What’s it like to wear a bespoke suit, a suit custom-made to fit me and only me? I want a life like that. I want a plan, a pattern, a path that takes into consideration all the weird, unruly, shocking, steadfast little and big things that combine to shape me. But how?

“The word bespoke itself is derived from the verb to bespeak, to ‘speak for something,’ in the specialized meaning ‘to give order for it to be made.’”
~ Wikipedia entry for Bespoke

What plan speaks for me? Cookie-cutter solutions need not apply. If I can’t make it fit me, if I can’t make it mine, all mine, then forget it. I’ve scoured office supply stores, art supply stores, read books and websites by goal gurus and earnest cheerleaders of every stripe and found only an elite few who make the cut, including these two…

For the past two weeks I’ve been pulling together a strategic planner for 2010, guided by what artist and business school graduate (a combination that thrills me) Lisa Sonora Beam does for herself every year. Although I’m still creating my plan, the power inherent in the thoroughly self-customized system has already taken me so far further along my way than I’d imagined possible that I’m almost scared to continue. The zoom is palpable. For more about this intensely customizable system, see Lisa Sonora Beam’s “Goal Setting for Creatives: My 2010 Strategic Planner.”

One of the zoomy surprises to burst forth from my 2010 Strategic Planner process is that a friend offered to sponsor my fees for an e-course that seems perfectly designed to help me further custom-make my life: Susannah Conway’s Unravelling: Ways of Seeing My Self, which combines photography, journaling, comrades, Susannah’s strong heart, and the promise of deep self-connection.

The primary goal of both systems is to put me in touch with myself in a way that encourages invention, supports forgiveness and acceptance, and fills the silence with my voice, even if I choose to be quiet. What could be more fittingly comfortable than that?

Related reading: Book | The Creative Entrepreneur, by Lisa Sonora Beam

Flickr photo: (untitled), by bird_flew

It’s easy to fall into step behind someone else’s vision of success.

The lifting strut of the popular mayor as he chats his way through his kingdom. The long line-up in front of the restaurant where the five-star chef concocts her masterpieces. The buzz. The fame. The crowds. The face on the billboard.

If I’m honest with myself, if I close my eyes and focus on my own vision of success, I see something so different I have to stretch my arms out into empty space to claim it.

I’m not the big-name singer at the front of the stage, belting it out to the waving hands. Or the production company or the agent or even the top-of-the-line guitar. I’m the photograph snapped in the moment a man in the crowd stumbled and a woman passing by dropped her drink to help him. I’m that photo, stared at all night, held in the hands of the woman, 65 years later, the day after the man from the crowd, her husband, died.

I’m not the candy shop or the movie theatre or the big, new mall. I’m the nice lady sitting on a cushion in front of a low table in her overgrown backyard, cutting pictures out of magazines. I’m what a rejected kid from down the street sees as he clears the thicket of bushes at the back of the lot, sits down next to me, and tells me all about it. I lean into his skinny shoulder with my own and hand him a pair of scissors, a magazine, and a chocolate truffle. Or I show him the big wooden box that holds my postcard collection. Mainly, I sit beside him. We sit together. We listen to the birds. That’s all. That’s enough.

I’m not the great, millennial concept that saves humanity from self-destruction. I’m the indentation in an otherwise smooth surface, the dent that fits the pivot point as one person swivels to a new perspective.

I’m a time-release friend. I’m a resting place. I’m the deviance that allows the pivot. Where in the world can I go with these visions of success? I don’t yet know. I only know that I’ll never find out if I start with someone else’s idea of glory.

When you close your eyes, what visions of success do you see?

Related reading: Pep Talk | Grope, Joy Detective, Curious Curators

Flickr photo: Yellow leaved boy, by lepiaf.geo

My copy of Warren Berger’s book bristles with Post-It Notes. Its full title is Glimmer: How Design Can Transform Your Life, Your Business, and Maybe Even the World and it features the visionary ideas of Bruce Mau, along with other designers and thinkers on the topic. I’m forcing myself to stop at page 50 and recommend it to you right now. It’s important.

I have a new theory: highly sensitive people (HSPs) are perfectly suited for being designers. I’m so convinced that we’re extremely valuable precisely because of our various traits, and this book supports that idea in many different ways.

The innate curiosity, complex thinking abilities, and long-viewing we’re capable of as HSPs puts us within sight of visions that are out there, but that might actually work.

What if we saw ourselves as capable and effective at designing the world we want to live in? What if we start with the assumption that we’re built to press our faces up against the outer edge of the envelope and look beyond, to reach out and grasp what didn’t exist until we thought to touch it?

By relying on “abductive reasoning,” or the ability to think about and picture what might be, designers can glimpse possibilities that lie on the other side of the fence.
~ Warren Berger, Glimmer

Designers “live in an expansive world where they believe the only thing limiting us is the stuff we haven’t figured out yet. And they’re excited about it. You’ll hear them say things like, ‘I’m working on this really cool problem that has no answer!’ That’s what they live for.”
~ Roger Martin, Dean of the Rotman School of Management, as quoted in Glimmer

We need you. We need you. We need you. Your valuable ideas, your whacky imaginings, your unpolished, half-formed, rough, barely describable flights of fancy contain miracles with the leverage to change the trajectory of the planet.

What we’ve found is, if someone has an enthusiasm or curiosity about many different disciplines, then they can be more flexible, more empathetic, and more engaged with the world.
~ Tim Brown, IDEO’s Chief Executive, as quoted in Glimmer

Find some way to pursue what intrigues you. Never mind if no one else is intrigued. That’s the point. Be first. Be brave. Be so curious you drench yourself in questions and come out cleansed, a gift cradled in your hands.

Feeling lost on a project can be the first step toward finding an original solution.
~ Warren Berger, Glimmer

Related reading: Bruce Mau Design’s Manifesto for Growth, Creativity Prompts Compendium

“Social change is so much more fun when you sing.”
~ James Keelaghan

Every summer we spend the weekend of the Vancouver Folk Music Festival immersed in a culture replete with the fun side of social enlightenment and positive change. Musicians sing about righting injustices, bridging gaps, and including everyone. Truths come to light, tolerance expands, and children (some of them quite old) romp in the setting sun. The water is filtered. Garbage is separated down to the level of compost. We leave our belongings all day on our staked-out spot in front of the main stage and find them intact when we return. The water of the bay glitters before us, meeting the mountains on the far shore.

I believe what I heard Canadian singer and songwriter James Keelaghan say this weekend, that social change is more fun when you sing. The metaphor extends easily. Social change is more fun when you play. And personal change is more fun when you play (see Stay Afloat When They’re Rocking Your Boat for an example).

What positive change are you in the midst of that feels hard, or even just un-fun? How can you turn the process into a song or a festival or a party? You can invite others – even one other – to join in. You can arrange a play date or a series of play dates. Or lace the whole process with joys only for you, with tailor-made, guaranteed grin-inducers, wonders, and rewards. Practice until you find what works for you, then build on that.

Let self-recrimination fall by the wayside. Don’t urge yourself forward. Instead, lure yourself into the life you want by strewing the path with enticements and pleasure. Sweeten your journey. Change and fun are not mutually exclusive.

Flickr photos: Electric guitar, by Jsome1
Related reading: Play Anyway, The Power of Community

You head straight to the local Highly Sensitive Haven. It’s tucked away on a quiet side street not far from where the action is. There’s a small, unobtrusive sign beside the gate in the stone wall to let you know you’re in the right place. The solid wood door is beautifully carved, and heavy as you push against it. The moment you step into the shaded courtyard, into the haven designed with you in mind, all your senses tell you that even though you don’t know anyone in town, even though you’ve never been here before, you’re home.

There are a few people scattered around the little tables in the dappled light. A couple of them glance up at you, but not for long. Most of the people are sitting alone, writing or reading. All of them are quiet, even the people talking and laughing. To the right is a beautiful old building with an open door. You head that way, your heavy luggage banging against your weary legs, but before you reach the doorway, a man comes out, smiling in welcome, and helps you take your bags inside. He introduces himself and directs you to a table with a comfortable chair into which you sink gratefully. He offers you water or tea or juice – perhaps a piece of fruit or something from the little café just to tide you over. When you’ve caught your breath, had a few sips, feel a bit restored, you catch his eye and he comes over to sit across the table from you. He asks about your trip, and as he listens attentively to what you want from your visit to this town you find yourself stopping to take a huge breath as you feel the lost bits of you that weren’t travelling as fast as the plane was begin to find you and start to make you whole again. You smile.

By the time you leave the haven, a couple of hours later, you’ve made arrangements to meet the nice couple (locals who work nearby, here as usual on their lunch break) who sat at the table next to you in the courtyard for dinner later, you’ve mapped out your first forays of exploration (and have the brochures and maps already tucked into your bag), you know the location of the health food store that’s nearest the place you’ll be staying (and its hours of operation), and you’re headed to a small hotel (only four rooms) run by a woman about your age who’s also highly sensitive. A taxi is waiting for you just outside the gate of the haven, called for you by the haven folks. You’ll thank them again when you’re back here tomorrow to hear the string quartet that plays every Thursday in the spacious library on the second floor. And you’ll be back for another dose of home.

It’s mid-afternoon when you emerge from the little hotel. The sun shines, the jet lag has been pushed back by the warm welcome and smooth transition. You’re safe. You’re among friends. You’re finally here, where you’ve dreamed of coming for years, with an afternoon all to yourself. You consult the map once more, then tuck it away in a pocket. Your strides as you step away from the stoop are bold and strong. It’s time to explore.

When did you discover that you are highly sensitive and what was that process like for you? How did you make the discovery?

I discovered that I had the trait around the year 2000. A friend of mine, who’s also highly sensitive, gave me Elaine Aron’s book The Highly Sensitive Personbecause she thought I was probably highly sensitive, too. She was right. I read the book and recognized myself, some other people I knew, and some of my clients. It was an enlightening discovery, like pieces in a puzzle finally fitting together. It’s been exciting, positive, and incredibly helpful.

Who are the people who have been the most supportive and accepting of you and your HSP traits?

Friends who are also HSPs have been supportive, but so have friends who are not HSPs but are empathetic types. I have a cousin who’s a teacher. She’s an HSP who knew about the trait before I did. She’s always been very supportive, encouraging me to design seminars to educate teachers about the trait. And there was a continuing education programmer, years ago, to whom I mentioned the trait of high sensitivity. She identified with it and suggested I submit a proposal to teach a seminar on the topic. I did, and that’s how I got started teaching seminars for HSPs.

Have you had any highly sensitive role models? If so, who and why?

The one that comes to mind is Elaine Aron, whom I admire greatly. Her books, her research, her newsletters – there’s enough there that gives me what I want from a role model: someone who’s gone before, who’s done research, who’s written and been published on the topic, who’s already out there as an HSP, who’s given talks about it, and who knows the strengths and weaknesses of the trait and the strategies that help adult and children HSPs thrive.

Would you say that you make a living using your highly sensitive traits? If so, how does being highly sensitive help you do it?

Yes, I definitely make a living using my HSP traits. When I’m doing one-to-one counselling, my acute awareness, empathy, and pattern recognition abilities make me an attuned and highly functioning helper. Being an HSP helps me choose and custom-design the strategies I use to help my clients reach their goals. HSPs excel at perceiving what others need and adapting to provide it. Ethics are very important to HSPs and vital in the field of counselling – so it’s second nature to me to put the best interests of my clients first.

I also use my HSP traits when I’m teaching or facilitating groups. I’m acutely aware of what’s going on in a group and can figure out what to do that will help the group be comfortable and that will provide the learning they wanted in a way that suits them.

When I was a medical researcher I used my pattern recognition abilities to help me with statistical analysis, which was a moderate fit for an HSP. I still use those pattern recognition skills when I read and evaluate published research to keep up with changes in my current profession as a counsellor.

Over the years, I’ve learned to use my HSP skills when making decisions about developing my career. HSPs are usually cautious, intuitive, and fact-based decision makers who are able to see trends, see how things connect to form a bigger picture, forecast the future, self-lead, take smart risks, and lead others. I think having those qualities helps me in my career in many ways.

What challenges have you faced in the process of developing your career? How have you managed to work through those challenges?

Three challenges in particular come to mind. The first one was that I chose a poorly fitting first career – nursing. It’s a fine career for those that fit it, but I didn’t, for many reasons. I chose nursing before I’d heard about the trait of high sensitivity, before I knew myself well, and when there were few female role models in other careers. Also, I talked to an advisor instead of a career counsellor before making the decision to be a nurse. I wish I had known then that nursing is about hands-on task helping, and not really about process helping, at which I excel. Another sign that nursing was a poor fit for me was that I couldn’t identify with the other nurses. I had nothing in common with them. The environment itself, with its trauma and disturbing smells, sights, and sounds, was not right for an HSP. And health care is based on a hierarchical model, which is not usually compatible with the HSP nature. Although nursing didn’t work out for me, I learned how to better choose a career by what I didn’t do: know myself; find role models and a good career counsellor; and use facts, informational interviews, and job shadowing as the basis for decision-making, not just feelings.

The second challenge I’ve had is a typical one for HSPs: being misunderstood by others, as well as by myself. Other people were constantly attributing my intentions incorrectly, misinterpreting my quietness, hesitation, and inner analyzing process. They often would not listen to my ideas or perceptions about people, and did not believe I was smart enough to do statistical analysis and other abstract processes. I was actually a gifted child, put in the “smart kid class” in grade eight. Sometimes I believed people’s misinterpretations of me and labelled myself negatively when I really shouldn’t have. Since those times, I’ve learned how to trust my intuition and my intellect, through getting second opinions from people I trust, and collecting other confirming data. I’ve also learned how to accept and validate myself, especially my HSP traits, and I spend more time with other HSPs, with whom I feel understood and have a sense of belonging. Also, when appropriate, I find ways to explain or demonstrate the strengths of this trait to non-HSPs.

The third challenge for me in my career was public speaking, which tends to be a real challenge for HSPs. I had an early beginning with meeting this challenge, though. My father is a teacher, and when I was growing up he was always teaching me things. The content of what he taught me didn’t stick because the topics were about concrete things I don’t have an aptitude for, like fixing cars and building boats, but I absorbed the process of how one teaches. In high school, I tutored another student and loved it. I had an instinct that I might be good at teaching if I could just overcome the overwhelm of being in front of people who are all looking at me and listening to me. Since I knew public speaking was my weakness, I set out to work on getting better at it. I did that by deliberately choosing opportunities to practice speaking in front of people in groups, even though I was terrified. I managed the fear by keeping my sight on my goal, by focusing on learning and improving, and by seeing it all as a surmountable challenge – conquerable through exposure. I can do this, I would say to myself, I just have to practice. I did improve and that kept me going. It helped, too, that early on I got a lot of positive feedback when I spoke to groups. In all three of my careers – nursing, medical research, and counselling – I always got positive feedback from people when I gave presentations. That helped me persist. That was the reward – having the positive feedback. In fact, I think many HSPs can learn how to speak in front of a group, even if they don’t believe they can or are very anxious. It’s a learning process that comes with great rewards.

What issue related to being highly sensitive would you most like to have help with?

I’d love to have help with empowering more HSPs. Empowered HSPs can help everyone by designing a better society. We need to design better towns and villages; ways of mastering technology; systems regarding health care, education, food, and the environment; and ways of making a living, communicating, partnering, parenting, and leading. Sometimes HSPs are like the canaries in the coal mines that miners used as an early warning system. Elaine Aron writes about studies of highly sensitive animals that provide early warnings to other animals, that notice danger and dysfunction before the others, which can save the group as a whole. Often, HSPs have the creative, long-term problem-solving abilities and wise, big-picture view needed in a situation. And often we are uncomfortable about offering our expertise, about stepping into a leadership role that would give us the power to make decisions, influence systems, and redesign things that aren’t working. (Just read the book Collapse, by Jared Diamond, and you’ll see what things are not working and haven’t worked for many cultures.) Once we HSPs have honed our leadership skills and found our confidence in leadership roles, we can offer the wise advisor style of leading that Aron describes as a necessary balance to the warrior king ways of non-HSPs. Those two styles of leadership working together enable cultures to thrive in the long term. In my seminars I teach leadership skills to HSPs, and I provide counselling and coaching to HSPs to help empower them. I consider that just a start. I would love to reach and empower even more HSPs, and I welcome greater media exposure, business contacts, and advice that will enable me to do so.

I’d also love to have help with having a nice environment in which to live. If someone can make Vancouver smaller and quieter again, or build an HSP-friendly village or town within it, let me know. An HSP village would be great. I imagine it as being very quiet, but with lots of interesting activity. There are quaint homes and stores, and there’s a university. The village is beautiful, close to water, has lots and lots of green space and many trees, and there are cycling paths and woods, and comfortable benches to sit on. You can walk to everything, yet it’s still got everything that’s needed. There are community and cultural centres, and several plazas where no cars are allowed. Homes are affordable and attractive, and each has its own space for growing vegetables or flowers, as the residents wish. There are places that sell really good chocolate, really good books, and beautiful cards, and places that provide peace and privacy and rejuvenation. There are interesting and satisfying places to work and to play. Alternative and preventive health care facilities and good schools are plentiful. Technology and traffic are reduced. There’s enough parking and it’s free. The cafés have inner courtyards. There’s no intrusive noise or music allowed anywhere. There are no televisions in public places. If there’s music in any public place, like a restaurant, it’s very soft and soothing and in the background so you don’t have to strain to have a conversation above it. There’s a lot of personal space at every level of society, lots of physical distance in all the physical places inside, with tables in restaurants not being so close that elbows bump. And, of course, everyone is respectful, good manners being something HSPs highly value.

What aspects of being highly sensitive bring you the most joy?

I want to say my deep appreciation for the arts, but there’s more to it than that. Subtleties attract me, like the interesting timbre of someone’s speaking voice or laugh, the sound of a bike riding fast over wooden boards, the sparkling sunlight path on water, the sweet fragrance of scotch broom in April, beautiful décor or architecture, gardens, woods, paintings, music, the rhythm and sound of the waves near Tofino, the beauty of certain words strung together adeptly, certain colours that look just right, or even the just-right temperature I feel as I walk or sit for a while. I also appreciate the deeper, meaningful conversations we HSPs tend to fall into, and I enjoy humour that’s subtly amusing and clever. I love not being overstimulated or understimulated. I feel the most joy in those rare moments when what I’m noticing with my five senses and my brain is in the “just-right” zone.

What words of encouragement would you most like to give other HSPs?

We have so many natural strengths to offer. Let’s support each other and work together to create what we need, including acceptance – being treasured and valued by the culture at large.

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

I would suggest to HSPs to find other HSPs to spend time with, for so many reasons. Being with other HSPs brings validation and a sense of belonging. You can be yourself and feel more relaxed. You can feel heard and understood. It helps you to be even more aware of your strengths and the different ways you can use them. With other HSPs, it’s easy and rewarding to brainstorm, to tap into and create synergy, that bigger something that comes into play when individuals create together.

Also, I want to say that the way I became a highly functioning HSP was by confronting, not avoiding difficult things, and by finding more ways of using my strengths. And that’s what I wish for other HSPs, too.

What are three books that you consider favourites, that you really love?

• The Audacity of Hope, by Barack Obama, for the author’s rare leadership qualities.
• The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy, for the author’s ability to weave threads of narrative and for the book’s haunting beauty, for taking me into another world.
• Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed, by Jared Diamond, which I found validating, thought-provoking, disturbing, and enlightening.

Photo from Pam Catapia