Part of what has helped me be powerfully effective in helping my clients bring their “impossible dreams” to life is that I am always actively engaged in doing that for myself as well.
I balance my coaching practice with my own commitment to thriving and growing as an artist and writer. I never want to be someone who just tells others how they should go about living and creating their wildest dreams.
Instead, I want to be an example of what is possible — and then share what I have learned whenever possible.
You can rest assured that there is a difference between working with a coach who is going only by the book and what she or he has been told– and someone who is not only book smart and well-trained, but who has also has walked her talk and has learned what REALLY works and what doesn’t, from the inside-out.
In the spirit of this, I want to share with you a very personal and behind-the-scenes look at part of a poem that feels raw and yet so alive to me. I definitely have big goals as a writer/poet and part of the discipline that I then create for myself in support of that goal requires is that I am always reading, writing, revising what I’ve written (I wrote the first draft of this poem four years ago) when necessary, workshopping, working with my mentors, and revising again. I am still considering this poem a work-in-progress, but I do feel it’s getting close…
Whether you’re working toward a brand new vision or in the process of revising and you think you, your creativity and your ultimate dream would benefit from the support of a coach, please email me at leah[at]leahcb[dot]com to schedule a Discovery Consult. Don’t wait another day to give yourself the support you need to make this the year when you took your and your life’s work to the next level!
All my best to you, living your gorgeous, wildest dreams!
Love,
Leah
A Long Rope
(it’s cutting at your own throat)
I am thinking this morning
of my sisters in Afghanistan—
the invisible ones
who must write their landays on the air.
While my heart pounds
from fear of being caught,
or the terrifying exhilaration of being alive
that giving words to voice gives–
I am:
waiting for silence, or
waiting for the cover of noise,
waiting
to draw the curtains back from my mouth
so that I may finally
trace the forms of my days (too straight for my heart)
and carve the shape of them,
with words, with sound,
with my voice–
into the ears of my sisters and daughter
So that I may attempt
to make meaning from my days
and make my day’s meaning.
While you, my invisible sisters…..
Drop it straight from the mouth of a fierce and unforgiving God,
whose mercy is to give you no veil,
no time to waste in pretend meaning.
Pain and slavery have liberated your lips
your voice came into existence wailing
and no comforts have been added since
to soften the sharp terror edge of your voice
only
mixed the blood with dirt and desert wind and sand and fire,
ground and burned your voice
into a silvery thing
made of your tongue a sharp and curved blade
that glints,
and slices
on the way in,
and the way out–
words sent, cracking and flicking through the air,
like a nimble whip.
These words can be nothing and everything more precious to you
than air
so might as well use them
as you might as well breathe–
You, who know so much better than we,
we
who are free…
-Leah Campbell Badertscher, All Rights Reserved, no part of this may be reproduced in any form without express written consent of the author.
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