Inspired Possibility Blog

A Fresh Start

1/23/2026

This post has been brewing for weeks as I’ve ridden the waves of the energy it embodies and then a downturn into grief or sadness that has interrupted any creative juices that might have been there. It’s hard to write in these times we’re in, but here we are, so here we go.

Welcome to 2026! As much as I try to avoid the New Year hype and definitely don’t get into resolutions, I cannot deny that I have had moments of feeling, welcoming, and allowing the collective surge of energy that for some strange reason January brings with it. When I open to it and lean in, I feel something fresh bubbling. A reminder that we get to begin anew – actually one of my favorite things from meditation – knowing that with any moment, any breath, we can begin again. So, rather than resist the New Year’s stuff this year, why not tap into the collective energy of people around the world deciding to make different choices, try new things, opt for more supportive ways of being? Why not let it support us as we take some time to pause and reflect on the past year and feel into what is wanting to be born this year, what wants to be supported, and what will support and nurture us?

Showing up with this intention does not erase anything else that’s going on in the world or anything that’s happened in the past that is part of who we are.

Often, I’ve chosen a word of the year to reflect a quality I want to bring in, how I want to be, or what support I need – an intention or aspiration of sorts. Last year I had four: Hope, Open, Healing, and Oasis – they represented how I wanted to be, what I wanted to experience and what I wanted to create. They’re still really good guideposts, and yet, with this fresh energy, I’m feeling a desire for new words – not just one (why did I ever limit myself to just one!?). This year the image that enchants me is a stew pot – calling me, inviting me to ponder what ingredients are already in the stew and what spices do I want to add into my life this year. They will simmer and mingle together creating a unique blend for me. What might be in your stew?

Slowing Down: A couple words that have arisen in this new year are Slow and Steady. One thing I know for sure is when things feel urgent, scary, out of control, (or all of the above), our natural tendency is to rush, to hurry to do something. Perhaps these are the moments when we most need to slow down. To wait for clarity to arise rather than to jump into motion reactively or prematurely.

“These times are urgent. Let us slow down.”
― Bayo Akomolafe

Even when life is beautifully busy or full, I don’t want to feel rushed, hurried, or overwhelmed. There’s nothing that doesn’t work better when I pause and move mindfully. Slowing down and finding ground always enhances my quality of presence.

I want to choose to take time, make time, create space for what truly matters and what supports, nurtures, and nourishes me. I need to quiet the noise of the outer world and set my own pace, find my own rhythm and flow. I find I'm needing a lot of rest these days. I need breathing room to support my body, mind, heart, and spirit. I don’t want to squeeze in the practices, experiences, and people that are essential to my well-being. I want them to be the priority that other things work around.

I want to be conscious and mindful of what I consume – literally in food and beverage, but also what I listen to, look at, read, and allow myself to take in. To observe what drains me and what fills me up so that I can make wise choices. Is this selfish? I don’t think so. I find that more mindfulness allows me to better show up and serve and support others than I could if I simply allowed myself to be mindlessly taken out.

Protecting our Energy: How can I settle and protect my sacred energy, my lifeforce, my nervous system? What do I say yes to? What’s a no? With limited energy and finite hours, how do we honestly say, “this is a priority – this matters. This is important or helpful to me in some way.” Or to consciously choose, “Yes, right now I am going to take an hour or two and numb out in front of the TV. I’m going to eat these snacks, even though I might not feel great later. This is what I want to do right now.” Mindful, conscious choices versus mindless habits, reactions, patterns, and ways. This requires awareness, attention, and intention.

Tuning into my core values and how I want to feel can be helpful guideposts, anchors, guiding lights that help me monitor myself. If peace is important to me, will scrolling social media and getting sucked into irrational comments support that peace or would I be better served to color on my phone (Zen Color is an app I like when I want to be on my phone but not amping myself up) or play one of my word games? Is this a moment I would rather put the phone down altogether and take a walk, take a nap, or phone a friend.

Finding ways that work for us to support what we say we want – this is how we come into alignment and integrity, honoring ourselves. Being mindful and conscious does not mean that we won’t “slip” back into old ways, habits, reactions a million times a day, but it does help us develop the ability to notice when we do and to choose differently if we like.

We strengthen our belief in ourselves the more we honor our intentions. Even sitting down to write for just 30 minutes right now (and checking the timer to make sure it’s actually running because it feels like it’s been HOURS!) after many weeks off is an action aligned with a core desire. I want to get back to regular writing. It’s so hard after being away – scary almost to return though I have no idea why.

Putting this into action:
In order to develop any sort of new rhythm or flow, we must begin. And begin gently with the inquiry, “What would be helpful, supportive, onward-leading?” Not necessarily comfortable or painless, but also not harsh, punitive, self-abusive, performative or competitive. Show up for what matters to you because it matters to you! Beyond “should,” beyond clocks, timers, or schedules, beyond looking at what other people are doing. Give yourself a good challenge with a little effort. This builds strength, resilience, growth, and new ways of being in the world. This is not “no pain, no gain” bullshit! This is a gentle stretch toward something that matters to you – toward the stew you want to swim in (ok, maybe this isn’t the best analogy!) – the stew you want to nourish you at this time in your life.

If you say you want peace, what does that feel like in your body? How do you know when you have it? What will you do to create more of it in your days? What gets in the way of peace for you?

Allow for day-to-day flexibility and variability because this also isn’t about rigidity. Who do you want to be? How do you want to be? What do you want to create and what actions do you want to take this year? Who and what supports you? Who and what brings you down? Where do you find peace, fun, beauty, wonder? These things matter! When you take time to get curious, how does this inform your choices?

I offer a reading to support us all:
The new year invites us to begin again.

Beginning again does not mean erasing the past.
It means bowing to it.
Learning from it
And gently placing it down.

Every breath is a new year.
Every moment, a fresh start.

When we pause together at the turning of the calendar, we feel a collective energy, a shared longing for reset, for healing, for steadiness.
This is not weakness. It is wisdom. The heart knows when it is time to rest, to re-center and remember what truly matters.

Intentions are seeds to be planted.
If we want peace, we must practice peace.
If we want kindness, we must practice kindness.
If we want clarity, we must practice stillness.

Spiritual practice grounds our intentions in the body and the heart.
Meditation, prayer, mindful walking, compassionate listening are not escapes from the world. They are ways of meeting the world with steadiness and love.

We do not need to become someone new.
We only need to return to ourselves.

…to our breath.
…to our values.
…to what softens and strengthens us at the same time.

May this new year be one of gentle courage,
of small consistent acts of goodness,
of beginning again and again without judgment.
May it bring us clarity, compassion and a deep trust in our own wise hearts.

May all beings be well and happy and peaceful.
- Bhante Sujatha

How do you begin again? How do you engage more mindfully in your days, especially when you feel drained or overwhelmed? Let’s learn from each other!

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Gratitude - A Self-Care Practice

12/3/2025

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Maybe you thought you were free from the onslaught of posts about gratitude now that Thanksgiving is behind us, but because it has been such a meaningful force in my life (and a truly surprising one), I’d like to give it a little more time, space, and consideration.

I’m always a little hesitant to talk about it for fear it will sound overly simple or even insulting to people who are suffering and struggling in deep and painful ways. The surprise for me is that in my deepest, darkest hours, gratitude is one of the things that has carried me, helped me to engage with life.
I’m not talking about gratitude as a mere reciting of words we’re “supposed to” say one day per year because someone has dictated that this is the time we give thanks. I’m not talking about pretending everything is great when it isn’t, glossing over the hard stuff, or being toxicly positive when life feels painful, hard, scary, or despairing.

I am talking about even in those times taking a pause to reflect on what I appreciate, who I appreciate, and what I am filled with gratitude for. It’s a feeling when it’s real – a feeling that resonates throughout my whole being. And somehow in the depths of loss and heartache, my appreciation and desire to not take things or people for granted has also deepened.

I’m not talking about a flowery gratitude journal like I imagine Oprah has (though if that’s your jam, go for it!). I’m talking about simply taking time each day to pause and reflect, to notice what it is I’m grateful for this day. Turning toward those things rather than getting swept away in how things could be or should be or will never be.

What I know is gratitude has changed my experience of life. It changes how I engage with life. It changes what I notice and what I’m looking for. It changes how I feel. Even though it does not delete, erase, remove, or diminish losses and pain I never would have asked for. I’m not even suggesting we find the gratitude in that pain or those losses – which is surely there but can be far too hard to access in the midst of it.

You’re not going to hear me say, “Don’t be sad that they’re gone. Be grateful they were here.” I get it, AND I am both incredibly sad they’re gone no matter how grateful I am that they were in my life. Life isn’t so simple. Grief and gratitude coexist oddly well until we think that we can only have one or the other. They just are. It’s our minds that muddy the water by thinking we must choose this or that. I’m here to say, our hearts are perfectly capable of feeling both grief and gratitude, joy and heartache, longing and appreciation all at the same time!

Talking with a friend about whether to write this blog or not, she shared with me a beautiful heartfelt experience she and her family shared this Thanksgiving, initiated by a painted wooden spoon her 2-year-old granddaughter had created that came with the directions “Share what you are grateful for. Everyone else will listen with kind hearts.” This wasn’t a simple rote recitation where people talked over one another, but a sacred ceremony where people paused to reflect, spoke from their hearts, let their tears flow and truly experienced the heart-to-heart connection that was possible for a few moments of respite from a noisy world.

Right after getting off the phone with her, I had a message from another friend, a friend who lost her daughter several years ago. In this message she spoke of the depth of appreciation she feels in life along with the depths of pain. I took it as a sign that I was to write this piece, trusting that it will resonate with someone. If only one person, then that’s enough.

So, I offer you my gratitude for reading. It’s been hard for me write publicly these days, knowing the many layers of suffering and struggling that are so very real for so many. I don’t want to offer simple platitudes, ignore the very real pain and struggle, or seem insensitive or tone deaf. I certainly don’t want to insult or cause pain or harm. And, I’m not in charge of that. If I try to never do those things, I’ll never speak or write again. So, I listen to my heart and soul and I share what rises up from these spaces. I offer gratitude because without it, my life would look and feel very different than it does. Because it’s real – it’s not a fluffy new-agey idea. It’s available to us all anytime anywhere.

What might it look like? I’m grateful for these tears that flowed unbidden and honestly from my broken heart today. I’m grateful for a warm blanket on a chilly night. I’m grateful my son answered my text and we had a moment of connection. I’m grateful for the deep love that has led to my deep grief in missing my son, my mom, my friend. I’m grateful for people I can be honest with, for people who don’t try to fix or take away my pain, but somehow know how to just be there and give me space. I’m grateful for the beauty of sunset or snow-covered tree branches or the sound of a cardinal’s cry. I’m grateful I had the time, energy, and seed to fill our bird feeders on a cold winter’s day.

You can take a moment upon waking to think about what you’re grateful for as you enter your day – that can be really powerful and will create a far different energy than the all-too-common dread or exhaustion. I usually don’t think of it until just before going to bed when I take time to reflect on my day and the many moments and connections I had. That’s another nice time to pause and reflect and can help you ease into sleep a little more sweetly than regrets and self-recrimination would. At any moment, gratitude is available to you – sometimes it hits me while I’m driving in my car, and I’m grateful for the miracle of this machine that safely carries me so many places over so many miles. Right now, I’m grateful for taking the time to sit down at my desk and for these words flowing through my fingers to the keyboard to you! I’m grateful to make the time to connect again, and I’m deeply grateful to you for receiving these 1111 words and this invitation.

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Slow it All Down... Even when Times are Urgent

3/14/2025

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“The times are urgent. Let us slow down.” – Báyò Akómoláfé

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.” —Viktor Frankl

Image by kewl from Pixabay

In these urgent times, what if the most essential thing we can do is slow it all down? Claim the space that Frankl speaks of – the space where power to choose lies. Taking The Pause is the basis for everything else – for tending well to yourself, building relationships, acting mindfully, and creating the life and world you want to live in. Pausing, slowing down, is incredibly powerful, but not easy. Slowing things down requires you to break the pattern of reactivity which may have led to trouble in the past. Pausing helps you establish new patterns and attunes you to your wisdom, your values, while giving access to deeper clarity and insight. Without slowing down, it’s easy to get caught up in our stories, feelings, and fears. So easy! I do it on a regular basis.

Slowing down grounds us in this moment. We can face what’s here and come to grips with this moment’s reality: “Here we are…” - a moment of reckoning that might be missed if you’re hellbent on getting to the next thing or swept up in an emotional tidal wave. Too often, noticing here we are is followed in a nano-second by, “so what do we do now?” The mind desperately wants to seize control of the situation, to fix things, to solve a problem. Sometimes that’s warranted and appropriate and other times we need time – to feel, to settle, to open our heart and mind. The Pause gives you space for all of that and allows insights and ideas to emerge.

“Do you have the patience to wait
Till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
Till the right action arises by itself?”
― Lao tzu

When the world’s on fire or you have a child who’s struggling, the suggestion to wait, to remain unmoving can feel laughable, impossible, irresponsible. Your whole being screams “There is no time to wait! This is a crisis!”

And yet, there is very little that doesn’t benefit from slowing down and taking a pause, be it for three breaths, three hours, or thirty days. Unless there is fire raging or blood gushing in front of you now (which I doubt there is or you wouldn’t be reading these words), you likely can grant yourself and the situation a little time and space.

You can move more effectively after taking time to quiet down, re-set, and feel what is here. Stepping out of the fray allows you to question your thinking while you listen and receive wisdom, insight, guidance, and even a renewed energy to face what’s next. The right action may arise when you’re not so constricted in fear, trying to force a decision.

Without taking the pause, we find ourselves in reactive, fearful, conditioned, and habitual ways of behaving, and we may act prematurely without thinking things through. If, instead, we allow the mind to settle, we will see more clearly, feel what’s ours to do when the time is right, and begin to get curious about what’s needed or wanted. The fear, anger, and sadness don't necessarily go away, but the pause has given you time to check in with yourself and to find the wisdom in these feelings. To get grounded. To hear what’s true for you, rather than jump to comply or please others. It’s one way to avoid over-extending yourself.

Pausing is the essence of care, compassion, respect, and curiosity. The pause broadens our lens to see the bigger picture – all that’s here, including whatever feels problematic, and also beauty and goodness. Pause expands our thinking and opens up space for different ideas to emerge. Pausing isn’t the same as strategizing or plotting how to control or overpower a situation, but rather a break to open up to possibilities that may currently be hidden from view.

So, what does it look like to slow down or pause?

In the midst of traffic or in an argument, rather than overheating or exploding, the pause could be as simple as mindfully taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down rather than laying on the horn or yelling back
Upon hearing disturbing news for the umpteenth time in an hour, you might go for a walk and then come back to read the insights of someone you trust to help you decide what action, if any, you would like to take. You begin to discern what’s yours to do, what you have the capacity for, as you accept the reality that none of us can save the whole world by ourselves.
Slowing down may mean we talk something through with a trusted friend or counselor before making a move.
In a time of overwhelm, exhaustion, or conflict, you might give yourself a loving timeout, not as a punishment, but as a gift to all. Taking yourself to your room or out for a walk or drive as a chance to reset, re-ground, calm racing thoughts or heart so you don’t say or do something you’ll regret later
In response to a relationship that’s wearing you down, you might choose to take a longer break and not engage for a number of days or weeks
A healthy pause could be mindfully deciding to take social media off your phone so that it’s not so easy to find yourself doom-scrolling in every empty moment

When I slow down I feel more open, more expansive, more inclusive. My mind stops its incessant racing and fretting. I breathe more steadily. I find my ground, feeling the solidity of the earth holding me. I see and hear things in my environment – I don’t rush over the bridge, missing the sea turtle lounging in the murky water. I notice angels in the clouds. I revel at the beauty, mystery, and magnificence of the everyday miracles of sunrise and sunset. I breathe again. And again. And again. Until I can feel the choices that are mine to make and discern which one is right for this moment. I find the strength and inner guidance to choose rather than giving in to the shouting of others about what I have to do. I feel my pain, anger, fear. I cry the tears that have been held in too long. And gradually, because everything is always shifting, my mood and my energy shift too and I am able to take my next step. From here, I can show up to life more like the person I want to be. I catch myself the next time I've sped up and gotten caught in a reactivity loop, regroup, and begin again.

When I don’t slow down people could get hurt – I whack my head on a doorknob because I was moving too quickly and not paying attention, or I bite someone’s head off because I'm overwhelmed. I react rather than respond, and I’m much less likely to be the person I want to be. I miss out on all that’s here, tightly focused on only what’s wrong or scary, even when I’m with people I love in a safe, comfortable environment. My mind can carry me away and hold me hostage with it’s beliefs, thoughts, and opinions about what’s going on and what should be. I amp myself up in a frenzied, reactive state. I lose sleep. I eat crap, seeking comfort from chips and ice cream. It’s not good for me or anyone or anything when I’m swept up in chaotic energy.

This message to slow down is one that Love gives me regularly (when I take the time to ask and record her response). Here’s one of her messages from just the other day when I found myself rapidly spiraling: “Slow it down. Bring it in. What is within your reach? What can you do that will help settle you? Stay off social media today – all day. Organize your piles. Get outdoors and breathe fresh air. Watch the ocean. Listen to the birds. Take the time you have to savor the time you have. Stop trying to put out fires everywhere. Breathe. A lot. Pause and breathe. You need the oxygen. Trust me – your brain will thank you. Laugh. Love fiercely. Nothing can stop your ability to laugh and love. Calm it down. Bring it in, and love on yourself. Fiercely love.” (you can see more about my practice of interacting with Love and inviting in this wisdom in Love’s Wishes)

Your thoughts?
How does this land with you? Helpful? Annoying? Ridiculous?
What works for you? How do you slow things down?
How and when would the mighty pause benefit you?
How can this idea help you be who you want to be and how you want to engage with life?

Maybe we can’t save the world, but we can support our presence to be of benefit to it.
Who do you want to be and how do you want to show up? Good guiding questions in a life that feels out of control.

And a song to speak to your heart... We don't Know We're Living

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Finding Hope - In the Worst of Times

2/7/2025

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Writing about hope in horrific times? Really? Yes! It feels necessary. Maybe more important than ever. So, here we go.

We are living in a time where chaos, confusion, and relentless actions are designed to exhaust us, divide us, and silence us. We can easily lash out in anger or hide away in isolation.   Empathy, accountability, and respect seem to be lacking, particularly from those in power.
We need hope to help us see beyond the muck of the truly despicable.

The state of affairs in the US right now reminds me of the chaos that once consumed my family, crisis after crisis, brought on by chaotic substance use. The too familiar dread in the pit of my stomach – afraid to look at my phone to see what the latest disaster is.

One key distinction is that my son didn’t intend to scare us, cause chaos or harm. His actions weren’t calculated, malicious, or planned out. They were simply part of his mental health challenges which set off a chain of reactivity. I've talked with many people who've struggled with substance use, and know they never meant to hurt the people they love.

It’s easy to be frozen in inaction, stunned into silence in times of great disruption, but we don’t have to collapse. We can find a way to go on and to act in meaningful ways. Wringing our hands helplessly only adds to anxiety and withdrawal.

We need hope to continue on – to love, to be generous or compassionate, to make a difference.

Hope is Possible
Here’s what I know: hope is possible even in the most devastating times. How do I know? Because on the night my son, Nate, died, I reached over to my husband, grabbed his hand and said, “We will get through this.”

Partly, I did this because I needed to hear myself say it, to believe it, because anything else was too impossible to imagine. I said it even though it was also impossible to know how we would get through or what “getting through” meant. Partly I did this because at least some part of me knew that it was true.

In our 29 years with Nate, we endured so much – school struggles, family struggles, 14 years of the pain of watching him struggle with substance use and bulimia and all that that brought with it. We’d faced so many times when I didn’t know how I or we would go on… but we did. Now, not quite 2 years since his death, I still don’t always know how we will go on, but somehow, one moment, one breath at a time, we do.

I imagine if you look at your own life, you’ve had moments or maybe stretches of years that feel relentless, agonizing, hopeless. Times you’ve felt powerless and unable to see your way out of the struggle. Maybe you’re in a time like that right now. Either way, here you are reading these words, and that alone is a sign of hope.

What Hope Is and What It Isn’t

At a conference late last November, “Bridging the Hope and the How,” our keynote speaker, Dr. Ashley Cross, Executive Director of Hope585 in Rochester, NY, said that hope isn’t a feeling. That we can have hope even when we feel grief, sadness, fear. I’m still sorting out how that’s possible. No words for it, but I have experienced it to be true.

I’ve learned hope isn’t a flimsy wish: “I hope things get better.” That’s just wishful thinking that doesn’t get you or anyone anywhere. No change comes from weak wishing. A wish like that allows you to step back and not take any responsibility for what could be.

There’s another kind of hope that is fierce – it rises from deep inside and says, “No! This is not how this story will end!” That force can carry us, be a guiding light that calls us forward, even if we can’t see where we’re going. This force nudges us forward, fueled by a belief in a better future and a knowing that we can be part of creating the future we long for.

In his book, 8 Ways to Hope: Charting a Path through Uncertain Times, William Miller writes, “Hope is all about anticipation of what is not yet. It is a liminal space, a threshold to what may yet be.” What is not yet… what may yet be… those words alone bring pause. An interesting reflection. A reminder that we simply Do. Not. Know. All we can know is what’s already happened and what is happening right here, right now in our direct experience. We do not know what is coming in the future. Even when things are happening that make it look bleak. We still cannot foresee the future. We don’t have to fall into the trap of foregone conclusions.

Hope and Fear

Miller goes on to say, “…both hope and fear project images of what could come to pass, and both can be powerfully motivating. They are alternative lenses through which we view an uncertain future… Hope tends to expand our horizons, while fear contracts them.”

Have you noticed that? Fear brings us into tunnel vision where we only see the path of doom. It constricts our bodies. Breathing becomes shallow, jaw clenches, gut grips. Our thoughts run on a repetitive loop with all that we fear. “I know how this is going to go!” We find ourselves unwilling or unable to imagine any outcome other than what we dread.

“Fear can shut down the creative capacity to find better ways and even the will to find them. Hope is about finding both the will and a way forward,” writes Miller. When we feel trapped. When we feel certain of doom. When we feel powerless to do anything that will make a difference, we can lose hope. Of course we can. It’s so natural. Especially if the scene feels familiar – you’ve been here before, so “here we go again” thoughts come rushing in. Of course.

But, can you consider that this time could be different? You’re not the person you were the last time you faced this situation, even if it was only yesterday or a few hours ago. Which means that everything else about this scenario is also different than it was. The door to hope cracks open a tiny bit. Where there is possibility, there is hope. Where there is uncertainty, there is hope. Nothing has been determined yet. Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is love, there is more hope.

When people come together for the greater good, hope rises and ripples out. Hope and fear are both contagious – they spread between people like a creeping vine that quickly takes over. So, you get to decide if you’re spreading fear or hope. What seeds you want to plant? Can you be a force of hope, even in times of great darkness when all seems lost?

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but moving ahead in spite of it,” says Miller. The fear will be here. As will grief, sadness, confusion, anxiety, but they don’t have to be the only forces at play and we don’t have to give them the final word. One thing is for certain – running around and adding to the frenzy and panic helps no one. We must do what we can to find a ground that allows us to come into the world in a healthy way.

Creating a Legacy of Hope
Hope creates hope. We can give hope to others when they’re not feeling it. Our words and actions can create a ripple of hope. In Hope Rising: How the Science of HOPE can Change Your Life by Casey Gwinn & Chan Hellman, the authors share many ways to cultivate, strengthen, and grow hope. Hope needs attention and effort to sustain it – it doesn’t remain untended. In their final chapter, “Leaving a Legacy of Hope,” they share “Lessons Learned from Two Old Guys!”

Some that feel poignant in this moment are:

Teach your children (and friends) to be hope-centered
When the time is right, make it OK to talk about the bad stuff in life
Empathy always opens doors
Listen more than you talk
Run from negative people – find cheerleaders and encouragers
Surround yourself with positive role models
Focus on strengths, not weaknesses or deficits
Use your power and influence to bless children

When you use your powers for good, and act in ways that bless the children and the future children of the world, you are leaving a ripple that builds people up and generates more hope, kindness and caring.

A friend once called me a “Possibilitator,” a term that lit me up. I define it as “one who shines the light of hope and possibility, especially in times of darkness.” In a world where so much is out of my control and beyond my influence, this is something I can offer. Will you possibilitate with me? We can also take the actions we’re called to to help create a better future. None of this is about sugarcoating a shitshow or burying your head in the sand. It’s about finding sustainable ways to show up for people and things that matter.

It's All Too Much! Finding the Elusive Balance

Being bombarded by crisis after crisis feels relentless and overwhelming. I don’t know that there is a magic formula for being informed and staying engaged so that we can take action as needed, while also taking good care of ourselves. I do know that we must tend our hearts and health - mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional. When we are well cared for, we can step up when and where we’re called.

Meditation has helped me be with my own mind, developing awareness of what’s going on inside, sitting with thoughts and feelings as they arise. This allows me to act and speak in a more clear and intentional way. We don’t need to completely avoid the realities of the world (and we couldn’t even if we tried to), but with intention we can choose where we direct our attention. We can help where we can, step away to rest and regroup as needed. Breaks are essential.

We can carry hope alongside fear as we remember we don’t know what might yet be.

Balance in action and rest is elusive and not evenly matched much of the time. There are times when we will be all-in on something stressful, that requires immediate action, and does not give us a chance to sit back and be more intentional and mindful. However, when there are moments to regroup, refresh, and renew our mind and spirit, we must take them. Those moments are critical.

When you find people in the news taking over your life to the extent you’re missing moments of sweetness or delight with your partner, friends, or children, something has to give. At our family picnic last summer, we began swirling into fear and dismay about the future. My niece, Amy, brilliantly brought us back to each other and the precious gift of family time with a quick declarative, “That man is not welcome in our kitchen. He is not invited into our gathering!” Thank you, Amy. I find I have to remind myself of this often. To bring myself to what I want to allow into this moment, this space, my personal domain.

We get to choose who and what we give our time, energy, and attention to. Certain people want nothing more than to consume all of it. I implore you to take it back so that you can enjoy a quiet lunch with a friend, a walk in the woods with a beloved, sitting by the fire petting your cat, laughing at a stupid comedy, or getting lost in a song while you dance in your car.

Please take time to notice the beauty and the goodness in life that is here, even as horrific events consume the airwaves. It doesn’t erase or replace them, but it does broaden your perspective to all that is available. Beauty, wonder, delight, joy, kindness, lightness – they’re still here even when seem overshadowed by the ugly.

Do what you can for the causes that matter to you, remembering you cannot do everything, nor do you have to. Serve in a way that works for your body, nervous system, mind, and energy capacity – let others serve in their ways. Some of us will march and make calls, some will donate money, others will provide meals, others will offer hugs and smiles and kindness where they can. Others will sit quietly with a distraught family member or friend. There are many issues to be addressed, personally and collectively.

In her work of Revolutionary Love, Valarie Kaur reminds us of the midwife’s wisdom - we cannot push all the time. We must also breathe. In the resting and breathing, the next push can arise, and also in the pushing, we allow the breath to arise. Without the breath, you will deplete yourself and have nothing left to give.

If you’re facing a death or dealing with an illness or chronic struggle – your own or a loved one’s - you’re going to need your energy. What we’re facing collectively in our country and world is something that is going to require sustained energy. It serves no one for you to be on hyper-alert all the time. In our journey with Nate, we learned that sleep was vital, and so we chose to turn off our phones at bedtime. If something bad happened, we needed to be clear-headed and energized so we could respond in a more helpful way, rather than being sleep-deprived and overwhelmed by stress. When can you allow yourself to disconnect for a period of restorative time?

What Helps You to Hope?

I’m not always sure what helps me have hope. I do hear my son whisper from wherever he is, “I’m right here, Momma,” and I can feel that. I know that we still have each other and that he works with me and through me, and for that I am grateful. I find hope in the people in my life – my husband and friends who bring love, laughter, tears, and joy. I find hope in the nudges which prod me to create, offering what is mine to offer.

I find great hope in remembering that many people before me have persevered in similar or worse conditions than I face. In our country and around the world, many have endured centuries of treatment that could have led to despair and yet somehow, they have carried on. Leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and Mother Teresa have shown what’s possible in the face of violence and hate.

Moms like Lori Drescher, Founder of Recovery Coach University, Pam Lanhart, Founder of Thrive Family Recovery Resources, Heather Ross, Family Recovery Coach, and Alexis Pleus Founder of TruthPharm, who have lost beloved children, inspire and uplift me and many others, as they work diligently to support people touched by substance use.

Hope Doesn’t Need to be Grand.

You might spend a little quiet time with Hope and ask, “Hope, what would you have me know?” Take a few minutes and let Hope’s wisdom flow to you, writing it out in a note to yourself if you like. In our last Finding Hope Within retreat, one participant received a beautiful insight that “hope can be small pinpricks of light.” And also, that “hope is in the sidewalk cracks, not the sidewalk.”

What does Hope want you to know?
What helps you have hope?
Who inspires you through their example?
Are there negative people you need to give less time to?
How can you sustain and support yourself in stressful times?
What do you notice that’s good or beautiful in your world today?
How do you want to show up in a troubled family, community, country, world?

Finding the Will - You are not Powerless!

Whether you’re facing a family challenge with substance use or you’re concerned about the state of affairs in the US and the world, your presence, your voice, and your actions make a difference. When we feel powerless, like nothing we do matters, it’s easy to lose hope. That’s when we’re at risk of isolating and finding ourselves paralyzed by fear or anger.

What you do matters! Your energy and presence matter, so please take the time to nurture and nourish your body, mind, heart, and spirit. Now is a great time to double down on practices that build internal strength, peace, grounding, flexibility, and clarity. That can look like getting out into nature, feeling the strength of the Earth holding you. Practices like yoga, dance, or working out allows your emotions the movement they need. Take time for contemplation, reflection, and mental rest through meditation, prayer, or journaling. Find community where you can, because we need each other, so take time to connect with someone you hold dear, go to a support group, attend a spiritual community gathering, or join a resistance group.

Be sure to take time for silence. There is too much to take in right now and it can easily overwhelm. Take media breaks. Turn off your phone and put it out of sight. Take a walk without listening to a podcast or talking to anyone. Create some spaciousness so that you can think and act more clearly.
Take some time to think about what practices best support you and make some time for them, even if only 5 minutes. 5-minute practices sprinkled throughout the day add up, and they will support you in this time that doesn’t offer any quick, easy fix.

Finding the Way - Some Ways to Get Started:

Step 1 - Pause... take a breath (or many breaths) - it's hard to imagine anything that could be made worse when we begin this way. Take this moment to find center and grounding before posting, speaking, or acting. Then proceed...

If you care about someone struggling with substance use, please check out the Invitation to Change approach which will invite you to reflect on what it means to help, reimagine the role that loved ones can play in the change process, and provide you with evidence-supported strategies for helping.

If you’d like a simple way to get involved in speaking out about the current state of affairs in the US, 5 Calls offers a direct link to your congressional representative and Senators along with guidance on top concerns you may wish to convey. Heather Cox Richardson is a clear and steady source of information. Pace yourself in what you’re taking in and what you’re doing. Do what you can and then step back to be refueled.

Donate to organizations doing important work that matters to you – time, money, or needed items. Whatever feels realistic and doable to you in this moment. What might fill your heart as you give?

Create the things you are called to create. It can be easy to shut down in the weight of overwhelm, but your creative offerings, whether that’s art, music, writing, videos, playlists, retreats… they are needed and they matter.

Make time for music - Here’s an eclectic playlist for finding hope to support you in this wild and crazy time. And here’s my Power Me Up Playlist for when I need a boost! Music can lift your spirits or bring the release of tears, encourage you to keep going, or give you something to dance and sing to. It helps us get out of our heads and into our souls. Music matters. Make your own playlist to carry you through the dark times.

Find Your People – In times when we feel scared, alone, or isolated, community is even more important. I know it’s harder to access because it takes energy and vulnerability to connect, but the effort will pay off. Phone a friend! Can we please bring back spontaneous phone calls and voice mails? Even if we don’t connect, at least we can hear each other’s voices! Find a group that supports your hobbies, passions, causes, personal development, recovery, or spiritual needs (to name a few), in person or online. Remembering that you’re not alone can really help.

The communities that are supporting my well-being right now that might be of interest to you:
The Open Heart Project Sangha - daily live meditation and discussion, weekly meeting, plus more!
Bodhi Tree Yoga - a variety of online classes with wonderful teachers and a sense of community

Give yourself a little oasis – Speaking of community, I invite you to join me on Monday, February 17, for a mini retreat, Finding Hope Within from 12 – 1:30 PM ET. Let’s come together, bringing whatever is present and cultivating a little bit of hope – that elusive what might yet be.

Find and create joy, delight, wonder. This is not a frivolous thing. Your energy matters - how you behave and speak matters. Small acts of kindness and moments of joy matter. Keep doing what you enjoy with joy. Joy is a form of resistance says Heather Cox Richardson (take a minute to watch this clip - it's very empowering!). It allows you to take back your power and refuse to give in to the forces that are bringing you down. Keep loving on people and believing in a better future, even if we don’t quite know what that will look like.

Find ways to offer compassion – to yourself and others. Our world desperately needs this energy. Showing up and acting from a place of love, kindness, and compassion makes a difference and builds hope. Your hope might take root, grow, and spread. It’s certainly worth a try!

Hold your loved ones close. Reach out and grab the hand of someone you love and say, “We will get through this.” Even if you don’t know how, you’re planting the seed of hope and possibility. Even if you might not get the outcome you would like, are you willing to give it a go?

What's working for you? Please, please share!! We learn and grow together!

My altar of hope

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Changing Perspective

1/23/2024

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Image by □ Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

Perspective – a way of thinking about and understanding something. A point of view. The way we view our world and the people, events, and circumstances in it. Our thoughts, stories, and beliefs about ourselves.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how a shift in perspective can have a significant effect on our lives. How we view something informs our experience. Perception is reality. Where we focus our attention affects how we feel. Our minds quickly and naturally categorize things as pleasant or unpleasant, good or bad, right or wrong, and we may accept these labels without question.

Do we see the world through rose-colored glasses or do we jump on the misery loves company train more often than we’d like? What stories do we hold about ourselves? "This is just who I am. I don't... I always..." Are they solidified from years of repetition or do they allow for evolution, expansion, becoming? What would it be like to shift to "Maybe... I don't know. It might be possible."

Since there are so many places we could go with these ideas and questions, I’ve invited some wise and beautiful souls to write a series of posts about perspective that I will share with you in the upcoming weeks. Asking them to share their experiences with changing perspective and the impact it’s had on their life. I’m excited for us all to hear what it means to them and to learn from them what’s helped support a shift in a challenging time.

Sometimes asking a new question or considering a different viewpoint can lead to a pivotal moment in one’s life. For instance, when I came to terms with the idea that my son might never find recovery, that he might not even want the recovery I envisioned for him, I softened a bit, nagging him less, listening more (at least every now and then), and our connection deepened.

The Power of Questions

Questioning our own beliefs or pithy phrases thrown around as if everyone knows and accepts them as truth is healthy and wise. For instance, “You’re only as happy as your unhappiest child.” Is that the only possible truth? Does this have to condemn you to their level of sadness? Or is it possible that you can be happy, even if your child is struggling?

Lucy Hone, a leading authority on resilience poses the question, "Is this (thought) helping or hurting me?" Thinking about what serves you and what disempowers you invites you to make a change.

"It shouldn't be this way" is a thought I've entertained, held onto, and dwelled in many times in my life. A thought like this can lead to advocacy or taking a stand for change, but it can also keep you stuck. Even with advocacy, we need to begin with the reality of what's here. For healing, we need to let ourselves feel what's true. When we can come to, "I don't like it, but it is this way, so now what?" we can lean into what's next. We can discern what steps to take, what's called for.

Shifting from "I can't" to "I won't" can move you from feeling a victim to making an empowered choice. Feel into the difference between, "I can't take this any more! I can't do this!" vs. "I won't do ____." Won't feels like it gives you ground to stand on and also opens the door for "I won't do this, but I could do this other thing." Thoughts that land as absolutes are limiting whereas questions open possibilities.

Learning to discern for ourselves, “Is that really true?” can open our minds and maybe reveal another path or ground of being. Is it true that I'm not a good public speaker? Is it true that my kid always lies to me? Is it true that things will never change? Never and always are pretty good indicators that we're locked into a limiting story.

Please enjoy exploring this contemplation with our guest writers in the coming weeks!

So many questions...I’d love to hear from you

How does this land for you? What does it stir up?
When have you changed perspective on something?
Is there a perspective shift you're playing with right now?
Change is hard - particularly mindset change. What helped you to get there?
How have things in your life changed as a result?

Please drop me a note or share with us in the comments below. Thanks for adding your wisdom!

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Beauty and Gratitude can Change Your Life

10/31/2023

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I struggled with whether to publish this post at this time; daily we are bombarded with heartbreaking headlines. Is now the time for a post about beauty and gratitude? I decided yes, it was. Because in times like this, we need to find a counterbalance more than ever. We need to remember that our world is more than horrifying headlines and traumatic events. Always, even now, there is beauty. There are things to be grateful for.

It’s a profound understatement to say there are a multitude of horrible, terrifying, and devastating things happening in the world – in our communities, country, and across the globe. Whether you’re glued to the news or not, the energy of these events affects us all. We likely feel powerless as to what to do – especially for things that are happening far away or are so impossibly overwhelming we don’t even know where to begin.

Also, we may not know what to do in our own lives when things feel out of control, scary, uncertain, and people we love are in trouble. The more we fret, the more exhausted we become, and we think less clearly. When we rehash the bad, the painful, re-telling the same upsetting story over and over, we strengthen the heavy impact it has on us. We add to our own stress.

Every single one of us is programmed to focus on pain, what’s wrong, and to be on the lookout for danger or impending doom – that’s part of human nature that has kept us safe and alive for eons. Scientists call this the negativity bias.

In his blog, Rick Hanson describes it this way - “Your brain is continually looking for bad news. As soon as it finds some, it fixates on it with tunnel vision, fast-tracks it into memory storage, and then reactivates it at the least hint of anything even vaguely similar. But good news gets a kind of neural shrug: “uh, whatever. In effect, the brain is like Velcro for negative experiences but Teflon for positive ones.”

The negative experiences stick to us, poke at us, and wear us down, while we ignore, brush off, or don’t even notice positive ones. Sometimes we miss much of what’s “good,” simply because we take it for granted. For instance (and hypothetically speaking, of course! 😉), you might not think about how strong your legs are and how much they do for you until you break your foot. Once you’ve broken that foot and your mobility and independence are affected, it grabs your attention and pulls you into the pit of feeling bad. It can be hard to think about anything else, and you may pile on by judging yourself for having such a stupid accident (hypothetically speaking, again!).

The good news is there are simple and accessible ways to shift our mindset and experience – when we do so, we can better show up for the things that require our energy.

We need to find ways to re-energize ourselves, and one of those ways is to find a broader perspective and remember things are not all or nothing, good or bad. Truly, a wide array of experiences and offerings aany given moment. Yes, there's horror, and yes, there's more than that.

While I’ve learned that I’m not in control of the experiences in my life. I broke my foot, my son died, it’s raining, wars are raging worldwide – these are facts, and obviously facts that vary in intensity and severity. They are things I wish were different, and there's nothing I can do to change them.

And yet, even when times are tough or excruciatingly painful, there is still good in life. We have the ability to find it, notice it, or create it. And, let me be clear, I’m not talking about avoiding, denying, or jumping over the rough stuff through pretending, spiritual bypassing, or looking for the silver lining too soon (or ever) in untenable events. Nor am I suggesting you say affirmations that tell you things are better than they are (unless that works for you. In which case, affirm away!).

But, what is true, is that each and every day, no matter the agony, pain, and heartache, there is also beauty somewhere in life. Whether it’s the red-bellied woodpecker flitting through the trees, crying out to be seen or the cascade of golden leaves floating to the lawn or the dandelion brave enough to peek up through the cement, there’s something beautiful here. A coffee mug given by a dear friend. A photo of a special memory. The scent of a pumpkin chai candle. Beauty does not have to be big or bold, but it does long to be seen, witnessed, savored.

In her beautiful book for navigating tough times, Keep Moving, Maggie Smith speaks of the way she and her children delight in sharing “beauty emergencies” – those things that have to be seen right away, before they’re gone. If one of them sees a spectacular sunset or a dinosaur in the clouds, they’ll call out to the others, “Beauty emergency!” so they can cherish it together and no one misses out. What a sweet way to be on alert for something wonderful.  Maybe all emergencies aren’t bad.

Life has been very chaotic for us over the past 14 years with my son’s struggles with substance use and other mental health challenges. So much despair. So much fear. Times adding up to months of lost connection and opportunities over the years. It would have been easy for me to have been all-consumed with all that was bad, scary, unknown. In the deep grief since his physical passing, it’s easy to cry endlessly and think of nothing other than how much I miss him. But even with all the pain and suffering, there is also much to be grateful for.

That we had 29 years with him, I am grateful for. That I got to be his mom. For the happy and hopeful moments that were scattered in there, I am grateful. The small things like a hug or a deep conversation – those were always a gift. Because I knew how precarious his life and our time together was, I learned to cherish precious moments along the way. And when I was too upset with him to find gratitude within that relationship, I opened my heart to the fullness of life. A delicious meal, a warm home, fresh water and air, or a friend who’d let me vent were things I could be grateful for.

Gratitude:
Taking time to pause and open my heart to beauty and gratitude has changed my experience of life – the way I feel about and within life. For over a decade I have had an intentional gratitude practice. Usually that means in the evening taking some time to reflect on the day and list things that I am grateful for, things I’ve noticed throughout the day, and share it on Facebook. I’m not sure how this practice started, but it has become a daily ritual that strengthens me; sharing with others fills me up.

On particularly hard mornings, I’ve taken a little time while still in bed, reflecting on what I’m grateful for; this practice helps me enter the day. Somehow something inside of me softens as I remember and acknowledge beautiful bits of life. The other day I sat on our deck and softly offered verbal thanks for the people who’ve shown up to walk through this chapter of life with me; taking just a few minutes to acknowledge long-standing friendships and new people who are coming into my circle – feeling them in my heart as I pictured each one. These are some of the ways I’ve taken time to intentionally reflect and feel into gratitude.

Finding Beauty:
I also look for beauty each day and share pictures on Facebook as well. “Today’s beauty” posts seem to offer a welcome and different vibe to this platform. I like sharing sunsets, cloud formations, leaves, trees, and flowers with people. I love rippling beauty into a dark and ugly time and a space that is too often contentious.

The more I practice gratitude and look for beauty, the more I find myself noticing throughout the day. The more I notice things I appreciate, the less I dwell on all that’s wrong. This isn’t a magic formula or an exercise to check off a list, but rather a way to open my heart and spirit to all of life. Gratitude lives alongside grief in my mind and heart, woven together, inseparable. After my dear friend, Mary, passed away, I wrote a bit about this in “Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace.” I was absolutely devastated to have lost the one person in my life who always made me laugh and who willingly opened her heart to all of me. There was nothing I had to hide from Mary. Who would I turn to now? And yet, gratitude and grace were there too. It’s been the same since my son, Nate, died; this crushing loss has dropped me to my knees and isolated me more than any loss in my life and it lives inside my heart right along with beauty, grace, and gratitude.

Life will bring what life will bring. How we meet it is up to us. I’m in for the full human experience, so I don’t shy away from the depths of grief and sadness. But I’m also always on the hunt for beauty and gratitude. Slowing down enough to feel gratitude seep through the cells of my being, breathing it in, allowing it to permeate the deep dark places softens my heart, welcomes the tears, and expands my capacity for living fully. Savoring beauty often takes my breath away, filling me with wonder and awe.

Beauty and gratitude help us to see and think about more than all that’s wrong with the world, all that’s hard or painful in our lives. They remind us that life is full of a vast variety of people, things, and experiences. We’re not trying to cancel out or deny anything; we’re adding in more of what we might have been missing. Where we choose to focus our attention affects us.

“When you do nothing, you feel overwhelmed and powerless. But when you get involved, you feel the sense of hope and accomplishment that comes from knowing you are working to make things better.” Maya Angelou

An Invitation:
Today I invite you to join me in this quest to find moments of beauty and gratitude. Let’s try it right now. Wherever you are, whether it’s on the subway or in the most peaceful bedroom sanctuary, look around.   What do you see that’s beautiful? Take it in – the colors, shapes, texture, scent. Allow its beauty to lift a smile. As you sit here, close your eyes and feel into one thing you’re grateful for, no matter how big or small. Experience what it feels like to fully appreciate something. Breathe in the feeling of gratitude and allow it to flow through your cells. What do you notice?

Take your time and take in as much beauty and gratitude as you like, and then throughout your day be on the lookout for more. Give thanks. Appreciate what you find. Over time, you may just find your experience of life shifting. Please share your experience with us here!

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Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

10/14/2023

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August 31 is International Overdose Awareness Day - all around the world people gather to remember and honor the way too many lives lost to substance-related deaths. We grieve. We mourn. We come together to hope for recovery for those still here.

This year was my first from the perspective of having lost my son just 5 months earlier - 5 months to the day we cried over his casket to say our final goodbyes to his physical form. When invited to speak at our local Scotty B Overdose Awareness Day (created by another mother in memory of her beloved son), I didn’t skip a beat as I replied to the full-body goosebump “Yes.” I didn’t know why or even what I’d say, but I knew it was an authentic yes. That morning I reached out to several people asking, “What do I even have to offer? My son didn’t find recovery. My son died. How can I offer inspiration or hope?” I cried. Big tears. Lots of tears. I received their encouragement and gathered my thoughts, pulling together a message intended to raise awareness, to share Nate’s story, what I’ve learned over the past 30 years, what I wish I had known, and an appeal for greater kindness and compassion for all people.

My dear friend, a fellow angel mama, and I started the day at an Overdose Awareness Vigil in a part of the city where the need for compassionate, non-judgmental support and care is immense. We sat in a circle with people in recovery, people in active use, family members, friends, and allies, and people at dire risk. We shared pizza and memories of those lost. We shared what called us to this circle that day. We learned how to use Naloxone to save a life. We learned about Overdose Prevention Centers and the critical need for them, and we shared space, time, and life. It was beautiful. Heart-touching. Heart-wrenching, and heart-opening.

From there over to Scotty B Day where I met and visited with people in the recovery community - some of the most authentic, sensitive, creative, beautiful people in the world. I shared table with my friend, the beautiful writer, Jennifer Collins. In addition to selling my book, I had care bags to give away for those in need, along with Nate’s cards (which have his picture and the messages “I see you. You matter. You are not alone.” and local resource numbers on them) and Never Use Alone cards. I watched as one young man picked up Nate’s card and withered into a gut-punching, disbelieving gasp… “No, no, no… tell me it’s not true…” He had been Nate’s neighbor in supportive housing. “He was doing well…” his confusion voiced as he took in this news. Yeah. He was. Until he wasn’t. Awareness awakening.

After I spoke (you can listen to the talk here), I had the beautiful opportunity to connect with so many open-hearted people. Parents who wanted to know more about the Invitation to Change, who longed for a different way to be with their loved ones. Parents who heard our story and committed to being with their young ones differently - to let them be who they are, whether they are 3, 9, 11, or 15. Parents who had lost kids somewhat guiltily confessing, “I did the whole enabling thing…” because they had gone to their child, supported them, loved them. I offered a reframe: “Sounds like you loved your kid. There is no need to apologize for that. Ever.” Phew. Exhale. No need for shame. You loved your child, as did I. Let’s let the stories go, drop this all-too-common cultural narrative, and begin to heal around this loss. Find our recovery. Other people I met love people in active use, kids who are on the streets, at great risk; these people are doing what they can to love them well, to support them, while also taking care of themselves. There’s room for it all. Awareness. Connection. You’re not alone. One tiny moment at a time…it’s enough.

It was a beautiful, encouraging, uplifting, devastating, heart-opening, heart-wrenching day. I wobbled away from the podium, away from the space, and met up with my husband to celebrate, debrief, and cry. I was wrung out and filled up all at once.

The next day kicked off National Recovery Month. And, I felt myself slide into a valley. It had taken a ton of energy to prepare for Overdose Awareness Day, only a little over a month after Nate’s memorial service. It was time for me to immerse deeply into my own recovery. After putting myself out there, there was a natural reaction to pull back, go within, hunker down, and restore myself. You might have experienced something similar in your own life. Even as I continued to post support and encouragement for the recovery movement, for individual and family recovery, I was heading into a gentle crash and into my next phase of recovery.

Here's what I know about recovery: it begins within and is a deeply personal journey. As my friend, Chris’s shirt says, “Recovery is any Positive Action.” It’s not clear, straightforward, or linear. It is often painful and painstakingly hard. Recovery can only be approached and managed one minute at a time. It requires a leap of faith into the unknown, hoping that the effort will be worth it. Recovery requires letting go of tried-and-true comfort and survival tactics to find new, less certain ways to be. It calls us to look at past pain, to open our hearts to grieve what might have been as we lean into what’s here, and step toward what’s possible.

Recovery calls us inward to reconnect with ourselves – our hearts, our spirits, to touch what’s true and to connect with what’s available to us. Anything that requires a lot of energy, particularly emotional energy, will invite a period of respite and recovery afterwards. Awareness. Can we pay attention to the needs of our body, mind, heart, and spirit and find a way to honor that need?

The first weeks after Overdose Awareness Day were very uncomfortable as I found myself confronting some dark, haunting questions: What if? What if I had seen how desperately Nate was spiraling out of control and had insisted he come to dinner with us the night he dropped off the grid? What if I had invited him to stay with us for the weekend the last time I last saw him, 6 days before he died? Would he still be here? I suspect this is a natural grief response, grasping for what might have been different. Not so much blame, but a desperate wish that I had known and had the chance to make different choices. Recovery calls us to face our shadows in order to move forward, so I met myself there and sunk into the feelings and thoughts that swept through.

After a couple of weeks in intentional recovery mode, I also added retreat into my life, packing up and getting away from home, from Rochester with all its ghosts and ghostly places. First I headed off with my husband, Tom, to hole up in a hotel and sleep, read, and write some overdue cards, while he worked.

Next, we headed off to a massive music festival where we could easily get lost in the crowd in Louisville, Kentucky. We savored an evening with Brandi Carlile (I just love her...sigh). Total anonymity and shared love of a great artist held us in this musical escape.

Then Tom dropped me off at a rustic retreat center in the mountains of western North Carolina for a women’s retreat – my first big social space with mostly unknown women since Nate’s death. I was welcomed with huge hugs from two loving women, soul sisters I’ve known for almost a decade, women who have answered the call to show up for this deep mama loss. I found my way to my remote charming cabin by the creek and settled myself into it for a musty nap, the creek offering its gentle natural white noise. And I bawled. I let my tears soak my pillow. I let my body shake as sobs moved through me. In this quiet space of solitude, I let myself feel the fear of something happening to Tom, and felt the deep awareness of how desperately I need him to be ok, to be safe, to stay alive. How much I need him. Period.

Eventually sleep found me, and after a refreshing rest, I was able to enter retreat tentatively, gingerly, dosing out bits of my current reality as I was able. Giving myself the gift of my own deep attention and care – what did I need? Feel? Want? Following this inquiry, moment by moment, without expectation, without judgment. Allowing space for the bereaved mother, the open-hearted dancer, the tearful singer, the curious writer, and all the bits of me to be present. Allowing the silence to deepen my connection to myself. I let myself be filled up, sharing space and energy with other women, each on her own journey, each in her own space, facing her own longings, fears, awakenings, awareness, and insights as retreat worked on us. It was healing, cathartic, transformative, and I am deeply grateful for it all.

As we cycle through life, when we can allow ourselves to follow Awareness, Recovery, and Retreat, we grow. We evolve. We let go. We connect. We become. The next iteration of who we are in this moment of life emerges. We open to what’s possible. We face hard truths. We heal. And then we do it all over again. Maybe this is all life asks of us.

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I Can't____, but I CAN...

8/22/2023

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Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

This week feeds off of last week’s “Yes, and…” post because life is built upon those things we say “yes” to and the things we choose to do. I find myself reflecting on the things I can’t do, while opening to what I can. Where I choose to focus changes the energy I feel inside - whether it’s heavy and dark or lighter and expansive. And also, how I show up to life, how I feel in life, and how I move with life.

There’s much that I can’t do, and there is also much that I can. The key is to remember choice. I can sit on my deck or in my yard in the morning or night, appreciating, savoring that I get to live in this place of beauty, listening to my fellow critters…peepers, birds, cicadas, squirrels… letting them be a symphony to my ear and a balm to my soul.

I can’t control other people’s negative, aggressive behavior (or ever understand why an elderly man in our neighborhood feels a need to ride around on his scooter with a nasty flag flying), but I can choose how I want to show up to this life that is mine. I can build up my own strength and health. I can write, speak, and teach, getting messages of compassion and fresh perspective and possibility out to the world. I can do what I can to “leave behind the world a better way” as the Avett Brothers say in “Salvation Song.”

I can create, find, and choose joy and peace. I can cultivate gratitude, wonder, and awe. I can do what I can to show up with mindful presence. I can choose who I am and how I want to be with the life I have been gifted. If you’d like to consider what a gift this day is, please take a few moments to watch A Grateful Day with Br. David Steindl-Rast.

While I can’t help my own son any longer, I can serve others, people who are someone else’s child. So, this week, I have taken steps to put together care bags to hand out to people who are homeless, who stand on the corners with scrawled signs, asking for some morsel of kindness. Instead of looking the other way (which I can’t any more, since I know any one of those people could have been my son on any given day), I now look for opportunities to look these people in the eye, to offer at least my love and a smile if I have nothing else to give. But I also want to give more. To extend a hand of kindness to someone who too many look away from, thinking “you can’t save everyone” or “why don’t they go get a job?” or who knows what else.

And so, I am compiling care bags with snacks, personal supplies, and resource cards for #Neverusealone and local supports for harm reduction and housing. Since Nate died, I’ve wanted to create cards with his picture on them. Cards that say “in loving memory of Nate, forever 29” and “I see you. You matter. Please take care. You are not alone.” Cards that list local numbers which might actually offer help when and if a person reaches out.

This week I created and ordered those cards. You too can download and print the Never Use Alone resources here and have them handy when you offer a little money or your kindness to a person in need. I put together a wish list on Amazon so that others could easily and quickly buy items to help me fulfill this mission. If you’d like to be one of those angels, I welcome your support and you can find that list here, or email me if you’d like to send a check or online payment for this purpose.

As I look at the cards with my son’s loving gaze and I pull together the items that I hope will brighten someone’s day, my heart feels full and grateful that I can serve in this way.

I can choose to live, even though Nate and so many don’t. I can live for them, to honor their lives. I can focus on what I can do and be, which will keep me moving forward rather than staying stuck in the agony of what I can’t do. I can do it honestly, authentically, imperfectly, with integrity that allows all of the human experience as part of it. I can continue to look for, notice, pause, and savor the beauty that is here every single day, rather than dwelling on the ugly that is much louder and for some reason highlighted by the news and social media. It seems more prevalent, but I doubt it really is.

I can do what I can to brighten another person’s day, simply by offering a smile or holding a door, saying “thank you,” letting someone in in traffic. It doesn’t have to be costly. And, when able, I can donate time or money, buy someone’s drive-through order without them even knowing (that’s so much fun!). There are opportunities for kindness every day.

I can do what I can to help others - to be kind, compassionate, generous, and loving. And, I can only hope that it makes a difference. I can’t save my son’s or anyone’s life, but maybe I can make a difference to someone. It’s certainly worth a try. Kindness and compassion are in short supply. Let’s do what we can. Let us be loving forces of light in this world. That’s who my son was, and it’s who I hope to be as well. Out of pain rises purpose and passion to do what I can.

A lot of what we think we can’t do may be things we simply haven’t learned yet or trained for (more of a “I can’t yet…” or “I don’t know if I can because I’ve never tried.”) We may surprise ourselves if we open to the possibility that maybe we can. Don’t close the door too soon. And for the things you know you can’t do, I invite you to look at what you can do instead. If you can’t help someone you love, who can you serve? If you can’t do one activity you wish you could, what can you do as an alternative? If you don’t have the financial means to do something, what might be a nice, affordable substitute? Shifting our focus from what we can’t do, to what we might be able to or what we can, can make a world of difference.

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Yes, and... Life is One Big Improv

8/14/2023

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I got together with a friend/teacher/mentor/coach the other day and I’m so glad I did. As we sat outdoors, enjoying our coffee and lemonade, we talked for over 2 hours about life, death, struggle, and joy. We shared our truths and our hearts. So grateful for precious 1:1 time like this - real conversation, heartfelt connection and care for one another, true interest in what’s going on in each other’s worlds. This man and I do not shy away from the hard topics. We dive right in. But we don’t wallow in the misery, by any means. He also reminded me about joy and the ability to choose.

He reignited within me a desire for joy by sharing his commitment to only take on work that brings him joy. Even in important, life-altering work, joy is possible. Even with something as heavy as supporting people around substance use and recovery, joy is possible. I want to work with people who are open to wonder, awe, delight, even in the hardest and heaviest of times. No doubt watching a loved one struggle, fearing for their life, or losing them certainly are some of the hardest, scariest, heaviest times I’ve known.

And yet, even after Nate’s death, there are turkeys in wildly unexpected places, owls everywhere, feathers dropping out of nowhere, song lyrics, people appearing out of the blue to amaze and delight us, to touch our hearts, to wake us up to the mystery beyond what our little human minds understand. Even now he reminds me to be touched by the life we shared, the moments of joy and delight, the laughter, the not-so-serious times before things got so serious, and even the joy we found while they were very serious.

I don’t need to carry the yoke of his death around my neck forever because the delights of life are also still available to me. Wonder and awe are everywhere if my eyes are attuned to look for them. Joy dances in my heart, waiting to be set free. At a campfire, watching grown women blow bubbles, listening to heart-wrenching music with my sister while coyotes yip and yap in the nearby hedge, feeling both invigorated and a little terrified all at once. Dancing and singing at a P!nk concert, surrounded by glitter, boas, pink tie-dye, and neon landscapes, holding my breath while she soars overhead, praying that cable and harness hold. Taking in the early morning sun as it casts its light on the hills, on the lake. Appreciating moments of silence, the stillness of this day. The fact that I get another day. That I get to have time with friends who are delightful rays of sunshine. Getting to connect with one of Nate’s close friends, and being able to bake for her and get to know him through her heart and eyes. Time for yoga, time to clean if and when I feel like it. Making time to write and letting go of any rules I might have once held about what a blog should be. All these things carry their own kind of miraculous wonder and awe.

Yes, there is a lot of shit in the world. A lot of angry, scared, exasperated, and aggressive people out there. I see them every time I hit the highway - their energy shouts at me from their window stickers and their rapid pole-positioning. I see them online venting their frustrations and accusations. People who are afraid act out; they try to control because too much feels out of control. I get it. I’ve been there.

And yet… music is still being made, gorgeous cakes are being baked and decorated, birds still sing, butterflies dance unaware of this craziness, campfire flames leap and kiss marshmallows to golden perfection, stories are shared, memories held, poems melt hearts, dreams ignite, and beauty is everywhere.

If only we slow down enough to notice, even when our hearts are broken, love and wonder, awe and delight are everywhere, available, waiting. Each day, each moment offering a new beginning. We do not need to buy into the story that life must be a slog. We do not need to take on the “poor me” persona that comes when people know you’ve had a devastating loss, are facing a dire challenge, or are in treatment for a disease they’re calling fatal. Hope can remain. Miracles abound. Truly.

Sometimes it’s a game to catch Nate’s signs and to simply delight in them. I let him know I get it. I see him. I hear him. I feel it. I laugh. I thank him.

Life does not have to be a burden to bear. Couples do not have to play out the sitcom roles of annoying and being annoyed with one another. Workers do not have to surrender their joy for a job they hate, be available for it when they have nothing left to give or when they’re supposed to be done for the day. No one is obligated to be on call all the time. Turn off the damn phone and be present with the people right here, to this moment offering itself for your delight.

We can take back the joy. Even after the unimaginable has pierced our hearts. Our hearts still long for love, laughter, excitement, delight. They really, really do. Don’t worry. It doesn’t erase the pain or negate the loss. But, living in endless suffering honors no one. Living in constant fear serves no one. Pushing beyond the point of exhaustion is good for no one. So, bring on the joy. Show up to life and embrace it wildly.

Let life live through you. Yes, I am broken hearted at the loss of my son, and still I get up each day and engage with life. Yes, I wish he were still here and we had one more chance, and we don’t, so I choose how I will continue to live.

Where can you find ways to say, “Yes, this bad thing has happened or is happening, and… still I will ____ (have fun, find delight, rest, create peace, etc., whatever is true for you).” or “Yes, I do have this responsibility/commitment/obligation, and still I can_____________”

Where can you free yourself to live life a little less burdened and a little more playful? Where can you get curious? What opportunities might you give yourself? Because one thing I now know for sure is that life is one big improv. We don’t know what will be thrown our way, and so it’s up to us to choose, moment by moment how to respond. How to engage.

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Finding Stillness

4/11/2023

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Often, we move through the ocean of life as if we’re riding the surface - tossed around, bobbing and rocking with every wave. We may be floating safely enough, but in this constant churning, we’re also thrown about by life, by people, responsibilities, and demands that pull on us. We are tossed and turned - at the mercy of things outside of our control.

Yet, beneath the crashing waves, the dark depths of the ocean offer a place of profound stillness, some distance from the surface turbulence. Similarly, deep within each of us, at the core, there is stillness available. The trick is to find it. Once we’ve found it, we only need to return there, time and again.

In this space, receive and allow yourself to be nourished and fed. Life continues at its frenetic pace, but you can find your own agency within it. In this space, feel both your separateness and your connection with others - not splitting off, but coexisting, maintaining your own steadiness, even in the waves. We become fluid ourselves as we flow with life a bit more smoothly, grounded and solid in the knowing, the sensation of our own body.

In the Stillness
In the stillness
the answers come,
truths are unearthed,
promises remembered.

In the stillness
prayers are answered,
hearts are restored,
dreams fostered,
visions captured.

In the stillness
the oneness becomes clear,
connection to self deepens,
universal threads intertwine.

In the stillness
the magic lies
waiting for you to visit
and reside here,
for however many moments.

© Barb Klein, 2016, from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life

What do you think? What does stillness offer you? What might become possible or evident if you took the time to find some quiet, some space?

Lao Tzu asks, “Do you have the patience to wait
                            Till your mind settles and the water is clear?
                            Can you remain unmoving
                            Till the right action arises by itself?”

Such a great and powerful reminder to get out of the chaotic spin, the tendency to react and jump into action without even having fully formed thoughts or ideas about what would be wise, skillful, or helpful to you, to the other, or to the situation.

Patience - they say it’s a virtue, and I suppose that’s true. Yet when we’re confronted with urgency, it can be terribly hard to access. Taking a pause. Finding our place of internal stillness helps.

What helps us get to that rich place of stillness? Pausing. Gathering ourselves up in our own loving presence. Granting ourselves grace, stepping back, stepping away before needing to take any action at all. Remembering that rarely anything good comes from the instantaneous fight, flight, freeze, or facade response.

It’s far better to slow things down, find our bearings by finding ourselves in this moment - take stock through our senses. Notice what we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel in this space. Awareness anchors us into the present moment. In that moment we can find and claim the stillness, remembering that even in a hurricane, there is the center of the storm, the eye that is relatively untouched by the raging winds. When the storms of life are raging, take yourself to the eye. Find yourself standing firm in the strength of who you are… not rigid, but strong and supple, able to bend and flow as the willow does. Bending, but not breaking because you are allowing the storm to happen around you, choosing not to step into it or resist it.

In the stillness, close your eyes, touch your heart, and ask the most important question: What do I need in this moment? Allow yourself permission to ask, knowing that your needs matter. Allow the answers to come. Allow yourself to hear, even if it’s uncomfortable. And then, from this grounded stance, begin to get curious about the ways you might be able to tend to whatever needs arise. What could you try? Who could you ask for help? What can you let go of? Is there anything here that is not yours? What can you turn over to someone else or to God or the Universe? Are you trying to carry too much? What can you put down, dear one?

In the stillness, take stock again. What do you see, hear, feel, taste, and smell now? Have your senses opened? Perhaps now you hear the bird song that wasn’t there in the crashing waves of panic. Maybe your eyes have softened to notice the yellow wren swinging on the feeder or the warmth of your lamp or even the light within the mostly grey sky. Maybe your heart and breath have slowed a bit. Maybe. Maybe not. What’s true for you?

The stillness offers us, invites us, into intimacy with our heart and soul. The stillness washes over us, enveloping us like a warm bath. The stillness opens our hearts and minds to fresh possibility - to see what wasn’t there before. To try something maybe we’ve never done before. Stillness offers spacious room to breathe, to stretch, to grow.

Stillness reminds us we do not have to rush, and that when we let go of the rushing, we are far better equipped to face whatever challenges await. It doesn’t take long for this medicine to work its magic. For it’s not really magic at all. It is the natural way of being - the essence of who we are. All the outer busyness and craziness - that’s conditioning, learned behavior from our society. The sense that we must be on or available all the time, that we must respond in an instant - that’s nonsense. It makes no sense except when there is an immediate danger, which is fairly rare.

There’s almost always more time than we think, and if we allow ourselves even a few moments of pause, of quiet, of stillness, what will emerge is so much richer, wiser, skillful, effective, supportive, helpful. So much more likely to be grounded in who we are and what we believe in. So much more aligned with what really matters to us. So much more likely to lead to fewer mistake and fewer regrets.

Let’s dive beneath the surface to tap into this deep anchoring of still, quiet nourishment. Imagine what could be if we all did that a little more often. Imagine a world grounded in stillness before action.

Please enjoy Leah Kent's beautiful guided meditation, Anchored Stillness, as a support toward finding your own stillness in this moment.   Leah Kent is a book coach and author who helps wisdom keepers and visionaries write and publish transformational books about their work in the world. She’s the creator of the Wild Embodied Writing method, and the author of Awakening the Visionary Voice. To learn more, visit leahkent.net or connect with Leah on Instagram @leahkentco

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A Fresh Start

Gratitude - A Self-Care Practice

Slow it All Down... Even when Times are Urgent

Finding Hope - In the Worst of Times

Changing Perspective

Beauty and Gratitude can Change Your Life

Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

I Can't____, but I CAN...

Yes, and... Life is One Big Improv

Finding Stillness

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