Inspired Possibility Blog

Tending Your Heart

2/19/2024

Guest blog by Heather Ross
Some events are so impactful that they create a distinct before and after in the timeline of your life. The events that unfolded in the second half of 2021 forever altered the landscape of my existence. Within just 6 months I was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer, including a double mastectomy, my divorce was finalized (resulting in the loss of crucial medical insurance which I needed for future treatments), and my 21-year-old daughter Helanna passed away from an overdose.

I realize this is a grim way to start a blog post, but surprisingly, the intensity of those experiences led me to a profound perspective shift and opened my life to new possibilities. Has it been easy? No! But I want you to know what’s possible, even after facing such huge challenges.

When I was in high school a friend and I were sitting on the front of a pontoon boat enjoying the refreshing breeze as her father was driving us to a restaurant on the lake. A water skier made a massive wave that caused the front of our boat to dip in the water. My friend and I were deep in the lake before we knew what happened. At first, I panicked, disoriented because I didn’t have time to take a deep breath. Then I stilled myself and waited to see if I floated up. Once I figured out which way was up, I also noticed the sunlight, and I swam toward it as fast as I could so I could take a deep breath and fill my lungs with oxygen again.

Unlike this boating accident, the events of 2021 left me disoriented with no buoyancy to help me float. There was no light to guide me to the surface so I could breathe again. I felt like I had lost everything. My mind relentlessly told me everything I had worked on for the first 49 years of my life had failed and I had no future. The grief from breast cancer, divorce, and losing Helanna sometimes felt like drinking from a fire hose, flooding me and taking me down.

I consider myself to be resilient, and before this time, when an area of my life collapsed, I built it back up better and stronger, but losing my daughter tested my strength in every way imaginable. I couldn’t imagine ever having the strength to face a future without her, so the painful thoughts intensified, becoming more and more believable.

I also started noticing memories that had not bothered me before my daughter passed away suddenly became traumatic, and I couldn’t understand why. After struggling on my own for a while, I sought EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy to help me process my traumatic memories.   EMDR encourages the patient to briefly focus on the trauma memory while simultaneously experiencing bilateral stimulation (typically eye movements), which reduces the vividness and emotion associated with trauma memories, calming the nervous system.

Trauma is not only about the event itself. It is also about what happens inside us in response to the event. Trauma can be caused by any event that we experience as emotionally distressing, not just life-threatening events. The loss of my daughter made me feel very unsafe. I became preoccupied with thinking about the other horrible things that could happen. The more I thought about bad things happening the more unsafe I felt. It was a vicious cycle.

Trauma's impact extends beyond the event itself and infiltrates our thoughts, emotions, and memories. Our brains work in a think-feel-act cycle. We have a thought. That thought releases chemicals that we feel as an emotion in our body, and emotions lead us to action. Beliefs come from thoughts we think repeatedly. Our thoughts and beliefs affect our memories because our memories aren’t fixed. Each time we retrieve a memory we can distort it.

Over time a memory can become more about your thoughts and judgments about the memory than the actual memory. When trauma is involved, we distort our memories even more in what is called memory amplification. We change our recollection of our past, essentially changing our past. In this case we are making the past worse than it was. Changing our past affects how we perceive the present moment, and it can change our future because of the state of being we’re creating in this process.

This explains why my memories that weren’t traumatic previously became traumatic after my daughter passed away. Every time I retrieved those memories, I loaded the trauma with my judgments and feelings of guilt, grief, despair, hopelessness, and shame. I wasn’t aware I was distorting my memories until I started sorting it all out with EMDR.
The original feelings associated with certain memories had been written over, as if I had made changes to a Word document, and saved a newer, harsher version. The more times I retrieved the memories, the more painful they got. I was changing the feelings associated with the memories and what I made them mean about me. I started seeing myself differently – it was painful and it felt very true.

After an EMDR session where my counselor helped me peel away the layers of a highly charged memory of a conversation with my daughter, a lightbulb struck! For the first time I saw how I had changed my memories. The main emotion I had been swimming in with my memory before EMDR was shame. After EMDR, that feeling transformed to love for my daughter. Suddenly I could see the real picture and I could feel being with my daughter in that heartfelt moment again. I felt proud of how I supported her during that conversation, and I deeply felt the love between us as we talked.

This is where I got curious. If I had changed my past, present, and future by changing my memories in a way that was hurting me, maybe I could harness that power to create a positive healing experience instead. When I retrieve memories now, I include loads of compassion and understanding so I don’t keep traumatizing myself. Compassion and understanding are keys to unlocking healing.

My new perspective has me thinking about the possibility of building a beautiful future. I don’t know what my future will look like yet, but opening to the possibility that it will be filled with love and fulfillment rather than being dominated by pain and loss is the first step to creating it.

It’s not about sidestepping the pain of the void left by my daughter’s physical absence from my life. It’s about living with all that’s here and all that’s possible. I have an ache in my heart for my daughter and my life is beautiful because of my deep appreciation for every joyful experience and every moment with the people I love.

Want to hear more about this experience? Listen to Heather's podcast here!

Here's a meditation I recorded to go along with this post: Tending Your Heart. Lean in. You deserve your own tender care.

Heather Ross is the mother of a child who struggled with Substance Use Disorder, A Family Recovery Coach, Invitation to Change Certified, CRAFT trained, and the host of the popular podcast called Living with Your Child’s Addiction.

Heather offers a program for parents that is compassionate, family-centered, based on science, and teaches parents how to create their own peace of mind whether their child is in recovery or still using substances. She believes parents have more power than they realize and the best gift they can give their child is a healthy parent.

When Heather is not helping other parents, she enjoys spending time in nature with her dogs, going to sound baths on the beach, traveling, and creating beautiful memories with friends and family.

You can find out more about Heather and her offerings by visiting Heather Ross Coaching.
Here's Heather's free "A New Perspective about Enabling"
Listen to the Living with Your Child's Addiction Podcast

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Changing Perspective

1/23/2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Power of Questions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I Can't____, but I CAN...

8/22/2023

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Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Yes, and... Life is One Big Improv

8/14/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Birth, Death, and Renewal

8/10/2023

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Image by Daniel Kirsch from Pixabay

Birth, Death, & Renewal
                by Barb Klein

Birth, death, and renewal -
                it’s nature’s way

But what is “dead” is never truly gone.
It lives on inside what’s new
It informs and transforms what remains
                What is born anew

What was is the foundation
                for what will be

Things change, fall apart, evolve, devolve
All touched, shaped by what was

We are never separate from our past -
                it’s part of the web we weave for today, tomorrow

Skins are shed,
energy lives on
Hearts moved and shaped
                by love that has been
                and love that lives on

Seasons
Cycles
Never-ending
Unbroken

What will be
                rises from the ashes of what was

Hearts, homes, families
                shift, change, fall away, become
                as people move and people die

Who I was, who we were
Forever changed by your birth, your death,
                your presence

You cannot be lost to us
You are woven into the fabric of our beings -
part of what makes us who we are

We love differently
We live differently
We speak and act and move and are moved differently
                because of you

Our very cells are changed
                because you were here,
                because you are here

We can never unknow you,
                unfeel you,
                forget you

You make us us…
Your light fills our hearts,
Your life fuels our souls -
                guides our way, our mission, our purpose

We are forever changed
                for having shared this life with you

Thank you for the gift of your being
Thank you for being
Thank you for being part of us,
                forever and always

This poem woke me up the other day and needed to be captured right away. It brought with it an awareness of the truth about nature’s cycle of birth, death, and renewal - not only of a person, but of people who live on after a death. Families, friends, communities, are affected by one another. Once touched by someone, we are forever informed by those who have landed in our hearts and souls.

Yes, we are shaken, broken apart by loss - death, moves, endings and beginnings - but, what rises from these losses is built upon the past. What was, who was, lessons learned, hearts opened, insights gained are all beacons to what will become. To who we will become.

Perhaps grief is grist for the mill. It works on us, within us, reshaping who and what comes next. It’s part of the process - an integral, vital, and powerful force for growth and birth and transformation. This insight is feeling very alive within me, and I am grateful for that.

We are forever peeling away layers, touched by what was, who was, what’s happened. We are fueled by it one way or the other as we step into this next chapter, this next episode of the journey called life.

Our family is in the midst of so much change. Nate’s death has shaken us, rocked us to the core. His life and our experiences with him have shown us so much, too much, and yet not enough. We can never be who we were before - before he was here, before we lived through it all, before he died. There is no “going back” to normal, to how things used to be for any of us, ever. Each moment informs the next. Opens us to what’s to come.

For me it inspired and fills me with purpose. Ignites my passion to create change - change in a world, in ways I never would have imagined had Nate not been a part of my experience. Yesterday I put his photo boards up all around our sunroom. Everywhere I look, I see Nate’s face, his expression, moments of experiences with him and others. Every memory, every smile, every tear has etched a place in my heart, planted a seed from which I grow. Building the foundation upon which I live - the platform from which I launch myself into this new day. My words, thoughts, actions, imagination all touched by what was.

There’s a metaphor here that I’m not quite catching yet. Maybe compost. The past dissolves, morphs not into something that’s gone, but as fertilizer, nutrient for what’s to come. This is all very powerful and allows for creation, birth, evolution rather than simply slipping into feeling a victim.
It empowers me to feel the knowing of this. Of course there is still sadness and loss - how would there not be? These emotions also churn and stir things up, breaking apart what was to build anew. Just as forests are reborn after devastating fires, so too are hearts and people. (John Roedel has written a beautiful poem about this called “Super bloom” A poem we used in Nate’s memorial service).

Let us be touched by the love, by the loss so that we remember to live.

Change - letting go, accepting moves us forward. As people move on, our dynamics will change. The nature of our days will be different. What we need to do. What we get to do different than before. How we spend our energy, our money, our time, different, but affected deeply by their presence. Forever changed by our time together, by our love, by our growth as a group of beings interconnected always.

I smile as I feel Nate’s presence all around. The presence of loved ones alive and gone - moments that have woven this tapestry of my life. The beauty that makes me me.

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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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The Gift of Presence

12/29/2022

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This Christmas I had the opportunity to experience the gift that mere presence brings. What’s possible when I shut my mouth and just listen. Listen with an open heart and open mind, setting aside my own ideas and agendas.

Presence like this opens doors, builds trust and safety in a way that allows others to come forward - to open up and give me an idea of what life is like for them, what is going on inside of their experience.

When I stop nagging, badgering, interrogating, and lecturing (which, let’s be honest, NO ONE likes! It is never helps connection or makes anything truly positive happen), love enters in. Hearts open to one another. We can relax into being together and be a little more real…

It comes down to who I want to be and how I want to be. This is where I have agency and choice. I am not pre-programmed or unable to control my own behavior and words. Based on my values (what really matters most to me), based on my story of who I say I am, it’s up to me to do more than just pay lip service to what I say I’m all about.

It’s up to me to actually BE the way I aspire to be. I can also bring in lots of compassion and grace when I slip up (which I most certainly will!) - this is not about perfection. It is about generous compassion for all.

When I step back, silently, and allow myself to observe and see what’s going on, I might recognize the struggle someone is having. I realize that it’s not their fault or choice. They don’t choose to be in this struggle. I can have compassion. I can offer a calm presence for someone who’s feeling a little jangly to regulate with rather than adding to the angst or presenting something to fight against or feel bad about.

I can simply offer my truly loving presence. This allows me to hear how surprised someone is by how well they’re doing. I can hear the self-doubt that lives so close to the surface. I can hear how little they believe in or trust themselves. How they’re finding their way, tentatively beginning to form a new story. Inviting, allowing them to soften to me - to trust that I am a safe place to land. That I won’t use their admissions against them.

I can look for what’s going right, what there is to celebrate, rather than focus on what is missing or what could be. I can follow the rhythm and flow of this group I’m with in this time… not impose my idealized story of what “should” be.

Over the years I have ruined many special events for myself and others by letting my expectations or ideas of how things should be cloud the reality of what and who is here right now.

I’m the one who still feels the pang of guilt over how ungraciously I responded to my sister’s massively generous gift of a handcrafted framed Holly Hobbie needlework (50 years ago!). I was too young to appreciate what it meant for her to pour her heart, soul, and time into this beautiful piece just for me. It wasn’t a toy. I was a brat. And. I responded with the appropriate bratty pout for the rest of the day.

I am the one who hit my friend, Steven. when he gave me a beautiful Breyer horse for my birthday. The gift was more than I could bear. Pretty sure that was the same year - 8-year-old me had some issues…

I am the one who often feels let down after the holiday is over - the days and weeks of build-up falling hollow when everyone leaves. Wanting more. Wanting different. Regret at what wasn’t. Disappointment.

Not this year. This year I chose differently.

I reminded myself in my journaling and asked my husband to help me remember to appreciate what’s here. I stayed present to the miracle we were given in being able to all be together for 2 nights and 3 days, sharing one house, sharing meals, visiting, talking, laughing till bedtime. Wiggling through the tense moments but not blowing them up into more than they needed to be. Staying kind even when I had to have an uncomfortable conversation. Resting gradually in each other’s presence. Honoring the rhythm and flow of this family. Noticing when the “what should we DO now?” anxiety temporarily poked at me… allowing things to unfold organically rather than forcing a reading of The Grinch, a making of the gingerbread house (that is still waiting patiently in its box for when the right time), watching an old holiday show that no one but me enjoys. Let that go. Open to what they want. Invite everyone into something new. Just breathe. Just be. Play the kids’ Christmas music rather than my mom’s old playlist. Be playful, lighthearted, enjoy. Them. For who they are. As they are. As we are. In this moment.

That way of being opened up something in me that still touches my heart. I can almost cry as I soak in the deep appreciation for this precious time with my husband and grown sons. There wasn’t anything too profound in our being together except that it was all profound. To witness the initial discomfort and awkwardness melt away as we settled in to being together. To relax into noticing and allowing each of us to have our own unique ways and needs. To hug, smile, laugh… to really stay in a place of appreciating what was, what is, what’s here, what’s true, what’s real, what’s good and wonderful. Holding back judgment or inclination to offer unwelcome suggestions or unkind observations. Allowing others to find their own way in life in their own time.

Letting love guide the way, be the true foundation for our time together, for our life. The generosity of presence is the truest gift we can offer another being. It is the greatest gift we can offer ourselves. To listen deep within, to remember who we want to become in this next iteration, to show up to what we say we want to create with others, to be sincere in our efforts and digging in to show up in that way. Not expecting it to be easy, perfect, or even comfortable, but allowing the unfolding.

This Christmas I was given the gift of connection with my family, getting to know them in a way I had not before. Together we created the gift of presence. My heart remains full. ❤

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Catching Moments

11/25/2022

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It struck me recently how easy it is to miss the simple, little moments that make up most of life, waiting for some grand event - either a catastrophe or a wild victory. Which got me thinking how important it is to slow down, to pause much more regularly, in order to notice. To not miss what’s right here.

Fear... so adaptable...
I’ve also noticed how freaking adaptable fear is… it doesn’t go away. It just morphs from one thing to another. Once an issue feels pretty stable or secure, fear goes looking for what to worry about next.

And that’s why it’s important to pause from time to time and get some perspective. To say to yourself, “Self… would you have worried about this a year ago?” If the answer is “Hell no! This would have been better than anything I could have ever imagined…” well, then, we need to remind ourselves to notice what’s good and right in this moment. To appreciate it. To not miss it.

Will there always be things to be afraid of and worry about if you have that tendency? Sure! And, is it possible to keep the fear of what might be from getting in the way of the beauty of what’s right here? It is. With a lot of awareness and ability to take a step back.

That’s what I’ve been doing a lot lately. Finding myself getting caught up in a frenetic spin, checking myself with a sweet, “hey now, wait just a minute…” and reflecting. Seeking that perspective. Remembering how things have been much worse. Remembering that I have no idea what the future holds.

Coming into this moment and appreciating it for what it is.

Finding Beauty...
Cheryl Strayed shares her mother’s sage wisdom to “put yourself in beauty’s way.”   What does that mean to you? To me, it means looking for beauty each and every day. Beauty in the physical world and also beauty at the heart level - beautiful interactions, small, simple moments - a shared hug, a shared tear, a shared laugh, or a quiet moment alone. All beautiful in their own way.

And in Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change, Maggie Smith shares how she and her children regularly call out to one another for “beauty emergencies!” Come see the sunset before it’s gone. Catch the eagle in flight! Take in the beauty of the snow softly falling. Let everything else wait and come here right now. This is an emergency! I love it!!

To me all of these reminders call me back to my quest to live life while I’m here. To not miss the things that matter - saying yes to invitations and opportunities to be with people I love. Prioritizing the things and people who matter most to me and to my heart and soul. Finding gratitude - each and every day, no matter my mood, no matter the circumstances, it’s there waiting for me. Finding it helps to balance perspective even on dark, sad, scary days.

Finding One Good Thing...
This month my friend, Christine Callahan Oke proposed that for the month of November we share One Good Thing per day - #onegoodthing - and it’s been great. Knowing that every day I will find something to share that is it for me that day. Seeing what others are noticing and appreciating. I think I may just keep it going even beyond November. Why not? It’s these simple practices that help us build our resilience, our appreciation, and our presence in life.

Life is made of many moments. Sometimes the simplest are the sweetest. Let them be enough. Let go of waiting for the grand event or the grand finale. It really is the steps along the way that create the journey that is our life.

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Revival!

8/31/2022

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Revival - an improvement in the condition or strength of something. (as defined by Oxford Languages).

When I first thought about “revival,” I thought it meant “brought back to life.” I suppose that would certainly be considered an “improvement in the condition or strength of something,” wouldn’t it? So, I am going to stick with that felt sense of the word.

I’ve had a month of revival, and I must say I’m emerging with a fresh energy, a renewed and deepened connection with myself, and a fresh enthusiasm to engage with life and this next chapter in a beautiful way. I’m looking at my work with fresh eyes and a willingness to shake things up.

In July I got a very strong internal hit to step away, pull back from obligations and work that wasn’t filling me any longer. That hit also came with a strong desire to add in more fun, more play, more rest, more joy. And so, I did.

I cleared my calendar of appointments that could wait til later. I bought tickets to live music, which I have learned in recent years is a thing that fills my soul and is something my husband and I enjoy doing together. I jumped into the Great Rhythm Revival (that “thing” I mentioned in my last newsletter) very spontaneously and a little uncertainly. I booked a trip to Omega Institute to meet a friend I’d only known by Zoom and phone for 2 ½ years – we’d co-facilitated 2 online retreats in that time but we had never actually been in the same room together, never shared a hug or a deep sit-down face-to-face conversation! I bought tickets to the Avett Brothers in Chautauqua and then added to a day pass so that we could listen to Scott Avett’s non-lecture about spirituality, faith, and creativity which led us to add an extra night to our stay and invite a couple of friends to join us. I found a gorgeous simple peaceful cottage on the lake to hold us for those nights.

I’ve been on the road A LOT! Probably away from home more than not this past month. But, because it was fueled by joy, I feel filled up rather than depleted. Revived, if you will!

So, this Great Rhythm Revival… what the heck is that? I wasn’t sure other than knowing I was jumping into some peace, love, and granola kind of happening with drumming, dancing, and fire. I went with Sandi Sabene, my partner for this year’s retreat and a friend who I haven’t had much chance to play with and a dear friend of hers. I could have (and would have in the past) felt like a third wheel, an outsider, especially since these two are beloved members of this community that has formed over many years. But, I didn’t. Why? Because I went in with a solid sense of myself and a strong ability and desire to take care of my needs during our time together. I let go of FOMO and gave myself permission to listen to my body, heart, and spirit – to nap on our porch rather than join a workshop, to dance rather than write, to go to bed rather than go to the fire. To say “yes” to me rather than to other people’s expectations or desires.

I also gave myself full permission to let loose and find the carefree, joyful me who was so hungry to come out and play! To close my eyes and drum even though I don’t really know how. To join the transformative dance workshops and let my body move as it wanted to move (which was way more than it has in the past year or more due to a lengthy bout of frozen shoulder). To say “yes” to the body paint (a little the first night and all in the second) before the dance party! To dance in the front row and not care that I’m so tall. To sweat. To jump into the pond and float with women I was just meeting for the first time. To talk to strangers – to dare to believe that I might belong. To meet new people and to buy my ticket for next year because I know this is good medicine for my soul!

During that weekend I found or reconnected with parts of myself that had been sleeping for too long. My nervous system settled, awakened, healed in ways it hasn’t in a very long time. I was nourished and fueled on all levels. The conditions and strength of my something was very much improved!

I returned home with a solid connection to my true self. I felt grounded and strong. I had crystal clarity, which allowed me to stand on my ground and face some BS that came my way almost immediately. Finding ourselves and letting ourselves free is vital to our life force energy. It’s critical to be solid in our own core in order to not be buffeted around by life and other people.

I feel like I’m in the gooey phase of transformation/transmutation now… like the caterpillar in the cocoon, in the dark, but not in a bad way. There’s been a strong desire and need to go within, to find quiet and stillness in order to hear the whispers of my soul, the calls for what’s next.

I don’t know what’s next, and that’s ok. In this space I don’t have to know. I only have to be open. To listen deeply to my heart and soul – to follow the inner nudges that do know. To sit with the not knowing and allow things to unfold. To catch and follow the fresh inspiration when it comes.

This phase is calling me to let go of things I’ve done for a long time, and trust that I will be able to create anew when the time is right. I’m not trying to box anything in to what it used to be or what I’ve always done. I’m not trying to force or figure anything out. Aaahhh… it feels like a breath of fresh air that I can expand into rather than a stagnant stale container cramping me in.

On my solo drive to Omega, I listened to great podcasts (Cheryl Strayed on We Can Do Hard Things – 2 episodes – really lit my fire!). I listened closely and paid attention to what their conversation awakened within me. I longed to devote more time to my writing and for writing time with Cheryl. I’m taking steps to honor this deep knowing. Shortly after returning home, I saw that shel is offering a writing workshop in Omega! I am returning before too long!! Opening to one of my core gifts, to one of my principal practices and mediums, to inspiration, to a place and space that nurtures and nourishes me in a deep, deep way! I’m excited!

Listening to Scott Avett talk about not wanting to be boxed in or blocked out by labels, I felt a deep resonance in my core. Scott spoke of the need to be real, even in front of other people. To let content arise from lived experience. As I witnessed the band shake off any perception that they were simply a “folk band” with a strong rock and roll show, I smiled, imagining their intention. “You think we’re folk? Watch this!” It was an amazing performance, coming from the authenticity of the band members. Perhaps the best show I’ve ever seen from them. Why? Because they were letting themselves out to shine and play! They were being moved from the inside out!

I have many reflections living within me from this month of revival. I have so much gratitude for those who flicked me awake and to myself for being there for it! For showing up, ready and willing to be awakened, ready and willing to take a risk, ready and willing to break free, just a little bit more, letting go of some of the cares about what others think of me or expect from me in order to more fully honor myself.

Sounds selfish, doesn’t it? And yet, I have no doubt that all of this revival will allow me to serve the world in a better and stronger way than I have before. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I’m ready and excited to witness and be part of the unfolding.

Your turn…
What’s feeling old and stale to you? Where can you shake things up a bit, in a really good way? Where might you bring in more joy and playfulness to your days? Where can you add in fun? What can you cancel or reschedule that maybe doesn’t have to happen right now? What truly matters most to you right now – at this moment in your life? What parts of you have been sleeping or gone missing for too long? What parts have not yet been discovered? Where would you like to begin your revival?

If you'd like a short meditation practice to support you, I've recorded Revival just for you!

If the Great Rhythm Revival sounds good to you, check it out and join me next year! As I was promised, you won’t be disappointed and you’ll likely love it!

Want to give yourself a little revival much sooner than next August? Join me and Sandi Sabene (she was the friend I went to Revival with and has facilitated drum circles and creative expression experiences for decades) at Let Your Light Shine Women’s Retreat Sept. 23-27. She and I are lit up and so excited to be co-creating this magical 5-day experience together!

Five spots remain. This retreat may not happen again (at least not in its current form), so if this version is calling you, now is the time to jump in! Don’t put it off til “next year!”

I just don't know for sure what's coming. I know there will be more retreats. I know there will be fresh and inspired offerings... so, stay tuned as more is revealed over the coming days and months! This is where I am - truly am in a space of wonder, curiosity, and possibility, discovering for myself what will be next! I'm excited! And, you'll be the first to know!

And, as you can see from the rest of this post, I feel like it's always a good idea to seize the opportunities as they come rather than wait!

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Love IS Tough!

8/1/2022

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Whether it’s love for a child, partner, family member, friend, or ourselves. Staying IN relationship is almost always harder than walking away. Being willing to have the tough conversations, to admit our hurt or misunderstanding, to ask “what happened? What did you experience?” and share what’s going on for us, however imperfectly the words might fall out of your mouth.

Personally, I almost always bumble my words in real time. They don’t come out nearly as coherently or smoothly as they sounded in my head when I am face to face with this person with whom I’m having some kind of struggle. I didn’t grow up learning how to express my anger or hurt or how to ask for what I need.

I grew up hiding from conflict, avoiding it like the plague. Love and anger did not compute – in my mind they negated one another. I couldn’t be angry with someone I loved. If they were angry with me, that must mean our relationship is over. Anger has always been a little scary for me – mine as well as others. The silent treatment riles me up - I sometimes provoke just to get some kind of interaction going, even if it isn’t pretty.

Love, my friends, is tough. It’s so much easier (in some ways) to ice someone out, cut them off, be “done” with them. Walk away and stop trying to mend what’s been damaged or heal the hurt.
It takes effort to be willing to muddle through a conversation when both of you are hurting and/or upset. As we learn to take good care of ourselves it can be hard to figure out how to do that AND stay in relationship, honoring that we both have needs and at times those needs might be in conflict.
It takes learning new ways to wait and new ways to communicate in order to reconnect after there’s been a mishap. It’s painful. It’s often ugly, and may involve some tissues, some big sighs, some exasperated gestures or voices. It’s tricky to stay out of defensive posture, hear the other person, while also sharing our thoughts and feelings.

Self-compassion is also critical, as I tend to beat myself up, imagining what a terrible person I must be if this person I love is so upset. I hate hurting people and would far rather blame myself than someone I love. Self-love can be tough.

If we are wise, we allow time and space for each person to think things through, to look at our own stuff, to feel what’s bubbling within us, before we try to come together. However, in the silence, alone with our thoughts, we conjure up stories that may be far worse than what’s really going on. Someone avoids us or doesn’t take our calls, and we give it all sorts of meanings. How quickly we go from sadness and hurt to fear to “F@#& you!” depends on our own personal boiling point or how often we’ve been abandoned before.

I do not believe in “tough love” as too often prescribed for families and friends of loved ones who struggle with mental health issues like substance use, eating disorders, or other problematic behaviors. No, I don’t. These people are already hurting and misunderstood enough. Trust me, they pile onto their own suffering and adding to it is not going to help them heal or change. Just, no.

But I do know love is tough. Hanging in there in a way that works for you as well as the other person is tough. We fall in love with our babies and our partners so easily, we may not grasp the reality of the work and care required to stay in relationship with these people as we all grow and change.

I am discovering the gift in the relationships that require extensive work. Each time we make it through another round or problem, we deepen our connection. We add to the evidence that we will last. We learn to trust the relationship, and we remember (at least for a minute) not to take it or this person for granted.

Love is tough. It requires a willingness to be clumsy, a commitment to be honest, an ability to show up and speak up, even when it’s uncomfortable. The ability to take a risk because the relationship matters. It requires that we show up fully and authentically – not pretending that all is ok until we somehow get beyond whatever happened. True friendships and deep relationships require honesty and for each of us to be true to ourselves. I am not interested in superficial connections. I want to dive deep with my people. Diving deep is going to get messy at times.

It's tough. And in the end, it is so worth it. As we grow together, we learn more about one another. If I can begin to look at you and really know and accept that your behaviors make sense (based on your history, your personality, your style, your way of thinking and being), I can more easily accept you and make room for our differences. I can appreciate that we are not the same, and that’s ok. Hopefully you will learn a bit about my wounds, my triggers, my reactions, and my messed-up thinking as we talk things out. We will both realize that everyone acts like an ass at times… including me and including you.

I don’t have to take it all on. Relationships are made up of people. Whatever is going on here, we’ve created it together. We may not have meant to – things are often not personal or intentional, but here we are.

How do we find our way back to the surface to begin again? Together. One moment and one breath at a time. Through reaching out and asking or inviting a conversation. Through allowing space and time for that green light moment to reveal itself. Through finding “our way,” which may not be entirely yours or entirely mine. Getting beyond a need to blame or punish – ourself or the other. Remembering our heart connection and coming with deep compassion and an open heart so that we can reconnect.

Love is tough. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows. It requires deep vulnerability, the courage to say “I am sorry. I was wrong. I wish that hadn’t happened. I don’t ever want to hurt you" (but I likely will if you stick around long enough, because, hey… I’m human and so are you).

Love is not always laughter and joy, even when we think it should be. Life is always happening, and in the end, love is tough...so it endures. Love is the way.

**PLEASE NOTE: Not all relationships are healthy or worth fighting for - if you are being abused in any way, please get the help and support you need to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe.**

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Tending Your Heart

Changing Perspective

I Can't____, but I CAN...

Yes, and... Life is One Big Improv

Birth, Death, and Renewal

Reflections and Intentions

The Gift of Presence

Catching Moments

Revival!

Love IS Tough!

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