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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Living Well within the Mess

11/20/2024

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Photo by Gantas Vaičiulėnas: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-person-standing-on-grass-field-during-golden-hour-3550518/

Never have I put more hours into a single post than this one. Why? Because I want to be thoughtful and respectful and not offer you any simplistic suggestions to an unbelievably complex reality. Because I vacillate between wanting to tell you everything I’ve learned that might be helpful and feeling like I have nothing of value to say. Because my grief is heavy right now.

I could just walk away and stay silent, but somehow, I feel called to write, to offer something in this post-election time. My hopes were strong for a different outcome and I’d enjoyed the relief of riding a wave of possibility for the past few months. The shock hit me hard and I’ve been mostly numb for the past 2 weeks. I’ve felt the familiarity of living within unknown chaos and deep grief over the loss of hope and the loss of the future I had imagined.

This is why I am choosing to write and share what I can. I do know how to live in an ungrounded mess. It may not be the election that’s upset you, and this post is meant to address different painful and challenging situations.

Let me begin by assuring you that I am not going to tell you to “get over it,” “put your big girl panties on,” “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” “just focus on what’s good,” “just shake it off” or any other nonsense.

Be real with where you are right now. Allow your feelings, thoughts, confusion… just honor where you are without needing to deny it, push past it, or get over it. Don’t pretend to be any different than you are. I honor that with you, witnessing how my own real-life experience changes day by day, and moment by moment, sometimes in unexpected and startling ways. What I write is for you and also for me. I write to remember and to discover what’s true and what’s possible.

Along with honoring whatever is true in this moment, I’m also going to share what I’ve learned is possible, even in terribly devastating times. I share to invite you to consider that it is possible to find a way back to yourself, back to some sense of ground, even in super ungrounded times. It is possible to have moments of feeling a sense of aliveness, a tiny spark that calls you forward.

I’ve lost myself in the past 2 weeks – meaning I’ve let forces outside of me and outside of my control drag me down and steal my energy, inspiration, and motivation. I’ve found myself going through the motions, zombie-like, and I’ve let myself swim in the dark waters of fear and despair. And that’s ok. I don’t like it, but it’s ok, because it’s what is here.

This feeling isn’t new for me. I’ve lost myself many, many times over the years of my life – particularly in dark and heavy times of fear and struggle. The disconnect can sneak in gradually over time or wallop me out of the blue, catching me off-guard and unprepared. Maybe there’s no way to prepare for ground-shaking news.

Maybe you’ve experienced this too – something shakes your world and suddenly you’re gone. Swirling in the chaos and confusion, unable to find ground. If you’re like me, you may alternate between looking outward - grasping for someone to give you the answer or show you the way – and diving inward, hiding away in a cocoon of isolation. Despair may loom if things feel bleak and uncertain.

Humans are conditioned to be alert for danger – it’s in our DNA. We are programmed to survive, and so we constantly scan for what’s wrong, what’s scary, what feels dangerous. The world feels chaotic and confusing right now, and there are many unknowns before us. Our minds hate not knowing.

And, of course, the unpopular truth is the future is always uncertain and unpromised. We cannot know how things will go. Sometimes we’re pleasantly surprised when our worries go unanswered. Other times we’re crushed when the unthinkable happens.

The mind constantly makes up stories of what is true and what is coming based on what it knows from past experience. This is how the mind works. It can only draw on what it knows. It forgets that more is possible. In fear its focus is extremely narrow. The mind carries us on a path paved with stories and beliefs. The path may be helpful or it may add to our despair.

I’m amazed at how different my waking thoughts can be from day to day. On any given day, I may awaken with dread, neutrality, or joy, and it’s not always connected to what lies ahead or what happened before I went to sleep.

Several days ago I was extremely grateful to wake with a momentary glimpse into the connection between what has supported and sustained me for the past couple of decades and the outer chaos many of us are experiencing today. That was the genesis of this blog. Since then, I’ve cycled in and out of inspiration, energy, depletion, and apocalyptic fear.

I do know calm and sanity begin within – they can’t be gifted to me by the outside world. I don’t know how long it will take for me to find the ground that offers any level of calm or sanity, but I must find the ground before I can hope to be much good to anyone else. Before I am ready to fight or advocate for better conditions, before I can hope to have any sort of positive impact or influence, I need space and time to think clearly.

If I’m spinning in a spiral of doom, that Is not the place from which to create or engage.   That’s the time to hit pause, go within, tend to my tender heart and soul, and feel all the feels. That’s the time to build awareness of what’s going on in me. Only when I feel strong enough, do I want to step into action.

Is this helping or hurting?
I have to look honestly at my thoughts and actions to see if I’m contributing to my own misery. If I am, what can I do differently?

I need to remember that I get to choose who and what I let into my world. Everything I take in and every interaction I have affects me, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually – this includes what I look at, what I listen to, what I read, and who I communicate with. It also includes how much information or emotion I let in at any time. An abundance of outer noise is eager to bombard us and keep us confused. Unless I am able to pause and mindfully step back, I will miss the bigger picture of what’s going on. I’ll have no idea how to best companion myself through a tumultuous time.

Extreme Tenderness and Exquisite Care
Another morning, I woke with the words “Extreme Tenderness and Exquisite Care” in my head. I knew deep in my core that this is exactly what I and so many others need right now. It’s not selfish to offer ourselves this time and space for loving care and compassion. It’s actually an act of kindness for us and those around us.

When we interrupt a destructive or frightening spin with a pause, rather than amplify it with our own thoughts and stories, we have a better chance for a more positive interaction.

A Powerful Pause
We can allow the pause to support us in coming back to our values and ideals – who we truly are at the core, who we want to be with others, and how we want to show up in the world. The pause takes us out of reactivity, away from feeling like a pinball being buffeted around recklessly by outside paddles, and offers us a chance to tap the stillness and wisdom within. Pausing also allows us to stop adding fuel to a fire that’s already raging out of control. My frenzy has never contributed anything meaningful, helpful, or productive to a situation, and it has often made things worse. In a frenzy, we are not thinking clearly; frenzied thinking leads to frenzied action.

Offering ourselves self-compassion, holding ourselves lovingly, acknowledging, “This sucks. I’m scared. I’m hurting right now. This is a moment of suffering,” rather than soldiering on, pretending all is well, gives us a chance to feel heard and understood, if only by ourselves. Listening to what we need and honoring that, rather than beating ourselves up with artificial “should’s” offers a reprieve from the pushing, driving, and striving that only wears us down.

These small, not-so-simple acts allow us to take a stand for our own wellbeing and to choose who and what deserves our energy. This isn’t about putting your head in the sand or being in denial, though if that’s what you need in the initial shock of something horrible, by all means, let that be ok. It is part of grief, and it’s part of self-survival. Traumatic events may require a healthy solitude when it all feels like too much.

How to keep going?
Even in the darkest of times, there is a way to take back your life, to take back your power, to find a way to keep going. I’ve found this while living through years of my son’s chaotic substance use. I’ve found this after his death. I’ve found this in moments in our world that shake all that we’ve known or believed. I am grateful to remember what I forgot I knew in the malaise that has consumed me recently.

When we feel powerless, we feel scared. Maybe we feel hopeless. One way to regain some power is to tune in to where you have choices. Where can you find some agency? What can you do differently that will give you energy rather than deplete you?

Find yourself in this moment – right here, right now as you sit here and read these words. Feel the earth holding you – feel her strength and resilience. Are you safe? Are you comfortable? Warm? Fed? Look around and take in your room. Listen to the sounds around you and beyond in the outside world. Smell the scents that fill this space. Feel the clothes on your body, the temperature of the air on your skin. Is there anything you taste in this moment? If it’s helpful, say to yourself silently or aloud, “In this moment, I am here. I am safe.” Name what you notice through your senses to ground you here. Feel your body breathing without needing to change a thing. Connect with your own aliveness. Here you are.

Don’t look away from what’s unsettling, but don’t let it be everything. Ooooh, this is a tough one, but the truth is there is no one thing that defines you or your world, no matter how heavy, ominous, or bleak that thing feels. As you let yourself be with everything that’s here in this time, you may find that beauty and wonder are always here too, right alongside the scary and oppressive.

Can you allow the hard to be there and still notice things that bring joy or comfort, even if they come in the tiniest moments? The person who looks at you and smiles. A dandelion popping up in the sidewalk even in the dark cold fall. A warm hug without words that gives you a moment to surrender into the love of another. A gorgeous sunrise or sunset that reminds you of nature’s steadiness and reliability. The deer on the side of the road that doesn’t crash into your car or the song of the wren breaking through the grey. Let it all be here. Open your heart and your arms to include even these beautiful, wondrous things especially when you see no way out of the current darkness.

Bringing to mind something or someone you appreciate – something that gives you comfort or joy not only offers a temporary reprieve from doom scrolling, but it reminds you that you can choose where you focus your attention and energy. Feeling gratitude counters the tendency to look for all that’s wrong, and it helps reprogram our brain by remembering all that is part of this present moment.

Our hearts can hold it all even when our minds can’t. When I was invited into a reflection of gratitude just a few days ago, I didn’t get much further than my husband who I am so glad to share life with and my soft fleece Snoopy blanket that offers me warmth and coziness and makes me smile. Of course, there is much more I am grateful for if I allow myself time to sit and reflect, to feel those things and how they affect me. And it’s ok when it’s a struggle to connect with them.

What CAN you do even when times are hard and confusing?
When there is much that you can’t do or much that’s out of your control, focus on what you can do. You will notice the common themes of “in this moment” and “pause” as a reminder of how valuable it is to slow down and come into present moment awareness. There are also some suggestions that may feel contradictory to others – that’s unavoidable as each of us checks in with what’s true for us and finds the balance that feels right and doable in this moment. Here goes:

❤️ Let yourself feel what you feel. Angry? Sad? Scared? Confused? Disappointed? Or Joyful? Feelings give you great information and need to be felt and allowed to move through. Don’t deny them, even if others feel differently than you or if you think you should be over it by now. Cry. Scream. Laugh. Feelings deserve your attention.

❤️Build inner reserves and resources, even in small moments and doses. What can you do to nurture and nourish yourself, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually? When you’re well-resourced, you will more likely have the strength and clear-headedness to face hard times.
Get plenty of rest. Let yourself chill out as needed. Get some movement and eat pretty well when you can. Join supportive groups or communities to have real and honest discussions while deepening your own understanding of this thing called life.

❤️Know what you need to refuel and do that. You don’t want to find your tank on empty in the middle of a storm. Plan ahead so that you don’t get caught off guard by depletion. Refueling is different for each of us. Some people need to be with others, while others need silence, stillness, alone time, or time outdoors. Some need to hug a tree, cuddle with a sweet pet, or curl up with a good book. What is it for you?

❤️Determine what is yours to do at this moment, if anything. If there is something that you need to do or you feel called to do, do that. From simple daily tasks to big community action, there are always things you could be doing. Focus on what’s yours. Let other things go – you can’t do it all, nor do you have to. You can trust that others will be called to fill different needs. And if what is yours to do is to take good care of you and your family, do that.

❤️Assess your true capacity is in this moment. You may feel pressured to do something. Wanting to jump into action is a pretty natural inclination when things feel like they’re spinning out of control. Do you have energy to give or is this a time to pull in and nurture and nourish yourself? There will be challenges, requests, and demands coming your way. Allow yourself to pause and assess before you respond. Do I have it in me to do this thing in this moment? Is it a yes, no, or not now?

❤️Get in touch with what really matters to you and devote your energy there. The vaster my dismay, the more I pull in and focus on what’s within my sphere. One thing I know that matters to me is family and friends and in-real-life connections. Community and connections are critical to my heart these days. I am also choosing to decrease my time in the algorithm-controlled virtual reality of social media. I am picking up the phone and calling people. Even if I don’t reach them, I get to hear their voice and leave a message to let them know how much they mean to me. I’m making time to connect with my people, while simultaneously being discerning about how much time and energy I have for peopling.

Another thing that matters to me is finding ways to offer compassion, kindness, and care at a time when this feels more needed than ever. Kindness can be as simple as sharing a smile or holding a door. You could send a sweet text or a handwritten card. Make a big meal and share the leftovers with friends.

What communities and causes do you care about and how can you support them? For me, supporting people impacted by mental health is my call, and so I am grateful to be able to support families through the Invitation to Change and to contribute to the work of the CMC: Foundation for Change. I will also be compiling the next round of CompassioNate Care Bags in the coming month. It was last Thanksgiving morning that I got a clear hit that we needed to make 111 bags, and I put out the first big call to my community. The response has been phenomenal and I am so grateful to all who have helped to create and deliver over 500 bags.

You may not know how important a tiny act might be; never underestimate the impact of a little care, compassion, or kindness. What’s most important to you today, in this moment?

❤️Get out of your head. Allow yourself time to dump the many thoughts that are spinning in your mind. Write them down, share them with a trusted person, or speak them to yourself – getting them out of your head can offer some relief and help create some distance between your thoughts and your life. Another way to get out of your head is to create – paint, draw, dance, write a poem, sculpt some clay, or knit away.

❤️Find ways to offer yourself loving kindness and compassion. What might that look like? You could take time for a formal loving kindness meditation practice. You might simply pause and put your hand on your heart as you take a breath or two. You might give yourself an intentional timeout, stepping away to rest, reflect, journal, or just tune out for a while. Letting yourself scream and cry if that’s what’s needed is a compassionate act. Please love yourself well.

❤️Reach out for help and support. Don’t go through a hard time alone. Find someone you feel safe with to sit with you, hold space for you, walk alongside you. That could be a friend, counselor, community member, or helpline.
I joined a friend for a meal the other day, and we were both struggling. As we hugged and cried, these words rose up from my heart, “We don’t have to be ok. We just have to be together.” This resonates as truth. We don’t have to be ok. We don’t have to pretend to be ok. We just need to show up to this moment and then the next. One breath at a time. One thought at a time. One moment at a time. Together.

We don’t know what the future holds, but I am certain that each of us has an important role to play in the unfolding. How are you doing? How’s your heart? What helps you get through hard days? Please share. We need your wisdom and insight.

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Seeking Peace Even (Especially) in These Times?

10/17/2024

1 Comment

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a couple of meditations to choose from:

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

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

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

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

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

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Different from Self-Care

8/20/2024

4 Comments

Self-kindness… it’s what the Invitation to Change (a wonderful program for those who love someone who struggles with substance use) invites people to offer themselves every week (or better yet, every day). Every chapter in The Invitation to Change: A Short Guide ends with “What is a kindness I can allow myself this week?” and the caution to not jump over this critical consideration. But what does it really mean? Self-kindness is different from self-care, though certainly linked.

I told a friend recently how hard I had been on myself, how much I had been beating myself up, comparing myself to others and falling short, how harsh my words had been to my own ears. She listened with sadness and a a little confusion, saying, “But you’re really good at self-care. You do a lot of things for yourself.”

That’s when I knew there was an important distinction to make between self-care and self-kindness. Between what goes on above ground and below the surface, in the mind and heart.

She’s right. I do a lot of things for myself. I get myself to appointments that help keep this body going the best I can. I talk with my counselor regularly. And even healing practitioners, who do such a great job caring for others, also struggle with applying that same kindness to themselves.   Why? Because they’re human. And human is messy…

One shared with me her own invitation into self-care in the middle of the night, beginning with “I’m going to soften my jaw.” Yes. That is self-kindness. Simple, but not natural or it wouldn’t have required an intentional reminder. She invited me to think of 3 things I could do to be kind to myself during my session on her table. I began by softening my face – I hold SO much tension there. My grief lives there. The mere softening led me to letting my tears bubble up, come out, and flow, allowing the sobs that had been held for too long. In the safety of this alone time, I could do that, and it was kind to do so.

I don’t consciously hold it together, but subconsciously, I do. Too much. So much that it has to come out. It's kind to allow my grief space and expression. I was afraid I’d sob uncontrollably the whole time once I began. I found my fears were unwarranted. By simply allowing myself the chance to cry, to feel my sadness and grief without shying away from it, it could rise up, come out, and move through. I didn’t need to shove the pain down or push it away. With kindness and tenderness, I could allow it a much-needed release. After a few minutes, I found myself feeling more peaceful, calm and present, and I could breathe more deeply. For over an hour, my simple kindness to myself was to soften my face, feel my feelings, let my tears come, and breathe, riding all the waves that came without chiding myself, questioning why or where this came from, and simply allowing true expression.

So, how is self-kindness different from self-compassion and self-care?

Self-care is often thought of as the things you do – taking a bubble bath, exercising, eating right, getting enough sleep, or getting to appointments that help your well-being. BUT those same things done from a place of harshness, judgment, or obligation aren’t necessarily self-kindness. If, while you’re exercising, you’re berating your jiggly thighs or your inability to do as much as you think you should be able to, is that really self-care? If you’re forcing yourself to go to the gym because you know you should exercise, but you hate the gym, does that count? If you’re beating yourself up for needing so much sleep or for eating out when you were just too tired to cook, how kind is that? If you’re carrying out acts of self-care while also being really mean to yourself, how can you make peace with yourself and bring in more kindness and compassion?

I’ve learned that true self-care is deeper, more subtle than the things you’re doing on the surface and I’ve reframed it as being true to and gentle with yourself, one moment at a time. A friend recently shared to her true self-care as intending to be as tender as she can be with her whole life. We talked about tending the spirit being different than getting a pedicure. Oh yes, soul care, spirit care, tending our tender hearts is definitely different. Our hearts and souls need time and attention beyond what’s happening on the surface. They’re deeply affected by what’s going on within. Without mindful attention, I miss the inner battle between what I know to be realistic and true and the opportunity to stop the downward spiral into perfectionistic striving and feeling “not enough…”

Self-compassion is a way of being - an attitude with which we turn toward ourselves. According to Kristin Neff, self-compassion researcher and teacher, self-compassion has 3 elements: mindfulness, self-kindness, and common humanity. Self-compassion invites us to be mindful, present, and to acknowledge our feelings, as we remember that we’re not alone – that other people feel the way we feel at one time or another. Self-compassion invites us to be with ourselves with kindness rather than judgment, the way we would a beloved child or friend. It may involve forgiveness or gentle reassurance when we feel we’ve messed up or we’re falling short.

Self-kindness is one element of self-compassion that comes through in our words, thoughts, and actions toward ourselves. Are we being understanding, gentle, allowing the messy, imperfect experience that is the very essence of being human? Are we beating ourselves up or tearing ourselves down, harshly criticizing or judging, expecting more from ourselves than we would anyone else? Expecting perfection often gets in the way of self-kindness. I should know better! I can’t believe I did that! How could I forget? When we thrash ourselves with thoughts like this, we are not allowing our humanity. We are not taking into account things like burn-out, stress, lack of sleep, grief, or fear that get in the way of clear thinking.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I caught myself feeling and thinking, “I hate myself” one day. The harshness of this thought caught me by surprise. As much as I chastise myself with little slips of, “What an idiot… how could I?” hate isn’t an energy I often experience, and I didn’t really know where it came from. I certainly didn’t want to reinforce it, but I also didn’t want to shun it.

Self-kindness invited me to look at what it was all about, to see it came from my mind that told me I wasn’t doing enough compared to others. I felt burdened by too many mistakes in a short period of time. I didn’t understand how I’ve been grieving almost 17 months and was doing better earlier on, so I judged that something was very wrong with me.

In the early days and months after Nate’s death, I easily and genuinely extended myself “all the grace,” because I knew it wasn’t reasonable to expect much, or anything, of me. As time goes on, even though intellectually I know I’m still very early in this grief journey, my conditioning creeps in making me feel like I’ve fallen behind and urges me to play an impossible game of catch-up.

There’s a big difference between what I “know” and what I do. Intellectually I can say, “I just don’t have the capacity for XYZ…” but when XYZ don’t get done, the louder voice inside of me berates me, judges me for wasting another day when I had the time but not the energy or desire. People who care about me see what’s really needed and invite me to “just be.” To rest. To do nothing and let it be ok. I get it. I’ve been learning these ideas for decades and teaching them for over 10 years. And yet, I’m not sure I really know how to just be and truly feel at peace with myself in that space. How do you really do nothing? What does that look like?

Signs of self-unkindness:

Judgy, critical thoughts like “What is wrong with me? How could I have done that? How could I have forgotten this?” are prevalent in a world of not-so-kind.

Basing how ok I feel about myself upon whether the kitchen table is clear of last month’s mail (it wasn’t until a few minutes ago), or whether the hutch has been dusted (it most definitely has not been since Nate died), or if I’ve remembered to pay the bills on time (I didn’t this month), or if I’ve sent the cards I’ve been meaning to send for weeks (Nope! They’re sitting here in a pile waiting for me), or if I’ve worked on my book as much as I wanted to (you probably already guessed - I haven’t! Shocker!).

Pushing ourselves to be more or do more than is reasonable.

Burning the candle at both ends, exhausting ourselves trying to get all the things on the never-ending to-do list done.

Sacrificing our own well-being for what others need from us.

Overwhelming ourselves with worry.

These are some of the ways unkindness might show up. Take a moment to think about how it comes out for you.

Why is this self-kindness thing so hard?

Most of us have never been taught to be kind to ourselves, and instead learned to be “nice,” and “good,” generous, and thoughtful toward others. And those are all good things, but somehow our minds have twisted that to make us believe that others’ needs are more important than ours. That it’s selfish to even think about ourselves, much less be kind. That it’s narcissistic to focus on our needs.

Kindness ought to be extended simply because you are, not because of what youI’ve done or haven’t done. Kindness doesn’t need to be earned. But when we’re not being kind to myself, we forget all of that.

My counselor recently said to me, “We know ourselves through doing. We must learn to love  ourselves for simply being.” (or something like that – I hope you get the gist of it). Ugh! I know, I know, I know, and it’s still so hard to do in everyday life! I recognize that my upbringing taught me to value my productivity, my contribution, and so when I don’t have the energy to produce or contribute much, I struggle. I feel better when I’m bringing value and serving in a way that brings meaning.

Grief often leads me to fritter away a blessedly open day, which could be ok if I would be kind to myself about it. If I’d give myself permission to do nothing or to just putter and see where the day takes me, then maybe I could feel ok about it. But when I hold unreasonable, unspoken expectations that don’t align with the reality of my energy or mindset, there’s a huge risk that I’ll fall into a spiral of shame and shortcoming.

If you judge yourself by how much you do, what you accomplish, or how well you’re keeping up with the demands of life, even if you’re going through something really hard right now, even if you’re completely exhausted and drained, or swimming in grief or struggling with a loved one, how might you be a little gentler with yourself?

Ways to get to self-kindness:

Ask “What do I need in this moment?” Take the time to pause and tune in to respond with gentleness, kindness, and true care. I often forget to remember this key question that readily leads to self-kindness.

Liz Gilbert has a beautiful practice of conversing with Love (the giant force of unconditional Love that’s available to us all). Asking, “Love, what would you have me know?” and jotting down Love’s response can render surprisingly tender and supportive notes that reveal what we, in our humanness, might be missing.

Talk with someone when you’re struggling. Know who your safe people are - people who can go to this very vulnerable place with you. Who can hear you? On a very anxious day, I felt validated and supported when my husband listened and reflected back to me all that was weighing on me. I was definitely minimizing the list! It’s also helpful when a friend gently says, “Don’t talk to my friend that way!”

Put up post-it notes to remind yourself of who you really are or to take time for self-kindness – good to look at when you begin to swim in regret. Things that will make you smile or laugh. As a friend reflected, this is a way to shift your mindset and, “Drink in more love, rather than bathe in self-hatred.”

Pause, breathe, and put your hands on your heart - a simple gesture of self-compassion that lets you know you’re here for you. Listen to any guidance or insights that rise up or simply take the time to whisper softly or silently to yourself, “I’ve got you. I love you. We will get through this.” ❤️

What might self-kindness look like?

In essence, self-kindness begins by paying attention to how you’re treating yourself. Noticing if your inner dialogue is harsher than you’d use with anyone else. Being aware whether your choices are harmful or supportive to your well-being.

It can be as simple as choosing to soften your jaw or your face or your fists.

It could be opening up some white space on your calendar if you’re feeling particularly stretched or just need a little more time and space. If there’s something you’d like to reschedule, give yourself the grace to do so.

Making a pact with yourself that you’re not going to talk meanly about yourself – your body, your intelligence, your behaviors… whatever it is for you. A friend shared with me her conscious decision to catch herself in the act, and gently say, “Oh, I’m not doing that anymore.” Honestly, self-abuse doesn’t help and may just drive you more deeply into whatever it is you don’t want to be doing.

Bringing curiosity to yourself can free you from judgment – “I wonder what’s going on for me?” rather than immediately jumping to “What the heck is wrong with me?” Maybe nothing’s wrong. Create a little space to find out.

Asking for help and delegating what tasks you can when overwhelm is bearing down on you.

Instead of beating yourself up for not being able to hear, make an appointment with an audiologist to get things checked out and maybe getting some support!

Saying “no.” Stepping away from people or groups that drain your energy or bring you down.

Taking time for the people, activities, and practices that you know fill you up and nurture and nourish you well.

Taking a conscious social media break – there’s a lot brewing out there right now, folks! You have to digest everything you take in, so take some breaks.

Letting go of “should’s” and instead being true to what you know you want or need.

Saying “yes” to fun, to life, even if it doesn’t “make sense.” Some of my favorite moments come from spontaneity and ventures that might look ridiculous but bring me great joy – like traveling hours to see a band we love.

Letting go of unrealistic expectations and cutting yourself some slack when you don’t make the best choice or you’ve been a little judgy toward yourself – remember, you’re human. Let go of any worry of, “But aren’t I just letting myself off the hook? Don’t I need to hold myself accountable?” You can get back on track without beating yourself mercilessly for a slip. Accept the reality that slips will happen.

Why does it matter?

Because the kinder you are to yourself, the more loving and available you can be for life and the things and people that need you. Because you deserve your own loving care. Because life is stressful and self-kindness can help soothe that stress which contributes to better physical and mental health.

Here’s a beautiful song from the masterful Brandi Carlile that I invite you to play on repeat if you need to. I think I’m going to give it a go myself! Stay Gentle

What are your thoughts?

What gestures of self-kindness do you allow yourself? How do you know when you’re being unkind to you? What strategies do you have for coming back to self-kindness? Why does it matter to you? Please share so that we can build our reservoir full of ideas to turn to when the going gets rough. Life’s hard enough without us piling more on ourselves.

May you be peaceful. May you be happy. May you be kind – to yourself as well as to others.
May you know you are loved and soak in your worthiness for love all the way to your very core.

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Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

10/14/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

5/5/2023

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Image by Dorothe from Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Finding Stillness

4/11/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Losing Yourself and Coming Home Again

3/21/2023

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Photo by Renee Veniskey - https://immaginephoto.com

You may have heard me use the phrase “coming home to yourself,” in part because it’s what clients have said they’ve felt after coaching or retreating with me. But what does it mean and why is it so important?

To me it means getting solid in the core of who you are. Knowing yourself - your likes and dislikes, your desires, and your needs - so that you can honor them. It sounds simple, yet it seems there’s a disconnect that happens over time that takes us away from the core of who we are.

This disconnect happens for a lot of reasons. As children and young adults, we take in messages from others about who they think we are or who we’re supposed to be; parents, teachers, friends, coaches see something in us and push us in a certain direction. On the flip side, there are parts of us we’re encouraged to hide away - we’re too sensitive, too talkative, too energetic, too quiet, too eccentric, etc. We begin to show up as a mix of who we really are, who we think we’re supposed to be, while erasing parts of us that don’t feel lovable or welcome.

As we get older, our roles as spouse or parent add to the confusion. We’re just Nicky’s mom or Joe’s wife. Our career defines us and may box us in with its labels. Societal ideas tell us what’s acceptable behavior (e.g., no crying in the workplace). Over time, parts of our true self get covered over, whittled away, or buried.

Intense relationships or situations, like loving someone with a mental health condition, facing a scary diagnosis, or caring for a parent with dementia, may consume us and portray the entirety of who we are. We forget or lose touch with who we are beyond this one (huge) aspect of life. We forget the person we once were and we let go of the dreams and passions that once called to us. Perhaps they feel irrelevant in the urgency of crisis after crisis or they feel impractical given everything else on your plate. Understandable.

Without the time and space to step away and gain perspective on these aspects of life, it’s easy to continue on autopilot. In our new norm, we become defined and absorbed by this identity. Or we’re simply sleep-walking through our days with no real sense of self at all, responding to the needs and demands of others, while ours vanish into the ethers.

I’ve found contemplative, reflective time and space are the foundation for one’s return to self. Time for quiet, to sit with ourselves without the interruption of other voices, time to journal or meditate. Time to commune with trees and birds. Time to slow down and soften into the flow of our natural rhythm. Time to catch our breath and then breathe fully on a regular basis. This time, this space is a rare gift. It is the essential container for coming back into alignment with true self. It allows us to open to the quiet loving voice within.

How retreats play in:

The richness of this kind of time and space is one of the reasons I value retreats. I know they are so much more than simply a nice weekend getaway. Retreats are a vital opportunity to refill, refuel, and reconnect. They offer the chance to ask great questions while allowing the answers to come. They provide space to try new things and new ways of being as you get to know yourself more intimately. They create a container as well as a spaciousness for inner inquiry, exploration, and discovery so that we can feel clarity and strength grow within us. Retreats allow us to be in community with others on a similar quest, sharing practices like yoga, meditation, contemplation, and reflection. Almost always they also offer a chance to immerse ourselves in nature’s beauty and grounding, to be held by the trees and the land as we feel our place in the greater scheme of life along with our own smallness.

These past few months have been filled with intensity and crisis upon crisis, both personally and on a global scale. I’ve had to pull back from work I love as I found myself with little to no energy for anything beyond the basics. I felt myself going into a dark cocoon to dissolve into goo before coming through the other side. In the darkness, I felt myself disappearing, not at all sure when I would re-emerge. I am grateful to feel the re-emergence happening now, slowly, one baby step at a time.

I am grateful for what is being left behind in the shell of the cocoon. I am grateful for the clarity of what no longer fits in this chapter of my life. And I am struck to see how the work I’ve done over the years to build a strong inner core connection has held me, even when I didn’t feel it in the moment. Feeling the foundation that’s allowed me to move through these deeply disruptive and triggering events, I see that they have moved through me as well. Sitting in the darkness, I have let myself feel everything from nothingness to fear to anger and disappointment. I have been taken down and out temporarily, but not for good. I am emerging, not into certainty of what will happen in my life, but with a stronger sense of certainty of who I am as a woman in the world right now.

This period of losing myself in other people’s emergencies and urgencies and feeling the slow return has illuminated my desire to prepare and plan this July’s Come Home to Yourself Retreat. Its significance fills me and pulls me. I am grateful to be able to invite other women into this spacious retreat as an opportunity to connect more deeply with their own hearts and souls, to hear the wisdom that springs from within in the space and stillness, when we are inclined to listen. Summer gifts us 16 hours of daylight each day! Imagine what is possible in that vast opening! Light on the Hill offers a stunning space to immerse in nature, with floor to ceiling windows and skylights that all but plop us into the middle of the valley, sun streaming in, bathing us in her glow. This season in the Finger Lakes calls us to lie in the grass, to walk through the trees, to gaze at the clouds, to stop in the middle of what can be a fun and busy season to slow down and go within. It gives us a chance to integrate the lessons life has brought our way as we simultaneously open to what lies ahead, to what is emerging, and to who we want to be. This retreat is a gift to me and to all who will gather and co-create it along with me and our yoga goddess, Carol Moon.

A special offer for you:
For you and your loved ones, for being part of this community, I am offering a special gift through March 31st - you can take an additional $50 off the early bird rate ($150 off standard rate) as my gift to you by using coupon code MARCH when you check out. That’s $625 for 3 nights and 4 days of private room accommodations in a gorgeous setting, delicious, lovingly prepared vegetarian meals, as well as all retreat offerings (including yoga, meditation, journaling, campfires plus lots and lots of space and time to follow your heart and soul!). I hope you will consider joining us for what will surely be a magical time. All the details and registration are here.

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Learning in the Tough Times

1/25/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What I’ve learned from all of this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Lessons from a Twisted Ankle

Choices

Living Well within the Mess

Seeking Peace Even (Especially) in These Times?

Different from Self-Care

Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

Going On...Even when Life is Forever Changed

Finding Stillness

Losing Yourself and Coming Home Again

Learning in the Tough Times

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