her passion for writing was sparked.  Since then, she has written a children’s chapter book about her experiences with Sherrie, along with countless poems (you can read one of her poems below).  She is currently in 5th grade at an arts-integrated magnet public school.

***
It’s been a little more than two years now.  Two years since I finally broke off my yo-yo friendship with Sherrie.  When I re-read the notes I wrote back then, it makes me want to cry.  Those moments have dissolved in my memory, but what’s left is a puddle.  A puddle of all the meanness mixed together with no solidity. 

I remember feeling scared at night, but not about Sherrie.  About big monsters and bad fairies.  I was very confused back then.  I didn’t know whether she was nice or mean.  I couldn’t tell, because she stood up for me with classmates.  She invited me to sit with her at lunch.  She helped me when I was the new girl.  But what I didn’t realize was that the mean moments were more important than the nice moments, and the mean moments were a bigger deal.  Like the time she got me very excited about her birthday party—talking about it for days and saying how much fun we’d have together—and then intentionally didn’t invite me.  I felt so betrayed—by my own very best friend.  But maybe she wasn’t my best friend; that is what I couldn’t tell.

When I went to my teacher about it, she only made things worse.  She told me how I shouldn’t be worried.  How I should just toughen up.  So I felt like I had to toughen up, although I didn’t know how.  I didn’t know how to unlock the case in which I had been imprisoned.  One day I just broke down in gym and was sent to the school psychologist, to no avail.  I think she was trying, but all I could think was, “Those things won’t work.”  So I left feeling even more alone.

In my room, I’d begun writing letters about how I felt.  My mom found one and we began talking.   We both were kinda lost at first about what to do next.  I was still scared, but I finally had someone who I could trust and talk to about it.  Somebody who didn’t make me feel even worse.

People sometimes ask me why I didn’t just stop being friends with her.  They don’t understand: she was my best friend.  By that point, she was my only friend.  If I gave up my only friend, I wouldn’t have anyone to play with on the playground.  I wouldn’t have anyone to share cookies with at lunch.  I wouldn’t have anybody to stand up for me when classmates were teasing me. I wasn’t ready to let go of what we had.

So in those early days, I just wrote letters.  To Sherrie’s mom, asking for help, to my imaginary friends, to my teachers, even to Sherrie.  I didn’t send them, but it made me feel like I was taking control.  It took a long time—over a year—before I finally found my way out of that friendship.  And I am a different person now because of it.  Because of Sherrie, but also because of what I learned along the way—from those who helped, and those who didn’t.  I feel more confident than I did.  I have more skills than I did, and I know that nobody is in charge of me—that I am my own person and nobody can change that.  No matter how mean they are.  And I know how to reach out to adults and how to ask for help, and I also know what sorts of people I can trust, like my mom. 

So when I got the invite to Sherrie’s party, I thought carefully about going.   I knew I could avoid her, but I really wanted to try out my new techniques.  I wanted to show her and show myself that I was different.  That I had grown.  And I wanted to see my old acquaintance Sherrie again.  Maybe she had changed too.  Who knows?

***

Often children's verbal ability significantly outstrips their written communication skills.  Have you ever interviewed your children, allowing them to dictate to you their response?  What did you learn?  How did they feel?

In Michelle's post, she wrote that "girls struggle to find kind and appropriate ways to have influence and feel powerful." What are some ways that you can help the girls in your life learn to have influence -- in a good way?

It was in trying to cope with this experience, Kylie began to write -- and writing helped her find her voice.  Are we giving our daughters opportunity for self-expression, including really listening to them?  Are we listening to ourselves?

When my daughter guest-posted and you were all generous enough to leave comments, it was tremendously validating for her.  Will you do the same for Kylie?

***

P.S.  I thought it would be a special treat to share with you one Kylie's poems.  In light of her experiences -- and given the importance of friends as we dare to dream, I found this particular poem "Friends", particularly meaningful.

Michelle Anthony: Little Girls Can be Mean (Part 1)

In this first of a two-part series, Michelle Anthony talks about her daughter Kylie being bullied.  In Part 2, Kylie provides her perspective, how she felt and what she learned.  If you leave a comment on either post by September 15, you will be eligible for one of two signed copies of Michelle's recently published book LIttle Girls Can be Mean:  Four Steps to Bully-proof Girls in the Early Grades.  

***
Michelle Anthony has spent upwards of a decade working hands-on with children and parents around girl-related issues through her professional work, and as a mother to young girls.  As a result of her own daughter becoming involved in a series of “Mean Girl” interactions in first grade, Michelle's interest in this topic was personalized.  Michelle is a columnist and feature writer for Scholastic Parent and Child Magazine, and is a certified teacher and has spent many years in the classroom. She holds a B.A. in Education from Brown University, an M.A. in Child Studies and Teacher’s Certificate from Tufts University, and a Ph.D. in Developmental Psychology from the University of California at Berkeley.

***
2:30 PM. The party just ended.  Almost despite myself, I feel my heart racing.  After all, Kylie’s in fifth grade and has been to plenty of birthday celebrations.  But this is not a regular party, at least not for my daughter.  This party is for Sherrie (names are changed), Kylie’s former best friend who—a little over 2 years ago—tormented her for almost 2 years.  And Kylie being at this party was a chance for two dreams to be realized at once: hers and mine.

 
I remember I had been surprised when I opened the invitation and saw Sherrie’s name.  I double checked that the envelope had been addressed to Kylie, and had not been sent home by mistake.  And while I made it clear to Kylie that she didn’t need to attend, she surprised me by saying she wanted to.  My face went blank and she put her hand on mine and smiled, “Really, mom, it’s ok.  Things are very different now.”

I looked over at her, and I saw it for the first time: how much she had grown.  Such a different look than she had in first grade, when her struggles with Sherrie began.  The issues went on for months before anyone knew about them.

Sherrie was Kylie’s closest friend, and—at first—her strongest ally.  But a destructive power dynamic soon developed. It was amazing the hold Sherrie had over her—the power she had to take something wonderful and make it dark and fearsome to Kylie. Kylie was an avid believer in fairies, and (in the beginning) the 2 would laughingly imagine they were visited by fanciful fairies in the backyard.  But when things changed, Sherrie took Kylie’s passion for fairies and used it to terrify her—telling her about fairies that were evil and would harm her.  (Here is some writing Kylie did about this experience when she had just turned 8).

 
Kylie tried to speak to her teacher about her struggles midyear and was met with disbelief (“She’s such a nice girl; you must be misreading her intent”).  When she persisted, she was told to “thicken her skin,” which left her feeling more confused and alone.  It was only when I happened upon a scribbled note of loneliness that Kylie opened up and shared her isolation.

The day she finally broke the silence on her experience was the day that changed both of us.  Since then, my daughter and I have been on a journey of discovery, together.  To help her find her voice, and a path away from that sad, silent place.

But in working to understand what was happening to her, we discovered not only a language to talk about her struggles, but also a framework and a means to deal with them.

Along this path, I also stumbled upon the power of a new dream: to give other girls and other parents the means to understand these experiences before they take their devastating toll.   Through our many interactions with teachers, parents, counselors, principals, and elementary-aged girls, my co-author and I uncovered an unspoken epidemic affecting countless young girls, leaving them feeling similarly isolated and alone. And having more than one daughter has allowed me to understand—from both a personal and professional place—how many nice girls not only struggle with the mean things that happen, but also with how to find kind and appropriate ways to have influence and feel powerful.

Sitting outside Sherrie’s party, I realize what a winding trail it’s been, and yet, this is the moment I didn’t even realize is the one we’ve both been waiting for.  As Kylie clamors into the car, our eyes meet, and a silent smile passes between us.  This time the silence is from a common language that needs no words to be expressed.  At that party, in that moment, I witness Kylie confidently bound across a chasm.  A chasm that only 2 years before sent her plummeting, alone and afraid, with no safety net to catch her fall.

***

I often hear of adolescent-age girls bullying, but not of grade school girls.  However, as I spoke to Michelle, I realized that my own daughter was bullied -- by a best friend -- in her early grade school years.  We stereotype bullying as "big kid mercilessly beating small kid to a pulp", either physically or verbally.  But Michelle and Kylie's experience indicates that bullying can be much more subtle. 

Have you or your children had a similar experience? 

As you coped with this challenge, what did you learn about advocating for yourself?  Your children?  About teaching them to stand up for themselves?

When we say what we want out loud, that want gains power.  Interestingly, however, when we express our fears out loud, they tend to lose their hold. Is there something about which you need to break the silence?

P.S. If you'd like to hear more from Kylie, her younger sister, and Michelle, click on a YouTube interview here. 

Learning to ride a bike

I'm not quite sure how this happened, but my nine year-old daughter hadn't learn to ride a bike.

One could argue this isn't an essential life skill; it still felt important. Perhaps because I remember many an elementary school afternoon whizzing down my street (sometimes with no hands), exhilarated by the speed, the wind in my face, my growing independence. I wanted my daughter to have this experience. 

But at nine, nearly ten, rather than being eager to learn, she was afraid. Which is why -- when my family asked what I wanted for my birthday, in addition to asking for tacos and ice cream pie (a favorite childhood meal), I asked Miranda if she would practice learning how to ride.  

She graciously agreed, but it was shaky.  She wasn't comfortable getting on, getting off, turning--or riding, and needed my husband to spot her non-stop.   So taxing was the first outing that my husband came home, and wryly said "Happy Birthday!"  Teaching someone when they are frightened is no easy task; being the man that he is, he persisted.

Yesterday, we hit pay dirt.

Miranda had just finished a practice session.  She was so excited about her progress, when I arrived home from my errands, she was ready to head back out so that I could see what she could do:  get on the bike, speed up, slow down, trace an elaborate serpentine pattern, hop off like she'd been riding for weeks, if not months -- with absolutely no help from dad.

We were proud of her; there were high fives all around.

Source:  istockphoto 

Most importantly, she was proud of herself, her demeanor bright.  She'd taken on something hard, including her fear, and conquered it.

A few hours later, she was back on the bike.  This time in our neighborhood.  She picked up a few scuffs and scrapes in the process, but it was clear she wore these not as signs of defeat, but badges of honor.  

***

Do you remember when you learned to ride a bike?  How did you feel?

Do you have an inkling of something that one of your loved ones needs to do in order to cultivate their sense of self?  How can you gently nudge them?

Is there something you need to try, because you'll regret it if you don't, but you've been scared?  What is that thing?

Who is there that can help you as you ride through your fear?

How many scrapes (read:  badges of honor) can you accumulate in the process of trying?

Elizabeth Harmer Dionne: The Semmelweis Reflex

Elizabeth Harmer Dionne, a retired attorney and mother of four, is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in political science at Boston College.  You can read her previous post The Economics of Motherhood here. 

In 1847, Dr. Ignac P. Semmelweis instructed his Viennese medical students to wash their hands after assisting in childbirth.  His advice preceded Pasteur’s germ theory of disease, but Semmelweis had a hunch that this simple procedure would prevent the spread of puerperal fever, which killed up to 35% of women who delivered their babies in hospitals.

Semmelweis saved thousands of women’s lives, simply by washing his hands, but his colleagues mocked him and ignored his results.  He died prematurely in an insane asylum, a victim of the depression that followed the rejection of his life-saving idea and his despair over the needless deaths of countless women.  The so-called “Semmelweis Reflex”—a tendency to reject new information that challenges established paradigms—is named after him, a dubious honor.

Dr. Semmelweis’s history haunts me, because of its horrible irony.  Semmelweis’s dream was to save women in hospital maternity wards.  Because his colleagues killed his dream, women died.  (One of the most famous victims of puerperal fever is Mary Wollstonecraft, feminist author of Vindication of the Rights of Woman, who died from the disease in 1797.)

Few of us will have the life-saving insights of Semmelweis, and few of us will face similar hostility to our dreams.  However, each of us may face the death of small dreams.  Over a lifetime, these little deaths can accumulate, becoming a poignant whole—a life spent observing elusive rainbows rather than finding (or creating) our own small pot of gold.

Source: istockphoto

Dream killers come in many forms.  Mockery can be a dream killer.  A high school senior once asked me, the lone sophomore in an AP music theory class, where I wanted to attend college.  “Harvard!” I blurted out.  She snorted and replied, “Nobody goes there!”  Well, obviously some people did, and I wanted to be one of them.  I ignored her derision and forged ahead.

Limited vision is another dream killer.  My high school guidance counselor’s observation was even less helpful:  “Why go out-of-state for school?  We have good schools here!”  I ultimately concluded that Harvard wasn’t for me, but the dream of attending a prestigious school fueled the hard work and determination that secured my admission to Wellesley College, a platform for other dreams.

My teen-aged daughter wants to be a pediatric surgeon, a dream she has nurtured through multiple summers of dissection camp.  (Surgery is her dream, definitely not mine—I merely write the checks!)  She still vividly remembers the orthopedists at Children’s Hospital Boston who set her broken arm when she was two.  That experience gave birth to a dream that she could help children in the same way.

Source:  istockphoto

An insidious dream-killer is to impose your dream on someone else.  My daughter’s dream-killer was a “teacher” who suggested that she would not complete medical school if she had a baby.  (I am deliberately not identifying this woman’s place within the so-called “mommy wars,” as either extreme can kill a dream.)  I reminded my worried daughter about my own experience:  Pursuing both motherhood and a profession is difficult but also tremendously rewarding.  I have confidence in her dreams and her ability to achieve them.

There is no check-list for a worthwhile dream.  On the contrary, I am arguing that no one can establish the content of another’s dream.  Each woman (or man) must do the hard work of understanding where talent, vision, desire, values, determination, and circumstance intersect in her particular life.  There she will find her dream.

One of my most important tasks as a parent is to nurture my children’s dreams (and to restrain my impulse to turn them into versions of “mini me”).  My son probably will not become both a major league pitcher and switch-hitter, but life will teach him that, soon enough.  So my husband enthusiastically practices with him during evenings and weekends, and I dutifully shuttle him around to practices and games.  Because of his dream, he is learning lessons about determination, discipline, and hard work, and he is having a splendid time in the process.  Pursuing dreams with joyous abandon can be fun.

Source:  istockphoto

My conclusion from all of this?  Avoid the Semmelweis Reflex.  Don’t apply it to yourself or others.  Don’t allow others to apply it to you.  Life will tell you soon enough whether or not your dream is fool’s gold.  In the meantime, the journey of following your rainbow can be the ultimate affirmation of your life.

***

Had you ever heard of the Semmelweise reflex before reading this post?  I hadn't.  Has there been a time when someone suggested that you pursue a dream -- but because this suggestion "challenged your your (negative) paradigm about yourself", you rejected their suggestion?

Have you ever had an idea that you knew was right -- that challenged consensus thinking -- but was rejected, and you consequently found yourself despondent?  Consider again Brooksley Born's experience.

Knowing about the Semmelweis reflex, what can we do to give life to the dreams of our loved ones, and to ourselves?

Becoming an Older, and Wiser, Woman

D-day, the day I've been dreading is finally here.

It wasn't always a Dread-day. There was a time when I gleefully anticipated my B-day; it couldn't come fast enough.

But now that my birthday is increasingly a reminder that my youth is fading, and my faced is etched with ever more wrinkles, like rings on a tree, my d-day, b-day can't come and go fast enough.  And, no matter how many candles I blow out on my birthday cake, being younger is a wish that won't come true.  So, I'm grieving, and given that there is a loss, grief is appropriate.

But how long shall I grieve?  If my grief is protracted, will I be diminishing, even dismissing, the life I've lived, the experiences I've had up to this point? More importantly, will I be saying that I would trade what I hope is becoming inner beauty for outer youth?  I don't like how I'm starting to look, but I do like who I am becoming.  In fact, I like myself far more than I did two decades ago when in my youthful prime.  My friend  Macy said it well, "the price of wisdom is youth."

Truly, truly -- I don't know how to do this getting older thing; it's so unknown.  While I'm figuring it out, I will undoubtedly have days during which I'm immobilized, giving into my fear, staring longingly into the Mirror of Erised.  My plan, however, is to take my age on, one birthday at a time.

I'm going to get older no matter what; I'd like to become wise too.  

***

Thoughts?

For more on this topic, re-read Lisa Poulson's terrific post Bette Davis (and Epictetus) were right.  You may also want to read On the Eve of Hope... Loss.  For a male counterpoint, take a look at Some Thoughts on Aging by Fred Wilson, a prominent VC blogger, whose birthday was earlier this week.

Configuring a space for our dreams

We just moved closer to Boston last week -- only 30 miles east, but a seismic shift in many ways.  So I'm thinking a lot about management consultant Tom Peters' thoughts on space configuration.

Here's a quick snippet from the 2-minute YouTube video clip, which you can watch as well.

“If I live within 100 feet of you, in the course of a week, you and I will cross paths or go to the bathroom or whatever, and we’ll talk with each other seven times, let’s say. If you’re more than 100 feet, I won’t see you or I won’t talk to you more than once a month.”

To me, Tom Peters' ideas have profound implications for our dreaming.  For example: 

If one of your dreams is to have a closer relationship with loved ones, whether family or friends, but you don't live near one another, what are you doing to achieve proximity despite the distance? 

In addition to physical distance, there's emotional distance -- as teenagers individuate, for instance.   Are we making time to be beside them while they are doing whatever they want to be doing, just to be with them?  Making the effort to be a part of their space, on their terms? 

What about dreams for you?  If you want to write or run or be alone (so you can figure out what your dream is), is there a place for you?  A time allotted?

Thoughts?

P.S.  Here's a piece I wrote when we first started the hedge fund about space. 

Janna Taylor: The Middle

Janna Taylor currently owns and operates Mind Full Tutors located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She holds a Masters of Education in Human Development and Psychology from Harvard University and has over ten years of experience tutoring students in some of the nation’s most prestigious schools. In 2008, Janna served as a judge for Harvard University's Education Enterprise Competition.  She talked about the beginning of her dream in the post If You Get Defensive, You're Getting Close

Heartbreak Hill is a roughly half mile stretch of low-grade incline between miles 20 and 21 of the Boston Marathon. Anyone who is familiar with this race knows Heartbreak Hill. Runners dread it. Spectators thickly line the streets to cheer on the brave athletes who dare tread its path.  What some might not know is that Heartbreak Hill is actually the last of a series of four hills that begin at mile 16, which makes reaching that final hill even more challenging because the hills begin at a point when a runner’s energy is quickly running out.  In other words, the middle is the hardest.

Like the exhilaration of the first mile of a marathon, when we begin an endeavor, the momentum and power of our dreams and the support of others’ well wishes drives us on. Over time, this energy may die down, not because our dream has lost value or that people no longer care. Rather, because the dream appears to move along at a steady pace. All looks well.

Source: istockphoto

You might think that once you’ve reached the middle, you’ve hit your stride. You get into your groove. Easy, right?

Nope. At least not for me.

Right now, I’m in the middle of my dream and it is hard. Even though I’ve come a long way, I have farther to go. How do I keep going when I am energy-depleted and in the middle of my Heartbreak Hill?

Here a few things that are helping me through the middle:

Recommitting myself to the vision. My business approached a critical moment this past spring in which I had to decide whether to maintain my business at its current volume or expand.  The initial vision was to expand, but frankly, it was tempting to stay at my current level. I was happy and satisfied with the level of income, number of work hours, and simplicity of managing a small cadre of tutors.  What I had to face, however, is that I didn’t sign up for a 5K run/walk. I had signed up for a marathon. To accomplish what I set out to do, I needed to recommit to the original vision of helping as many students as possible by expanding the tutoring center and hiring more tutors. To signify this my redoubled commitment, I hired three more tutors for the fall and negotiated a space expansion with my landlord. Had I decided to maintain my business’ success rather than increase it, I would not have been true to my dream or my capability.

Trying to view the middle as the beginning. Honestly, even though I am in the middle, every month feels like a start up month.  I am constantly learning major lessons or skills simply because I have to in order for the business to grow. I try viewing these learning opportunities as beginning down a new path that will make things easier and more productive rather than pesky things getting in my way. One proactive way that I keep this perspective is to audit my approach (policies, procedures, etc.) when something starts to lag or goes awry.

Source: istockphoto

Asking for help to see myself. Since beginning my business, several friends have had to talk me down from my proverbial ledge. Even in the midst of the exhilaration of living a dream, my self-doubt has momentarily stopped me in my tracks. During these times, I’ve called up friends and asked, “I need you to help me see me.” They always excitedly and graciously share their perspective that “Yes, you can do it and here’s why.” Sometimes when we are in the middle, we forget who we are because we are snowblinded by the difficulty of carrying out our dreams. Friends and family who know us and love us are often more than up to the task of helping us reconnect with our greatness.

Now that all the helpful advice is out of the way, I do need to mention one critical factor playing out smack dab in the middle of my very own Heartbreak Hill – bone weariness. I am tired. Really tired. I’m tired from doing something I love, but I’m tired, nonetheless. While I'm inspired, even comforted, by Warren Brown (Cake Love) who talks here about being "Physically Tired, Spiritually Amped," I still haven’t worked out what to do about my weariness.  My week vacation doing nothing but lay on the beach didn’t fully replenish me, which should be a red flag regarding my depletion levels. I do not know how to keep the physical and emotional energy at a critical mass.  Any thoughts or suggestions?

What are you in the middle of?

Most of fulfilling a dream is the “middle.” How are you sustaining yourself throughout this time?

Learnvest: A resource for investing

It is true.

I have been reticent to talk about money, even though it is often required in order to pursue our dreams, whether rearing children, building a business, or donating to worthy causes.

So... I wanted to share with you a website I recently discovered:  Learnvest.  It is about how to manage our money, learning to invest; geared toward women; informative and user-friendly.

What really caught my attention was the Investing Bootcamp, a daily e-mail for two weeks that includes a quick tutorial on investing (like why investing matters and how to know when it makes sense) as well as 1-2 easily implemented action items.  There are also Personal Finance and Cut your Costs bootcamps, articles on the psychology money, and a spreadsheet for calculating your budget.

Take a look around.  Thumbs up?  Thumbs down?

And while you are looking around -- think about one of the dreams you have.  

Is money a resource that you'll need?

Kristy Williams: Five Dreams I've Dated

In January 2010, Bain consultant turned stay-at-home mom Kristy Williams wrote a posted titled Five Dreams I Think I'll Date.  At that time, I asked Kristy if she'd be willing to write a follow-up piece in July; she kindly agreed.    

***

Six months ago I began a process of dating some of my dreams – spending some time on several potential dreams to determine which ones I really wanted to pursue. The process was fascinating and shockingly quick. In one case, within an hour I knew it was time to move on to something else. Forcing myself to focus on things I enjoyed in theory helped me to determine where my passions truly lie. The end result culminated in the pursuit of a dream not even on the list.

Outside of those tasks I am duty-bound to perform, I really want to love what I’m doing. And guess what – I don’t, at least right now, love the California governor’s race. I read up on all the candidates from both major parties and determined that my political views were most in line with Meg Whitman’s. However, as I looked into how I could get involved with her campaign, I felt a sense of drudgery instead of excitement. I am not exactly sure why I was so unenthusiastic, but I can’t deny how I felt. Drudgery is not the feeling I want associated with my free time. I suspect someday I will want to become more involved in politics, but for now my focus is elsewhere.

Source:  istockphoto

Dating made it clear that I do enjoy writing, but only opportunistically, as interesting topics come to mind or as publishing opportunities come available. I was able to publish, on www.designmom.com, the story of my struggle to conceive, and continue to look for another opportunity to “publish” before the end of the year. As for business consulting, I am helping my sister as she starts a wedding invitation business, www.whitefielddesign.com (she’s a designer by training; I help on the business and editing side). As I considered other opportunities in this area, I realized that at least in the short-term, I need to be passionate about the person I’m consulting for. My free time is too limited and money not enough of a motivator to engage too deeply in this area right now. So again, an area I enjoy but where I will remain – for now– only moderately involved.

As I considered how to best date my teaching dream, I realized I’m already pursuing this on a small scale – I am the Sunday School teacher for the adults at my church. I love this assignment, but also wanted to try something else. After some deliberation, I decided to start a non-fiction book club. I hoped this would allow me to learn about interesting topics and to discuss them with people I respect. The first three meetings have been a great success. I send out discussion questions in advance and lead the discussion, which seems to meet my desire for teaching, and I also get to learn from the ideas and experiences of others. My favorite read thus far is “Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide” by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. Next on the list is Outliers, which should be an interesting departure from the concepts we’ve previously discussed.

Source:  istockphoto

The final potential dream, racing, has been on hold. I’m having a baby in mid-August, and am not so bent on racing to pursue this dream while in my enlarged stated. I’ve been reading up on races in my area and plan to run a 10K within 3 months of the birth and will start “dating” then. A few of the races that really interest me are 5K mud-runs (quite a few exist in my area) and the XTERRA race series (a triathlon involving swimming, mountain biking, and a trail run). I expect a mud-run will happen long before an XTERRA race due to training demands but I intend to accomplish both before baby #3 enters my thoughts.

The most meaningful insight from all this dating and dreaming was inspired by a comment Robin Dickinson left on my initial post – “I read your post with great interest and would like to propose an idea: Mentoring inspiring and compassionate leaders.” This idea excited me more than any of the potential dreams I came up with on my own. As I fleshed out the idea, I decided I wanted to mentor female students from my alma mater, BYU, who were interested in a career in business consulting.

From that effort I realized what I really want to do with my precious time is organize and carry-out a Women in Business conference at BYU – attended (hopefully) by students, working professionals, and women like myself who are currently focusing their attentions on the home. I’ve been brainstorming the idea for several months now and have recently begun to engage others in order to make this a reality (if you have any interest in planning or participating, please let me know – I’m in the very initial stages of planning and am targeting a March 2011 date and a Provo, UT location).

Source:  istockphoto

In dreaming up and planning this conference, I find myself fully energized. I see a real need to bring together like-minded women to discuss the issues unique to women in business, especially women of faith who value family, motherhood, and excellence in all things. I hope to help students better understand the various paths available to them and identify role models and mentors who can help them as they make important career and life decisions. In addition, I hope the conference can be a valuable tool for those of us far past our school days – providing an opportunity to expand our network, make interesting personal connections, and explore how we can live our faith while developing our talents and keeping up our skills.

Dating my dreams has been a wonderful experience, with the result being far from what I expected. I hope to repeat this exercise every few years and really look forward to what I will discover.

What dream have you dated recently?

Any unexpected dreams, as has been the case with Kristy?

Any thoughts for her about what you'd like to see her do with a Women In Business conference?

Olivia Pierce: Silver Linings

On the Simple Mom blog, guest blogger Corey Allan recently wrote a piece titled How to Live a Better Story (thanks to Janika Dillon for flagging).  Allan starts his post with, "One of the many pitfalls that lead to a monotonous life is the failure to discover the story you’re living within. In other words, "If your life were a movie, would you want to go see it?” 

He continues, "according to the guru of story Robert McKee, there are three elements that must be present in order for a story to be good.

1. There has to be a main character you care about.
2. There has to be some sort of conflict.
3. There has to be a climactic ending."

***

A movie I want to see is the life of 12 year-old Olivia Pierce.

On Silver Linings, a blog co-authored by Olivia, and her mother Michele Pierce, they write:

Olivia is a happy, healthy 12-year-old who, in the spring of 2010, was looking forward to her upcoming ballet recital and 6th grade graduation from Summit Montessori.  In mid-April, shortly before a trip to Tokyo, she started to complain about an on-and-off pain in her leg. A visit to the pediatrician suggested Osgood-Schlatter’s Disease, a common overuse injury in adolescents. Olivia took it easy on her leg and went on to perform beautifully in her spring ballet recital. A few weeks later she developed a bump on her shin, and two days before her graduation, X-rays and an MRI showed a tumor that was later confirmed as osteosarcoma.

Michele and Olivia have started Silver Linings to chronicle Olivia's story, to make meaning of her life.  I'm going to click through, and leave a comment, letting Olivia know I'm watching her movie, that I'm rooting for her.

I hope you will too!

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Any other thoughts?

One way to bring action into our life (and marriage) movie is to ask 'What if?' questions, Allan writes. Olivia and her family don't need to ask this question.  The question showed up, and plopped itself right on their front door.  If that hasn't happened to you, what is your 'What if?' question?

I'll go first. 

Top of mind.  Stream of consciousness. 

What if I really got serious about venture capital, of finding a way to incubate and fund early stage businesses, with an emphasis on those owned by women? 

You?