Creativity  and  Quest   Gail  Tucker  Whipple   Institute  for  Transpersonal  Psychology   Author  Note   This  paper  was

 written  on  March  21,  2011  in  fulfillment  of  Application  of  Coaching   Process  class  requirements.        

  1     CREATIVITY  AND  QUEST   Vision,  Mission,  and  Philosophy   Throughout  my  life,  my  vision  has  been  that  underneath  every  worldly  purpose  each  of   us  has  a  divine  path—a  calling  to  do  what  we  have  the  power  to  do  to  create  a  life  of   positive  purpose  for  our  self  and  others  (Pearson,  1992).  Having  grown  up  in  a  household   where  my  parents  strived  to  make  a  way  in  the  world  for  people  with  cognitive  disabilities,   I  early  on  experienced  the  arc  of  the  hero’s  journey:  Heeding  a  call  larger  than  oneself  (even   if  at  first  one  wishes  to  demur),  taking  the  transformative  journey,  finding  the  gifts  and   sharing  them  with  others.   One  of  my  birth  gifts  was  a  facility  with  words  and  music,  and  I  also  became  familiar   with  the  creative  process  at  a  young  age:  Preparation  (practice!)  incubation,  illumination   and  verification  (or  outcome)  with  the  process  resulting  in  growth.  My  environment  was   rich  with  art,  music,  and  books,  including  all  the  possibility  and  truth  the  arts  celebrate.   Therefore,  my  earliest  learning  echoes  both  the  heroic  journey  and  the  creative  process   of  moving  from  a  place  of  musing  possibility  to  making/being/feeling/seeing  something   whole  and  new.  Every  time  I  experienced  this  ground,  in  small  or  large  ways,  conscious  or   unconscious,  I  felt  deep  inspiration  and  belief  that  the  hand  of  God  was  at  work  in  the   world,  that  there  was  hope.  I  came  to  understand  that  we  each  could—and  would—make  a   difference  of  some  sort,  just  by  being  born.  Why  not  make  the  path  a  creative  and  heroic   one?   In  my  parent’s  case,  along  for  their  journey  at  the  early  part  of  my  life,  I  saw  their  

  2     incredible  results—and  frustrations—of  working  for  systemic  change.  Therefore,  I  decided   my  personal  approach  to  doing  what  I  had  the  power  to  do  would  be  to  change  the  world   by  changing  myself.  That’s  why  today  my  life  and  coaching  practice  is  dedicated  to  the   following  mission:   I  strive  to  embody  my  highest  potential,  and  assist  others  in  embodying  theirs.     On  my  journey  to  do  so  I  have  experienced  many  transformations.  One  of  the  most   powerful  is  the  aging  process  itself.  As  a  woman  in  my  fifties  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  be   married  for  a  quarter-­‐century,  raise  children,  bury  parents  and  loved  ones,  care  for  a   brother  who  is  disabled,  earn  a  master’s  degree  in  transpersonal  psychology,  a   transpersonal  coaching  certification,  a  black  belt  in  To-­‐Shin-­‐Do  (which  means  “even  though   the  enemy  holds  a  blade  over  my  heart  I  will  persevere”),  and  a  spiritual  ordination  in   honor  of  my  good  works  in  the  broader  community.  I’ve  also  been  able  to  work  with  my   creativity,  making  contributions  along  the  way  as  a  writer,  musician,  technical  artist,   composer,  teacher,  and  coach.   All  this  has  been  born  out  of  innate  potential  given  by  Creation  itself,  and  inspired  by   countless  fellow  beings  that  I’ve  met  along  the  way,  all  of  whom  have  bestowed  many  gems   of  wisdom  that  have  found  their  way  into  my  philosophy:   1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Everyone  has  a  calling,  and  creative  power  to  pursue  it.   The  world  needs  heroes  and  you  can  be  one  of  them.   Change  yourself  and  you  change  the  world.   There  are  endless  positive  choices  to  be  made.   Life  is  not  perfect,  but  it’s  powerful.   It’s  not  “There  but  for  the  grace  of  God,  am  I.”  It’s  “There  I  am.”   Do  what  you  have  the  power  to  do.   Accept  your  abilities  even  as  you  aspire  to  expand  them.  

  3     9. Peace  is  possible,  and  non-­‐violence  is  the  most  credible  path.   10. Non-­‐violence  does  not  mean  passivity.   These  principles  are  not  platitudes.  I  have  seen  them  in  action,  and  know  them  to  be   authentic  milestones  for  walking  the  path  of  possibility.  The  following  stories  from  my  own   journey  will  help  illuminate  why  this  is  so.   Creativity:  The  Power  of  Art  for  Personal  and  Planetary  Change   Listening  to  Lily  Yeh  speak  at  a  civic  arts  &  culture  lecture  forever  transformed  my   understanding  of  art,  responsibility,  ministry  and  calling.    Yeh  was  born  in  China  and  came   to  Pennsylvania  in  the  1980’s  at  the  age  of  twenty-­‐two  to  pursue  a  master’s  degree  in  art.   She  enjoyed  success  as  a  painter  of  landscapes  in  traditional  Chinese  style.  One  day  at  a   cocktail  party,  a  well-­‐connected  stranger  chatted  her  up,  and  then  commissioned  her  to   create  a  garden.  As  a  newcomer  to  the  country,  she  had  never  been  to  the  particular   neighborhood  in  Philadelphia  that  he  wanted  to  re-­‐landscape.  When  she  visited  the  space,   it  became  clear  why:  She  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  vacant  lot  littered  with  rubbish,  and  saw   drug  addicts  standing  in  the  doorways  nearby.  Discouraged  and  frightened,  she  returned   home  and  talked  to  her  friends,  who  offered  to  help  her  find  a  way  out  of  the  commission.   That  night  while  sleeping,  Yeh  heard  a  small  voice  that  said,  “If  you  do  not  create  this   small  garden,  nothing  you  do  will  amount  to  very  much”  (personal  communication,   February  4,  2002).   Yeh  returned  to  the  vacant  lot,  picked  up  an  abandoned  timber  and  drew  a  circle  in  the   middle  of  the  dirt.  She  called  out  to  a  loitering  drug  addict  to  come  help  her  move  the   rubbish.  Not  only  did  JoJo  come  to  her  aid,  he  became  an  important  fixture  in  the  

  4     community  that  she  created  on  that  spot,  a  place  of  art  and  hope  called  The  Village  of  Arts   and  Humanities.  It  was  at  this  point  that  she  stepped  into  her  calling  as  artist,  leaving  her   identity  as  a  mere  painter  behind:   I've  been  painting  for  decades.  I  started  when  I  was  15.  I  always  called  myself  a   painter  then,  never  an  artist.  I  painted  in  the  studio.  I  showed  in  the  galleries.  I  had  a   nice  teaching  job  at  University  of  the  Arts,  but  I  was  still  searching  for  my  identity.   Who  am  I?  What  am  I  doing?  I  didn't  feel  this  deep  sense  of  rootedness.  In  1986,  I   stepped  into  my  path,  which  is  the  life  of  an  artist.  Art  is  not  what  I  do,  but  it  is  what   I  am.  To  be  an  artist  is  a  total  commitment.  What  you  call  entrepreneur  I  call  the  life   of  an  artist.  (Yeh,  n.d.)   The  Village  of  Arts  and  Humanities  is  a  multi-­‐block  area  of  buildings  surrounded  by  a   garden  that  is  filled  with  mosaics  and  sculpture  made  from  recycled  cement,  glass  and   stones,  as  shown  in  Figures  1  and  2.  The  spaces  and  buildings  are  used  for  coming  of  age   and  other  community  rituals,  as  prayer  garden,  and  community  center.  

  Fig.  1:    Prayer  Garden  at  The  Village  of  Arts  and  Humanities  (2009)  


  Fig.  2:  Jojo’s  Memorial  (2009)   Yeh  has  gone  on  to  create  transformational,  healing  art  villages  with  genocide  survivors   in  Rwanda.  When  I  think  of  how  to  spend  my  life,  I  think  of  her  example.  Although  she  does   not  know  me  at  all,  she  is  part  of  the  preparation  for  my  own  heroic  journey,  and  a  seed  of   her  inspiration  is  passed  to  everyone  I  coach.   Quest:  Bringing  Forth  Positive  Change   Earning  my  black  belt  at  Stephen  K.  Hayes  Quest  Center  transformed  my  understanding   of  power,  heroic  journey  and  non-­‐violence  as  a  way  of  life.    Hayes  is  a  Buddhist  priest  and   founder  of  a  branch  of  a  martial  arts  based  on  an  ancient  eastern  lineage  and  practiced   throughout  the  world.  My  husband  and  two  children  trained  with  me  in  his  school.  His   curriculum  changed  our  lives,  and  is  the  foundation  for  the  work  I  myself  now  do,  as  my   own  branch  on  the  tree  of  heroic  journeys.  The  first  tenant  of  our  art’s  fourteen  point  Code   of  Powerful  Living  is,  “I  protect  life  and  health.  I  avoid  violence  whenever  possible”  (Hayes,   n.d.).  

  6     This  context  for  peace,  along  with  the  messages  in  the  other  thirteen  points,  plus   several  years  of  practicing  this  art  of  perseverance  and  aligning  thought,  word,  and  action   to  wield  optimum  personal  power  made  me  able  to  respond  to  my  own  calling  and  begin   my  career  as  a  coach.  As  a  mother  of  two  students  and  a  student  myself,  I  became  keenly   aware  of  the  value  of  these  teachings  to  the  developing  human.     One  day  my  friend,  Pastor  Brice  Thomas,  called  a  community  meeting  to  discuss  unmet   needs  of  youth  in  the  city.  I  clearly  remember  knowing  though  there  might  be   understandable  explanations  why  any  child’s  needs  go  unmet  there  is  no  credible  reason.  I   went  from  being  a  parent  of  two  to  the  parent  of  many  in  that  instant.   Thomas  and  I  became  the  mother  and  father  of  a  non-­‐profit  dojo,  or  school,  bringing  Mr.   Hayes’  teachings  to  hundreds  of  youth  and  parents  who  would  otherwise  not  have  access.   Our  Spirit  Quest  program  operated  in  spite  of  many  challenges  for  over  three  years—until   it  finally  succumbed  to  a  lack  of  support.   Outside  the  Lines  on  Paper  or  Path   Spirit  Quest  was  my  personal  pinnacle  of  operating  in  the  impossible  future  much  of   coaching  theory  celebrates.  I’m  grateful  to  know  it  is  possible  to  live  and  work  out  of  the   box  in  such  a  way.  I  am  also  grateful  for  what  it  taught  me  about  grounding,  sustainability,   and  failure.  It  reminds  me,  as  I  deepen  myself  in  coaching,  that  although  we  are  all  in  love   with  success,  the  truth  is  life  is  filled  with  risk.  The  archetype  of  the  heroic  journey  is   replete  with  risks,  showing  we  understand  this  at  the  deep  level  of  the  collective   consciousness  and  myth  (Armstrong,  p.  143,  2005).  What  the  heroic  journey  calls  us  to  do  

  7     is  to  transform  challenges,  including  failure,  into  growth.  I’m  in  the  process  of  doing  so  by   creating  a  new  program  that  expands  on  the  positive  impact  of  my  former  work,  while   attempting  to  avoid  the  model’s  pitfalls.  I  truly  expect  this  new  program  to  do  great  things   for  young  people.  But  I  wouldn’t  have  this  new,  improved  vision  if  it  weren’t  for  my  ability   to  experience  the  dignity  of  risk.   I  first  heard  of  the  dignity  of  risk  concept  when  I  worked  as  an  evaluator  of  programs   for  people  with  disabilities.  Dignity  of  Risk  is  the  title  of  Perske’s  famous  1972  article  that   claimed  people  with  disabilities  must  have  the  same  access  to  risk  that  average  people  do.   Perske’s  perspective  helped  change  the  way  the  whole  world  sees  and  serves  people  with   disabilities:     A  severely  retarded  10-­‐year-­‐old  named  Billy,  wandered  away  from  an  institution   where  he  lived  and  became  lost  in  the  woods  nearby.  The  temperature  was  below   freezing.  All  off-­‐duty  personnel  were  called  hack  to  the  institution  to  form   emergency  parties  to  search  for  the  boy.   Two  moderately  retarded  teenage  boys,  Ray  and  Elmer,  asked  a  staff  member  if  they   could  search  for  Billy,  too.  The  staff  member  “moved  through  channels,”  and  after   some  time,  received  approval  for  the  boys  to  join  in  the  search.  As  it  turned  out,  Ray   and  Elmer  found  the  lost  boy.  The  superintendent  gave  them  special  recognition  and   letters  of  commendation.  As  a  result  of  this  incident,  the  staff  became  more  aware  of   the  75  other  moderately  retarded  adolescents  (boys  and  girls).  These  teenagers   might  have  been  mobilized  more  efficiently  and  quickly  than  the  staff  had  they  not   been  denied  their  fair  and  prudent  share  of  risk-­‐taking.   Many  who  have  worked  in  the  field  of  retardation  for  any  length  of  time  are  aware   of  the  clever  ways  in  which  virtually  total  avoidance  of  risk  has  been  built  into  the   lives  of  the  mentally  retarded  by  limiting  their  spheres  of  behavior  and  interactions   in  the  community,  jobs,  recreation,  relationships  with  the  opposite  sex,  etc.  Even   buildings  constructed  for  the  benefit  of  the  retarded  are  designed  to  help  the   residents  avoid  risk.  Fortunately,  there  is  a  growing  awareness  of  these  facts,  and   many  beginning  efforts  are  being  made  in  America  to  allow  the  retarded  to  assume  a   fair  and  prudent  share  of  risk,  commensurate  with  their  functioning  (Perske,  p.1).    

  8     The  dignity  of  risk  is  a  quality  of  life  that  healthy,  able  people  take  on  naturally  as  part   of  life,  and  demand  as  part  of  being  free.  However,  as  showed  by  Perske  and  others  like   Wolfenberger  who  spearheaded  the  Normalization  movement  in  the  disabilities   community  (Armstrong,  2011),  collectively  and  individually  we  have  a  proclivity  to  limit   the  risks  or  freedoms  of  those  who  by  virtue  of  a  disability,  age,  gender,  culture,  or  race,  we   consciously  or  unconsciously  consider  less  valuable  or  powerful.  When  consciously   applied,  these  limitations  might  be  said  to  be  done  for  someone’s  “own  good”  although  in   actuality  the  limitation  is  to  help  those  who  hold  power  feel  more  secure,  comfortable,   beneficent,  or  powerful—it  doesn’t  necessarily  work  for  the  devalued  person  or  group  at   all.  Through  training  in  Wolfensberger’s  philosophy  of  Normalization,  I  learned  how  to   quantifiably  assess  the  quality  of  life  in  institutions  and  systems  set  up  for  these  devalued   people  and  groups.  I  began  to  see  power-­‐over-­‐others  at  play  in  places  we  like  to  think   sacrosanct,  like  religious  institutions,  schools,  politics,  and  in  our  laws.     Throughout  time,  what  has  been  sought  after  as  good  and  right  for  those  with  influence   has  not  been  allowed  for  those  without  it.  As  we  become  a  more  global  society,  daily  seeing   different  cultures  in  action,  it  is  easier  to  understand  that  much  of  what  we  think  good  and   right  is  more  a  viewpoint  than  a  given.  It  is  also  easier  to  see  (should  we  wish  to  look)  that   the  preferences  of  those  with  power  become  the  prevailing  measure  of  what  is  best  for   everyone,  although  it  is  almost  always  unfair  to  some.  Therefore,  when  we  are  moved  to   bestow  “good”  upon  someone,  it  is  wise  to  remember  we  are  acting  out  of  our  power,   making  it  worthwhile  to  check  and  see  whether  our  own  preferences  and  hidden  values  are   at  work.  They  often  are—even  in  the  positive,  powerful,  profession  of  coaching.  

  9     Current  coaching  theory  seems  to  focus  on  power  and  order  as  seen  through  a   corporate  executive  lens.  It’s  easy  to  see  why:  People  attracted  to  the  disruptive  future,  the   impossible  future,  acting  boldly  or  changing  the  world  are  on  a  heroic  journey.  They’re   working  to  obtain  the  grail,  reach  for  the  brass  ring,  push  the  boundaries,  expand  grasp  of   territory.  This  heroic  definition  of  success  is  highly  valued.  However,  when  coaching   focuses  on  those  who  are  willing  to  “go  for  the  big  game”  we  devalue  the  millions  of  other   worthy  players  who  might  be  called  to  less  valued—but  perhaps  really  priceless—work   like  that  of  Lily  Yeh  or  others  who  will  always  remain  nameless  but  crucial  fibers  in  the   weaving  of  the  world.  We  also  wind  up  making  important  arenas  of  life  mastery,  such  as   mercy,  humility,  and  compassion,  play  second  string.     We  also  sometimes  think  we’re  promoting  the  power  of  the  transpersonal  or   transformative  when  we’re  really  working  with  the  power  of  control.  In  class  one  night,   Anshu  Hayes  shared  a  revealing  story:    When  he  began  to  offer  security  services,  he   naturally  thought  in  terms  of  how  to  eliminate  potential  threats,  or  “how  can  I  stop   somebody  here?”  Over  the  years  his  reputation  grew  until  he  was  directing  protection   detail  for  the  Dalai  Lama.  Hayes  realized  he  had  also  grown  in  transpersonal  ways,  because   he  now  saw  a  security  landscape  and  found  he  was  instead  thinking  in  terms  of  service,  or   “how  can  I  help  somebody  here?”  (personal  communication,  June  22,  2003).   Those  of  us  attracted  to  strength  and  power  would  also  do  well  to  remember  that   survival  is  the  seminal  skill  of  being  alive.  As  an  evolutionary  drive  that  has  helped  bring   the  world  to  this  time  and  place  where  people  no  longer  need  to  strive  so  much,  we  are   literally  still  programmed  to  want  more  and  more,  regardless  of  how  much  we  have  (Miller,  

  10     1996).    A  subset  of  this  drive  can  be  seen  in  the  relentless  pursuit  of  perfection,  played  out   a  fair  amount  in  the  popular  zeitgeist  and  covertly  in  the  hearts  of  people  everywhere.  In   almost  every  way,  this  pursuit  causes  more  pain  than  gain  because  in  the  end  it  is   unobtainable,  since  it  is  merely  an  ideal  that  is  different  for  everyone  and  constantly   changing  in  the  collective  unconsciousness.   These  are  some  of  the  reasons  I’m  wary  of  coaching’s  admonition  to  never  coach  to  a   “little  game”  (Hargrove,  2008)  or  when  the  bottom  line  of  coaching  accountability  is  to   have  bottom  line  economic  results.  Coaching  superstar  Hargrove  is  a  master  at  positively   affecting  the  bottom  line.  But  he  even  notes  in  his  celebrated  book,  Masterful  Coaching:   Although  I  am  interested  in  other  domains—such  as  government,  health  care,  and   education—I  have  decided  to  focus  on  this  area  because  it  is  where  I  have  the  most   domain  expertise.  Take  heart,  however,  the  Masterful  Coaching  vision,  mind-­‐set  and   methods  can  easily  be  applied  by  leaders  not  just  in  business…  All  the  aspiring  coach   needs  to  do  is  read  the  book  extrapolatively  and  improvise  according  to  their   situation.  (Hargrove,  2008)   Yet  the  coaches  I  talk  and  train  with  have  the  impression  that  the  majority  of  the   coaching  literature,  theories,  and  methods  focus  on  our  infatuation  with  the  power  of   western  world  C-­‐level  executive  aspirations  and  accountability.  This  infatuation  with   mainstream  preferences  and  hidden  values  causes  devaluation  of  other,  important   destinations  that  might  be  sought  by  the  person  seeking  the  path  to  his  or  her  personal   power  and  contribution  in  the  world.     Calling  and  Creativity   The  above  is  why  my  coaching,  whether  in  the  executive  or  life  arena,  is  grounded  first   in  calling  and  creativity.  My  calling  is  to  have  clients  understand  their  deepest  calling  from  

  11     a  timeless  level,  then  to  have  the  courage  to  answer  that  call,  the  map  to  get  there,  and  the   encouragement  to  go  there,  no  matter  what  obstacles,  challenges,  setbacks  or  failures  they   meet  on  the  path.  The  final  step  of  the  heroic  journey  is  return,  bearing  gifts  for  others.  But   I  believe  a  journey  can  be  heroic  even  if  you  fail  to  get  back—even  if  you  only  return  to   yourself.   One  of  my  clients  is  having  such  a  discussion  with  me  right  now.  He  likened  two   potential  new  jobs  to  his  experience  with  two  major  roads  in  Florida,  I-­‐95  and  the  Florida   Turnpike.  They  run  parallel  for  miles,  right  next  to  each  other  as  if  they  were  the  same   road,  and  there  is  no  way  to  cross  over.  At  some  point  they  diverge  and  if  you’re  going   north,  it  looks  like  the  road  on  the  left  will  take  you  to  Orlando  and  the  one  on  the  right  will   take  you  to  Connecticut.  But  a  few  miles  up,  the  highways  cross  again—still  with  no  way   change  from  one  road  to  the  other,  and  the  Orlando-­‐bound  find  they  are  on  the  way  to   Connecticut.  You  can  drive  for  miles  thinking  you  are  on  the  right  road,  but  you  are  not.     That  has  been  one  of  the  most  sobering  visions  I  can  think  of  in  how  a  life  journey  might   end,  and  it  scares  me  personally,  if  I’m  telling  the  truth  about  my  own  personal  challenges.   But  inevitably  in  an  experiment  as  grand  as  life,  some  of  us  are  going  to  wind  up  finding   ourselves  on  that  kind  of  path.  At  that  point,  I  would  want  a  traveling  companion  that  could   help  me  do  whatever  I  had  the  power  to  do  to  cross  over,  or  if  I  had  to,  accept  the  road  I   was  on,  see  the  reward  at  the  end  of  it,  and  help  me  find  meaning  in  either  my  ability  to   continue  toward  it,  or  make  peace  with  my  final  destination.   In  his  brilliant  discussion  of  heroic  leadership  based  on  his  experience  as  a  former   Jesuit  priest,  Lowney  tells  the  story  of  the  disruptive  success  of  the  Jesuit  religious  order.  

  12     Many  of  the  examples  he  uses  are  people  who  died  in  obscurity.  One  was  the  early  Jesuit   Bendetto  de  Goes,  who  in  1602  became  one  of  the  first  westerners  to  journey  to  points  in   Asia.  Although  Marco  Polo  claimed  to  have  visited  China  in  the  1200’s  we  must  remember   the  Eastern  world  was  very  closed  to  westerners,  so  much  so  that  by  the  time  Columbus   sailed  to  the  Caribbean  in  1492,  he  thought  he  was  days  away  from  India.  As  Lowney  says,   “explorers  slowly  assembled  the  world  jigsaw  puzzle”  and  Goes  was  searching  for  that   piece  that  was  only  known  as  the  mythical  land  of  Cathay  (2003,  p.  68).  He  died  after  being   on  that  path  for  four  years,  ostensibly  having  failed  to  find  Cathay.  But  his  maps  of  his   explorations  actually  confirmed  Cathay  was  a  myth.  As  Lowney  says:   Appearances  sometimes  deceive.  Goes  may  have  died  broke  and  more  or  less  alone,   but  he  was  not  a  failure.  Though  the  romantic  notion  of  Cathay  continued  to  haunt  a   few  die-­‐hard  explorers,  Goes  had  essentially  resolved  the  vexing  historical  question   of  Cathay’s  location  by  proving  what  some  of  his  Jesuit  colleagues  had  begun  to   suspect:  China  was  Cathay.  (Lowney,  2003,  p.  71)   One  hopes  Goes  had  his  faith  to  sustain  him.  If  he’d  had  a  coach  on  the  trip  with  him,  I   would  hope  he  (it  would  not  have  been  a  she)  was  coaching  to  outcomes  such  as   compassion,  empathy,  wisdom,  intuition,  self-­‐observation,  insight,  attention,  expansiveness   and  deeper  levels  of  meaning,  to  name  a  few  of  the  qualities  the  Institute  of  Transpersonal   Psychology  calls  out  as  transpersonal  (Rowe.  n.d.).   This  conscious,  creative  compassion  is  what  I  want  to  see  highlighted  in  the  coaching   discussion  to  come.  I’d  also  like  to  see  a  variety  of  ways  to  address  accountability  of  both     coach  and  client  that  use  qualities  of  life  as  measures,  instead  of  focusing  on  just  the   economic  bottom  line  as  valued  by  societal  norm.  This  vision,  then,  is  how  coaching   becomes  my  journey,  this  paper  my  departure,  my  mission  statement  my  roadmap.  I  look   forward  to  finding  and  creating  transpersonal  gifts  that  I  can  bring  back  into  the  

  13     community  as  a  result  of  my  quest.  

  14     REFERENCES   Armstrong,  K.  (2005)  A  short  history  of  myth.  New  York,  NY:  Cannongate.   Armstrong,  J.  (n.d.).  Further  information  about  Dr.  Wolfensberger.  Retrieved  from ml     Hargrove,  R.  (2008)  Masterful  coaching.  Third  edition.  Kindle  edition.  San  Francisco,  CA:   Jossey-­‐Bass.     Hayes,  S.K.  (n.d.)  14-­‐point  code  for  powerful  living.  Retrieved  from­‐point-­‐code-­‐for-­‐powerful-­‐living/   Lowney,  C.  (2003).  Heroic  leadership:  Best  practices  from  a  450-­‐year  old  company  that   changed  the  world.  Chicago,  IL:  Loyola  Press.   Miller,  T.  (1996)  How  to  want  what  you  have.  New  York  NY:  Harper  Perennial.   Pearson,  H.  (1992).  Do  what  you  have  the  power  to  do.  Nashville,  TN:  Upper  Room.   Perske,  R.  (1972)  The  dignity  of  risk  and  the  mentally  retarded.  Reprinted  from  MENTAL   RETARDATION,  Vol.  10,  No.  1,  February,  1972.  Retrieved  March  3,  2011  from   Rowe,  N.  (2011).  Syllabi  Guidelines.  Unpublished  manuscript.   Yeh,  Lily.  (n.d.)  Village  of  Arts  Lily  Yeh  in  her  own  words.  Retrieved  from H.aspx      

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