Inspired Possibility Blog

Gratitude - A Self-Care Practice

12/3/2025

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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Choices

5/22/2025

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Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

When things feel out of control, chaotic, and relentless in their bombardment on our hearts and minds… when we feel overwhelmed, scared, or anxious, it’s easy to feel powerless. When we feel powerless, we may feel like we have no choice other than to do what we’re expected to do, what we’ve always done. We forget that we always have choices. We may not like the consequences of some decisions, but it doesn’t mean the choice isn’t available or worth considering or at least daydreaming about.

A month or so ago I had the great fortune to join Deb Denome of Finger Lakes Forest Immersion for a heart- and mind-opening one-day retreat: “Deepening our Dialogue with Nature.” What a gift to immerse in nature – to feel her support and to hear her wisdom. One of the invitations Deb offered us was to go into the field or woods and daydream, while inviting a non-human being such as a tree, bird, flower, or rock to daydream with us. In that daydream, notice images that arise and also listen for any messages or reminders from these wise beings.

I found myself sitting along a mowed path near a bird house close to the Quaking Aspen where a bluebird had visited for lingering moments on my previous experience. As I sat and closed my eyes, I received several messages including: “LISTEN.” Mostly the birds stayed hidden in the hedge but their calls and songs were loud. I also got “Soar to new heights,” which I’ll admit felt cliché, but since it dropped in, I received it for consideration. Turkey vulture offered, "It can be effortless. Even with torn and tattered wings." As our group shared the various messages received from birds, honeysuckle, and grape vine, one that landed in my heart was, “I am free to imagine.”

Since then, I’ve gotten curious about how well and how often I actually let myself imagine or dream into possibility. The extent to which I don’t is somewhat startling to me – it challenges my story of who I am and what I stand for.

It’s been surprising to me to see how limited I am in my own imagining of choices and possibilities! I like to think I’m this great expansive thinker, open to possibility, curious, willing to explore… but when my husband threw a major life-changing possibility my way, I found myself back on my heels – unsure where to even begin thinking about it. But also, curious. This idea was outside of the assumptions I make about our life – where we’ll be, who will be in our life, what everyday living would entail. I have been reflecting on this for a while. Do I really believe what I preach? How willing am I to take what feel like big risks or make huge changes? How much security and comfort do I find in the status quo, even when the status quo doesn’t feel particularly safe or comfortable? To what extent do I really follow my heart, listen to my soul? What do I do when there are competing desires which can complicate the choices I face?

I’m taking this time to challenge the assumptions, beliefs, stories that are so deeply rooted in the core of my being. I go back to “I am free to imagine,” as an invitation to silence the thinking mind that wants certainty and familiarity and lean into my heart and soul to open up my imagining, daydreaming mind. What could be possible if I didn’t immediately derail myself with, “Oh, we could never do that!”? What might we choose if I didn’t worry about what other people would think?

When facing big decisions, we need time and space for reflection, curiosity, wonder, and inquiry. Sometimes we have to be willing to let ourselves ask unimagined questions sometimes with an openness for insights and ideas to come forward. In that space we might discover something we hadn’t even considered. When facing horrors in the world that seem fixed or certain, can we allow ourselves to imagine a different possibility, to help dream a different world into being?

Often I go about life in a habitual way, as I suspect most of us do – it’s helpful. It’s familiar. It may or may not be a rut. Some people love routine. I am not one of those people, in general, though some structure can help contain me within my days. On that habitual hamster wheel, it’s easy to find ourselves at bedtime unaware of the many, many choices we made throughout the day – even if those choices were to do what we always do. Every single day we make a million choices – large and small that create our present and lead to our future.

What can get in the way of making a change is thinking that we need to “get it right,” as if the “right choice” will give us control in an out-of-whack reality or guarantee us the outcome we desire. Choices don’t give us control, and they do not guarantee an outcome. But, interrupting the auto-pilot program that so often unconsciously drives us, we can bring in more intentionality and awareness. When we see that we have choice and are aware that we are making decisions, we may feel a sense of agency in our lives that we weren’t aware was there. If we can let go of the idea that there is a “right choice” for an unknowable future and accept that everything we do is just a guess or an experiment, we might be more willing to play, try, give something a chance and see how it goes. Choices come moment by moment, and they add up.

For over a decade I have made the choice to practice gratitude – noticing and acknowledging things throughout the day that I am appreciative of. Gratitude, without a doubt, has changed the way I look at, experience, and engage with life. The circumstances of life are out of my control – devastating things have happened and continue to happen, personally and societally.

What is in our control is how we respond to the circumstances, the stories we tell about what’s going on, the beliefs we hold and the beliefs we question. We choose what we focus on, what we watch, who we listen to, how we choose to spend our free time and whom we share it with. It’s also in our control how much attention and energy we give to certain people, certain happenings, and what dialogue and activity we choose to engage in. We get to choose how and where we spend our money, what we invest our time and energy in, who and what we will support or participate in. We can choose to align with our values and stay true to who we are inside when we are able to pause and notice the many choices we have in an out-of-control world. Our choices impact our mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being.   So many choices affect how we show up to life!

Another thing that can get in the way of trying something new is feeling that a choice is forever – once we make it, we’re locked in. But as you examine your own life, is that really true? Are you still with the same partner you had in sixth grade? Still working the same job you had in high school? Do you still live in the home you grew up in? Does your current work utilize your college degree or business training? Maybe, and maybe not. Likely there have been some significant changes you’ve made over the years. Choices you’ve made that have altered the trajectory – maybe you even veered away from the path you never imagined leaving.

An invitation for your reflection: Where do you feel you are choice-less? Where do you cage yourself in with perceived limitations? Is it possible there is another view? Anything worth at least playing with in your mind or bouncing around with someone you trust? How do you bind your own hands or heart and prevent yourself from making a different choice even when something isn’t working or something else is calling? Do you let yourself hear and feel the call? Where can you set yourself free to wonder, to get curious, to consider something you’ve never considered before?

In my poem, “A Prayer for New Beginnings, “ I ask, “Why not? Why wait? What if?” - beautiful poetic contemplations. How often do I actually let myself consider these as if there were still-to-be-discovered choices lurking, lingering, waiting to be seen and heard? Not often enough. This moment. It’s an opportunity to choose.

What do you think? What helps you open to possibility? What gets in the way? Please share!

Further reading:
It’s not surprising that as the founder of Inspired Possibility and one who calls herself a “Possibilitator” I often find myself thinking about and writing about choices! Here are 3 pages of posts distinctly about the idea of choice – I invite you to see if any of these might be of interest to you (Barb’s blogs about choice).

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Love's Wishes

1/10/2025

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Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

I know this is a hard month for many of us with fires and wars raging, outrageous things being said, outrageous things happening. There are a lot of crises and you may be experiencing pain. Maybe, like me, you're feeling worry and anxiety about the future that lies ahead. Welcome you to this moment, just as you are.

In this time of darkness, this season of hibernation, slowing down, and going within, I offer tenderness, gentleness, compassion, and an invitation for you to receive.

A beautiful song came on my playlist and I knew I wanted it to be my next note to you all: Find the Light sung by David Ramirez. “I wish upon you peace… but most of all I wish upon you love.” There's so much I wish for you, but nothing more I could wish upon you than love. ❤️❤️

Take a few moments to listen to this heartfelt offering of love. Close your eyes and take it into your heart. What does it stir? Even if you're in a dark time or place, how does this land?

Find The Light
written by Rene Ramirez
I wish upon you peace
I wish upon you grace
I wish for less of what you want
And more of what you need

I wish upon you an old light
With a heart that stays young
But most of all I wish upon you love

I wish upon you truth
When all you feel is doubt
I hope you know that an open mind
Still knows when to shut things out
I wish upon you a brave heart
that will always rise above
But most of all I wish upon you love

Cause as the sun sets, well
the moon begins to rise
So even in the darkness
you'll find the light

You'll find the light I wish upon you an easy life
I wish upon you hard times
I hope you know that both joy and pain
Each need their moment to shine
I wish you ears that are quick to listen
That you're slow to use that tongue
But most of all I wish upon you love

Cause as the sun sets, well
the moon begins to rise
So even in the darkness
you'll find the light

You'll find the light Oh now even in the darkness
you'll find the light

As I talked with a friend the other day, it became clear just how very harsh I was being with myself, even when there was no good reason. So I started reading my messages from Love aloud to her. Often in my morning journaling I ask the question Liz Gilbert introduced me to, “Love what would you have me know?” Tears streamed as I read and let my heart receive Love's tenderness and generosity. Somehow even though the words come through my pen, they feel like they come from a greater force beyond myself.

I thought maybe you'd appreciate some of these too, since I don't think I'm the only one who gets down on herself, feels overwhelmed from time to time, or gets caught up in worry. You'll let me know if I'm wrong, right? 😊

So, here we go, some wishes from Love to you:

✨ One breath. One moment. Move at that pace. It's enough. Just be present. Be with yourself honestly, openly, with that beautiful open heart. Honor and tend to yourself through it all. You are so brave, so honest, to face things head on when you can and listen for the moment of opening. You don't have to blast the doors down…in your own time, my darling. Held in love. Always.

💕 Beloved, keep following your heart. Keep loving - yourself and your people, well. Take very exquisite care of your body, your heart - rest as needed. Take breaks. Don't push. Gentle, gentle, baby. You need and deserve gentle, my beloved. You have a lot going on - out there and in your being. In your tender heart especially. It has an effect on everything. Don't underestimate that, beloved. You can do this, but you need mindful presence and tending. Paying attention. Give to yourself at least as much as you give to others. Fill up to overflowing. Let yourself be loved.

💜 Live and grieve in your way, in your time, my darling. Allow the joy, peace, sadness, and grief to all swim together in you and around you as they will. Your way is unique and allows others their way - no right or wrong. Release the worry of what others will think. Just be you, be with you, and know that that is perfect, beloved. Release expectations and live into the moments as they come. Be present. Be real. Allow it all…the nostalgia, the longing will be here too. It's ok. There's room for it all. The heart knows the way to hold it all, my dear.

❤️ Cherish the moments, darling. You know how precious and sacred they are, for sure. Don't miss them. Be here for them, and beloved, tend to yourself well along the way. Breathe with life and let life breathe with you. Feel how your heart really can hold it all? Because it can. It's amazing, and it's how you humans are built - it just takes some time and experience to really feel it. The heart's capacity and the human capacity is immense and too often untapped, limited by your stories and beliefs. But when you feel what's possible firsthand, you can give yourself more fully to life, and that's a beautiful thing. Cry, scream, laugh, and be silent. All is welcome here in this space, this reality of infinite, undying love.

☮️ Stay in touch with your body. Take good care of yourself as you move softly, gently, and discover what can be accomplished even in that energy. It's a new way for you, and you'll be pleasantly surprised if you can fully allow yourself to experience it - to witness that it doesn't have to be hard or overwhelming or frenzied. Let it be easy. Let it be fun. Let it be joyful work. Why not?

🩵 Oh my darling, slow it all down. Breathe. Go within. Place your hand on your heart and hold yourself tenderly, lovingly. Offer up all the love in the world to this tender heart, this tender soul that reels in the messy and harsh of life. Breathe slowly, softly, ease-fully. Take off that pressure you pile on yourself that you know isn't helpful or necessary - that only paralyzes you. Soften. Release. Gentle yourself, darling.

My invitations to you:
💕 Have your own conversation with Love. Take a little quiet time to sit with yourself. Maybe place your hand upon your heart and ask, “Love, what would you have me know?” and see what comes. You can freewrite, keeping your hand moving as words come to you and through you, or you can simply receive her messages to your heart. I find Love to be a mighty force of unconditional grace, tenderness, and generosity with so much wisdom to offer.

✨ Join me for a mini retreat, Finding Hope Within on Monday, January 20th from 12-1:30 PM ET if you'd like a peaceful place to spend a little time. We will gather over Zoom to step away from anything else that might be going on that day and turn toward our hearts and souls to be nourished and fortified for whatever life may ask of us in the days ahead.

☮️ Take some time to meditate with me with Love, What Would You Have Me Know?

What resonates with you? What does Love have to say to you? How might this support you in the coming days, weeks, year?

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Seeking Peace Even (Especially) in These Times?

10/17/2024

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Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

If you’re finding yourself feeling anxious or agitated more often than you’d like and you’d love a little more peace in your life, hold on to hope. No matter what’s going on around you, you can cultivate peace and even ripple it out to the world. I’ve learned this over the past many years of my life, during the 14 years my son struggled with substance use and all the chaos that brought into our family, and even in the past year and a half since his passing. In this post I’ll share some tried and true practices that continue to carry me through the hardest of times. I hope you’ll find them supportive.

Even when our political climate is blowing up with division and aggression. Even when weather crises are coming fast and furious. Even when there's chaos in your family. Even through all of that, moments of peace are available. Not every moment, of course. You’re human and human is messy. Life is messy. Things happen. Reactions come, and the best thing we can do is be real with them and honest about them. True peace doesn’t come by denying the truth of what’s here or trying to jump over sadness, anger, frustration, or fear to get to peace. No. None of that…

What can we do to generate some peace within when the world and its people are spinning in a frenzy around us? Here are a dozen things that have worked for me (when I remember!). It’s a practice. Always. Something to remember and come back to when we forget:

1. Pause – stop whatever you’re doing and whatever you’re thinking. Take a breath or ten and step back from the intensity of the moment in order to regain your ground and to consider a fresh perspective. It’s easy to get caught up and pulled into drama and become one more reactive person in the works, even if we really value peace.   So, give yourself a chance to intentionally interrupt the spin.

How to do this? Just taking a moment to feel your feet on the ground and to you’re your breath can help. Or maybe give yourself a timeout in the most positive of ways – this isn’t a punishment, but truly best for everyone involved. Send yourself to your room or to the woods for even 30 minutes. If you’re at work or in a public space, lock yourself in a bathroom stall for a few minutes. Pauses come in all shapes and sizes, and they’re almost never a bad idea.

2. Curiosity – Notice when you’re feeling judgmental about something or someone and catch yourself in that moment. It can be helpful to shift to a state of curiosity. Say to yourself, “Isn’t that interesting?” Or, “that person or that thought doesn’t resonate with me” instead of “I hate them!” Suzanne Giesemann shared these ideas in a workshop I was in recently, and I was able to put them to use immediately as I came across people behaving badly. When I took this approach, I found that I got less worked up and agitated. I could silently send love to a situation and then move on with my day without needing to tell the story over and over or dwell on what an asshole that guy was.

3. Listen – just listen, without jumping in with your own ideas or opinions. This can settle a heated moment quickly and keeps you from making things worse. Take that pause, take a breath, and really listen to what someone else is saying. I tried this with a man I had just met who shared his opinions about a topic I’m passionate about, and though I didn’t agree with his thoughts on it, I could hear him. In my doing so, he commented, “Given your response, I’m guessing you don’t agree?” I simply said, “I don’t know. Here are my thoughts, but I don’t have the answer, and I don’t want to argue.” My not jumping in to talk over him or shove my ideas onto him opened up space for us both to think about the topic a little more and maybe even consider the validity of the other person’s thoughts.
I am also aware that there are many times when I’m quick to speak even though my input hasn’t been requested. Pausing and just listening helps build more peaceful interactions.

Listen to yourself too – listen to your body and heart for what they need in any moment. Learning to pay attention and honor this internal wisdom is step one in creating a self-care plan that you will stick to. The better you care for yourself the more peaceful you will feel.

4. Slow down. Maybe this should have been first because it’s integral to the other three ideas I’ve shared so far. Too often we rush – our meals, our rest, our conversations. We’re a distracted and busy people. When we take a little more time to be with ourselves, with each other, we reduce the frenzy.

5. Notice what you’re taking in – you have to digest everything that you take in. That’s true of food and drink, and also of things you’re listening to, watching, and reading. Is what you’re taking in filling you up or draining you? Does it inspire you and give you hope or send you to a place of despair? You are the sacred gatekeeper for your energy, so get curious about what you’re letting in to your being and how it affects you. Make changes accordingly, even if it’s only a slight reduction – say, checking headlines or scrolling social media 4 times/day instead of 400. There’s an awful lot of input available these days and a lot of it is designed to stir you up, hook you in, or both. Take good care of you.

6. Who are you hanging around with? Are they people who lift you up, inspire you, or make you laugh? People you can be real with? People you can cry with when you’re feeling sad? Or are they people who exhaust you or suck the life out of you? You might not have a choice all the time given your family or work environment. If those places are very draining, please be sure to balance out your interactions with those that are nourishing, uplifting, and fulfilling. Also be sure you’re getting enough “me time.” You know… alone time with yourself… time to reflect, process, or just chill. Such important recharge time!

7. What energy are you spreading, perpetuating, or exacerbating? Your presence makes a difference – to those around you and to yourself. Pay attention to how you feel if you jump in on gossip or if you repeat a story or belief you’ve told many times already. That spin of agony – “It shouldn’t be this way! How could this be happening? He’s crazy! Why is he doing this? I can’t take it!” doesn’t feel great. And the truth is, you’re here. You’re taking it, and you can choose how you want to be and what energy you want to bring to the world. It matters. Notice if something inside you likes to stir up drama or if you’d feel much better being a little more Zen. Are your words and actions aligned with your values? I find a deep inner ick when they’re not! For your own peace, shift your energy.

8. Where can you take down a barrier today? In a world that seems determined to pit us against one another, that can be a hard ask, but look for opportunities to bridge a divide. Extend a kindness to someone you’d normally look away from or down on. Share a smile. This doesn’t have to be hard or big, but small acts can generate big results. It’s one of the things I love about the CompassioNate Care Bag movement – people are turning toward their neighbors in need and reaching a hand out instead of looking away.

If you love someone who struggles with substance use, there are often a lot of barriers keeping us at war with one another. Curiosity and listening at times when you might usually yell or lecture can open doors, mend hurts, and build trust and relationship. It can be really hard to listen in a situation where you think you know what’s right or what has to be done. When you open your heart to your loved one and listen to their ideas and perspectives, and have an actual conversation, new ideas and perspectives might emerge that you would never have come up with on your own. When I was finally able to unplug my ears and open my eyes to have a real two-way conversation with Nate, he trusted me enough to share a little of what it was like to be him. I think the question, spoken or intended, “What’s it like to be you?” can open a lot of doors and hearts and help build connection if we’re genuinely curious and willing to hear some hard things.

9. Notice The F’s – I don’t know about you, but when I’m feeling overwhelmed, terrified, and/or powerless, I don’t necessarily function at my best. I jump into forcing, fighting, fixing, fleeing and frenzy. When we feel out of control or powerless it’s easy to fall into these nasty F’s, often followed by a big loud exasperated “F IT!!” It’s natural to try to force things to happen, to fix problems (or people), to lash out or flee to isolation, or to find yourself scrambling in a frenzy. However, reacting these ways rarely work and often make things worse.

Try these F’s instead – face it, flex, flow, and maybe even fun. Flexing and flowing require a certain level of acceptance and surrender which come from facing the reality of what’s before you. When you can, turn toward the challenge and find a way to be with it and move with it rather than frantically trying to make it change. How might you even have fun with these moments? I now try to spend more time clapping with joy at political signs that give me hope rather than flipping off the ones that make me cringe. Why not?

Just last week I had a chance to work with this – a birthday gift I had ordered for my son was reported as “delivered” on Wednesday. Except it had not been delivered to me. Clearly it had been left somewhere, but it wasn’t in my box, in our parcel lockers or at my home. So, I filed an online claim and waited for a response. The next day I received an email to let me know they were looking into it and another later in the day that it had been found, misdelivered, but was now in my box. Great! Except… it wasn’t there. So, I called the post office and left a message for the postmaster – later got a call that she had left for the day and wouldn’t be back till Tuesday, but someone else was going to talk to the carrier to try to figure out what was going on and where this package. Frustrating… but as I sat down on Saturday morning, I silently offered up the intention that the package find its way to us with ease, and I let it go. I kid you not… within 10 minutes the postmaster was knocking on our door, handing my husband the package. She had come out on her day off to find it and get it to us! Amazing!

Does it always work that way? Of course not, especially when other people are involved. BUT, sometimes it does. I’m certain things went more smoothly and she was moved to help me out because I didn’t yell and scream at her. We need to take the steps we need to take, and then let go and wait, allowing things to get worked out.

10. Be aware of what you’re focusing on - Shifting your focus from what’s wrong, what’s troubling you, or what scares you can truly change your experience of life, even if nothing outside of you changes. One of the quickest ways to do this is to take a moment and reflect on what you’re grateful for, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant that may be. Gratitude has been shown to rewire our brains and help take us out of the eternal loop of thinking about all that’s wrong and to open up to noticing what there is to appreciate.

I also look for beauty every day – mostly outside, as nature is more than willing to accommodate me with her clouds, critters, plants, sunsets, and moon rises. Oh, and last week, the Northern Lights! Holy wow! They were spectacular! So cool to see so many people pulled together by this force of wonder and awe! Even in our homes and work spaces, there’s beauty to be found if you’re willing to look. Let yourself pause and take it in. What does beauty feel like in your body? Where do you notice it? We need beauty to counter the ugliness that permeates too much of today’s airwaves.

11. Meet yourself and this moment with self-compassion, kindness, and gentleness. I noticed myself judging my lack of strength, mobility, and flexibility in yoga class the other day. In another lifetime, yoga was a regular part of my weeks and sustained me well. The reality is in the past year and a half, what used to be a pretty regular activity has gone by the wayside. So, I have a choice. I can feel sad about how much I’ve lost in myself and beat myself up for that, or I can feel sad about it and greet myself with compassion and acceptance that this is just the way it is right now. I chose the latter, but not without a lot of internal chatter along the way. It’s a process and a practice. When we treat ourselves with compassion, we’re much more likely to offer it to others.

12. Turn to Love, with a capital L, and ask for guidance – There are two questions I sometimes remember to ask of Love, this giant force of unconditional love that’s available to us all.
1. What would Love do? Shockingly, the answer is often very different than what this cranky human would do! And, 2. Love, what would you have me know? (taken from Liz Gilbert’s beautiful practice with this inquiry). In either case, you can silently ask and quiet yourself enough to hear what response comes or you could write it out and do a little free-form journaling, allowing your hand to keep writing as you take in and capture whatever comes to you.

I find Love to be a very gentle, compassionate, supportive force to lean into which often reminds me to take it easy on myself, to slow down… all the things we’ve talked about above! Sometimes she shows me ways I can serve or help someone else that will feel good. She’s a very positive influence for me!

Life is a series of moments never promised.
As Joanna Macy said on her podcast, “We are the Great Turning,” (which I highly recommend you check out!), “This moment with you is a gift that was never promised.” This is true of every moment, so cherish your moments with people you love. The more fragile their lives, the more numbered their days, the more worthy of cherishing. We take too much for granted and get too easily swept away by stuff that isn’t worthy of our time or attention. Let’s rein it in and build the lives we want to be living.

Each of these suggestions is a process and a practice. I hope something resonates that might support you in cultivating a little more peace in your days and ways. Let me know! What other things do you do to help create peace when times feel hard, hopeless, or scary? Drop a note in the comments or send me a note. I love, love, love hearing from and learning from you!

Here’s a little music 🎶to support you on this journey – enjoy!

Common (“Cause we’ve got way too much in common…”)
If not for Love (“And what are we here for, if not for love?”)
Love Wins (“I believe we’re made to be here for each other”)

And a couple of meditations to choose from:

If Love points you toward service, here are some ways to support local grassroots efforts that are near and dear to my heart and run by people I love.

✨Brightstar Community’s Bright Night – Nov. 7th. Their mission is to help women survivors of sexual exploitation and trafficking find healing, hope, and independence. By raising awareness and funds, we can provide safe housing, holistic care, and a supportive community to these courageous women as they rebuild their lives. By attending and purchasing tickets to this fundraising event, you are directly contributing to providing safe, long-term housing and trauma-informed care for survivors.

❤️The Emilee Connection’s fundraiser of Music, Compassion & Connection – Nov. 8th – their mission is to support adults who suffer from anorexia and other eating disorders by harnessing the power of peer support, social connection, activities, educational events, inspiring speakers, and provide education and peer support for those who love them and for our community.

💕 Our CompassioNate Care Bag Mission is fueled by donations from so many amazing people. I couldn’t do it alone! If you’d like to be part of this mission, please consider a donation via Venmo to @Barbara-Klein-25 or through a purchase directly from my Wish List. I’ll be compiling the next big set of bags within the next month as we head into colder weather. Thank you!

A little of the Northern Lights beauty I found at Lake Ontario, NY

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Life... What's the Point?

9/12/2024

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Photo by Nathan Cowley: https://www.pexels.com/photo/shallow-focus-photography-of-man-wearing-red-polo-shirt-920036/

What is the point of this human life? We know how it’s going to end – 100% of the time for 100% of us, at least as far as I know. And when we face pain, challenge, or loss personally or feel discouraged about the state of the world, it can be easy to ask, “What are we doing? What’s the point? What’s this all about?”

I hope you didn’t start reading because you thought I’d have the answer, ‘cause, here’s the thing… I can’t have your answer. That question is one for each of us to ask, over and over, and explore and discover answers that ring true in our hearts and souls.

As I muddled around with what to write this week, knowing that something was brewing but also that what I had wasn’t feeling cohesive, Maggie Smith popped into my inbox and let me know that Mary Oliver’s birthday was this week! I found my thread! Mary Oliver, the great contemplative poet who has opened many hearts and minds brings it together for me.

One of her poems springs to mind immediately (though admittedly there are many that have touched me over the years).
“The Summer Day” with its compelling lines:

“Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”

Don’t these words address this inquiry head-on? Yes, everything and everyone dies at last and too soon. So, what is it we plan to do with the time we’ve been given? Why are you here?

I’ve come to the conclusion that my life isn’t about what happens in it, but how I respond to what happens. This isn’t just some simple teaching. It’s what I know to be true based on the life I’ve lived.
I’ve had some devastating losses in my life, and each one has taken its toll. Each one has brought me to my knees. And, somehow each one has also called me to keep on going.

One of my closest friends, Michael, died in my first year in college. He was 19. I sat in the funeral home for 3 days straight with my friends, trying to make sense of how this gentle being, who’d been living his dream in Hawaii, could be lying lifeless in a box.

My dad, who would not drive a foot until everyone’s seatbelt was safely secured, ironically was killed instantly in a random car accident while he was still in his prime, starting what he probably thought were the best years of his life with his new wife and new freedom. I was 21, finishing my senior year of college.

My mom, my best friend, died at age 83 (the age she had told me years before seemed like a good time to go) when I was just 39, raising 2 young boys who missed their Mima very much. I thought I’d curl up and disappear myself, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have time to let the pain of grief take me down which I suspect was both a gift and unfortunate.

My dear Mary Lally, my person, the Christine to my Meredith, died far too young just a few years ago – right before Nate was to be released from prison. I didn’t get to share that joy and hope with her, and I still miss being able to call her and laugh and cry about all that life has brought in that time. In the aftermath of her passing I had time and space to feel the loss of my friend, something the world doesn’t understand the devastation of, and it ripped me apart. It also revealed to me the grace that is also available even in grief. I wrote about that time in Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace and Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief.

Maybe all of these losses were the dress rehearsals for the most crushing loss of all – my beautiful son, Nate, died just a few months before his 30th birthday, just 6 months after being given his first real chance at living on his own. When the call came, a wail unlike any other came out of this mouth, over and over and over as I doubled over, trying to make sense of what I was being told. Numbness and shock settled in as we moved through the days and weeks, feeling little but pain and agony. Again, I said goodbye to a beautiful young man in a box, something I needed to see but never wanted to do. Somehow even then I knew I’d go on, but honestly there were times I didn’t want to. There may be times again. Sometimes the immensity of his absence lands like a sledgehammer on my heart.

I know some people don’t like the words lost and loss when we talk about death, but I use those words because these people have been lost to my day-to-day life and their absence is a loss that I feel deeply. It makes sense to me, and you’re free to use whatever terms make sense to you, of course.

After Nate left this earth, even though I saw him in the dramatic sunset that very evening and I felt his presence with me immediately, his absence in our life still hits me. There are still times I want to pick up the phone and talk with him or Mom or Mary, and the things we won’t get to talk about face-to-face hurt, leaving a big void in my world.

So, if we’re all going to die in the end, what’s the point of being here in this not-so-easy human reality? I’d love to hear your answers to this question – sharing our ideas is one way we learn and grow, which I do believe is the point of this Earth school.

We’re spiritual beings having a human experience, so we’re here to experience human – to feel all the feelings, and to grow as a soul. This is what makes sense to me. We’re here to live and to love, even after we’ve lost people who are so dear to us. We’re still here, and so we go on, trying to make sense of things that might never make sense, trying to find a purpose.

One thing I know for sure is that the lives of those gone before me matter, no matter what they looked like on the surface – these people touched lives and left a mark. Part of my purpose is to carry on the legacy and lessons I’ve learned from Nate, from Mary, from my mom. These lessons revolve around love and compassion and giving it freely. Michael and my dad showed me what it’s like to follow your dreams and listen to your heart, even if others don’t love that you are. Mary and my mom showed me what it meant to live, even when dealing with a disease that would ultimately take them out prematurely.

As I pondered this, “What’s it all about?” question, here’s some of what arose for me at this time in my life (I am quite sure our answers change over time):

The point of this life is to learn and grow so that we can serve others. The point is to be present for it, with it, to live it fully and to feel all the feelings that human brings with it, including joy and deep sadness, love and loss, and to not hold back on one for fear of the other. Life is here to be lived, and we are here to bring love, compassion, and healing to ourselves, to one another, and to our planet. That would be today’s answer, I think.

To show up for life. To embrace it. To be who we were born to be. To give what we have to give, and to keep asking the question, “What’s the point?” To listen and open our eyes, minds, and hearts to fresh insights, new understanding, different perspectives. To love. Above all else, to love and be loved. To challenge that which is not love.

I asked Love what she would add to these thoughts, and here’s what she offered:
Life is here to be lived, to breathe into your whole being. Life is within you and all around you – a mighty force to be honored. Life is a gift that was never promised and is never promised again in any moment. It is to be savored and cherished, for it is truly a precious, sacred journey of the soul. You are here to be and experience human, which includes pain. And, you are built to learn and grow from that pain so that you can deepen into love, connect more deeply as a soul, and open your heart even more. Let your heart be broken open.

In the times when you feel like you’re facing an unending battle, feeling lost, confused, alone, or scared it can be hard to see the point or to remember that things will shift. When you can’t see the way forward, maybe the point is simply to take that next breath… and then the next. I know people who have overcome dark, dark times and deep, deep hardships. They show me what’s possible when I find it hard to keep showing up.

And, so, I invite you to reflect and consider, what is the point of this life that is yours? How do you want to live it? How do you want to show up? Who do you want to be? Who can help you when times are tough? There are choices, even if life has been shitty.

As we honor Suicide Prevention Month and National Recovery Month, this feels like a relevant exploration. If you need help and don’t know where to turn, text or call 988 or chat https://chat.988lifeline.org/ . You don’t have to face your hard times alone.

Nate’s life was chaotic and tormented for much of it, but I am clear that his life mattered, and I’m touched by the way he lived – resiliently, passionately, loudly, creatively, curiously, joyfully, and painfully, and always with love.

May you know that you are loved.   May you know that you matter. May you be supported to make it to another day. Because, you’re here for a reason, and we need what you have to share. May you know laughter and beauty. May you cry your tears and scream your rage as you feel the impact of your losses and pain, as you fully embrace your humanity.

I’ll close with my favorite Mary Oliver poem that always, always, always moves me to tears:

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Can you hear this new voice arising within you? What does it call you to?

We’re here to live. Of this I am certain.

What does it look like to you to live? What helps you keep going when times are hard?

If you’re in crisis, please call or text 988 – support is available.
There are also many resources that might support you on my Resource Page.
#RecoveryMonth
#RecoveryIsPossible
#SuicideAwareness
#SuicidePrevention
#MentalHealthMatters
#MentalHealthISHealth

Here's a playlist I created that I hope you enjoy - Life...

Please share your ideas and reflections with us - help us keep on going and remembering we're not in this alone! Much love to you as you keep on showing up.

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Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

5/5/2023

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Image by Dorothe from Pixabay

Nine years ago, I had just begun writing a beautiful little book of healing poems and prayers, or rather I should say I was being woken up by words that compelled me to get up and write them down. The writing was helping me to process life, and I thought the book was going to be called “Garden of Inspiration.” About 6 months in, it became clear that that title did not embody all that wanted to be written. That life was more than just sunshine and rainbows, and people needed to feel not alone even in the dark, horrible, scary, and sad times. The subtitle for what would become 111 Invitations, “Step into the Full Richness of Life” was born. It’s a not-so-cute phrase to reflect that sometimes life is horribly painful and sometimes beautifully wonderful and a lot of times kind of just meh… and all of it is part of this human experience we seem to have signed up for.

Last year after one of my closest friends, Mary Lally, died on Christmas Eve, I wrote about grief, trying to capture the grace and pain of it. When I wrote Good Grief, Gratitude and Grace and Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief, I thought I knew what I was talking about. Maybe I did for that particular grief journey. However, I am learning that grief takes many forms and shows up in surprising and profoundly non-linear ways. It’s slow, it’s sneaky, it’s exhausting and intense, and it permeates everything at times (much like pepper juice on half a pizza that seeps over and tarnishes the whole thing).

In the past 14 years, I’ve navigated a journey that has been deeply challenging and has brought a lot of grief, along with a huge amount of deep and enduring love. That love continues even though on March 29th, our beautiful son, Nate died. The pain from this loss is unlike any I’ve ever experienced and as many people in my life have reflected, “It’s unimaginable.” In the beginning the shock carried and protected us pretty well, getting us through the tasks that had to be handled immediately. And at the same time, the sense of sacredness landed in my heart as a clear truth - we didn’t have to rush to decide about many things. We could wait to create a service in a way and at a time that felt right to us. We did not need to conform to societal norms (Nate never did, so why should we!?) despite pressure from several of his friends who understandably wanted to pay their respects and memorialize him in some way.

Go ahead and do what you will, I told them. I can’t do this for you, and anything other than keeping my circle really close and small right now would have wrecked me. I pondered whether there might be value in grieving in community and maybe we should have a service sooner, but we were not ready yet. Even now, much remains unclear, and we will just take it one moment at a time.
What I can say with confidence now that I’m living this dreaded life experience, is that the practices and teachings I’ve been living and sharing for the past decade really are working for me. They have resourced me well and allowed me to somehow keep on going, to show up for life, to live, albeit with a lot of heartache and emptiness.

I am so deeply grateful I am that we had found compassionate, kind, and loving ways to be in relationship with Nate over the past few years, that we had many honest, deep, and healing conversations. There is no question for any of us how much love connected us all. That is in large part thanks to a meditation practice which built the capacity to cultivate a heart that can hold it all, expanded open-hearted compassion, and taught us to turn toward life as it is. It’s also in large part a benefit of Recovery Coach training which helped us to understand addiction and recovery differently than we had in the past. The Invitation to Change approach definitely helped us foster trust and a loving, respectful relationship. Thank God we had that approach alive and well in our lives. I cannot imagine the regret that would haunt me now had we not.

Now to highlight a few of the things that have helped over the past decade (or longer) that continue to resource me now. It would have been much harder to incorporate these things into my life now had I not cultivated them over time. I believe they are always helpful and especially when there is one big thing that might consume our lives, whether that’s a child who struggles, work that takes over, a parent or loved one who requires our care. There are big things that can begin to define us and our entire existence if we’re not aware. When they do, it’s time to find a way back to ourselves.

1. Getting Support - Though this list is very incomplete and the things I’m highlighting are interwoven and maybe this aspect couldn’t happen without the others, I think it’s clear to say up front that I could not be doing as well as I am through this grief without so much loving support. I am glad that I have learned to ask for what I need, so when my sister asked whether she should come to be with me or not, I could clearly let her know that yes, I would like her to be here. In the past there might have been more self-abandonment in not wanting to impose on her, denying my needs in order to accommodate what I imagined were hers.

Knowing what kind of support and when I am open to receive has been critical. If someone offered food or a healing session that I couldn’t accept in that moment, I’ve asked for rainchecks. When the time was right, I asked friends to set up a Meal Train for us because we still don’t have the energy or focus to think about preparing meals. People love to give, so I’ve allowed myself to receive and say, “thank you” without too much discomfort that I’m being self-centered and spoiled. When I hit a wall from too much peopling, I give myself a break. I’ve had to pace my interactions in order to honor my own bandwidth in this time. Learning how to respect my own needs and capacity, even as I invite others to walk alongside me has been critical (I don’t think I could have learned it in real-time so I’m grateful for the years of self-care and focus on developing this skill which allow it to kick in in a time of crisis).

Over the years I have been and seen others be “strong and independent”… putting off the vibe of the outstretched stop-sign hand, letting the world know, “I’m good. I’ve got this” and then wondering why no one was offering love or support. We, as a society, have become overly influenced by this idea of fierce independence and self-reliance. We need each other to walk through life. We need to open our arms and hearts and let others in when we’re struggling. We need to understand that vulnerability is not a sign of weakness and that allowing others to show up and lend their service or their listening ear is a gift to you both.

2. Pause - you’ve likely heard me tout the value of a pause a million times if you’ve been around for any time. The taking of a breath creates space for a supportive pause. Even that split second gathering can be the difference between a less-than-well-crafted reaction and a more mindful response. Practicing the pause over many years has allowed me to be gentler with myself in what is a huge pause now - allowing myself to step back and listen within to what I need and for guidance. It’s in the pause that we access a deeper wisdom. When we pause, we take life one moment at a time, which is really the only way to go. When we don’t pause, we are often overtaken by fear which leads to reactivity and chaos. In the pause, we gain a little perspective, a little space, a little breathing room.

3. Self-Care is Vital - Renee Trudeau has taught me to slow down, quiet down, put my hands on my heart and ask, “How do I feel? What do I need? What do I want?” At first it felt foreign and awkward and sometimes my answer was “I have no idea…” Over time this has become part of who I am and how I roll, thank goodness. What this simple inquiry has allowed me to do in this time is to honor the needs and wants of my body, mind, heart, and spirit. It has allowed me to respond to those needs and wants and to ask for help. It’s allowed me pace myself, to honor the sacredness of this time and push aside any outside ideas or pressure of how this should go.

Self-care will look different, moment by moment. Allowing this is critical. Sometimes what’s needed is a nap, other times a phone call with a friend, a walk in the woods, or a good car scream! It’s not formulaic, but rather arises out of the ability to tune in and listen to your own inner knowing. I am deeply grateful for almost a decade of integrating this into my way of being - I could not have learned it in a time like this.

4. Gentle Yourself - Many thanks to Jenna, a retreat participant years ago, for offering up this phrase and turning “gentle” into a verb. As soon as I heard it, I knew what she meant. Greet yourself with exquisite tenderness, kindness, and care - likely the way you would treat a beloved friend or child. Often, we are most harsh with ourselves and gentling may not come naturally, but it is a profound gift when we can greet ourselves with compassion, love, and respect. In times of deep grief or confusion, gentling allows us to be ok enough to keep showing up, one moment at a time.

5. Honoring each Soul’s Journey - My son and I have always been deeply connected and certainly our lives were interwoven, yet several years ago, it became clear that they were also separate. He had his path and I had mine. Related, but distinct. Not dependent on one another for our state of wellbeing. It’s why I knew with every fiber of my being that I could, actually, be happier than my unhappiest child. I would not lay that burden on him; I did not need him to be ok for me to be ok. Thankfully my husband wisely articulated, “Yes, there’s love for him, but there’s also love for me, for us…” meaning we didn’t have to give it all away in an effort to save him. We needed to live our life even while we loved him, supported him, and walked alongside him the best we could.

Had my wellbeing been completely linked to his, I may well be totally devastated now, unable to imagine going on. My heart is shattered, my life has a huge Nate-sized hole in it, and I often feel sick when I imagine forever without him in it. And, I am going on. I know I will find my way back to myself and into whatever this new reality becomes. I will show up to life and live because we still have work to do, because I am determined to make our journey and his life and death matter.

You too are more than the one thread that feels all-consuming. I promise. Who are you beyond that? It’s worth the time to explore. To remember that you were a person before this thing came into your life, or even if your thing is something that’s been a part of you all your life, there’s more to you than just that. Don’t let yourself be defined or boxed in by any one thing. Stretch to see what more is here.

6. Acceptance - NOT as in I’ve reached the (non-existent) final “stage” of grief, and I’ve got this, but rather an acceptance of what is here. This goes along with #5 and also goes beyond. Acceptance of what is, not being at war with reality, allows us to meet ourselves and our lives exactly as they are. When we stop wishing that things were different (and believe me, I’ve never wished that more than these past 5 weeks), we can begin to live here and now with the qualities of truth and presence. This is what is. Now what?

Part of the acceptance that has guided me over these past many years was knowing that we could not save my son’s life. That it wasn’t even our job to do so. We could only love him as he is for as long as he’s here, but how long that was wasn’t up to us. Accepting that limitation freed me to love him differently, less desperately. It allowed us to have more honest conversations where we were each safe to share. Accepting him as he was meant I didn’t need to impose on him what I thought he should be or how he should do things; at times I was able to consider his perspective, put myself in his shoes. What I wanted wasn’t necessarily what he did. I had to try to honor his autonomy and walk alongside him and try to avoid letting my fear throw me into a state of telling or yelling. Acceptance allowed him to feel seen, heard, loved, and respected and allowed a softening in me toward his life and what the outcome might be.

For months we’ve been pretty aware that we were watching our son die. We did what we could to explore better supports and treatment. We loved him fiercely. And we also looked at quality of life, honoring that he’d prefer to live on his own, have a job, be able to write and record his music (which he did) than be in an inpatient facility, even if it would keep him safe and alive. Acceptance allowed me to choose who I wanted to be and how I wanted to show up, even when I was terrified that he would die. Acceptance allowed us to have a closer, more loving and trusting, open relationship than we would have otherwise. And acceptance now allows each of us to grieve in our own way at a our time, knowing that we will need and want different things at different times. Navigating together, but individually.

7. Cultivating a Heart that can Hold It All - this is a phrase I first heard from Buddhist meditation teacher, Tara Brach, and it’s one I’ve taken to heart ever since. It’s the idea that seemingly contradictory states of being can coexist in a way that the mind can’t make sense of but the heart can. It requires us to get away from black and white, either/or, all or nothing thinking and to recognize that even in the most painful times, there is also beauty, peace, and joy. Making room in our hearts for it all to be there is exquisite, because it’s already all there anyway. Often, we are just overly focused on one or the other, squeezing one out because it doesn’t seem to fit, adding to our suffering by not allowing ourselves the full richness of this human experience.

A meditation practice that invites us to sit with the breath, to notice what we’re noticing, but not need to rush to fix or change it, helps us to develop this capacity to be with all of life. To turn toward even the pain and discomfort, to sit in it, not needing to rush past.

There are times when I’m sick and tired of this grief thing that has landed like a cloak on our world, and I’d like to just get on, get “back to normal,” but at a deeper level I know there is no going back. There is no normal any more. I can only go forward into what is next, and as exhausting and uncomfortable as it is, I don’t want to bypass the divinely human experience of a deep grief that reflects a profound loss and a deep love.

At times I’ve wondered if I’m doing this wrong because I see people look at me, expecting that I will be devastated all the time - how could I not be? I’ve lost my child. But I’m not. I mean, I’m on the verge of tears most of the time, thoughts of Nate and the ache and longing to hold him one more time don’t ever go away, but I can also take in the beauty of a magnolia bloom, laugh with a friend, find comfort in mindless TV, sleep at night, and be grateful for the lack of worry that comes with knowing where he is. When I think of forever without him, I get punched in the gut with a wave of nausea, I lose my breath… and so I ride that wave. I allow it to be here (because, as we’ve already acknowledged, it is here) without pushing it away. If I get sick and tired of saying the same things over and over again (which I do), I allow the sick and tired. It’s amazing how much our hearts can hold if only we allow them to.

8. Gratitude - I have been practicing gratitude for at least 12 years now and it truly has changed my experience of life. (You can check out the research on how gratitude actually rewires our brains). It hasn’t changed my life circumstances, because most of those are out of my control. But it has changed how I walk through life, what I focus on, what I notice. Gratitude is one of the simplest things you can weave into your life. In any moment you can pause, get quiet, look around and notice what you’re grateful for. Whether you speak it out loud, write it down, or simply notice, take a moment to breathe it in to your being. What does it feel like to feel grateful? Where in your body do you notice it?

I notice a softening and expansion in my heart, a fullness and deepening of my breath, a broadening of my perspective in that moment of “oh yes… this is here too.” The more we look for things to appreciate in life, the more it becomes part of who we are. Every day I take photos of beauty, inside and outside my home. It’s part of my gratitude. I also reflect every evening on what I’m grateful for over the course of the day. Sometimes I pause and reflect in the morning before I get out of bed. I’m grateful the sun came up again, and I have one more day. I’m grateful for my tears which give me the natural release for this grief. I’m grateful for the friends who let me carry on and share my raw feelings with them. I’m grateful for the birds singing outside my window, the sunlight, the stunning beauty of the sky and sunset, the fresh burst of blooms that remind me of new life, even in the presence of death.

9. A Huge Dose of Grace and Self-Compassion is always of benefit.

That’s what I have to offer today, 5 weeks into the most profound grief of my life. I’m here. I’m still me even as me is forever changed. The core of who I am and what I know have been deeply impacted by this loss, and yet they carry me still.

I hope that maybe there’s something here you can bring into your life to help carry you when times get hard as well as when things are flowing smoothly. I’d love to hear what resonates with you or what challenges you. Please share in the comments or drop me a note. I may not reply right away (or even at all) - that’s part of gentling myself right now. But you reading and responding always matters. Thanks for being here as we walk this human journey in all its richness.

5 Comments

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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Carrying Pain

2/19/2023

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Pain. Fear. Worry. I’m noticing lots of us don’t know what to do with these very human, and very uncomfortable experiences. Many of us have been conditioned to push through pain. We don’t understand or don’t want to sit with it. After all, we live in a culture that says things like, “No pain, no gain!” (Which, by the way I call bullshit on!).

If we allow it, our pain informs us. It tells us when something is wrong. It lets us know we need some loving care. It begs us to rest and regroup - to nurture ourselves until we’re ready to consider what to do.

We all carry pain. One of the elements of mindful self-compassion is common humanity, reminding us all humans suffer. It’s part of our shared human experience, not a sign of weakness and not something that happens to you alone.

I have found myself living with some really heavy pain mixed with a lot of fear lately. At times I’ve found myself feeling flat and dull like a cardboard shirt liner. Some days it’s a slog to simply do the next thing. Other days I compartmentalize a bit and put the painful stuff aside to enjoy being with myself or with a friend. One thing I know for sure is the more I’m able to express or share my pain, the less burdened I feel.

When we try to carry it alone, giving it nowhere to go, no release, no expression, no tears or screams, it eats us up inside. It comes out - always - just maybe not in a healthy way. Sideways, misdirected, harmful.

What Helps

What helps me in these times is to talk about it with someone who simply listens without trying to fix or advise. It helps me to write about it. It helps me to cry, even if the tears come from an unrelated song or movie. It helps to get outdoors and look for beauty. Because what’s scaring me is so outside my control, it helps to find what I can control - picking one small task and seeing it through (I’m talking super small, like getting a load of laundry through the dryer or wiping down one kitchen counter).

I’m learning to be with my pain, and to not be with it alone. Give it space. Give it voice before its pressure builds up and blows, before I become so numb that I hide away and lose myself to the world.

Where did we learn to believe we have to be OK all the time? That it’s weak to admit we’re hurting or scared? Maybe from parents who held it all together as they went through hard times. Parents who did what they had to do to get through, who weren’t raised to talk about their sorrows or hardships and didn’t know how to care for themselves. Maybe from a world that feels hard and harsh - a world that instructs us to hide our tears and “get over” our grief.

Pain carried alone is like poison, slowly taking us down.

What if we faced pain together?

As we face our scary realities, I wonder what might happen if we can each let down our armor. Maybe we can be afraid together. Maybe in that fear, we can break through - maybe shared vulnerability will help us face what we need to in a realistic way. Maybe. Maybe if we trusted one another to be honest and open about what’s going on, we can face it together. Maybe if we stopped pretending we’re OK, maybe if we’d open our hearts to one another, take a breath, slow down long enough to be really real, maybe then we’d get somewhere. Stop pushing, stop running and let ourselves break down to break through.

Maybe we need to stop jumping too quickly to problem-solving and let ourselves admit just how scared we are first. Maybe we can admit we don’t know what’s coming or how things can change, and then uncover some fresh ideas. What if we could learn from each other’s fears as we share our own? Can we come together to find a way forward? It seems worth a shot.

Hurt people hurt people. Let’s be people who are healing to help others heal. It will take some time. We have time. It’s always better to slow things down than to try to operate from a place of reactivity. Our pain and our problems deserve our time, our attention, our love, and our full presence. Especially when things feel really dire. In those moments, may we open our hearts to one another, let our whole selves come through, and come together to find our way on.

To the One Who is Hurting
by Barb Klein

To you, Dear One,
                The one who’s not doing as well
                as you’d like the world to believe,
I see you
I feel for you
I know what it’s like -
                to armor up and soldier on
                to put on a smile when you feel empty inside
                to feel lost and alone, and oh, so scared
Where do you turn?
How do you let it out
                so you don’t carry this unbearable weight
                alone?
Please let yourself let down
                some way, somewhere…
Please…
Don’t carry this alone.
It will tear you up inside
And leave you as destroyed
                as the one you worry about.
Please, find someone -
                let someone walk by your side.
You don’t have to pretend to be OK.
Really.
In each of us there lies a secret pain -
                too big to let out, we fear,
                afraid it will take over the moment it’s revealed
You are not alone.
You are one of thousands of millions,
                pretending to be OK,
                shoving it down, this poisonous pain,
                burying it away,
                hurting and hurting and hurting some more.
Let it out.
Let someone in.
You do not have to carry this alone.
When pain is shared
                it becomes less heavy -
                perhaps.
Perhaps a new possibility might arise…
                if not, at least you can face it -
                together.
It’s too much for one person to bear, this poisonous pain.
I see you
I feel you
I’ve been there (just yesterday, in fact)
I wrap you in a love that reminds you -
                You do not suffer alone
Let’s carry this together
                as we step into this day,
Not pretending we’re OK
It’s OK
We’ll go on and find our way
Somehow
Some way
We will get through another day

Gentle yourself in whatever way you need. Rest when you need to. Know that pain doesn't have to be pushed through and that it's not weak to ask for help. Cry. Scream. Write. Whatever works for you to get out any pain you're holding. Let it out, get it out so that it doesn't tear you up inside. Please offer yourself tons of grace. Find your own version of what helps.

And if, in this moment, you're feeling peaceful, relaxed and full of joy! Great!! Soak that in - breathe it in to your bones so you remember you can find this feeling when you need it.

As always, please meet yourself with kindness, gentleness, tenderness, and compassion. And know that you are not alone.

I offer you this meditation, In Painful Times, as a practice to support you.

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Learning in the Tough Times

1/25/2023

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On a recent visit with my son in the hospital, taking in how serious things were, I did not hide my concern. It showed in the frown on my face and in the tears just waiting to be released. I held his hand and gazed at him…

He didn’t want to talk much about it, because he gets tired of so much focus on him and it. So, he asked me, “How are you?” “Concerned,” I answered, not wanting to dodge the seriousness of this time.

“But, how are YOU?” he pressed. OK, I'll play. How AM I?

It’s a great question, because of course how he is affects how I am, AND it’s not the whole of me. It’s not my only answer. At times (and these crises are some of those times), I am more consumed with him and his life than I’d like to be. It can overshadow my life and take up most of my energy. At times. But not all the time. This reminds me of a piece I wrote years ago, “Can You Be OK Even When “Things” Aren’t?”

So, I appreciated his invitation to reflect on myself. To check in… I don’t know. How am I? How’s my body, mind, heart and soul? It reminded me where I end and he begins. I don’t have to morph into his (or anyone else’s) reality. I get to have my own experience of life. In this moment, we’re both ok. That’s all I really know along with knowing I have no idea how long that will last.

Since then, I’ve noticed how quickly my answer to this question changes. Within any given 24 hours, my reality is vastly different from moment to moment. Life moves and shifts and morphs constantly, and it’s up to me whether I keep myself stuck in any given place for longer than I need. Sometimes when things come at us fast and furious, piling up one after the other, it doesn’t feel like a choice. And maybe it isn’t in those times. Maybe then all we can do is get through, somehow, to the other side.

This morning as I write and consider this simple yet complex question of how I am, I’ll say, I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well because I was too busy beating myself up for a good bit of the last 18 hours. My stomach feels queasy. My head aches because my brain has been way to busy mulling over, and over, and over the events I got myself caught up in yesterday. I’m pissed at myself for ignoring (no, steam-rollering over) my intuition and gut as they screamed at me, “This isn’t right. It makes no sense.” I did it anyway.

The “what” in this case has nothing to do with my son. What it is isn’t important - let’s just say it’s one of those things that causes me to feel so many things… all bundled up in a big old ball of shame, embarrassment (I definitely should have known better), and self-flagellation. Mired in the shitty shame spiral.

I’m working to move through it. What’s done is done. I’ve done what I can to clean up the mess and try to prevent any further problems. Turning toward what I did and taking responsibility was definitely step one. It’s still bugging me. I find I need to keep on talking myself through this. Reminding myself. That’s over. You’ve done what you can, and now you just need to wait and see how it plays out. There’s nothing more to do right now. You, as much as anyone else, deserves your kindness and forgiveness. Last night I offered myself a loving kindness blessing for peace, happiness, safety, health, and ease. Then I inhaled “breathe in sleep” and exhaled “breathe out stress…” I guess it worked, at least for awhile - until I woke up again too early and my mind kicked into its incessant spin.

This thing I did robbed me of too much time and energy yesterday. I really don’t want it to continue weighing me down and interfering with things I need to and want to do. I didn’t even do the dishes last night after being on a 100% roll for the past week. When things like that start to slip, I know I’m in too deep to some kind of something that I need to get out of. And I know that I’m the only one who can set me free.

Why is it so hard to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving with ourselves? Why do we latch onto these things that we’ve done wrong, tempted to have them forever define us as “a terrible person” or someone who never gets anything right? Why do I have these struggles? I don’t know if you do or not!

Today I get to choose. Do I keep spinning and swimming in the muck, or do I continue to notice the bad feeling when it rises back up and move forward anyway? I am choosing - to journal as a way to process all of this, to take a bath and try to imagine this ick washing down the drain, to sing some supportive songs, to go for a walk with my husband and talk about other things, to get on Zoom and write with my co-writing friends. I choose time to practice Tai Chi for Recovery with the amazing, Theresa Knorr - it's a great time to accept the things I cannot change and change the things I can! Also, Tai Chi always helps me move emotions and energy and helps me to get grounded! These choices are acts of self-kindness and self-compassion. They let me know that I am going to show up for myself even when I am really not happy with me. I don’t need to pile on punishment. It really doesn’t help in any way.

I choose to reassure my sister, who was deeper in the muck than I was, and encourage her to not let it steal any more of her joy either. We’re human. We make mistakes. It was a big one. But, no one died. It’s fixable. And, at the same time, as I talk it through with her trying to help clean up more of the mess, I'm shaking. The shock is still living inside my body. We've beeen shaken by this scam... and it's hard to trust anyone or anything right now. It feels like danger is lurking around every corner.

What I’ve learned from all of this:

#1 Do NOT override that inner knowing for anyone’s outside voice, no matter how much they plead. Do not.

#2 Slow things down and think it through before I act. Talk it through with someone I trust if I’m not sure.

#3 Do not get caught up in the seeming urgency of anything. Unless there’s blood, fire, or someone is turning blue, there are few things that require immediate action - especially if they don’t make sense.

#4 Do not act in a state of confusion. Pause. Walk away. Breathe (we need that oxygen for intelligent thinking!). Regroup. Reground. Come back and choose from a grounded place. Will I still make mistakes or get things wrong? Of course! But, probably not in things like this.

#5 When I F up, face it, deal with it, forgive myself (or at least consider forgiving myself), and move on. Don’t let it continue to burden me unnecessarily for longer than needed.

#6 Be kind to myself in all of this. What would I say to someone I love who’s in my shoes right now? Offer that same grace, gentleness, and compassion to me. Remember my messy humanness, my predictable imperfection.

#7 Let myself move through it, get over it. It’s just one (very problematic and annoying) moment in the grand scheme of this life. Look at all I’ve gotten through in the past. I can get through this too. In many ways, this is nothing! It will be ok. Somehow it will be ok.

#8 Remember how quickly things change. Internally and externally. This too will pass. It’s passing even now, if I let it.

#9 Call in Enchantment… ask her what more she has to offer me right now. Here’s what she had to say, “Oh, baby girl, you can bring in gentleness, kindness, and care - always. When you fall into beating yourself up, stop. Remember that. Don’t let it spiral into 1500 things you’ve done wrong or let it make you a globally terrible person. Just own the mistake, name the shame, regret, and anger you feel. Let it move through you. You don’t have to continue to carry it or let it darken one more moment. Let it go. Move on. I love you.

So, I ask you… How are YOU? How do you deal with these moments in your life? Or am I the only one who knows what I’m talking about? If so, thanks for indulging me! If not, I would love to hear how you get yourself through these tough times.

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Reflections and Intentions

1/7/2023

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Looking back and looking ahead. It’s that time of year. Though it’s really just the turning of a page on the calendar, there is a collective energy around the New Year that we might as well get on board with. For me it’s not about resolutions (they simply don’t work for most people). It’s not about goals, because despite being a coach, the language of goal-setting has never resonated for me. I am much more about reflection, vision, intention, mindful, thoughtfulness as well as opening to possibility, allowing what will come to be revealed.

To look back on 2022, I have to take out my calendar. I can barely remember what I did yesterday, so to think back to last January is a stretch. One thing I know for sure is that last January/February I was immersed in a grief so strong it swallowed me whole. On Christmas Eve 2021, one of my closest friends of all time, Mary Lally, died. The grief that rushed in was similar to what I felt after losing my mom. Except this time, I had the time and space to really let myself feel it… to be with it… to see how it moved me and moved through me. It was intense, and it’s not over. Grief doesn’t end. It just changes and surprises us from time to time with its energy. (read Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace or Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief if you want to see what was brewing in me then)

2022 was a year of Heart Evolution, Heart Revolution. My heart opened. My heart shut down. My heart exploded in many different ways. I am forever changed. (my second post about Heart Revolution is here)

What I intended to but didn’t do…
Recently I saw a post from Cheryl Strayed that shook me in a beautiful way. She had been transcribing her journals and came across a list from 10 years ago - a list of 10 things she had intended to do, but hadn’t in the prior year. What a fascinating reflection! In the midst of so much celebration and acknowledgment of “this year’s highlights,” I don’t know that I have ever seen anyone take the time to notice and call out what they didn’t do.

So, I decided to play with this in my own way, which includes a bit of what I did do instead… I didn’t do this, but I did do this… or an inquiry into what the not doing shows me about myself. What might I learn or discover as I look at these things without judgment, just seeing them as truthful observations.

So, I’d love to share a bit of this with you and invite you into your own reflection and inquiry.

I didn’t lose the 10 pounds that I sometimes say I need to. But I did gain 10. I went up a size or two, and have been grappling with whether this really matters to me or not (and if it does, why?)   What do these numbers represent to me? Why do I care? Does it matter that I added an X to my L? Does it change who I am or the value I bring to the world? Do I care or is that just part of the story I’ve bought into and told myself? How might I learn to love the body I have at this phase of life, appreciating what it has done for me over all these decades? I am learning to move with flesh I am not used to having, getting to know the body that is mine in this time of life. This isn’t an exploration I’m finished with or comfortable with by any means. I’m still in the thick of it (no pun intended) trying to figure out what’s really true for me. I wrote a bit about this during my April A to Z Blog challenge (my theme was Question (Almost) Everything - Bodies, Bumps, and Bulges, Oh My!)

I didn’t finish writing my second book, a companion for families in recovery from the effects of a loved one’s substance use. I wanted to have this done by Spring, before our lives would change in a significant way and I feared I’d lose the time, energy, or maybe even mindset to keep writing.

I did, however, decide to slow it down with the process so that I can write the best book I possibly can at this time. This feels really good and right. This book deserves that level of care. I have also taken moves to step all in to life as a writer, first and foremost. It’s scary and exciting and wonderful all at once. This book inspires me. My writing supports and fulfills me. It feels like the main way I want to serve right now.

I didn’t get to see Brandi Carlile at Red Rocks, even though I had put the dates on my planner as if that would somehow magically solidify that we could get tickets. We couldn’t. And, it’s ok. Maybe it’s better to hold on to the epic memories of our 2021 trip rather than trying to repeat it. Maybe I’m justifying not being able to get tickets (or at least not being willing to pay the resale price).

I DID add in a lot more live music and choose to add in more fun with friends as a priority. We went to see Dar Williams locally, we joined the Avett Brothers in Chautauqua for the rocking-est show I’ve ever seen them perform in a space that seemed to have them billed as folk. We did get to see Brandi at Woodstock and in Madison Square Garden. I cherish these special times with Tom and with the friends who join us for our road trips!! We even got a personalized Christmas video from BJ Barham from American Aquarium, thanks to our friends, Jenny and Bill! That was fun! I’m finding epic moments come in many shapes and sizes - not always what we have planned or think we would like, but there they are!

I did not continue on with Soul Care, a group I’ve been offering in some form or another for the past 8 years. This was a tough decision because I loved this program and the women who have gathered in it. In many ways, it got me through the toughest parts of the pandemic as we amped up to weekly calls just to have that extra space of authentic, open-hearted connection. But it was time for a change. This move taught me what it means to have an integral ending, to allow space for goodbyes and all the feelings they bring, to allow for sadness and disappointment and do it anyway, because it’s time.

I did not spend the summer boating on our lake, pausing often to rest on the waves and just hang out and read. In fact, what we did do was sell our boat right before the 4th of July holiday weekend… nothing I would have expected. As we often do, we got swept up in a spontaneous decision and let it go. It fell into the realm of several things this year: “If it’s more hassle than it’s worth, let it go.” The bi-annual maintenance, finding someone to help us launch and take out every year, finding someone to wrap it for the winter… and just not using it as often as we’d like, often feeling the burden of it looking up at us on a on a nice day, feeling like we “should” go out… that’s not the energy we are looking to hold onto. And so, we let it go. It was a surprise and a relief.

On our final spin around the lake, I cried, as I felt both the gratitude for having fulfilled this lifelong yearning of mine to own a ski boat and the longing to keep it, “just in case…,” and I let myself feel the sadness, the gratitude, the joy of that moment itself, and the relief of unburdening one more thing calling for our limited time and energy.

I didn’t bathe in grief all year long, I didn’t curl up into a ball and disappear, despite any number of reasons I could have. I did allow the grief to come (did I really have a choice?) and go as it did. I immersed in it and let it take me over. I worked with practices and practitioners to help me in moments of intensity. I wrote about it. I nurtured myself the best I could and I allowed others to support me. And I continue to meet these moments as gently as I can, accepting what is the best I can, bringing love and compassion with me.

Some other reflections to play with:
I surprised myself with
I learned ___ about myself
I noticed
I let go of
I welcomed in
I returned to
Fresh perspectives I’ve gained or considered
I fell in love with
I was supported by
I supported
I discovered (or it discovered me)
How do I want to feel in 2023?
What do I want to breathe life into this year? (Ooohhh, thank you, Abby Wambach for that one! You can hear the We Can Do Hard Things podcast on this theme of reflection here)
Is there a word that might support me, at least for the first quarter? (I’m considering the possibility of having multiple words this year… not entirely sure yet, but I know they will make themselves known to me in time!)
All of this leads me to step into 2023 with

Your turn… Pause. Lovingly, gently, with compassion, look back on this past year. Feel into the coming year. What do you notice as you reflect on your year? What you didn’t and did do? What you’ve learned and how you’d like to move forward into 2023 a little more intentionally?

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Gratitude - A Self-Care Practice

Choices

Love's Wishes

Seeking Peace Even (Especially) in These Times?

Life... What's the Point?

Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

Finding Stillness

Carrying Pain

Learning in the Tough Times

Reflections and Intentions

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