Julie Unplugged

Life Coaching Lessons from American Idol

I used to get embarrassed talking about my
fascination for American Idol. Not anymore. I
haven’t been embarrassed since it has become a
learning lab for me as a life coach, writer,
actor and director.

The finalists seem to naturally fall into
categories which then impact their success.

There are the researchers, the talk-backers,
the listeners, the coachables and
the uncoachables.

Two of the most notable talk-backers are
now off the show.

I noticed a couple weeks ago that certain
singers would become indignant when the
judges gave them constructive feedback.
As an Actor, I look forward to getting
feedback from my Director. When My Director
gives me feedback, I can improve my
performance.

I have trained myself to always thank
the director for the notes and then
apply them the next time.

Anoop Desai is a great example of this. He
was almost kicked off the show before the
top 12 were selected. He had a horrible performance
on the first show featuring the finalists.

He managed to squeak through and he took the
notes of the Judges to heart. He thanked them
and applied their critique the next week.

He has been successful. Last week, the judges
asked him to switch his stylings a bit to show
more versatility my bet is this week, he will.

Two back-talkers have been kicked off the show.
Both Alexis Grace and Michael Sarver had the
talk-back bug. Both got the axe by the fans.

Why? They didn’t apply the constructive feedback
the judges gave them. They thought they were
better than the experts.

I have coaching clients who do this same thing:
they pay me to help them sort out their lives and
then don’t apply what we discuss. I have been
known to actually turn clients away when they
do this. I don’t want half-way-to-transformation
coaching clients.

I want clients who are as devoted to their
success as I am.

Alexis Grace and Michael Sarver weren't as
devoted to their success as the others on
American Idol. Their own opinions got in
the way of their success.

Another example from Life Coaching:

I have writing students who take my courses and
I give my all to them. Some of them don’t apply what I
teach. They don't do the exercises, they don't learn
the skill set and six months after the class everything
we did together is gone from their memory.

I don’t want people who don’t follow up with what we
have learned clogging up my sessions.

I want people who are willing to work. I want action-oriented,
reflective people who listen, who want to improve
and are willing to set aside their opinions
and judgments in order to do so.

Did you see Lil’s Rounds’ face when she was critiqued
by the judges last week? I wondered if she heard a word
they said. She didn’t talk back with words, she talked
back with her facial expression and her demeanor.

Here’s the thing: their critiques were accurate. Lil
was an early favorite who is falling off in memorability
and votes. I thought she was vulnerable last week.

The talk-backers are uncoachable. They don’t listen to
the constructive critique from the judges. They don’t
change their performances. They obviously think
they know the best.

I won’t waste time giving energy to VotefortheWorst.com,
but you can also see their antics in the American Idol
results. Whose performance has been the worst week
after week yet survives, week after week?

The VotefortheWorst.com contestants are also uncoachable.
Notice the contestants who don’t grow and are equally
poor episode after episode. Then go to VotefortheWorst.com
and see who is getting their votes.

My favorite contestants combine the positive qualities
of being coachable and who do research to make a performance
go far beyond anything we might have imagined.

Adam Lambert, love him or hate him, did exactly that last
week. He sang “Tracks of My Tears” for the song writer
himself: Motown icon, Smokey Robinson.

After hearing him sing at rehearsal, Smokey said “I
have never heard any one do it that way before…” which
could be the kiss of death. I don’t think Smokey knew
the power of the conversation he and Adam
had after he listened to Adam rehearse.

Adam is a Musical Theatre actor who knows the power of
research. He asked Smokey an important question,
“What is the story behind the song?”

Smokey shared the story, what is behind the lyrics
of “Tracks of My Tears” – that the singer has cried
so much, that if someone looks closely at his face
his tears are forever evident. Most people never
notice, though, because he is joking and smiling
all the time: his out-of-place smile is a
convenient mask.

Adam heard that and I, as a conscious audience member,
heard Adam's  gasp in response. It was in that moment I knew
something magical would happen.

That momentary inhale, that feeling, that emotion
from his research made a difference we could then see in
his memorable performance.

Adam researched, he knew his strengths, and he
is among the boldest American Idol contestants
I have ever seen.

It was a moment everything clicked into place, just
like that, in a deep inhale.

I used to be slightly ashamed to admit I was a fan
of the mega-hit television show, “American Idol.”
This year I have noticed a different element that
has impacted me not only as an Artist but also
in my work as a Creative Life Coach.

When Adam sang “Tracks of My Tears” he added a
depth to the song that had never been heard or
seen before. Smokey rose to his feet, responding
with “Yeah”…. “Yeah….” And a final, whispered
prayer of “Yeah”

When the judges spoke I watched Adam’s face when
he heard always hyper critical – and truthful – and
constructive – Simon Cowell’s comments.

What did I see?

Humility. I didn’t see the swagger of the Back-Talkers.
I didn’t see the blind stares of the VotefortheWorst
contestants. I didn’t see a stoop shouldered, “What
am I doing here?” stance of the less poised contestants.

I saw a gifted performer, accepting praise and at the
same time being slightly astonished to be receiving praise.

Adam is exceptionally coachable. He knows his strengths
and he wants to capitalize on them. He does research.
He listens well. He is fearless. He asks questions. He
listens to feedback. He stays true to himself artistically.
He is bold. 

He will have my vote. Again and again and again.

I want to be more like him.

I want my clients to be like him.

I would like more people in the world, period, to
learn from him.

= + =

Julie Jordan Scott is a Writer, Life Coach, Poet,
Speaker, Actor, Director and Mom Extraordinaire
whose deepest passion is helping people -
like you - discover and live with passion.
Call 661.444.2735 to book your complimentary
coaching session.

This essay was originally published in Daily Passion Activator, Why not Subscribe today? It's free.

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Sanctuary Musings (Exercise from Christina Baldwin's Life's Companion, p 82)

I have been working with the theme of “sanctuary” this week. It is a theme and concept I have wondered (yes, that is “wonder” not “wander) around regularly in my life. It started with doing a cluster on Saturday 

 

 

This time, I was pleasantly surprised by the ripening of my discoveries.

 

This ripening could be an aftereffect of one of my goals for this month:

“Create a Sacred Writing Space on My Front Porch” which translated, to me, is “Make My Porch into a Creativity Sanctuary.”

 

I have had space for writing out there in the past, but it had become cluttered and dense and not an entirely peaceful place, not very sanctuary-like except for a few post-dawn moments when the sun shone at exactly the right angle.

 

This morning I wrote in my journal:

 

My writing sanctuary – all sanctuaries – have that feeling of “Safe place.” Sacred, set apart. My writing sanctuary is separate and yet it is together with the rest of the house. I can watch the neighborhood as it comes and goes, the characters that play a part. I can be a witness to the beginning of each day, sitting at my writing desk.

 

I sit here, now even with my writing sanctuary unfinished yet finished. Right now it feels more like a nun’s room in the convent, more vacant than filled, more blank than colorful. Yet it is a holy place. It feels blessed here in this sanctuary.

 

I remembered the conversation with Tom yesterday, talking about the experience of sanctuary in the feel and smell of dittoed worksheets – how they were a light purply-blue and still slightly damp when the teacher handed them out. I would inhale their scent and feel so satisfied, so filled with anticipation, so grateful. I remember we even published some sort of newspaper at church back then. I am not sure what the newspaper was for, but I remember smelling the ditto paper.

 

I remember the poem, recounting the Ruth story, in her words of Boaz, when he became her sanctuary:

 

“He accepted me as his and I

Rested in his care throughout the night

In the first light he blessed me, saying

Open your cloak

That has been washed of doubt

And I will fill it with love.”

 

(from “Ruth” by Diane Q. Lewis)

 

He wiped away doubt? He accepted her as his? She rested in his care? He filled her cloak of doubt with love instead of doubt?

 

Sanctuary.

 

The transition of night to day. The kiss from the sun gets more distinct and it is that hushed, holy gold light that reminds me of the physical sanctuaries of my youth and the golden rays intercepted by leaves and pine needles in the forest at all times of day, like nature’s stained glass.

 

What makes a sanctuary?

 

The vibe – and my response to the space, its energy. That is too vague, but… I will work it later. Also my intention makes a sacred space into a sanctuary. A resting place in the hub bub of everydayness.

 

This IS what Virginia Woolf meant as a “Room of My Own” – a sanctuary. A place of peace. A place of hope. A place where my light meets the divine light.

 

Sanctuary.

 

 

 

 

Recipe for Raw Joy (from Daily Passion Activator)

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= = = = = =

Dear Ones,

March is almost over and then
April will be upon us -

For me, April now means, among
other things - Autism Awareness
Month.

I started a blog series on
RaisingBakersfield.com about
my family's journey with autism.

The first entry is up now.

http://tinyurl.com/aawareness1

Have a memorable weekend.

With Much Love and
Passionate Gratitude,

Julie

= = = = == =

Recipe for Raw Joy
© 2009
Julie Jordan Scott

I walked through my front door, broom
in hand, and smiled.

Classical music flowed from the living room.
Satisfaction from hovered around my being
like a body-halo. My smile felt like it would
have wrapped around my head if it wasn’t for
my ears which contained my smile to
my face alone.

I had done it: I had creating my sacred writing
sanctuary on my front porch.

What might I call this?

Extreme satisfaction

Infinite delight

Happiness

Gratitude

Peace

Contentment

I walked into the kitchen for a drink of water and
felt my feet as they met the hardwood floors and
then the kitchen floor and finally rested as my
mouth gratefully accepted the water, cool,
straight from the tap.

How simple is this? This is exceptionally simple.

I went to the kitchen table and looked at my notes
from an earlier teleconference. I had written: “dreams
coming true – why now? What makes this week different?”
followed by a line a couple lines lower, after space
of no words, “I could get stuck in this, or not.”

The why doesn’t matter and the “what I call it”
doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I am it – infinitely delighted - that
I continue it – experiencing peace -  that I replenish
and nourish gratitude and contentment and mostly, I
recognize extreme satisfaction as I live it.

I can discern the “recipe” of it and put it into an
understandable form as I notice the feeling moving
through my body much like my blood circulates. I
don’t have to think about my veins being filled with
blood or what is happening in my blood, but I know
if I become anemic I feel sluggish, I don’t function as well.

When I was pregnant, my doctors created a “healthy
blood” recipe for me so I would not become anemic,
just as I can create a recipe for the extreme satisfaction
I felt as I crossed the threshold from newly created
sacred writing sanctuary into the interior of my home.

In creating a “recipe card” for raw joy, I know the
ingredients that have gone into this moment of
“extreme satisfaction, infinite delight, happiness,
gratitude, peace, contentment”. When I scribble
that recipe onto a card, I can automatically answer
the “what makes this week different” from the past
weeks where I didn’t experience such raw joy by
simply walking through my front door and, the
clincher, I can recreate it consciously.

Did you hear that?

I can recreate raw joy consciously through
following my one-of-a-kind recipe.

I can help others create raw joy, consciously, by
sharing my recipe with them.

The world can be transformed into an environment
of raw joy. Each and every day individuals can fine
tune the recipe for their unique purpose.

Here is what I propose, right alongside you.

I will write my recipe over the next few weeks.

I actually have the “bare bones” and I want to
flesh it out, make sure my measurements are
accurate – and I will share the recipe with
you here and on the JulieUnplugged Blog.

Our recipe for Raw Joy has the capacity to
shatter preconceived notions of what is possible
and recreate life as we once knew it.

Would you like to experience that?

I thought so – because I know I would, too.

I felt it the moment I walked through my
front door, broom in hand, and smiled.

= + =

Julie Jordan Scott is a Writer, Life Coach, Poet,
Speaker, Actor, Director and Mom Extraordinaire
whose deepest passion is helping people -
like you - discover and live with passion.
Call 661.444.2735 to book your complimentary
coaching session.

Julie also publishes Daily Passion Activator, Why not Subscribe today? It's free.

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Katherine in EBHS CHamber Singers Spring Concert

How Did I Get Here?

 

My feet rested atop the chair in front of me,
taking full advantage of the warm rays of
the sun beating upon them. My toes were
cradled inside raspberry colored flats
with sweet little bows proclaiming “I
feel younger than my chronology”.

I felt completely content.

It was Thursday afternoon of last week
and I had two back-to-back coffee dates
with some of my favorite women, Coryn
and Jessica.

I look forward to my coffee dates like a
person on a diet looks forward to
an occasional splurge.

It was the first day of Spring and
the Sun had come to the celebration.

My feet felt toasty and warm as I
snapped photos and wrote in my
notebook as I waited for my friend.
I sent a text message to selected
creative friends with the
request-drenched statement, “I
need another word for ‘anticipation’.”
My head was down and my eyes
focused on the quest when I
heard my friend arrive.

Coryn put her oversized bag on
the table and my greeting for her
said exactly what my text message
said: “I need another word for anticipation.”

My words were not, “Hello, dear friend,
how is your day?” or “How great to see you!”
or “Wow, we finally get together after
way too long!”

Instead, a bold statement of my running
monologue in that precise moment. My
greeting sounds like a twitter broadcast
to legions of people waiting at their
keyboards, “Help me find the just-right
word for anticipation before my
internal-brain thesaurus collapses
under the pressure!”

Goodbye to Thursday afternoon and enter
Monday morning.

Two group telephone calls bridged by
conversations with my daughter
and a solo conversation with Adela,
wrangling with my misshapen thought.

I come to they keyboard, still feeling,
somehow, in error.

Spring cleaning has also been in the
interim between the seeking another word
for “anticipation” and now. Spaces and
objects reclaimed: a lost book by Julia
Cameron, a See-and-Say toy reclaimed by
Samuel, a sweater, out-of-place but not
forgotten with odd seed pods attached.

Were these objects, the sweater and other
odd and sundry items of clothing, intercepted
from the back of my car at one time and
placed in a large trash bag and places
in a dark closet by someone other than myself?

I don’t remember. I smell the pile of “keepers”
I had separated from the bag of “givers away” and the
bag of trash and the keepers smell vaguely of
a gentle brand of patchouli oil. Not the too
strong, in your face shouting patchouli oil
but the just right for me in this moment
kind, as if a gypsy had danced by and
blessed the clothing, blessed the seed pods
pressed against the sweater and blessed
this exact moment in the present-then-future.

Maybe it isn't patchouli at all - maybe
it is the presence of the seed pods that
caused the scent.

A question bridged these seemingly
random moments in time.

“How did I get here?”

It doesn’t seem a foreboding question. It isn’t
cloaked in black, hooded garb. It doesn’t come
with music ahead of it, signaling impending
doom in its answering, yet its potency dragged
me behind.

There I was, flailing my arms wildly - grabbing
for an answer yet knowing a flailing, grasping,
“give me something!” answer was not the answer
the question was seeking.

The recent me has become annoyed by esoteric
and what I see as somehow evasive questions. In
anger I refuse to answer. I turn and walk away
from the question which, when my opinion
becomes disentangled from its intent,
may be quite telling.

How I got here is simple.

I saw a road beneath my feet and I took a step,
a step towards what delighted me.Sometimes that
means having coffee with my friends with
my feet propped up on a chair and sending
requests to friends via text message.

Sometimes it means Spring Cleaning.

Life, like these moments in life, happened.

Other stuff appeared, not very attractive
"stuff" and if that not-so-attractive-stuff
called me, as much as I abhorred it, I honored
the call, just as I am honoring the call to engage
with this question.

How I got here is how I am in this next here,
the one after the coffee with Coryn and twitter
style text messages and Spring cleaning.

I am en route, continually, and stepping into
this present experience with as much of my
spirit and soul in tact and as visible
as possible.

Sometimes that visibility is lounging with my
feet on a chair in a sidewalk café in downtown
Bakersfield. Sometimes that visibility is making
my home into the sanctuary I have always wanted
it to be yet for whatever reason never
completely created.

Sometimes that visibility is in phone calls
where I let my crankiness show, unabashedly
and then feel compelled to apologize
for it later.

I am en route, always, to exactly where I am.

How is that for round about, more than
vaguely esoteric and visible, simultaneously?

That is how I got here.

Question answered: I am en route.

 

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Random Shots, Looking for your input

Looking close-up, intimately

What do you see?

Specific colors, rhythms, textures, what is there?

You may see one thing, but do you see another, too?

Look beyond your eyes.

What is there? And here? And there?

What do you see?

Mid Week Reflection, March 18, 2009

Today, Wednesday, has started quietly and I am attempting now to bring reflectivity into the moment. It probably isn’t helpful for me to be trying to listen to a webcast simultaneously, so I will turn it off.

Enlighten Next needs to come later. My reflection, now. Thank you, Enlighten Next teachers. Your words will be more easily received later. This is better for now.

 

I had a rather quiet week-end as nothing worked out as I planned. Such is life, eh? I meant to go to a fundraising karaoke event, but sickness in kids ruled that out. Sunday night I was supposed to go to a party, but problems with Ken ruled that out. I did manage to squeak into rehearsal for “The Winter’s Tale” for an hour on Sunday, which was just the sort of creative fun my soul longed for, and I did manage to go to Sunday School (studying the book of Revelation and my mind wandered unmercifully!) and catch up with my friend, Rebecca, which made me ten minutes late to worship but it was worth it.

 

Monday morning took Tony back out of town, Emma home from school sick, and me – in a sort of taciturn place emotionally. Rehearsal went well, learned and pondered and only freaked out for a moment at the thought of Shakespeare turning over in his grave at my performance. I have been working on my scansion since then – half hourly, actually, throughout the middle of the day, repeating my main monologue not for meaning or acting purposes, but for memorization and rhythm…. which I am attempting to get into my veins so the rest of it will work.

 

Tuesday was highly productive. I was able to create forward movement on each of my monthly goals. This felt SOOO good! I also worked on updating information on my writing class I am teaching now (Sharpening Your Passionate Pencil) in preparation to offer it again starting in April. I have gotten very positive feedback and people want more of it, so I am offering it again – my approach on revision is different and I aim to make it refreshing, reflective and a transformational experience rather than a clunk over the head (and heart!) repeatedly. Oh, the joy of red slash marks all over one’s hard work!

 

I also keep getting feedback, I think of it as a Divine Nudge, that I need to start another Women’s Writing Circle. Am considering that very strongly…. Perhaps also with a post-Spring break (middle/late April) start date.

 

We watched American Idol last night, Katherine and myself. I am continually amazed at how much I enjoy that show. Most of the singers are pretty darn good, too – so I can’t really single out one person who absolutely NEEDS to get voted off. I enjoyed Adam’s odd performance, thought it was cool, actually. The ones who surprised me the most were the balladeers, Kris and Anoop. I loved that Anoop took the criticism he received and integrated it into his performance and came out earning strong kudos from Simon, marking his performance the best of the week. I was completely unimpressed with Lil,

 

even though I wanted to be Wow’ed, and thought Alexis performance of “Jolene” was boring. I thought she did better rehearsing with Randy Travis than she did on stage, where she felt breathy and out of focus.

 

Tuesday One Sentence Journal:

 

Most of the day I hovered about inside, taking care of neglected tasks and patting myself on the back – until I chose to hover on the couch, for an evening engaging with the television – and texting with Jeff who was hurting – until I fell asleep.

 

Monday One Sentence Journal:

The tired sound of the engine turning over without starting reminds me of myself sometimes.

Sunday One Sentence Journal:

On this Ides of March, Boaz continues to haunt me…it is not only Ruth who loved him, I suppose.

 Self Portrait of the Week:

 

 

= + =
Julie Jordan Scott is a Writer, Life Coach, Poet,
Speaker, Actor, Director and Mom Extraordinaire
whose deepest passion is helping people -
like you - discover and live with passion.

Julie also publishes Daily Passion Activator, Why not Subscribe today? It's free.

Subscribe to DailyPassionActivator

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One Person's Fluke is Another Person's Divine Appointment

Using the Dialogue Journaling Technique from Life's Companion, Journal Writing as a Spiritual Practice by Christina Baldwin, I wrote further on my fluke fascination.

I have been working on the whole fluke thing.

>> The happy accident of your very accidental being

Yes. From the time of being a blastocyst I have been a fluke personified.

>> A fluke, the part of the anchor that digs into the bottom of the sea and won't easily let go.

Yes. Kind of like me. A piece of plastic wouldn't keep me from being... my little blastocyst, then tiny little self held on because there were things to be accomplished, after all.

>> Ha! You always say that!

What?

>> That bit about God really wanting you and you being conceived, anyway, even though your parents were totally against it?

Yeah, yeah, yeah and it's the truth. Don't you get tired of perpetually looking for ways to belittle me?

>> And that anchor-fluke thing keeps showing up, eh?

Like a gong, calling me to lift up my face, to take notice. To hear. The bell says "This is important. This is you.

>> One person's accident is not another person's accident.

One person's accident.

One person's fluke

Another person's divine appointment.

 

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700th Daily Gratitude List Posted on 43things.com! Celebration? You Betcha!

This morning I posted my 700th gratitude list on the goal-setting-meets-social-networking-website, 43things.com.

This practice has been a part of my life for longer than those 700 lists but this particular gratitude gang is significant on many levels. Most importantly is the fact that they have been there - many of them - alongside me during one of the most trying-to-my-soul eras of my life.

I am feeling quite a rebirthing in myself as we step towards Spring, 2009. It just seems fitting that my 700th entry is coinciding so closely with the beginning of Spring and what would have been my brother's 46th birthday if he were still alive.

Here is today's list:

I am grateful plentiful cool scholarships are OUT there -

I am grateful for friends who are willing to engage and friends who are not willing to engage… intriguing to watch all ways.

I am grateful for my friends William Zinsser and Sol Stein, writing book authors extraordinaire

I am grateful for rehearsal… and not having any tonight… so I can do self rehearsal.

I amg grateful for the exercises RJ and Ronnie did last night at rehearsal

I am grateful for Julia and Caroline, who play the priestesses to my Oracle. We are a team and I am so grateful for them.

I am grateful for my timer, and to have a wide open day of productivity ahead.

I am grateful I had green for each of my children to wear this morning.

I am grateful, oh-so-grateful! for each person who writes gratitude here and those who have done so in the past. I am grateful for those who read and comment.

I am grateful for people who believe and know, inherently, the power of gratitude.

I am grateful.

Sam caught a fish!

Daybreak at Hart Park - we prepare for the fishing derby and possibly Sam's first ever catch.

Sam is prepared, excited, and not sure what to make of all this excitement.

Have you ever seen a more adorable little fisherman? He is all bundled up like it is cold in

Bakersfield in March. Well, for us, it is.

 

I never miss an opportunity to take a photo of Sam and me.

He obliged this time, happily, and even looks right at the camera!

and a gopher joined in the fun!

Mommy wrote while she waited, naturally. I always have my writing stuff handy.

Sam watched the reflections of the water in the trees while he waited for his bait to attract the just right fish. He had been getting frustrated with me because I couldn't figure out what question he was trying to ask when a tug on his pole brought us all into attention onto one thing and one thing only. A FISH! A FISH!

It wasn't the biggest or the baddest fish caught in the derby, but it was SAM'S FISH! Look how excited he looks here! This is a Jordan Family tradition - catching Rainbow Trout as the first catch ever. Nana caught a rainbow trout with Grandpadaddy when she was about seven-years-old, too - while camping at Bishop. I caught my first fish, a rainbow, last Spring outside of Kernville on the other side of the Canyon. Sam continues the tradition here, March 14, 2009 at Hart Park at a Fishing Derby. I can hear Sam of the future telling the story.

Fascinated by his catch. Love his facial expression here.

Afterwards he played at the playground. He insists on wearing his socks because that is the rule for the playlands at McDonald's and Burger King and a rule is a rule is a rule.

That's my Sam.

Julie also publishes Daily Passion Activator, Why not Subscribe today? It's free.

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