Your life can be both messy and beautiful.
Observations on moving, breathing and being are just that. At least mine are.
This is where I think out loud.
I get to decide how I move, breathe and be.
Since 2020, I’ve been writing about things that surface when we slow down long enough to notice—perfectionism, self-love, balance, sadness, choice, uncertainty, beginnings. These aren’t prescriptions. They’re invitations to sit with what’s here and to get curious about what it might be pointing towards.
Some of them were written in the thick of a season of major change. Some were written from the other side. All of them are honest.
I took a long pause. I’m back now. New reflections are coming—and the only ones are still here because the themes don’t expire.
On the power of choice
How has January already come and gone? It feels like just yesterday when I shared my first post of the year On Beginnings, and here we are on the last Friday of the month, a fifth Friday at that.
I also don’t know how a whole year has already come and gone, either. It seems like a lifetime ago that it was January 29, 2020. And in many ways, it has been. We’re now in a #newnormal, or #nownormal, of a global pandemic that has shaken all aspects of our lives.
This time last year, I was planning my first road trip with my partner, and though a relatively new relationship, I thought it was my forever one. I was coming off the heels of an informal year-end review with my CEO, in which it was mentioned I could be her successor, so while the job was not without its challenges and concerns, I thought it was at least a long-term one. And I still had my buddy of ten years, Pedro (aka, Peter Rabbit), and though I knew his life was not infinite, I sort of hoped he’d defeat the odds.
Not four months later, all that had changed. Pedro had passed ten days after that, my relationship ended three months after that and my job three weeks after that (and COVID-19 had been declared a pandemic some time in-between)…
A reflection on initiation
…
There is disruption that comes with initiation, and with it anxiety and fear, often due to loss of comfort, of routine, of identity. These challenges in turn bring about overwhelm, worry, self-doubt.
No wonder we run.
It’s easier instead to hold on (to dear life) to that which might only offer a false sense of security and certainty, but a sense of security and certainty at that—less frightening than to embark on an initiation to…where?
As I received my invitation, I pulled out pen and paper (figuratively) and scribbled out my stock reply. “Thanks so much, but sadly, I’m not available. I’m going for a run. Maybe next time! Enjoy.” I addressed the envelope, put a stamp on it. I laced up my shoes, in fact, and placed my hand on the doorknob.
But I didn’t run.
Instead, I chose to sit…
A reflection on thanks
I’ve been re-watching Apple TV+’s Ted Lasso the last few weeks, which if you haven’t seen yet, watch now and thank me later. (And if you end up doing neither, we must talk…)
I would describe the show as both positive and cheerful while also sad and grounded—and overall, inspirationally kind and vulnerable.
While there are many incredible lines to quote for those of you whom that is a thing—including multiple references throughout as to why we should strive to be a goldfish—there’s a pair of lines that really resonates with me as we reflect and give thanks this Thanksgiving.
Late in the season, Ted, played by Jason Sudeikis, learns of a very personal and professional betrayal and has the option of how to respond. Many of us, if presented with our equivalent of this situation, would likely react first, reflect later.
Ted chose differently. He paused, allowing for space between the stimulus (the news) and his response. He invited in his breathe to slow down his sympathetic “fight or flight” nervous system. He related to the injurious individual, finding common ground and connection with this obviously injured person herself. Ultimately, he humanized his response, forgiving her and finding the silver lining from this otherwise hurtful situation.
…(it’s) changed my life. It gave me the distance I needed to see what was really going on…you and me? We’re okay…
~Ted Lasso (Ted Lasso, season 1, episode 9)
The connection, Catherine…please…
A reflection on sadness
I’m sad.
I’m not sure I can hide that I’m sad, and I’m not sure that I should. As Brene Brown says, “when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive ones”. I’m not willing to numb joy or happiness or pleasure anymore. I did this for far too many years as a result of walls I constructed around myself in order to protect me from, well, anything and everything—failure, fear, abandonment, rejection, loss, etc. I refuse to make this sacrifice anymore. So this then begs the question—what do I do with this sadness?
I embrace it.
While I don’t want sadness to become my norm, to be my home, I do want to invite it in…
A reflection on wilting
I came home from Vermont late Saturday night to find the flowers in my flower box underneath my front window severely wilted. At first, I cried foul—poison! Someone poisoned my flowers! Now, I wonder if they weren’t a sacrificial death—perhaps a symbol of the year up ‘til now, a foreshadow of what was still to come, a snapshot of my current state so I might investigate further the need for better healing options.
Flowers need nuanced care in order to thrive. Their caregiver must properly tend to their needs, appreciating how much sun is appropriate, how much water is required. The caretaker must observe the flowers with compassion, intellect and patience. They must be willing to remove any weeds that otherwise might stop the flowers’ growth, or to transplant them if they’ve outgrown their containers. The caretaker must provide enough nourishment for strong roots to develop and for the flowers to weather any storm.
We, too, need nuanced care in order to thrive…