Archive for month: December, 2012

A Teacher's Retrospective

*I thank all of you for taking the time to be witness to this missive. It is always a gift to be seen and to be a part of something bigger. I am blessed to be a part of it with you and honor you for your presence here. May the year bring you joy, laughter, lightness, and a deep prosperity.* — Chantill

The first word that comes to mind when I think about 2012 is BIG. It was a big year. It was a liminal year as my mentor Carol Appel says.

Not too long ago she and I were having dinner and enjoying a chance to catch up, talk shop and…I'll be honest, I needed her advice and support. I needed someone to talk to.

We were in a little Italian place, the Giants game in the background (lots of shouting fans) and as we sat across from one another I was filled with a sense of gratitude and a bit of astonishment. Here I was getting ready to pour my heart out to an extremely accomplished woman whom, for many years, I set apart from myself as a kind of idol or hero too far ahead of me to be like me. But it just wasn't so. In that moment I realized it had become something more…

What a wonderful gift it is to say that our relationship has turned into a friendship, a collaboration, a mutual trust.

This year I decided I was ready to dedicate all of my time and effort to Skillful Teaching. That was — and continues to be —  the very, very exciting part. The hard part was that it meant doing something I had been trying to figure out how to do for a while — leave my role as a studio owner, leave me business.

I've owned my own studio for just about 10 years in two different incarnations and it's been amazing: An amazing gift, challenge, burden, creative explosion, intense learning process, a catalyst for immense growth and so much more. It's been like a second child and my business partnership like a second marriage — both complex and ultimately BIG teachers!

That is what I sat down to talk to Carol about…not for the first time.

I vented, was angry, worked up, verklempt. She listened kindly. She helped me laugh, and helped me find perspective. She shared her experiences and shed some light on what felt like a very dark shadow. She told me about liminality — those times or periods in life when transition is the hardest; the door you are passing out of isn't quite closed nor is the new door open enough for you to crawl through. It's a kind of hopeful, exciting and painful limbo.

When my tears began to emerge it was a relief, a release filled more with a sense of letting go and trust than fear. And yet I know liminality to be an intense thing.

Many of my closest confidants (and more recently even my business partner's husband) have equated our transition to a divorce. And, although I am thankful to not know from my own first-hand experience if that's totally accurate, I can tell you as a child of divorce and from watching the painful and liberating process so many of my peers have gone through, I think they must be right.

You see, I am the one leaving. It's my choice to move on from what has been “ours” for seven years. But let there be no mistake, there are implications on both sides. The questions I had to ask myself were these:

Am I truly happy? Am I contributing to the positive growth of my business? Is my vision in alignment with my partner's and the overall direction of our studio? Am I able to stay present in my role as an owner and leader in the business? Can I foresee myself in this role in the next 12 months, 1 year, 5 years? Do I trust myself? Do I know myself well enough to do what's necessary to grow and be happy?

All valid and tremendous questions. And ultimately I'd have to say that my answer was “no” to the first five and “yes” to the last two. That's how I knew that no matter how awful it felt, or how difficult it might be I had to move on. In truth, it's been a long time coming.

I adore my studio and my business partner. I am extremely proud of all that we created together. But the truth is that at some point we stopped being good business partners and our friendship suffered. The heart of our studio began to ache a little and the teachers were affected. Our visions had become divergent, each of us dedicated to something different. Our conversations became strained and our effectiveness dimensioned.

These kinds of shifts are not easy to recognize or admit to. No one wants to believe that something that was once a diamond in the rough could become similarly tarnished as any other piece of coal in the pile. For some of us it feels like failure or defeat or even like we are slipping from the pedestal we've been so accustomed to sitting on.

There is a lot of ego involved as well as a significant amount of fear around letting go. How do you relinquish the biggest thing you've ever created, your greatest contribution to your community? Those are the kinds of questions that make it hard to believe it's possible.

My truth was that it was time to close this particular chapter of my work and move into a new incarnation, to take all that I had learned and weave it into a new cloth. It had become increasingly obvious that I couldn't   stay put and move forward at the same time. Believe me I had tried…for too long I tried.

In the end not only did I suffer, so did my family, the teachers I promised to guide and my business partner, my friend. Ambiguity is a double edged sword. The longer we are undecided the longer we hold ourselves and all those involved in limbo. This is a painful place for everyone. Doctor Seuss called it “the waiting place.” As you probably know, it sucks!

So, this is my pivotal moment. I say “is” on purpose because it is far from over. It continues to pulse with life, full of insight, courage, sadness, and a sense of weightlessness as time moves us on.

In other spheres and orbits it was a bang up year as well. My family and I traveled so much this year that it rekindled my spark for “adventure” and “travel” and put them back at my center.

Between a wonderfully focused and solitary (well almost — my dear friend was also with me) week on the Big Island to work on my second Skillful Teaching book and the Teacher's Retreat in November I realized that  being in the world is where I am meant to be. Hence the 2013 Retreat schedule! Mexico, Bali/Australia, and then back to Sonoma County. 

And I shall not forget the process of writing, editing and publishing “Moving Beyond Technique”. Holy smokes what a process! But I did it.

Not many of you know but I was a journalist in a former life…a brutal profession in its own right. When I left journalism I truly believed I'd never write again. All of my desire for it had been systemically squelched. And yet, I also knew that I didn't want to get to the end of my life without writing a book. Granted this is not the kind of book I thought I'd be writing. Short stories were my thing back in the day…

But it makes total sense! “Moving Beyond Technique” is the absolute convergence of two of my deepest loves: teaching and writing.

What a marvelous thing it's been to do it. The toil and attention, the cooperation and effort expended by several people to make the book as good as it could be was astounding. I will never forget the 100 plus hours of editing and re-writing. Never!

AND as of today I have about 185 pages written in what I suspect will be a book approximately 225 pages long — the second Skillful Teaching book! This is one of the most exciting prospects of the new year for me.

This past year has also been filled with a great deal of collaboration. I am honored to have worked with Anne Bishop, founder of Body Brain Connect, extensively and to have spoken to and exchanged ideas with so many teachers, studio owners, visionaries, and professionals outside the field of movement. I've been able to watch, study, learn, experiment and foul up quite a bit in the name of progress and in the hopes of Skillful Teaching taking flight.

The programs that I created this year were numerous and varied and are now sitting in a big digital pile awaiting you (and me…as they are going to need some tender loving care!)

Right now I am perched at my favorite writing spot, my couch, overlooking a beautifully wintery landscape (as wintry as Northern California gets)  and so many images and feelings are tumbling through me.

I am grateful for the opportunity to build and be a part of a community. I am ready to unfold my wings and alite into new territory. I am ready to return to my intuition and create more possibilities for you and for me in our teaching, in our life's work, and in our lives.

In gratitude

This year has been one of lessons landing and dreams lifting off. It's been full of sorrowful endings and giddy beginnings. It's December 27th, 2012 and I am grateful to have seen my studio through another year and now into a new phase, a new evolution and leadership. I am grateful to continue as the Director of Education and the creator of a wonderful and growing mentoring program there.

I am grateful for seeing a dear friend through a continuously life-threatening illness; for watching my son blossom into a beautiful spirit, smart and funny; to watch my husband's business grow and him grow with it; to watch my niece and nephews grow and change; to see the sun rise and fall over so many spectacular and perfectly ordinary landscapes; to be brutally challenged by hardship and carved out by both the dark and light sides of myself and this life.

I am grateful to bear witness to the atrocities of the world so that they may remind me to be kind, loving, generous and of service in everything I do. I am wondrously grateful to all of those people who trust themselves and listen deeply. I am grateful for this breath. And this one. And this one. And this one.
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I am grateful for you.