Why I Love Losing

''Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.''

This quote made famous by U.S. football coach Vince Lombardi explains why I usually hate competition.

Yesterday, I lost a speech contest in Toastmaster's International Speech Contest, specifically the Area A4 contest. Why do I feel so happy about it?

When I joined Toastmaster's three years ago, it was to learn public speaking. But I wondered what the contests were all about. I thought it was CRAZY that the club used so many of its resources on competitions. There are two contest seasons a year, starting in October and then again in March.

Three things changed my mind: 1. The contestants seemed to be having such a good time! 2. Contestants, whether they won or lost, talked about how much they learned. 3. Many more men compete than women, partly explaining why the top champs are usually men—that got my dander up.

Here's what my some of my club members said about competing:

Marc: ''In competing I find out so much about himself, in fact I found myself!''

Carol: ''I love it. I always win because I am competing against myself.''

I vowed to start competing. This was my third contest, and I finally won at first level, the club contest. Then began the hard work of revising and rehearsing it for the area contest, where competition is severe—we have some world-class talent.

Nearly all of us ''competitors'' got together to workshop our speeches—in a spirit of collaboration. We all came away with amazing ideas for improvement. Plus, one club member helped me refine and rehearse. I worked hard, revising well into the late hours of Friday night. (After being sick as a dog after lunch, and not knowing whether I would make it!)

2nd prize in Paris Speech Masters' club contest:
International and evaluation. My first trophies!
Certificates of participation in the A4 area contest.

On Saturday at midday, after the contest was over, about a dozen people--club members and total strangers--told me how much they enjoyed the speech, and how noticeably improved it was. (Go here for the speech ''The Color Of Confidence.'' It was related to my earlier blogpost, ''Going Cold, Gray Turkey.'')

That was icing on the cake. Because I already felt like a winner. I learned a lot about myself: that I can memorize a 7-minute speech, speak comfortably in front of a crowd, and make them laugh!

Women tend to avoid competition and instead seek cooperative endeavors. I believe that because we tend not to compete, we lose out in so many ways—that go a long way to explain the gender gap.

But when competition and collaboration exist together, as it usually does at Toastmasters, it's a win-win situation.

So what do we have to lose by friendly competition? From what I've learned, nothing at all. Unless we fear becoming better, and tapping the power within ourselves and others.

To paraphrase Vince Lombardi, ''Collaboration isn't everything, it's the only thing.''

That's more like it!
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The Message Is Out

This past week, I went to one of the biggest cocktail parties ever. I wore my little black dress and heels. It was mom’s night out.

It’s wasn’t to the presidential palace, or to a corporate banquet.

It was to the annual meeting of my support group—Message. I joined the group some 16 years ago when I was pregnant with my first (and only) child. Life as a mom can be difficult anywhere, but in a foreign country without family and friends, it can be daunting.

Message was there to help.

At first I was a bit wary. I didn’t need a “support group.” Was it some kind of 12-step program? Would I have to bare soul or my lactating boobs in front of strangers?

The short answer was that I found a surrogate family who were willing to care and share.

The idea is simple: moms (and now dads) host a playdate or outing. Members sign up. You get together, the kids play and the parents celebrate … or commiserate. And it’s free, beyond the reasonable annual membership fee.

The idea is so simple and powerful that Message grew from a handful of members in 1984 to more than 2,000 today! It’s one of the biggest English-speaking associations in France. And entirely volunteer-run.

Through Message, I found a neighborhood playgroup for my daughter, then started one of my own. In the playgroup, my timid 2-year-old found her first friends. And I found some long-lasting bonds too!

Beyond activities, the association hosts parenting classes and trained breastfeeding help. There are programs about education and health. The website has a wealth of information … including about my current worry, raising teens. One of my friends purchased all of her baby gear second-hand through the site’s classifieds.

Message Easter egg hunt in 2010 at Les Arènes de Lutèce in Paris 

The group is always ready to rally to the support of a member truly in need, whether they’ve lost their job, their spouse, or their baby—totally anonymously.

Without Message, I think I would have truly lost my sanity. Instead, I think I’ve retained about more than half—not too shabby!

It goes to show you the power of community, even in France, where people tend to look to the government first for help.

One reason I’m writing this post is to “get the Message out.” Together, we can do so much when alone it might feel impossible. Together, we can kick up our heels once a year and say: We made it!

The ‘’Beehive’’ of Paris: A Rare Visit

Source: www.fondation-patrimoine.org

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of going back to the “beehive” or “La Ruche” in the far reaches of the 15th arrondissement in Paris. Not to make honey, but to make art.

This famous artists’ residence was built in 1900 out of the remains of a gazebo-like structure from the Paris Universal Exposition held that year. It was nicknamed “La Ruche” for its unique shape, which reminds me of a smaller version of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater.


Inside this beehive are very busy artists, like Jan Olsson, with whom I had the privilege of taking a print-making workshop organized through the nonprofit association WICE.

Taking a workshop is in fact one of the only ways to see this amazing structure, now officially called la Fondation La Ruche – Cité d’artistes. It's closed to the general public.

When I’m there, I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time. I leave the routine of work and family, and put on my black smock, and start to make art.

Jan makes it easy for people like me who are dabblers to make a finished work. On this day, we’re learning how to make monotypes. We take a small plate and apply ink using brushes, cardboard, Q-tips or other implements. I worked from a photo of three fish that I took.

I take my plate and paper to Jan’s own press, which looks as old as La Ruche, but was made for her in 1993. I get behind the captain’s wheel and turn. I peel off the paper to see what I’ve made.
And I go back to make more.

Jan remarked that we were very productive that day, making about six prints each. Very busy bees at the beehive. On my way out, I circumferenced the hive to take in the brick, iron, and glass structure—laced with ivy—that speaks of Paris, art, and the creative spirit.
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Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."

Paris-Pittsburgh People: Author Debbie Whittam

Author Debbie Whittam

''Am I Going To Be Okay?''

That's a question behind the tears of a child who turns to a parent for encouragement or reassurance.

For Debbie Whittam, those roles were reversed. Debbie had to constantly reassure her mother that she would be all right. But there was never any reassurance for Debbie, until she happened upon alcohol in high school. Now there was something that made her feel better!

It took decades, but Debbie managed to overcome addiction and transform her life, a story she tells in the forthcoming memoir, ''Am I Going To Be Okay? Weathering the Storms of Mental Illness, Addiction and Grief.'' Born in Delanson, New York, Debbie moved to Pittsburgh where she married and raised two children. I met Debbie through nonprofit association WICE in Paris where she recently spoke about her book.

I couldn't put it down. I was gripped because it is the story of many of us to a small or large degree. Debbie grew up in the 60s and 70s in small town New York under a dysfunctional, panic-driven mother and vicious father. No one talked about feelings, good or bad. Her parents and grandparents had suffered through traumatic childhoods and marriages. When would it end?

Debbie doesn't blame, however, just explains, and brings us to the other side. Interwoven in the memoir is the grown-up narrator, now a counselor in Pittsburgh. She tells us that everyone has anxieties, which if repressed instead of addressed can lead to mental illness. In college, she was able to obtain counseling, which helped some. Later, anti-depressants helped some, but not as much as if she had stopped drinking. 

That would end only decades later. At 46, she finally quit. Her reason: she felt she was going crazy. Debbie started attending 12-step meetings seriously—where she found the support that she needed for so long. After a year of sobriety, she went back to school for her master's degree in counseling psychology, and continued on the very bumpy road to recovery.

Much more than a memoir, this self-help book helps others through the power of story-telling. Critical of the mental health establishment that advises practitioners to set boundaries and not become personal, Debbie says it's all about personal relationships.     

''When I shared my journey through alcoholism and recovery with my patients, they felt they could trust me. The big question they ask is 'How?' Their faces would actually change as they realized that the person who is the therapist is saying, 'Me, too, and this is how.' ''

Debra Whittam is a licensed, practicing mental health therapist in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who specializes in addiction, anxiety and depression, grief and loss. Her book becomes available on Amazon.com on March 24, 2016. Debbie attended Paris Writers Workshop in 2014.

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Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."
   

''The Pagoda of Paris:'' A Rare Visit

www.canon-europe.com: City Guide Paris

Paris is a city that loves black, white and gray—as if they were actual colors. Its men and woman, and its buildings all seem to wear the same uniform.

So when you come across a wall of color, you stop and take notice, especially if it's the red Pagoda of Paris. I work near this usually shuttered mansion, and dreamed of a peak inside. Last week, I was lucky enough to go on a private tour, part of my campaign to see the Paris on my doorstep at home and work.

The building used to be a typical, gray 19th-century apartment building until the Chinese businessman Ching Tsai Loo transformed it in 1925. He filled the place with antique and contemporary treasures from China. The world was just discovering China, and Mr. Loo had money and connections.

What Mr. Loo got away with couldn't happen today. In today's Paris, he wouldn't have been able to obtain a building permit! In today's China, he wouldn't have been able to take treasures of out of the country to show and sell.

Word has it that Mr. Loo isn't liked in China for exporting the country's heritage, but he argued that the country at the time was doing little to protect it. And that he was placing Chinese art in good hands.

After the Chinese revolution in 1949, Mr. Loo lost his connections and lived out the rest of his life, until 1957, at the Pagoda. The building fell into disrepair, and was purchased by Jacqueline von Hammerstein-Loxten in 2010, who renovated the interior, and rents it out for private events and shows. Mr. Loo's legacy continues.

If you happen to be in Paris in June, don't miss an opportunity to see inside yourself. The Pagoda will be open for an exhibition tied to Asia Week Paris that aims to assemble the world's foremost buyers and collectioners of Asian art. 

Note : La Pagoda, in the 8th arrondissement, is actually one of two pagodas in Paris. The other one, ''La Pagode,'' was built in 1896 and eventually became a cinema. Loss-making for many years and in need of repair, it finally closed its doors just last year.

The Gift of Mentoring

To ''win'' a mentee spot at my company, I had to read a book, write goals, and fill out an application for the lottery. And I won! But the process didn't end there.

With my golden ticket in hand, I traveled to London for a one-day mentoring seminar with speeches, goal-rewriting, and more form-filling … before meeting my mentor for one hour.

Does it have to be that complicated?

Yes ... if you think about a mentor as a protege, master, teacher, or coach. Yes, if you take a glance at the long list of books on the subject.

No ... if you think of being a mentor as a … gift.

Like a gift, mentoring should be from the heart, free of charge, and chosen with care. The most important part is choosing with care, figuring out the wants and needs of a mentee.

Most of us are terrible gift-givers. If you're like me, you give gifts you want to receive yourself. It's human nature. It's harder to get to know the person, and give them what they truly desire—and even harder to give them what they really need.

And what mentees need more often than not is the bigger picture.

The first thing my mentor did was to throw out my goals. I was aghast! 

Let's just talk, she said. Well, I talked and she listened, for the most part. Mainly about corporate culture and how to navigate it. She helped me see the bigger picture, and in doing so, helped me reach my goals.

What a gift !

Under this model of mentoring, a mentor need not be a manager or best in class, just be in a position to give. It's that simple.

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Rose Marie Burke is a mentor with the Cherie Blair Foundation for Women and Vice President of Mentoring at Paris Speech Masters. An editor and journalist, she writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."