All the beautiful words

H Squared Communications Value #3 – Passion
We don’t do anything halfway, and that enthusiasm will be reflected in each interaction and each deliverable.

One of the few things I know to be true is that language has power. Message matters. Words have weight. What we say, anecdotes we tweet, articles we write, information we consume has power. For good and for evil. This I know to be true.

I often have been called passionate when it comes to my belief system, and I have always been passionate about the work I do, too. But I am most passionate about the power of words. That passion needed to be a part of how H Squared Communications functioned.

As I began to organize my thoughts around what I wanted this company to feel like, I decided I needed to be clear about my personal values, and how those would be integrated into this business I was starting. I previously have written posts on H Squared Communications’ values of authenticity and gratitude. Passion is our third value.

Passion is defined as a feeling of intense enthusiasm toward or compelling desire for someone or something. It’s a driving feeling or conviction, a strong devotion to an activity, object, or concept. Passion is a zeal that compels action. It’s an energetic pursuit of an aim.

How does passion translate into action at H Squared Communications?

1. We are all in. Halfway is not an option when it comes to how we work or the attention we provide to our clients. It is who we are, and it means your work product will be something we all can be proud of in the end.

2. On the flip side, we don’t take on work unless we know we can give you our full attention and the best of our abilities. If a need you have is better filled by someone else, we will be honest with you about where our strengths lie and how we can assist you moving forward.

3. We work hard and treat all deliverables like they are for ourselves. Our work doesn’t reflect only on you as our clients, but also on our company as professional communicators, and we take that very seriously.

4. Our goal is that each interaction with H Squared Communications will be positive and uplifting. We are here to alleviate your stress and help carry your load, and our passion for words and for life will be evident when you engage with us.

5. The words we use will be chosen with care, because message still matters. Our passions are messaging and strategy, and that’s where you will find our strengths, too. We don’t try to be everything to everyone, nor do we sell ourselves short when it comes to where we can work together to help your organization achieve understanding and influence.

In all fairness, passion does not make H Squared Communications unique. People all around me are passionate about their football teams, their political beliefs, their family stories, their favorite colors. While passion is certainly not a bad thing, it can be divisive if respect and the ability to listen well don’t accompany it also.

What does make H Squared Communications unique is our reverence for words, because we fully understand their power. Message matters, and telling our true, compelling stories is more important than ever. We are here to help you tell your story, and tell it well.

We’ll explore our final value of honesty in a future blog post.

The sunset over Steamboat Rock

It’s the start of a new year. For me, each new year begins with some review of the previous year and introspection into my own heart to help me craft a way into the future. Sometimes an honest review of the previous year can leave me feeling disappointed. I had hoped to accomplish more. I had hoped to be healthier. I had hoped to experience more.

But starting a new year feeling disappointed is no way to turn over the calendar. It can set me up for failure right away if I allow that thinking to affect how I create new goals. It’s hard to start out a new year already ticked at yourself when you know it’s time to kick the next year’s butt. So, this year I have approached my review, introspection, and goal setting differently.

I made a list of all I did indeed accomplish this year. I inventoried all the actions I had taken to heal myself. I documented all the experiences my husband and I shared and how we had grown. I realized I was being too hard on myself but that I still had more work to do. Then I used that information to select a word to motivate me to reach my goals for 2019.

My word for 2019 is “arise.”

I chose a verb very purposefully. So many adjectives would have fit the bill, but I needed an action word.

Of course, “arise” may conjure up memories of Easter Sunday sermons, but I did not intend for the word to feel biblical. It means to emerge, to become apparent, to come to light. It also literally means to stand up or get up.

2019 will be the year when H Squared Communications emerges as the expert in communications consulting in the state. That’s the vision I have for this year. Arise!

2019 will be the year when the niche services H Squared Communications can help fill, the solutions we can provide, become more and more apparent. Arise!

2019 will be the year when some areas of my life that currently feel disguised with shadow come into light. Arise!

Arise! I will say to myself on the days when all I want to do is binge watch Netflix.

Arise! I will say to myself when it would be so much easier to just roll over and hide my head under the covers.

Arise! I will say to myself when the day’s workout feels like it should wait until after one more cup of coffee.

Arise! I will say to myself when I am the only woman in the room but am indeed the one with the most knowledge on the subject.

Arise! I will say to myself when it would be easy to join the fray of those going low when the dignified response is to go high.

Arise!

2019 will be the year the rubber meets the road in a lot of ways for my career and for how I chart the course for this business. I also will turn 40 this year. In June, my husband and I will celebrate 15 years of marriage. Other milestone birthdays in my family and circle of friends are scattered across the calendar. It’s a big year.

That can feel daunting. But when it’s hard, or overwhelming, or confusing, I will just do the next right thing. I will tell myself it’s time to get up. It’s time to emerge. It’s time to let the light discover the good. Staying in the dark isn’t for me. Arise.

My grandma’s butterscotch bars

For the past couple of weeks, I have been working to track down some family recipes. My dad has memories of his grandmother making a plum pudding with caramel sauce for Christmas. He grew up in a time when even extended family stuck close by, and everyone gathered together for the holidays each year. Thrown in were some good friends, too, who celebrated with them.

He also tells stories of two of his uncles conspiring together to concoct Tom and Jerrys and miscellaneous people taking long drinks from whiskey and brandy bottles. This isn’t the Christmas I remember, though. There was never any alcohol associated with our family holiday celebrations. Thank goodness for my dad’s cousins, who have looked through old cookbooks and recipe boxes and found some of those recipes not made for decades.

On Christmas Eves when I was growing up, I remember Aunt Nora and my own grandma arguing in the kitchen over how much butter should go into the oyster stew and if the oysters were cooked yet. My grandma always had a relish tray with fresh broccoli, tomatoes, carrots, and radishes. Some form of Jello was always present on the table as well, along with her buttery, crumbly sugar cookies and rich butterscotch bars.

At some point before she died, I must have asked Grams for the recipe for her butterscotch bars. I recently found it on a recipe card in her handwriting. It is more a description of how to make the bars than a real recipe, in true Grams style. I took it as a sign I had to make them this year. I guess I never asked for her sugar cookie recipe, nor did I consider that someday they would stop coming in those care packages she would send when I was in college.

One of the last conversations I had with my grandma before she died took place in the car ride back to her apartment after a big Thanksgiving meal. When you know time is running out, you have courage to finally ask the questions you have always wanted the answers to, so I asked Grams why my dad was an only child. She didn’t tell me exactly how many miscarriages there had been, but she did say she was just grateful to have one child at all.

Thankfully, on that side of the family, when people pass away, good memories are shared instead of family secrets spilling out. My dad once told me being an only child meant that while he certainly was spoiled and extravagantly loved, much also was expected of him. It all came down to just him, especially as his parents and his childless aunt and uncle aged. All the family recipes, all the juicy stories, all the Christmas memories now make their home in his head alone.

There are so many more questions I wish I had asked my grandma. So many other recipes I wish I had asked her to write down. I could use the taste of her sugar cookies this year. And now that my parents are the oldest generation, it reminds me to make sure I ask my mom to write down her favorite recipes. That I ask my dad to tell me again about the time Grandpa Hank and Grandpa Paul were arrested for poaching deer. That I make the interesting looking recipe for plum pudding, so my dad can tell me it’s pretty close to what his grandma used to make for him.

This process of tracking down these recipes has resulted in many memories shared across the miles. As we age, we all become a little nostalgic, and the past probably seems more idyllic than it should. The times my mom and dad grew up in were hard, and my two grandpas were poaching the deer to feed their families and other community members, not for sport. Not every meal ended with Christmas pudding.

But this is the time of year when the weary world rejoices, and those dusty cookbooks are pulled off the shelf. When flavors seem more intense and trigger visions of people we loved but lost. If we can still hear their voices arguing over the stove or laughing after a bit too much eggnog, it’s okay if our memories seem happier than the actual events were in reality. As long as the food tastes the same.

If you or your organization need assistance telling your story, H Squared Communications is here to help you find the right recipe.

One Saturday morning last February, I was sitting at the dining room table enjoying a cup of coffee after a long and stressful week. I wasn’t quite awake just yet, so it may have taken me a while to recognize the sound coming from my backyard. I finally looked out the window and saw one of our ash trees full of squawking crows. There were too many even to count.

In my sleepy state, I just stood there staring at them, but then it slowly started to dawn on me that they wouldn’t squawk for no reason. They must be really angry at something. Usually that’s our neighbor’s cat lurking around, but as I surveyed the ground, no cat. I looked back up to the tree, and it was then I saw what crows hate the most of any living thing: an owl, perched in the same tree.

That owl had no business being awake at the same time I was awake. It was well after sunrise. These crows likely had been harassing the owl for some time, not letting it sleep. This is called a mobbing. The crows try to make the owl miserable because it’s a threat. As I watched, the owl looked strong and brave and seemingly at peace, like it wasn’t fazed a bit by all the crows, but it was probably even more tired than I was.

Eventually, the owl flew off to another tree, in another yard, and all the crows followed. I have no idea if the owl made it to a safe resting place again, or what it did in the first place to make the crows so mad.

Since that morning, I have done quite a bit of research about owls. Owls often are solitary, and nearly always nocturnal. Their unique feathers allow them to fly almost silently, sneaking up on their prey. They have precise hearing and can see in very low light, even at long distances. In western culture, owls symbolize wisdom and caution.

A group of crows is not called a flock, as you might think. Instead it’s called a murder. Crows do live in groups, never alone, always feeding off of each other. I have learned that sometimes the mobbing is successful, and crows can harass an owl to its death.

Nearly a year later, I can’t get the picture of the owl out of my mind. For some reason, that bird was sent to me when I needed it, because sometimes I feel like the owl, sitting alone tilting my head and taking all the heat. It’s, of course, also possible that sometimes I act like the crows, loudly spouting criticism. But watching those crazy birds that morning was an interesting lesson for me.

Be the owl. Tune out the crows. Don’t worry about all the squawking other people might do. Just do what you do and do it well. Soar with your big eyes wide open and let the haters trail behind, following you around with their big mouths open. In the end, you’ll be the one in front charting the course. Don’t be afraid to let other people in on what you see, even if it’s still too dark for them to believe you. When the mob appears, as you know it will, take a breath and hold your head up high. Keep flying, even if it’s only from tree to tree. Don’t give up. Be the owl.

If you’ve felt like the owl, too, boy, do I hear you. It sure would be nice to have another owl by your side. When critics keep turning up the volume, H Squared Communications can help. Behind the scenes, we can create a communications plan to bring the noise level down on any crisis.

Crows don’t rule the roost around here. No way. We’re owls.