Carrie Johnson & Associates

Organizational Development, Coaching, & Retreats

Carrie Johnson

Vulnerability as the Teacher

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I love being reminded of my smallness in the world. Knowing that all beings are one and connected on this shared Earth—nature does this for me. She reminds me that this moment, right now, is ours and the next one may not be.

Tracy and I pushed the edges of our comfort zones a few weeks ago, when we took our Drop Below the Surface Retreat curriculum and gently layered it onto the energy of the Rippin’ Chix backcountry ski touring camp in British Columbia.

Here is what will stay with me:

  • I can do hard things!
  • Feeling vulnerable is scary at first; then, I pause to see my courage and resilience.
  • Pushing myself past my fears is necessary to see my truths, and surrounding myself with the women who were by my side made the experience so fulfilling.
  • Being a beginner is hard and is good for me! Having a beginner’s mindset invites wonder and opens me up to new ways of seeing and being in the world. 
  • When I am skiing in the trees, look for the spaces in between.
  • Time stands still when I completely let go… when I stop resisting, close my eyes, and trust!

Here is what I noticed in my mind, body, and spirit on those mountains:

I know that I am in a space that is not entirely mine. I can visit, take in the beauty, traverse miles on a serpentine path up mountains, be in every moment, allow gravity to guide me in snow that is knee-high and untouched by any other being, make my own trail, allow gravity to pull me fast, control the speed if I want, experience the fear, and giggle after tumbling with head over skis and landing in the softest bubble of a down comforter. The wind reminds me that I’m new, a beginner, temporary and vincible. The commanding cliffs holding onto cornices of overhanging snow remind me that I’m not in charge and that I am taking risks, the trees that hug me early on the climb let go, knowing I will be back, the space between them is a blank canvas to carve my journey, my way, my path. The sun is close and we can almost touch it once we summit after climbing 10 miles and 2,200 feet up our mountain. The sound of the snow swishing by my boots and legs makes a consistent hum on the way down. I feel scared, impermanent, lucky, tired, awestruck, like a beginner, anticipatory, cautious, daring, brave, and strong. My pack carries essentials, tangibles such as life saving protective gear. My soul and spirit carry hope, love, and wonder. I. AM. HERE. NOW. I have lost track of time and it doesn’t matter.

I wonder about those I love, where all of this snow goes, what happens if…

I KNOW I’m in the midst of growth, in ways invisible to the eye. The women alongside me are at once quiet, then not, as we share this challenge, the badassness of being here, having said “yes” to something that is hard and scares us. I want my daughters to experience this; it reminds me of how proud they were when they crossed their first finish lines at Girls on the Run. I feel fortunate to be in this moment now, doing this. Doing hard things invites us to spaces where creativity and potential live. I want to write about this and process the power. I’m curious how I can find the words that do justice to this experience, and I know the words won’t fully describe because that’s the thing about it… it’s indescribable. I’ve done my best to put words to what will stay with me… 

Power of the Huddle

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Huddle Up and Effervesce!

Would you like to:

  • Bring your organization’s mission to life?
  • Serve your internal and external clients with greater care and compassion?
  • Increase team member engagement?
  • Help individuals know their value?
  • Hold team members accountable?
  • Create a sense of belonging and focus for your team, clients and culture?

I will help you create a culture of team synergy, joy, belongingness and outcomes with Huddles as part of your success!

There is a name for what occurs in the very best huddles…..collective effervescence!  It is a contagious euphoria coined a century ago by the French sociologist Émile Durkheim. “It’s that glowy, giddy feeling where your sense of self slackens, yielding to a connection with your fellow, synchronized humans.”

At my niece’s softball game I watched her team huddle around the pitcher’s mound at the beginning of each inning.  While that really is not an odd practice, what I observed was notable:  a tight knit group of heads bowed into the center, deep listening, taking turns speaking, direct eye contact,  leaning in, nodding, sometimes laughing, and smiles as they put all hands in the center, raised them to the sky and chanted a cheer.  After the huddle they all reported to their positions on the field. I could tell by their foot cadence and could see that they showed up looser and more relaxed, clearly impacted by the huddle.

That got me thinking about how the huddle and resulting collective effervescence has shown up throughout my life and how important it has been in creating a synergy that directly impacts outcomes…..I have been thinking about what ingredients have been baked into the most powerful and inspiring huddles I have experienced and led.

Last month we celebrated my dad’s life and as the family all gathered in the kitchen of the church before the service to walk in together, the minister huddled us up to pray.  After that we all put our hands in the middle and decided to shout “Scranton”, our last name, on the count of 3 before heading to the front of the church……what ensued over the next 12 hours was true collective effervescence alongside hundreds of those we love as we huddled in many forms! 

As an Human Resources Director at the Ritz-Carlton I learned the value of the Three Steps of Service.  Without giving away any trade secrets, every  interaction has three parts:  a beginning, a middle and an end.  Every gathering with more than one person has these three components.  In fact, I will go on record by saying the huddle is foundation to the indisputable success of the award winning hotel company.  Every department starts each shift,  all 365 days a year, with a huddle.  The mission is brought to life in these huddles through stories, and department specific discussion points relevant to the strategy and service standards of The Ritz-Carlton.  There was a beginning, middle and end and everyone had the chance to contribute and belong to something special. 

The huddle should be quick.  It is the content and agenda, along with the space of authentic sharing provided by the leaders that is the magic sauce!  It is how one feels in the huddle  and the behaviors that follow that matter. 

Where else have huddles shown up in my life?

  • Playing high school and college basketball brought the huddle into each practice and game—Ingredients:  strategy, inspiration, team work, outcome focus
  • Twice a year at the Girls on the Run 5K’s, with the staff and sponsors before we address the crowd and with the VIP’s who are handing out medals to the girls as they cross the finish line—Ingredients:  inspiration, mission, alignment of purpose
  • GOTR lessons begin with the girls in a circle shoulder to shoulder—Ingredients:  eye contact, energy, acceptance and connection
  • At our wedding, we huddled with the wedding party before being introduced to the crowd—Ingredients:  sharing gratitude, love and laughter
  • At the beginning of each Drop Below the Surface retreat we huddle up—Ingredients:  energy exchange, common purpose, authenticity and sharing

My favorite part of the huddle is that it serves as the inspiration for individual contributions to emerge to create powerful and unexpected outcomes, otherwise not discovered until that moment.  The huddle is that space where deep connection and contribution is born.  Huddle up and Effervesce with me!

The space between fear and security

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On a Saturday afternoon in late July, my dad asked me if I would like to go canoeing on the river.  I was hot and the air hovered a foot above the asphalt was oily and heavy and had a swirling look to it.  We lived a few miles from the muddy Susquehanna River and had a new silver aluminum Grumman canoe.  Mom dropped us off and had a timetable to meet us a few miles down the river.    We set off with me in the front and dad launching us with a simple push of his foot.  I was filled with anticipation, canoeing on the river was a big deal. I had learned to navigate on a lake and wanted to experience rapids and currents.

What I remember most about that afternoon was not the actual canoeing.  It was a fear and security I felt simultaneously beginning when the first streak of lightning crossed the slate blue sky.  It happened so fast, the thunder was so loud I could feel it in our floating metal boat.  Luckily, we were a few yards from an island so Dad and I quickly paddles to shore as the powerful rain drilled down on us.  I felt like the time between the lightning and the roar of thunder were one and the same—somewhere along the way, I had learned that means to get under cover immediately because the lightning would strike.  My dad dragged the canoe entirely out of the water and we found a thick trunked canopy tree for cover.  He tipped the vessel on its side and we crouched on our haunches underneath it for “protection”.  

I watched my confident and smart dad who was like a policeman, fireman, and lifeguard all in one to me when I was young.  He moved through nature with such surety from years of experience fishing, hunting, farming and simply living in the outdoors.  

We were already wet, but the makeshift shelter kept us dryer than we would otherwise have been.  I started to cry and remember Dad saying “Carrie Sue, I promise you we will not be struck by lightning,” as he picked up a stick and drew a tic tac toe grid in the mud.  The wet, earthy smell of the earth reminded me of countless days catching crayfish at camp.  The blend of slimy brown rocks, water, mud mixed with other river smells.  I don’t even recall winning or losing, I do remember our tent of aluminum and earthen floor and the distraction that took me from fear to security, which is a long distance to travel, and with lots of back and forth motion from one emotion to the other and back again.  

As quickly as the storm came, it left.  A few tic tac toe games in and in between Dad’s reassurances that we would survive, I looked out from under our sheltering wall and saw my old friend, the sun!

The rest of the trip down the river has escaped my mind…And, as I reflect I see the irony in my false sense of safety and security…lightning splitting the sky as we huddled like gnomes under a metal canoe which was under a tree, that is the power of blind trust that lives in the young.  That trust that comes with a full heart and little outside noise, not handicapped by outside voices who rob us of our innocence.  The distance between fear and security traveled in a canoe, I’m so grateful for that day! 

It just takes one person to change the trajectory of a life

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Sept. 19, 2016

When we had the chance to attend a summit about Trauma-Informed Approaches in School:  Supporting Girls of Color and Rethinking Discipline last week, we said “yes”!

My trip to the white house started with Lanita, my Uber driver who was meant to be in my life that morning.  You see, in that twenty-minute ride I learned that her husband was killed eight years ago and she was left to raise her two children alone, sometimes working three jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.  She loves her Uber job because she has the flexibility to start driving at 4 am and then take her son to catch a bus 40 minutes away so he can attend a private boys’ school to play football.  He was “discovered” by the football coach there.  Lanita continued talking and shared her frustration with those who are dealt similar hands in life, yet do not find the strength within to rise up to do what is right for their families.  She has experienced much trauma in her life and I was glad to be a set of ears in her back seat that morning.

It’s amazing how the universe works, Lanita came into my life as we were about to spend a day learning and discussing a topic that touches all of us,  Trauma-Informed Approaches in Schools:  Supporting Girls of Color and Rethinking Discipline.  Those in attendance ranged in expertise, we traveled with leaders from the PA state Department of Education, Superintendents, and leaders from the School District of Lancaster and Philadelphia…and, Girls on the Run.  We were in good company with 19 other states.  One of our board members invited GOTR to attend because as she read about this summit, she knew that GOTR is the organization that partners with the School District of Lancaster and this population most deeply.  She clearly sees our curriculum and program as a tool to promote change amongst girls of color who have experienced adverse childhood experiences (ACES Survey link:  https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/acestudy/about_ace.html).

A panel of five brave high school girls who have experienced trauma and more than four Adverse Childhood Experiences, many repeatedly since early childhood, took the stage and shared pieces of their stories.  I felt sad, angry, and hopeful all at once because these girls need someone to give them hope, to help them open doors, and love them, which sounds like what we do at GOTR and how we train our coaches.  When the girls were asked what the 300 adults in the room can do to change things, their answers were:  “community is most important, even having just one person you trust to help you is key”, “let kids be themselves and get to know them”, “listen, really listen”, “our behaviors are not who we are”, “share your true selves with us” and “love us”.  I remember one Saturday morning about four years ago when Molly Barker, founder of Girls on the Run, was in town for a function with our girls and we invited all of our coaches to join us for coffee and bagels in a classroom.  The loudest message Molly shared that day was to love these girls, simply love them.

Amongst all of the policies, rules, regulations, and testing that take the time of our teachers, we wondered out loud at the summit about ways to build in time for “self-care” for our teachers.  How can they be available to students and serve as a buffer to the adversity their students live in each day, otherwise?  For all of the young ladies on the panel, it was one specific teacher who took the time to love her, trust her, and listen to her then give her the guidance she needed to break the cycle she had inherited from generations before her. The power of just one positive relationship is the key to healing.    

It was so very validating to know that our mission is significantly impacting this population of girls and all girls who participate in GOTR and Heart and Sole.  How can we deepen our influence with our girls?  Love them, ask them about their stories, listen deeply, be intentional in our actions and aware of our girls’ communication (verbal and non-verbal), and develop relationships as coaches with these girls that change their lives.  Our focus on access and inclusion at GOTR is so very timely!

Dr. Nadine Burke Harris, MD and CEO/founder  of Center for Youth Wellness has a powerful TED talk about the topic and left us with this quote last Monday:  “Our children are not broken, the environment they are in is.”

So, let’s keep opening doors, listening, and loving these girls!   As staff members, we do not know every girl in our program, but our coaches do, and that is where the magic happens, in those trusting and close relationships.  Finish reading this by knowing we are changing lives and it truly happens one girl at a time.  

My Village

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In and out of consciousness…

—the ripping of Velcro that is impossibly close by my ears

—snow and ice scraping underneath me and being in motion

—opening my eyes and looking out the back of an ambulance under the brightest white lights, my focus is on my friend Andy, driving the car behind us

—realizing I’m in an emergency room when my parents walk in sporting their best poker faces

—oh, I’m still here and the on-call plastic surgeon is on his way from a party, should that make me nervous?

—I feel no pain or panic, I just am

—the doctor’s fingers reaching inside my bottom lip and through the rip to the outside of my chin, sutures inside and out, and the tugging that goes along with sewing

—I’m in a hospital bed, mom is in a plastic reclining chair next to me

—sitting in a comfortable chair with lots of wires stuck to my head for an EEG test, recalling as many math equations as possible because surely my brain would do back flops and be firing on all circuits if I stretched it, right?

—the 24 hours were a blur 

When I got home there were meals in the refrigerator, posters with flowery penmanship on the front door, flowers, and a Penn State Boxing sweatshirt, appropriate for the way my distorted and deformed face looked after colliding with Stanley Baran from Fairfield, CT.  My hometown village of support was alive and well.  When the ski patrol team brought me into First Aid on a stretcher and a guy followed me into the hut a young girl was sitting on the trainer’s bed with her ankle elevated receiving treatment.  She asked my brother if “that guy” was the one who hit me, “yes, he replied.”  She was aghast and replied, “he’s the same guy who ran into me!”.  We got his name, because, after all, who wouldn’t after seeing him at the top of a double black diamond drinking alcohol from a flask and bragging about skiing while drunk as a beginner skier.  

In and out of consciousness…

—open my eyes to look directly into Uncle Rick’s eyes as he expertly removes bone fragments from my cheek and eye orbital bone for a few hours.  “You are doing great, Carrie Sue, go back to sleep, we are almost done.”

—wake up with immediate relief to have the surgeries done

When my parents dropped me back at college the “whisper down the lane” sorority phone tree had everyone guessing my status, everything from a coma to severe brain damage to total facial reconstruction.  I remember walking into the church basement where we were having an all-day retreat.  I was nervous to be seen and ready to be back on my own, in the college setting after an extended holiday break due to the after-effects of the ski accident.  The room completely went silent and froze…within seconds 60 women were surrounding me like a child who has not seen his mom or dad in over a year when they were away in the military. There was such a warm blanket of friendship wrapped around me.  My college village was alive and well.

There is an unknown space our minds, souls and spirits go when we are not completely awake or a higher power has taken over.  It’s a space where we are enveloped with assurance and hope and the confidence that all will be as it shall.  When we surrender to the universe and allow God to take over, no questions asked.  

Memoir writing has become a refuge for me and I am finding it intriguing as I look, curiously, for common themes and threads that are woven through the stories that have become a patchwork to the quilt I am sewing and wrapping my village in.  

There is much more to explore, corners to dig into, edges to soften, and places that I have been afraid to enter.  One thing that has become crystal clear is that a person’s village plays the most critical role in any life.  That village has people who come and go, and no one is actually completely gone from the village once they have entered and left.  If we pay attention, it becomes clear that people come into our lives for a reason, and may only stay a short time.

My dad is about to receive a diagnosis and treatment plan on Monday at 12:50 he, hell, we are feeling vulnerable, weak and we are afraid.  We activated the village and what is loud and clear is that the village we were raised in has expanded as my brother and I have left home, held different jobs, moved to different parts of the world.  Yet the village where we were raised is still the core, even though some of the chiefs are no longer on this earth, their offspring step in, and the deep wells we have dug will forever keep us from thirsting.  As I have raised my two girls, I have felt that the greatest gift we can give to them is confidence and to connect them with people who will be influential in countless ways and be in their village.  Essentially, creating a village we share…where trust and love preside.  What will this journey be like with dad?  With mom?  How will our village welcome them home?