Inspired Possibility Blog

Lessons from a Twisted Ankle

10/8/2025

I’ve learned a lot about pain over the course of my life in various ways and to various degrees. I continue to deepen my understanding and relationship with it. Here are some of the things that have risen up in the past couple of weeks. Spoiler alert… it’s about an ankle, and maybe something more...

September 20th… it’s a beautiful sunny Saturday, and I’m enjoying a nice leisurely stroll with a group of lovely, loving humans on the hillside above Canandaigua Lake during a retreat I am participating in. The weekend is all about love, respect for earth and all her beings, and connecting to the fiercer, gentler feminine energies within us. There’s been a lot of talk about receiving, and our last meditation showed me clearly that I’m not great at it.

As I walk along, chatting with a new friend, taking in the beauty of western NY in early Fall, I fail to see the small hole in the path and in an instant, I’m on my butt, foot and ankle stinging sharply. I pause to allow the shockwaves to move through. I’m pretty sure it’s not broken, and one woman offers some Reiki. As I catch my breath, I’m not quite sure what I need, and I let the small group that’s gathered know that. They respectfully wait until I know I need a couple of hands up and someone to lean on as I gimp back to the retreat center. Since that initial shock, this is what I’ve learned.

1. Surrender. When you find yourself on your butt because you didn’t see the hole in the path, there’s not much else to do. Go down. Hang tight till the sharp stinging settles down. Admit you don’t know what you need. Breathe and breathe again. Tune in and listen to the body’s wisdom. Allow people to help you – you are human and therefore subject to injury, after all. Breathe some more. Hate it all you want, but here is where you are.

2. Shit happens, like it or not. Lessons come in undesirable ways. Don’t waste time being embarrassed or ashamed – no one thinks you planned this. ‘Nuff said.

3. Receive and then receive some more. If you’re an, “I’m good. I got it. Let me help you” type, it can be humbling and hard to let others do for you. It is for me. Humble yourself and receive anyway. Allow love and care. Be grateful and gracious in receiving. There are natural caregivers, soul tenders, in the world who are tremendously grateful to be able to serve. I am deeply grateful for people who showed up for me and honestly, I’ve never felt more loved and cared for by people I didn’t even know than I have throughout this experience.

4. Ask for what you need. Even though people want to help, they may not know how to help you in this particular moment. They can’t know what you need or want unless you ask, and damn, is that vulnerable! You may have stories about not being needy, that it’s weak to need anything at all, or that you shouldn’t impose on others. You may have spent most of your life being the one who takes care of everyone else, the one who’s strong, steady, reliable… the one who holds it together and doesn’t inconvenience anyone with your needs. Before you can ask anyone else for what you need, you must first admit to yourself that you have needs and wants (just like every other human in the world!). Then you have to be clear enough to articulate them to yourself, brave enough to ask, trusting that someone will honor your request. And, if they don’t, move on to someone who will. Not everyone is or can be your person.

5. Let go of trying to do anything in your usual way! You are being required to slow down, move mindfully and watch where you’re going. You simply cannot move at your usual pace, the rushing around you take for granted. Everything takes longer and requires forethought. You can’t expect to be able to take a quick shower, dash out the door, and make it to breakfast on time! So, surrender, accept the reality that is this body in this moment, and lovingly allow it to move in the way and at the pace it can, even if you hate every bloody moment of it!

6. Receive some more. If, by the time you do get to breakfast, you’re tired or hurting, let someone bring you a plate of food, a glass of water. Receive. Ask. Receive. Perhaps, like me, you haven’t had to receive like this in a very long time – for me it’s been 32 years since I broke my back and had a 4-month-old baby that I’ve needed quite so much physical care! Two years ago, I definitely needed loads of care as I navigated raw grief. As I receive, I soften. My heart opens a bit and I connect with the care-offerers in a new and grateful way.

7. Allow space and time for healing. Our bodies, our hearts have a tremendous capacity to heal, but they cannot be forced or rushed. Because we dislike discomfort, we may want to push through, find the miracle ointment, the miracle cure that will let us be over and done with this bit rather than move organically through the healing journey. Pain is tiring – allow extra time for rest. It’s necessary. Now is the time to lovingly honor your body and its rhythm. Like grief, physical healing cannot be hurried along. You can support it, and it’s going to take its own sweet time, whether that’s an inconvenient pain in the ass to you or not. So, settle in and be here for it, open and allowing… because, really, the alternative will only frustrate and aggravate things, and possibly make things worse.

8. Find new ways to move. When you can’t do what you’ve always done, what is possible? What options are available to you? I’ve found I can hole up alone and feel sorry for myself or find new ways to engage. No, I can’t dance wildly like I would LOVE to! But I can sit in a chair and dance with my arms, shoulders, head, and legs – supported, held, safe from the risk of further injury. I can lie on the floor and put my legs up a wall (bonus elevation!) and let the dancing and stomping of others move through my body. I can seep in the vibration of music, lyrics, and movement, and know it’s healing for body and spirit. I don’t have to create it all. I can allow others to energize me, delight in the joy of their joy, allow my envy at their athleticism, send love and gratitude from my heart – even when things aren’t going my way.

9. Cry and find comfort. Let the pain and frustration out. If you’re sad, be sad. If you’re mad, be mad. Don’t hold it all inside. (with a nod to The Pretenders and a lovely version of “I’ll Stand by You” from Brandi just for you here). Tears and yells are part of healing too – our body’s natural ways to release, release, release. Let your heart break open, lay down a little of the protective shield. This is another way of healthily, lovingly honoring what’s here at this moment in your life.

Take comfort in whatever form it comes. For me comfort came in the form of Bugles and cocktail wienies in crescent rolls – things I never eat any more but tasted ridiculously delicious and somehow comforting. What was desired then probably won’t appeal to me again for a good long while, if ever!

10. Take nothing for granted. This idea can be anxiety-producing, but I actually find there is a gift in taking nothing for granted which comes in the form of presence and appreciation. One minute you’re perfectly healthy, walking along enjoying a beautiful sunny day, and in the next you’re laid out on the ground and it’ll be weeks before you can enjoy a pain-free leisurely stroll. You went out on your own two feet and personal power and you had to come in more slowly, leaning on a friend. It’s too easy to miss the appreciation for the strength and agility of our body and all that it does, to forget that we can’t always independently take care of ourselves.

Taking nothing for granted doesn’t mean living in fear or anxiety, but it does invite a savoring of a sweet walk with a loved one, not taking people for granted, and taking a moment to appreciate our bodies for all they do and all they are capable of. We don’t know how many more moments we have or what they will look like, so let’s not miss them along the way!

I hate that I have a twisted ankle and that two weeks later it’s still impacting my ability to move and enjoy life the way I’d like to. Hate that on retreat I couldn’t participate as I normally would. Hate that people I barely knew were asking, “Are you the one with the hurt foot?” Not exactly how I want to be remembered – please, see the sparkle of my fairy hair and smile instead! Remember that delight. Hear my heart and hear my story – remember me for those bits of who I am.

These are not lessons I’ve wanted to learn, and there are lessons here for me. So, for now, for this moment in my life, I honor my limits, I rest more, move more gingerly, slowly with a hitch in my giddy-up. I don’t like it, but it’s ok. I don’t like it, and that’s ok. I respect, “I can’t do this, but I can do that” as I lean into what is possible and let go of the rest. I am in awe of my remarkable capacity to heal, to compensate, to adapt, to rebound, and I’m here for it, knowing that in any moment everything could change.

Take from this what you like into your own life. I hope there's something of value that resonates with you. For me, I know I could easily substitute grief, exhaustion, overwhelm, or illness for a twisted ankle.

What have you learned from less-than-ideal moments in your life? I don’t believe “everything happens for a reason,” but I do find there’s something to be gleaned from most experiences.

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

3/14/2025

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

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

Image by kewl from Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Finding Hope - In the Worst of Times

2/7/2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Hope Is and What It Isn’t

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

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

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

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

Hope and Fear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some that feel poignant in this moment are:

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

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

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

It's All Too Much! Finding the Elusive Balance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Helps You to Hope?

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

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

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

Hope Doesn’t Need to be Grand.

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

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

Finding the Will - You are not Powerless!

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

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

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

Finding the Way - Some Ways to Get Started:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My altar of hope

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Tending Your Heart

2/19/2024

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Image by Kevin McIver from Pixabay

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 While Loving Your Child Through 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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Lessons from a Twisted Ankle

Choices

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

Finding Hope - In the Worst of Times

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

About me...

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