my gal in india

I love a good "system," especially if it means I can delegate something, forget about it and it still gets done (bill paying, housekeeping, retirement investments, estimated taxes, yard care). Oh, the privileged life I live.

Yet when it's come to my all-time nemesis - meal planning and grocery shopping - a palatable system has eluded me. No amount of list making, cooking classes, overspending at gourmet markets or dragging my husband along for company has gotten me to commit, really commit, to ensuring that a reasonable amount of food stays in our house so that we can eat decently. Not even Nigella could seduce me into a habit that would stick. 

Earlier this year, I discovered Tim Ferris' super-organized-outsource-everything-so-you-can-have-a-life philosophy in Four Hour Work Week...and thought, yeah right. Then the fantasy of outsourcing this task floated into my mind and I immediately had to try it. Enter Triveni, my gal in India.

We're in our second week of the experiment. So far, so good - with several good laughs and a few surprises. Here's what I did to get us going:

1. Created a sample 1-week meal plan
2. Created a blank 1-week meal planning chart
3. Created a sample grocery shopping list
   
4. Scanned 20+ of our favorite recipes, plus various links to sites I like for ideas (e.g., easy, quick, good stuff)
5. Re-activated our Peapod account
6. Emailed all of this to Triveni with instructions on how to proceed
   

Turns out I'm not as specific as I think I am, when it comes to giving direction. I also hold a lot of assumptions. My favorite little twist so far was the lovely menu she sent back, jam-packed with enough meals and food (and a shopping list) to feed our household of two, plus all of our neighbors. I also smiled at the mac and cheese with a side salad for breakfast.

With an accumulated hour's worth of back and forth, we got the first order done. This week, it's taking us minutes. Last Saturday, I happily met the delivery at our door and have been enjoying the results:

Virtual Assistant: $10/hour, Online grocery order + tip: $130, Not eating PB&J or cereal for dinner again: priceless

Update on 2008-10-31 20:15 by Kelly O'Brien

A curious turn of events...my gal in India seems to have fired me. After a mysterious attempt to charge my credit card for $214, her "team leader" emailed me to suggest I upgrade to their $200/month level of service. I'd used more hours last month, but haven't used her services for most of October. Today, I got an email that my account has been closed.

Is this their upsell strategy? We'll see what response I get to my reaction, emailed to them this morning: no, you are not authorized to charge me for a new level of service...and yes, I'd like to continue your services at a hourly rate.

But I'm still checking you guys out...a couple of months does not make a relationship.

more inspiration

More lovelies from mein inspiration...

Violise Lunn of Denmarkmore Violise LunnElisabeth Lecourt's sweet dressPatty Eckman's Egg Watcher

mein inspiration

Stumbled on another amazing paper art site, Mein Inspiration, this weekend. There are so many talented people doing beautiful work. Deep breath, Kel (I get very excited about this stuff). Will attempt to pace myself, savoring each discovery. Relish this cut paper art...

Chris Natrop's Into the Silver See-through

Chris Natrop's Goddess as a Young Woman IV (detail)

Miriam Londoño's Memories Hina Aoyama's Lettre de VoltaireRob Ryan's Papercut Frame for VoguePeter Callesen's Distant Wish (detail)Peter Callesen's The Impossible Meeting (detail)

butterfly effect

I started what I thought was going to be a straightforward project yesterday: a fitted lid box with a double-sided window in the lid, into which I'd planned to display a butterfly I found at Penland.

Only as I started thinking about this particular butterfly, it became clear that I have a lot to say about what happened around finding and being with this little guy as he died.

So instead of whipping out another box, I'm letting this process unfold as it will. So far, it has me journaling about death mostly. Not in a morbid dark way, but in what feels like an honest way...about the people I've been with as they died and what was happening in my life at those times.

This week marks the second anniversary of Maggie's death, my maternal grandmother with whom I was very close. She died on the last day of our honeymoon. I swear, she waited until the wedding and honeymoon were over. It makes sense that I'd feel something now, but I didn't see it coming. Slowing down to listen to the stories my butterfly is asking me to tell is having its intended effect, I suppose.

Update on 2008-08-26 13:27 by Kelly O'Brien

Just learned that this is an 'Astyanax' Red-spotted Purple.

what if...?

In Brenda Belfield's class this weekend at The Art League, Design Rules and How to Break 'em!, I was kicked right out of my comfort zone. I didn't think I'd been at the book arts long enough to know what my comfort zone is, but I discovered in this class that I clearly have one.
Brenda's a world-renowned abstract painter and glass artist, so just taking her class was a leap for me. As she encouraged us to think "what if...?" with all of our initial solutions to the design challenges she threw at us, I clung to what I now see is my comfort zone: sticking to the safety of the grid, a delicate esthetic, minimal patterns, a monochromatic palette. Hmmm...is this how I live my life?
I'm probably being a little hard on myself. After all, I color decidedly outside the lines at times. Yet as her question continues to pop into my head today (and my post-Penland high remains), I'm struck by its application to more than our little art class exercises. What if I really embraced my art? What if I could learn to fully express what I'd like to say through these magical media? What if I could change the world, just a little, with my art? What if I could design a life that, in my wildest (no, I think these are my oldest) dreams, I never thought I could have?
Never mind how for now. Just...what if?

landing

Just returned home from 2+ weeks at Penland in Julie Leonard's box making class (assisted by the talented Jessica White). Hard to capture here what this experience has done for or means to me. Actually, I'm still trying to figure it out. What I do know is that under Julie's patient, expert, kind hand we all flourished in different ways. I went expecting to learn something about box making and have left with far more. 

The 8-hour drive home was crucial. I don't do long drives well, but I really needed (still need) the transition time to resurface...to come in for a landing. To reconnect with the people and things outside of that special bubble I was inhabiting in the Smoky Mountains and inside of myself.

More to come, but for now, here's some of my work...

Update on 2008-08-08 17:38 by Kelly O'Brien

I just re-read Julia Cameron's piece in Walking in this World on reentry after a big creative project. Turns out I'm not crazy...that these feelings are perhaps universal and predictable:

Our creative size has a tidal aspect -- we ebb and we flow. Or, if you like, we expand and contract, altering sizes and shapes like one of those luminous mysteries of the sea, the jellyfish, which closely resembles a parachute. When we are at the height of a creative flight and trying to land, we too resemble a beautiful, full-bellied parachute trying to touch earth. Lovely? Yes. But safe? Not necessarily. Creative post partum can be unexpected and deep.

Finishing a long project is also a little like driving cross-country -- when you get home, you may need to hide out and sleep for a couple of days before seeing your friends -- otherwise, reentry can be bumpy. Reentry is a volatile process. We become seasoned only after time, learning to send up flares to show our progress: I am still in the chute and hope to emerge next week.

My Penland instructor, Julie, spoke of colleagues and students who simply don't finish a project because they can't face the landing when all is said and one. Hiding out feels about right for now. That, and reminding myself that the ground does exist, as I take steps to find my feet again back home.

compassion

I was wondering when my ability to feel true compassion for people who challenge or hurt me most would show up. Finally, it's here.

Maybe it's because I've gone to the places that scare me. Years ago, I actually bought Pema Chodron's book twice without realizing it, and then stashed each copy on my bookshelf, unread, after the first chapter scared the wits out of me. The power of the unconscious is humbling!

I finally did read her book about a year ago, but it hasn't been until this summer that a sense of peaceful connection with others has blossomed. Where has this come from? Why now?

Forgiveness (of myself and others) has something to do with it. That's taken a long time. As has allowing my anger -- really feeling it and the heartbreak beneath. I've found a way to my bodhichitta, that soft, tender, vulnerable spot in my heart. The pain I used to run from is no longer unbearable or terrifying, but rather a pure and profound connection to others who suffer.

Another key is discernment. There's a big difference between compassion and enabling or co-dependence. Having over-invested in many relationships, I left myself naively vulnerable to both being taken advantage of or, taking advantage of those who came to my rescue. Yes, discernment and accountability are in the mix here.

And what about my Fire? According to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) of which I'm a big fan, we are now at the height of Fire in the annual five-element cycle. Fire is about the Heart, center of compassion and joy. My guess is that my Heart Protector (what a great name!) has finally been properly activated under the skilled touch of my acupuncturist.

One last thing. Staying open to, while not forcing or faking my compassion is a piece of this. Arriving on its own terms, I welcome this state of being with a strong heart and open arms.

inspired paper

Paper, light, anything French...my passions converge in this stunning lamp by Les Fourmis Bleues, inspired by clouds, sea and sky.

penland fever

I leave a week from today to immerse myself in the book arts at Penland School of Crafts in the Great Smoky Mountains, about an hour from Asheville, NC.

It's all I can think about.

I've been very focused and organized this week -- a way to manage my anxiety, perhaps, about leaving behind clients, home, my husband and pets for nearly three weeks.

Part of me is not-so-secretly thrilled to be leaving it all behind. When I've run away in the past (to France for a month, for example, after a string of self-induced dramas), I sought a port in the storm.

This time feels different. For one, the little heart tugs I feel at the prospect of leaving are a good thing. There's nothing to run from here now.

I feel like a kid getting ready for summer sleep-away camp! Check out some what I'll be up to...

 

 

 

 Papermaking studio

 

 

Working on a letterpress book

 

 

Print studio 

staying grounded

It's one thing to talk a good game about "finding my center" and "staying grounded." It's quite another to live it. This week has been one reminder after another of how easy it is to lose my footing.

Just when I think I've got it figured out (oh, and am advising a client or friend on how to take care of their stuff), my demons show up to haunt.

In my work to help clients act and decide more consciously, I'm hyper-tuned in to craziness: when the reality of what's happening is somehow being ignored or unseen. And yet it's scary how capable I am of this myself.

Last weekend, my husband and I booked a trip to China for October. We've been wanting to check out Asia for years, so an abundance of frequent flyer and Marriott points lets us go at bargain prices. Then why was I so restless, so disturbed by making these plans? Turns out I've been acting crazy by not taking care of some basic but important priorities. In the past, running off to exotic lands was a great escape. Now, it causes unbearable dissonance if my own house is not in order.

Last night, I started a Staying Grounded List. Both my husband and I are adding stuff to it -- things we each need to take care of, some big (replace the car clutch, fund my SEP-IRA); some small and niggling (track down an order that's gone missing, replace a broken license plate holder). All of these things are about better self-care, giving ourselves a good kick in the rear, and staying grounded in, well...our present reality.

Update on 2008-07-01 17:15 by Kelly O'Brien

We're making progress on taking care of stuff on our Staying Grounded list. Does snapping at my husband to "take care of _____" count? No, I'd say not. However, minding my own unfinished business sure does.

family tree

We have a family of robins in the tree just outside our front door. I can see them from my office/studio, huge mouths open wide on bobbing little heads. Dad and mom robin have been tirelessly bringing worms back to the nest for days now. It never ends. When do they rest?

Yesterday, during a huge storm with high winds, mom sat like a puffed up plug on top of the nest, babies safe below. Through field glasses, I could see her rocking in discomfort as the babies squirmed below, determined to stay anchored and protect her brood from the elements.

My own childhood comes to mind. Dad, tirelessly making sure we had food and shelter. Mom, determined to protect us from, well, everything. They did their best, followed their instincts, and hoped it worked out. In many ways, what they accomplished in raising us is amazing - our family tree is fraught with broken boughs and unhappy nests. And yet that which goes undiscussed and denied has taken its toll.

As I struggle with my own sense of compassion and forgiveness - for my parents and for myself - these little guys give me hope. 

Update on 2008-06-24 21:04 by Kelly O'Brien

Our robin family has left us. The nest is officially empty. They didn't even say goodbye. I guess that's how it goes. So now I peer intently at the robins in our yard...do I know you guys? At least I've got baby pictures.

amazing paper

The things you can do with paper! Instead of wallpaper, here's a wall of paper. Elegant, functional and even flame-retardant.

Designed by Stephanie Forsythe and Todd MacAllen for Molo Design.

Available through Rose and Radish, which looks like a very groovy place to visit.

yummy

Oh, to be able to make these luscious handmade journals! Something to shoot for, no doubt.

The story of how founders Jason and Ilira started their bindery is inspiring. If you're a fan of fine handmade books or paper, check out their blog.

In the meantime, I can't wait for my order to arrive.

rocky mountain high

Just returned from five days in Colorado. My husband and I both had business out there, then tacked on a couple of extra days for ourselves. What a potent mix, actually...some intense client meetings with folks stuck in a kind of post-layoff trauma, sublime hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park, lots of great food in Boulder (if you're there, check out The Kitchen and Powell's Sweet Shoppe), and a little spa-pampering to round things out.

Could have done without the lousy, overpriced mani/pedi I got at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs. On the other hand, hiking among herds of elk, lunch-stealing chipmunks and countless wild flowers with my hubby was priceless.

sardoodledom

The National Spelling Bee is here this weekend. Apparently, it's a very "in" thing with kids around the world. I guess if you can win this, you've certainly demonstrated your mastery of the English language.

On NPR yesterday, there was a short take on the National Spelling Bee. I love how they focused on kids being kids -- giggling at the word sardoodledum. It means contrived drama. How perfect. For a giggle of your own, here you go...

trace paper

I love all things paper, especially clever beauties like these pieces from Trace Paper...

The Dublin - a wall sconce/light sculpture. During the day you can read the poem down the left side. Turn on the light and a whole new poem emerges.

 

Red bracelet. This is paper?! Check out the bas-relief (also at Trace), below the model's hand.

can you hear the mountain stream?

I've got enlightenment on the mind. Reading Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth, it's hard not to. Yesterday, as my husband and I hiked along a rushing mountain stream (actually, a creek with full-fledged waterfalls in the middle of Shenandoah National Park – who knew?), my thoughts turned to Tolle's story about how the Zen Master tells his disciple to listen for the mountain stream, and then "enter Zen from there."

Shaking off my week of feeling buffeted by a lot of unconscious acting out (clients' and my own), the power of Now -- in this current book, Presence --  feels like a port in the storm. And, hey, it's a lot easier! The timing of this book's appearance on my radar is just what the Zen Master ordered.

I don't make light of these ideas. I take them to heart, in fact. Designing a life is another way of living consciously. My daily task has been to attempt do so, yet it's weeks like the last one that remind me this is a journey.

Right now, this very moment, I'm loving these passages...

There are three ways in which the ego will great the present moment: as a means to an end, as an obstacle, or as an enemy. How do you go beyond a dysfunctional relationship with the present moment? ...see it in yourself, in your thoughts and actions. In the moment of seeing, of noticing that your relationship with the Now is dysfunctional, you are present. The seeing is the arising Presence. With the seeing comes the power of choice. 

Presence is a state of inner spaciousness. when you are present, you ask: How do I respond to the needs of this situation, of this moment? ...instead of reacting against a situation, you merge with it, the solution arises out of the situation itself...then, if action is possible or necessary, you take action or rather right action happens through you. Right action is action that is appropriate to the whole.

The more reactive you are, the entangled you become with form. The more identified with form, the stronger the ego. Your Being then does not shine through form anymore -- or only barely.

Nonresistance, nonjudgment, and nonattachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living.

My own little satori (flash of enlightenment) for today? Well, several actually:

1. Being judgmental is just a bad habit that I can choose to give up, starting now.
2. After being judgmental, resistance and attachment are my favorite defense mechanisms. I think I'll give them up, too.
3. My attraction to working with archetypes makes sudden sense -- they're a powerful tool for bringing that which is unconscious (and the root of a lot of needless suffering) to light.
4. Compassion and loving-kindness have felt elusive to me until now. I've wanted to feel them, but fear stood in my way, masked as my three favorite defense mechanisms.
5. None of this is new information to me, it's just being presented in a way that I'm ready to move into it at a deeper level. Whatever has opened this up for me -- acupuncture, yoga, accumulated Western therapy, a walk in the woods with my husband -- I'm not afraid.

The idea from Tolle's book that made me smile the most? Something he quotes from Ram Dass: "If you think you are so enlightened, go spend a week with your parents." Which reminds me of my friend Mandy's useful reminder: when we recognize unconsciousness in others and then feel all judgy about it, we're reminded that we're not the Dali Lama yet.  That's okay, though. Because right Now, this very moment, I get it.

embracing doubt

My therapist calls it projective identification. I just feel like I'm caught in a storm, strapped to the mast, trying to keep from being swept up in the drama.

The client who's been making me crazy? Things came to a head yesterday. Just as we were getting somewhere during a meeting with 30 people on her management team (her direct reports, plus theirs), she couldn't tolerate it. As courage grew and elephants-in-the-room were spoken of, it was too much for her to bear. She stomped out, muttering "I can't take these people! I'm going to retire!"

Now we begin.

But for her, she seems to see this as the end. People have finally had enough of the insanity, ready to do something different. To speak their truth instead of avoid the conflict. I'm encouraging her to step into this with them. She's ready to bail.

I've been wrestling with a strange and powerful energy within myself for about 32 hours now, since the big showdown. Not just a mild case of open-eyed self-appraisal, but flooded with anxiety and self-doubt like I've not felt in a long time.

It's like my client's panic and unconscious self-doubt have come to roost in me. I feel like I've been infected...toxic stuff, that I'm physically trying to brush off of me. Cleanse out of me. Wild, huh? A few more sun salutations outta do it.

Or not. Julia Cameron suggests embracing doubt as a sign that the creative process is underway. Yes, we definitely got unstuck yesterday. And that there's a difference between honest self-appraisal in the light of day versus seething self-doubt that grips you in the middle of the night. The antidote to the latter is apparently a little self-nurture (is that why I ate two pieces of cake yesterday?) and a lot of self-acceptance.

Something my client and I could both use to get us through this. 

letting go to connect

I'm struck once again by the power of letting go. Okay, it was my smart friend, Mandy, who called this to my attention earlier this week on another topic - but the notion is apt here. We went to last week's Internal Branding Conference together to investigate what the super stars (IBM, AON, Genentech, Mayo Clinic, American Eagle) are doing to engage employees as ambassadors for their brands.

Wow, there are a lot of impressive, major-budget initiatives - beautifully messaged and packaged, slick, expensive. I keep wondering how much all of this really resonates with employees?

It boils down to letting go. It's not about hierarchies, perfect "messaging ladders," leadership authority, fancy branding or change management models. It's about asking people to step into a conversation and listening, and then taking action. Whether they use cutting edge Web 2.0 social media tools or in-person focus groups, successful leaders are letting go of the need to have all the answers. Rather, they're having the courage to ask employees to step up with some answers of their own, and staying out the way while the ride gets a little wild, a little scary...but in the end, produces much more credible answers because the people who work there figured it out, not their marketing or HR folks.

Sure, top leadership (and marketing and HR) must have the vision to tap into the paradigm shift underway here. But none of this is rocket science. This is not about jazz hands and sparkle ponies. It's about emergent collaboration. It means we all need to stop worrying and relinquish control.

Calm, grounded detachment is something I remind myself to embrace often, especially during a week like this. I've got a client that I'm trying to help who is fearfully clinging to her last illusory threads of control. She's making everyone around her nuts, including me. She's a very senior person in a large organization, so she's able to inflict a lot of damage. As much for her as for myself, I'm reminded of an idea that I attribute to Margaret Wheatley (although I can't verify this - if you know the source, please share it with me). I guess this one's for both of us:

Show up and listen fully, speak the gentle truth, let go of the outcome.

jazz hands and sparkle ponies

At this week's ALI 22nd Internal Branding Conference, I was temporarily seduced, impressed, intimidated by and envious of the parade of gorgeous initiatives that were trotted out before us. Big budgets, slick messaging, award-winning packaging. All this talk about "brand ambassadors" was making me very uneasy...I felt my feet leave the ground, as I floated up into the heady stuff these marketing super stars were promoting.

And then Chris Thornton from Pfizer took the stage and brought me back to earth. He told how they built trust and credibility without all the chitchat or big production. In Chris' words, it wasn't about jazz hands and sparkle ponies, but about coming clean and passing the sniff test.

In other words, having the courage to tell the truth without spin, have real conversations with employees, and do a few things that really matter vs. too many things that have no impact. Some ideas worth trying (some jazzier than others):

American Eagle uses digital recorders to "get the voice" of employees in action, then uses employee News Agents to blog about what's happening throughout the company.

IBM uses video-taped interviews with employees around the world to ask them what they need to evangelize IBM with friends and family, then creates story-telling tools based on this input.

Pfizer stripped its employee development intranet of really boring academic, HR-y, process-driven content, replacing it with a "life event" approach to accessing tools ("Help! I'm a new manager - now what?").

Several employers use audio branding to ignite a little excitement on intranets, at events, around the office. I've been grooving on Kaiser Permanente's Thrive CD mix in my car all week.

I do think a smart marriage between cool marketing and strategic HR can happen. In fact, they need each other - on their own, they each miss a crucial side of the story. What makes me nervous is that it's already too tempting to gloss over the tough decisions and fierce conversations that most employers would rather avoid. Throw a few sparkle ponies at the problem, and you won't have to deal with all that jazz, right?