Written by Guest Blogger, Belinda Levychin

I sit here at my desk as a Black woman and a mother of two young Black men, unsure of where to begin. As the creator of Tournesol Kids, a non-profit committed to building our children’s resilience with research-based tools, I am turning to our own toolbox, to find my balance right now. So, I start by looking for “Water Power”, which will help me find grounding and some new perspectives, even in the most troubled times. Yet I know, before there can be any movement forward, we must begin to “Listen Deeply”.

As a Black person, it has been so hard to take in the events not just of the past week, but the past several years. Growing up, I was taught that I had to work hard, to play by the rules, and to create change by being on the inside. I was willingly following the social contract and had a measure of success. Often in my life, I was the lone Black person in the room. I pushed any discomfort I may have felt to the side, telling myself this is what it takes to be successful. I fell in love with the advertising world and saw the impact that I could have on how things were communicated. Luckily, I had an opportunity to work at one of the larger multicultural agencies, which led to a lot of opportunities at some very big companies and for a while, that was enough.

Then, I became a mother of two Black sons. Through their eyes, I have realized my own complicity in the so-called social contract that Trevor Noah spoke about so eloquently this past week. It is no longer enough to work hard, to be the best, to just turn the other cheek. The reality is the kind of life I live is still a rarity in the African American community. The reality of a good life — and more importantly, a safe and healthy life — should not be relegated to luck of the draw. As most Black mothers know, it is a scary proposition to raise a Black child and while it is not safe for Black women, it most certainly isn’t safe for Black men. Even Michelle Obama made mention of the fact of this virtual luck of the draw during a 60 Minutes piece when she said that her husband was always at risk, even just going to the gas station. Going outside has always been a gamble when you are Black. I am no longer interested in living in a world where I hope both my boys drew the lucky stick. We must be a part of the change — right now, not later, not when the election is over, or when the pandemic is over — but now.

More than 50 years ago the civil rights activist Fannie Mae Hamer spoke about the idea that when our communities were burned down, no one said anything; but when Black people burn things down, somehow, it’s different. The reality is that the Black community learned destruction from how they were treated by those who were in power. To hear similar words in 2020 from a current civil rights activist, Tamika Mallory, is more than unsettling, and I repeat her words wholeheartedly — enough is enough. It has become clear that we need to start over. And while my “Fire Self” wants to see the system figuratively burn down, we must create a new social contract, this time with all parties in the proverbial room. 

Tournesol Kids’ basic philosophy can provide a spark. Tournesol Kids is based on the idea that we all have innate powers: Wood, Fire, Earth, Gold (Metal) and Water. All powers working together can create transformation. One power, “Water Power”, focuses on going within, retreating, listening deeply, and yes — using the power of metaphor to better understand what is really happening. The exercises that make up “Water Power” are used to improve mindfulness and the capacity to accurately self-reflect and grow our social intelligence.

As someone who is “Fire Power”, I have used one “Water Power” exercise recently and I encourage others to try it as well. You see, the exercises we teach at Tournesol Kids are not just for kids, but for everyone. Our methodology is meant to bring wholeness to us all. So, right now, while the world is burning try this exercise called “Listen Deeply”. The “Water Hero” walks the path of peace by listening deeply to the world and sharing deep insights with others. “Listen Deeply” is designed to help us gain perspective and confidence and to shift us into growth-mind thinking – because all of the unrest we are experiencing is coming from a fixed-mind perspective and that is not going to fix anything!

The “Listen Deeply” exercise works well by yourself or with others. Here’s how you start:

1. Find a small bell or something that can create a fading sound. (If you do not have a bell, just find stillness.)

2. Find a quiet space and close your eyes.

3. Take a few cleansing breaths.

4. Relax your body, from the top to bottom.

5. Feel the weight of your body as you relax.

6. Ring your bell to “clear the air” and listen closely to the sounds of the space re-emerge as the bell fades.

7. Whispering whatever you hear in the space.

8. Don’t forget to notice the sounds of your breath.

9. Now notice the sounds of your thoughts and how they can sometime distract us from hearing the world around us.
   

This exercise is designed to help you understand your relationship with what is going on around you in a deeply personal way. It will help you gain deeper insights into your life and your responsibility to the people you love and your community. 

I know that right now I am in listening mode. I know that what I am supposed to hear will be clear if I can be still enough. I hope we are all beginning to listen and then, as Spike Lee says, “Do the Right Thing.”  Because enough is enough.

Belinda Levychin is a marketing professional with experience across several industries, including consumer packaged goods, automotive and banking. She is also an adjunct professor at NYU and consults for emerging businesses in the health and wellness arena. She is most interested in the tools, technologies and texts that focus on how individuals can understand themselves from a holistic perspective as the bridge to becoming their whole selves. She has enjoyed building the Tournesol Kids brand from an idea to an entity that can continue to grow and impact kids and their families for years to come. She is also a certified Yoga teacher and encourages the universe to just breathe.

Tournesol Kids was developed by Stephen, Carey and Belinda Levychin to provide a toolbox to help build a child’s resilience.  They provide bite sized neuroplasticity based exercises designed to build brain function in a fun and proven manner. Because they offer an assessment free on the Website, kids can understand their own innate super power before they get started, and in that way it’s highly personalized. Here’ more information about how to donate to Tournesol Kids.

In a week of pain, the only conversation I can and will have here is one about standing with black people in America. 

To the people of color in this community, I will never understand the depth of this pain, but I see you and I am with you. You matter. 

To my fellow white people, we have a lot of work to do. And to begin this work, we must first listen to the words and the voices of black activists, writers and artists who are leading the fight toward racial equity. 

In addition to sharing weekly career-related tools and insights, I'll be using this space to highlight some of the black leaders that are inspiring me. I'll be sharing their platforms so you too can continue on your personal journey to confront your own biases and your privilege. 

This week, I want to share the work of Rachel Elizabeth Cargle, an academic, activist, speaker and writer who released her first public address on May 30th on the realities of the revolutionary moment we're in. She developed a three-part framework for moving forward that includes: Critical Knowledge, Radical Empathy and Intentional Action. Watch the video to learn more. 

You can follow Rachel on Instagram or Facebook. One tangible way to get into action around her work is to do her FREE #DoTheWork 30day Course listed here. She offers a daily action so you can stay on your path. 

As for me, I am committed to continuing to look into my own privilege as a white woman, to understand the exclusive history of feminism and work to create a new version that allows for multiple voices and perspectives. I commit to address racism when I see it, to support local organizations and elected officials committed to equity. With compassion, love and an outstretched arm, I ask that you join me. It will be uncomfortable, but there's something beautiful on the other side. 

White Allies: Educate Yourselves

White Allies, our work toward racial justice is in educating ourselves.

Listening more.

Talking less.

We must not make these stories about us.

We must not change the narrative experts of color are sharing.

We must not speak for people of color.

I will be highlighting resource guides, books, articles, podcasts and names of influencers to follow.

1. Read: Anti-racism Resource Guide created by Tasha K. Ryals (Twitter - @tatortash)

2. Read: Your Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Okay — Chances Are They’re Not by Danielle Cadet (Twitter - @dbcadet, @refinery29)

3. Follow Illustrator Danielle Coke on Insta - @ohhappydani

4. Listen to: Natal: A podcast/docu-series about having a baby while black in the United States

At the beginning of the shutdown two months ago, a close friend/colleague and I started doing something wild and out of character.

 Calling each other. On the phone.

 We didn’t schedule time. There was no text warning. There wasn’t even a set topic in mind.

 I wanted to hear her voice. And she wanted to hear mine.

 We covered everything from where our businesses were headed in the pandemic, to swapping NYC quarantine safety tips, to confessions about how many times we had watched Stella jump into piles of leaves, to the raw, “I’m scared and I don’t know how to do this.”

 Then we hit on a variation of all these themes the following day.

 Intuitively, we knew we needed this level of connection to refuel, to ground ourselves in the familiar, and to spark new creativity. We built our own safety in an unsafe world.

 While we’re not talking as often now, that go-to approach in the early days has become a guiding principle for how I’m moving through this moment which is extending to an indefinite length of time.

 Here’s what I’m doing to make sure I get the connection I need:

1. Virtually circling up with different communities of colleagues at least once a week.

2. Joining online classes with other business owners so I can tie in learning with a personal interaction.

3. Scheduling zoom coffees (or wine!) with close friends, former clients, and future collaborators.

4. Being the realest of real me’s with my high school friends on a hilariously snarky group text thread.

5. Eating dinner as a family almost every night for the first time in our lives together. Sharing what we’re grateful for at this meal which ranges from mac and cheese, to our teachers, to each other.

With all of this connection, I am mindful that I also need the time to rest, to be alone, to read (slowly), and to process even a fraction of what is happening in the world right now. I do my best to fit in this quiet time, but I know for this extroverted woman, being with my people even at a distance has been the oxygen I’ve needed to continue to feel alive.

Spring is my grieving season.

The anniversary of my parent’s car accident is May 16th, marking 34 years since they passed. That date is flanked by Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day; and in the past five years, I’ve added two more significant losses to a one-month span between April and May. Amidst the rebirth of spring blossoms, I’m often moving between the dull ache of longing for the memories I want to hold on to, and the anger for those I will never have.

And that’s just spring status quo.

Currently, grief is all around us. We’re mourning the loss of life as we knew it. Emotions are heightened and yet my usual process for moving through them has been upended. 

There’s no hugging friends or gathering with people who knew and loved my mom and dad.

There’s no feeling the energy, the empathy, and the compassion from the group of motherless mothers with whom I meet monthly at a local wine bar, with a full glass of happy-hour-white in hand.

Without my time-tested ways to move forward while my senses are absorbing a new level of noise, somehow the people I’ve loved and lost feel distant. My connection to them is dampened. My memory is cloudy.

Lucky for me, creativity struck when I asked myself, “How can I acknowledge both the new grief of life in the pandemic and find my people again?” The answer came in a place I often find my flow: writing. But this time, not with a blog post or a journal entry. Writing in the form of an old-fashioned letter.

Pen to pretty piece of stationary, I’ve been writing each of my lost loves a letter about what this time is like, what I miss most about them right now, what I need from them, and my thoughts as to why they may have been spared living in 2020.

I write through tears and occasional smiles. I’ve found each letter to be a visit. An invitation for us to stand in a new memory together, even for just a few minutes. The details of this new connection flood my mind, followed by the old memories I thought I lost.

In this new budding practice, I am learning that there will be times so fraught, complex—and even identity-shifting—that talking about my parents and others I’ve lost is not enough to be with them. In times like these, I need to set up a direct line, with focus, attention, and presence. To bring them into my world—through words—even though this moment will never truly be part of any of our lives.

When I start working with new clients, I ask them to choose their top five values and then define what those values mean to them.

Inevitably, a third of clients ask, "Should I choose my professional values or my personal values?"

This a moment where I smile, pause and lean into curiosity. "What do you think?"

After 30 seconds or so of quiet, the insight lands on them like a cozy sweater. They smile back. "Ah, they’re the same, aren’t they?"

Yes, exactly.

This is one of the most powerful keys to unlocking a meaningful career: defining what is most important to you and then using it to build a bridge between the professional and the personal.

Right now, in the face of the pandemic I am bearing witness to widespread acceptance of this truth—rather than the typical instinct to fight it, to compartmentalize, to play the role we think others expect of us.

For me it looks like:

Joining a group of coaches, each with our own businesses in a weekly meeting to provide space for each other. Our emotions. Our fears. Our silver linings.

Opening my corporate leadership trainings with a quote about the grief we are collectively feeling right now. Naming it. Giving permission to go there. Being in it.

And for my clients it is:

Choosing vulnerable leadership. Scheduling team meetings where the agenda is, How are we doing?

Encouraging employees to take their days off, even when they know they will not be leaving their homes.

If you’re a leader, take note that we are in an identity-shifting moment where ignoring the personal will be received and called out as callous, apathetic and tone deaf. Even if it has not been your style in the past, dig deep and find a way to see and hear people fully. Be gentle and compassionate. And not just with others. Also with yourself.

As one might imagine, I’ve been supporting many unemployed and furloughed job hunters right now. Because none of us have ever navigated this process in a pandemic before—my clients have reasonable concerns and questions.

 How do I stand out in the crowd of candidates?

 How do I strike the right tone when there are people still sick and dying out there?

 How can I network when we could be living an indoor life for months?

 How would I explain a career pivot at a time when safety and security seem like a priority?

 The answers I continue to return to for all of these questions are:

 Be real. Be vulnerable. Acknowledge the identity-shifting moment we’re in. And if there’s a point where your superpowers match up to what the world needs right now, run towards it without asking for permission. This is part of your new narrative, and it will be met with different expectations that have never existed for career shifts. Your pivot can be seen as a moment that you’re stepping into flexibility, resilience and the leadership needed for our new world.

 As I’ve said many times, in several different ways, the best tool to set you up for success in your search is your elevator pitch—and it will be critical to chisel it within the context of our times.

 Here’s how to write your—Pandemic Elevator Pitch:

 Sentence 1: Who are you? What’s the headline of your career, expertise and/or industry experience?

 I’m a marketing professional with 15+ years of experience in digital strategy and execution across several top tier financial services brands.

 Sentence 2: Name your strengths, passions, a “why” and/or a career highlight.

 I’m passionate about developing content that brings the untold stories of real people to life–with detail, empathy, honesty and at least a little bit of fun.

 Sentence 3: Acknowledge the current moment and a shift you are making to adjust.

 During this time of COVID, I’ve been truly moved by the stories of healthcare professionals, their resilience, and their commitment to not only saving lives on the frontlines but also to share information and tools with the public to help with prevention. It’s prompted me to want to pivot—using my marketing and storytelling skills to continue to bring these stories to light for inspiration and hope in this moment.

 Sentence 4: What you’re looking for…the ask

 If you know of health systems or healthcare organizations who are looking for digital marketing and content support, I would love an intro. Thanks!

 Bring it together:

 I’m a marketing professional with 15+ years’ experience in digital strategy and execution across several top tier financial services brands. I’m passionate about developing content that brings the untold stories of real people to life--with detail, empathy, honesty and at least a little bit of fun. During this time of COVID, I’ve been truly moved by the stories of healthcare professionals, their resilience, and their commitment to not only saving lives on the frontlines but also to sharing information and tools with the public to help with prevention. It’s prompted me to pivot—using my marketing and storytelling skills to help organizations continue to bring these stories to light for inspiration and hope in this moment. If you know of health systems or healthcare organizations who are looking for digital marketing and content support, I would love an intro.

Now that you have your pitch, please do this important next step: Use it. Of course this looks different than it did pre-pandemic. I’ve been known to say in the past, network where you are—a coffee shop, birthday party, school drop off or the dog park. In our current times it’s more like—your couch, your bed, your dining room table and for those lucky few—the home office. You must make more of an effort to be visible and that means getting uncomfortable. Attend virtual events, set up zoom meetings and informational interviews, reach out to your contacts with a note to let them know what types of roles you’re seeking. Remember, people want to help. It makes them feel good—especially right now, when we are feeling helpless about so much in our changing world.

If you’re looking for a little extra support in honing your Elevator Pitch, please consider the Nail Your Elevator Pitch Mini Course!

The Mini Course includes…

Five short videos that walk you through:

• A welcome and setting you up for success

• Identifying your strengths

• The strategy and approach to writing your pitch

• The formula for three different types of pitches based on your situation

• Getting into action with your pitch

Plus, a workbook where you can write the first drafts of your pitch.

All for $60!

Add a 45-minute 1:1 session to workshop your pitch with Rachel for $125.

Let’s get you out there networking with a pitch that will give you the momentum you need to make that next big career move. Take the next step here: https://www.rachelbgarrett.com/pitch

In between the sounds of sirens and Cuomo briefings as background music, over the past few weeks, I’ve been present to some of the most inspiring and powerful virtual coaching sessions of my practice to date.

The leaders I’m supporting are:

 Providing their teams with safe spaces to truly talk about their fears and what is possible right now.

Breaking from the corporate layoff scripts to offer compassion and empathy in difficult conversations.

Modeling vulnerability to share how feeling emotions can equal strength. 

Stepping up to deliver on new products and business functions to meet the changing needs of their customers and the world.

Giving up on the perfectionism that has haunted them throughout their careers in exchange for direct communication and swift action. 

I am in awe of them. They are throwing out the rules of who they thought they should be, and they are standing firm in their own skin to lead as humans first. 

And yet, I have a lingering fear that as we begin to come out of this, leadership gains will be met with cultural amnesia. That there will be a gravitational pull bringing us back to what we know to be the rules and how it has always been. 

In order to combat this worry, for myself, for my clients and for all the inspiring leaders I’m reading about who seemingly came out of nowhere—I’m relentlessly returning to this question: 

How do we make it stick?

It happens each minute we notice how it feels to show up as courageous, imperfect humans.

 When we’re doing what we can to save lives. Being the support our people need. Providing space to cry and to laugh. Taking the lead without asking for permission. Offering to do the talk or the webinar before we know what we’re going to say.

It’s in remembering these moments. How they feel in your body. Writing about them. Talking about them with your people and inspiring them to become aware of what feels different now. How every moment feels like we must do what needs to be done. Continually asking ourselves, why would we do anything but? It’s a practice of remembering what’s at stake. Right now, lives are on the line. It’s a chance to wake up and realize it was always that way.

The first week of “sheltering in place” I went straight into doing mode. I spent the whole weekend organizing everyone’s rooms so there was space to do work, games to play, art supplies to rediscover and books to read—independently. The intensity of the nesting instinct brought me back to my non-stop preparation, laundry and product-sourcing during both of my pregnancies.

Once we were organized and our space was rock-solid for homeschooling and remote careers, I moved on to setting up new virtual events, programs and webinars for the working parents I support. I jumped into logistics, marketing and creating new mindset-shifting tools to serve my community. It was fulfilling and meaningful work. I felt like my efforts were making an impact for people. I was able to channel my energy into holding everyone else up in a moment where the world was down.

While I was in my organized bubble of service, the personal stories of sickness and loss continued to close in on me. Neighbors. Friends. Residents of my uncle’s assisted living facility. On a walk to get supplies, I passed by my local hospital and saw one of the mobile morgues I’d read about in the news. The image gutted me and will forever mark the moment my experience of this pandemic shifted.

It is here. I may get it. My people may get very sick. They may die.

For the rest of the day, I wore my emotions outside of my skin. I was raw with sadness for the world. I went to sleep early and when I woke, my husband and older daughter were walking our dog. I was alone with our eight-year-old, Roxanne. I checked the grim news on my phone before leaving my room. I didn’t know how I could face my child armed with all of the feelings coursing through me. But, there was coffee to drink and a kid to feed, so I emerged.

As I was buttering Roxanne’s waffle, I asked Alexa to play a Joni Mitchell song–Chelsea Morning. Rox ate and smiled watching me sing the words I knew. And then she requested her favorite Cat Stevens songs. When she finished breakfast, we sat on the couch, arm in arm, and played every melancholy song we knew. Scarborough Fair, Fire and Rain, The Only Living Boy In New York. We didn’t talk outside of building our sadness playlist, brick by brick. We sat. We listened. We were sad and we let it sink in. Every other song or so, she would kiss my arm and I would return the kiss on her forehead.

She ran to grab a drink of water and when she returned, she looked me in the eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked

“For making me, so I can hang out with you.”

Beyond the overwhelming love and gratitude that washed over me for this child—I realized, she was thanking me for creating the space. And for sharing it with her. We both were in need of a moment to go there, to be there—to stay in it. Without doing or working or preparing. We needed to feel the sadness, the loss, the grief of where we are right now in order to keep going.