Inspired Possibility Blog

But, How Are YOU?

1/25/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What I’ve learned from all of this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Reflections and Intentions

1/7/2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Gift of Presence

12/29/2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not this year. This year I chose differently.

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

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

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

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

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Grappling with Life's Questions

11/8/2022

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Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Do I matter? Does my life matter? What’s my purpose? Am I doing enough? What IS enough? Whether we say them out loud or not, many of us (myself definitely included) grapple with these questions from time to time or on a regular basis.

Even though for many years I’ve held the mantra “No striving, driving, or pushing” and I truly feel the relief and freedom in claiming that, inside I still secretly berate myself for not being ambitious enough. When I meet people who are DOING so many great things - big things that are changing the world, I unwittingly compare myself and come up short. Even when I'm choosing to not do too much! Even when I'm happy with life as it is and not looking to grow or do more...

I am reminded of my friend, Steve Aman’s question to me on the last day of Leadershape - a grueling few days in the Adirondacks challenging ourselves physically, mentally, and emotionally in an arena that was not my strength. There had been things I had opted out of (and then reluctantly and with a ton of support tried again). There had been things that terrified me, things that amused me, things I was willing enough to try and others that were an absolute “Oh, hell no!”

I was not going to scale a telephone pole, somehow find a way to stand on top of it and throw myself into space toward some acrobat bar. I was not going to blindfold myself and walk forward (or backward as some did) on the high beam or across the broken swing bridge. I did get myself to the wire and across it. I did pair up with Michael and do the “Wild Woozy,” leaning into each other’s hands as we traversed wires that slowly drifted further and further apart so that the only thing holding us up was our weight leaning into each other’s hands. And I DID rappel off the 80’ cliff (or 800’ - I honestly don’t remember! I only knew it was a BIG number that terrified me), even after watching some pretty skillful people get caught upside down for a bit.

So, on this last day there - a day designed for “play,” my dear friend Steve asked me, “Do you have anything left to prove?” The answer was clear. No, I did not… “Then go have fun,” he grinned and sent me on my way. I could watch others perform their feats and cheer them on, but I had done enough. I’d do the swing and scream my primal scream ‘cause that looked kind of fun… but, other than that, I was good.

So, in life. How do we know when we’ve done enough? How do we reach a point of nothing more to prove? Is it measured by a certain income or amount in our bank account or retirement fund? Does it come from winning a certain award or working your way up to a particular title? Is it the number of hours you work or the number of people you’ve served or the number of likes or views on your Instagram post? Giving a TEDx talk? Does it come after we’ve finally done or created “the thing?” We’ve written the book, created the program, given the talk, taught at THE place in THE room or on THE stage we’ve been aiming for… is that enough?

It doesn’t seem it. More often than not, people seem to turn around and start striving again for the next thing. Sometimes they barely even acknowledge that accomplishment (no matter how huge) before shooting for the next.

I’d like to share a little reflection I wrote about “Enough,” rising out of a beautiful conversation with my friend, Sharon Rosen, who told me of a beautiful Hebrew word, dayenu. As Sharon explained it to me, dayenu means “it would have been enough.” What a concept. Something to rest into. The way I want to live - so that when I die, I truly can feel “it was enough.”

Enough
by Barb Klein

If I only did well with my own family, it would be enough.
If I only wrote this book for me, it would be enough.
If I’d only ever done what I’ve already done, it would have been enough.
If I could remember and believe this, I would believe I have nothing left to prove. Nothing at all…
I am enough. Exactly as I am. What I’ve done - is enough.

Can I lean into my own enoughness? Can I embrace it and simply live the rest of my life for me, tending to me? Trusting that that will allow me to show up for others as a way that feels good, fills me, isn’t like the way anyone else is doing it?

Can I let go of ideas of how things should go and allow them to unfold?
Can I allow myself to be supported?
Can I be willing to ask for opportunities and for help to find these opportunities?
Focus on my own healing, growth, creativity, and let it lead where it may (or not).

It is enough.
It will have been enough.
I feel the deep contentment in that.

It’s time to heal - to release all the grief I carry - to breathe in the pines. To listen to the wind - to feel the breeze.
It’s enough.

Let go the rushing.
Let go the frenzy.

Let them have their fun - their antics - their way.
You have yours and it is not theirs, most certainly.
You, my beloved, are enough, just as you are.

If I never lost another pound,
built another muscle,
or walked another mile,
It would be enough.

Nothing to push for, strive for, or drive for!
Those days are behind me.
There’s no goal I can achieve
that will make me any more me.

And that’s all I long to be -
Fully, wholeheartedly me!

We are such fascinating creatures with our stories of “I’m not enough! I’m too much! I have to do more! I have to keep going, doing, achieving, proving…” Is any of it true? Worth checking in on! We are each whole, complete, and completely worthy just by being. Our worth is not determined by anything outside of ourselves. And we are the only ones who can decide for ourselves how much we want to do, how much we need to create, how much we need to serve, and what is enough.

I invite you to check out Jen Louden’s wisdom on the Conditions of Enoughness and see how you might apply this in your own life. YOU get to decide. You get to define what is enough for you, based on your very real life. You get to choose to lighten up a bit on yourself. And to keep practicing, over and over, because this too, is a practice. I’m working on it.

Where can you lower the bar for yourself rather than continually raising it, raising it, raising it? What can you rest into as “exactly enough?” What are you striving for that you can relax about, let go of? We are so hard on ourselves and so easily judgmental of what we have or haven’t done.

Just for today… be gentle with yourself. Just for today… let it be enough. Whatever “it” is.

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Love IS Tough!

8/1/2022

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Feeling Blah...

7/13/2022

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I don’t know about you, but I seem to cycle through phases of feeling energized, very on purpose, in flow, and then dropping into “What is the point of it all? Why do we do what we do? What is my purpose? Do I even have a purpose, or is this all for nothing? Who am I?”

It’s pretty unsettling and disorienting in the floundering times that hold such big, heavy questions. I think it’s pretty natural. My counselor says it’s ok, so that reassures me. There will be times of feeling blah, needing to turn inward, to shut out the world, to give more to myself than to others. It’s called nourishment, nurturing, true self care, and it’s vital to our sustainability as humans.

The world is a lot right now. Whatever might be going on personally, we each need to add multipliers to it that are weighing on us, consciously or not. The pandemic goes on, the debate about the pandemic goes on, injustice, violence, discrimination, threats to life and liberty are everywhere. Maybe the world is always a lot. I’m feeling the accumulation of it pretty heavily right now, along with the collective weight of years of personal stuff.

So, there’s been a bit of blah lately. Not a lot of energy or motivation. A strong desire to pull in, to slow down, to quiet down, to say “no” and to not be too available to others. The clarity is strong, and the good news is I’m listening despite the inner struggle that wonders if that’s really ok or if I’m at risk of becoming a hermit.

I teeter between telling myself it’s ok and wondering if that’s really true. Mostly, I’m leaning into only doing what I want, what feels doable and reasonable given my current bandwidth, letting go of, or rescheduling non-essentials, releasing things that feel like more hassle than they’re worth. As I write this it feels like a pretty healthy approach. It just seems that I need this more and more these days, years, months. Didn’t I just give myself a little sabbatical last year? I did. And this year.

And now I need one again in the form I am able to create it – I will gladly see my clients, I will co-facilitate my group, I will continue to write… and I will put off things that do not call to me or do not need to happen. I will cancel memberships to groups I don’t participate in – I feel the low-level pressure when I’m not being honest with myself.

I showed up for yoga class on Sunday and thankfully the theme was tuning into and trusting our inner guidance. Love when that happens! So, as I practiced, I took a few notes.

Here’s what I took away – what I was reminded of:

We all have inner wisdom, inner guidance, inner authority.
When we are depleted, overwhelmed, stressed, or in crisis or survival mode, we lose touch with it.
To connect with it we need to be willing to feel. This may be why we over-busy ourselves or find other ways to numb or distract ourselves. It can be uncomfortable to feel what our inner wisdom is telling us.
Escaping, distracting, and numbing take us away from our natural connection with our inner knowing. Work, alcohol, substances, food, activities, social media, our devices, and over-giving to others serve this purpose. This purpose of protecting us from the discomfort.
Integrity comes from living in alignment with our inner knowing and guidance.
Slowing down, coming into breath and body helps. Quieting down. Connecting to something larger than ourselves through prayer, meditation, or getting out in nature helps. Opening up space, breathing room allows us to hear and see more clearly.
There are going to be these moments when we feel unsure. When we feel like we are flailing, lost, and confused. Times when we release the last version of ourselves and our lives to step into what’s next. In between steps there is often a pause – a time to cocoon in order to transform. It’s not always pretty or comfortable. It’s worth going there anyway.
To fully experience the richness of this human life, we need to be willing to feel it all and to be with ourselves in these moments of not knowing, of discomfort, of questioning. When we can be with ourselves in these times, come home to our heart and soul for guidance, we allow ourselves to grow and become. It isn’t flashy or pretty until it is. Think caterpillar to goo to beautiful butterfly. We too are like this. We just need to give ourselves permission to go into the darkness, to huddle up, to rest, to integrate, to release any need to perform or prove as we become.

The vastness of the ocean, the immensity of a redwood, the expansiveness of a canyon can take us away and beyond our own smallness to help us connect with the sense that something larger is at play. In these spaces we can feel both our own insignificance and our interconnection to all things on earth. We can find our belonging within the Universe and believe somehow that even when we can’t see it, there is a reason we are here. We do matter. We can remember that we are not alone. We matter. We are needed. Our voice, our ideas, our creations… unlike any other.

Whenever you find yourself doubting that, I invite and encourage you to listen to Brandi Carlile and Alicia Keys sing “A Beautiful Noise.” Something in this song wakes me, shakes me, and reminds me to hold on even when I’m not sure where I’m going. It pulls me back to trust that the way will become clear (or at least clearer). It reminds me that I have a voice. I have unique stories to tell, perspectives to share, lessons to teach, invitations to offer, and gifts to give. So do you. Each one of us does.

How are you doing these days? Where is your inner guidance leading you? Talking with a wise woman the other day she aptly noted, “I think people are fried.” I think she’s right. If you’re feeling fried right now, how do you recharge? How do you reconnect with your inner wisdom and guidance? What works for you? Please share with us so that we can add to our own ideas. In the moments of darkness, it can be hard to see a path forward. We forget this current state will, at some point, come to an end. It will.

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Many & Mixed Emotions

7/1/2022

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Image by Pixaline from Pixabay

Whew! It’s been a week of many emotions, from the pits of despair, to peace, to joy. Memories, moments swirl within, weaving together, making up my reality. Healing is happening. Growth is happening. Layers peeling back. Heart breaking open. Trauma being released.

Car screams help. Tears help. Laughter helps. Saying “yes” to spontaneous invites help. Reaching out helps. Conversation and connection help. Pausing to notice change and growth and to acknowledge it helps. Holistic healthcare helps – a lot. Grateful for all of my practitioners who have ideas and an understanding of how to help that seems to be beyond the scope of Western medicine.

I have felt myself swirling down into the too familiar drain of doom… taking one data point and projecting it into a future reality, that I obviously have no idea if it will ever come to be or not. Our minds are so quick with the stories, find such reassurance in certainty, think they know it all. They don’t.

But the old triggers awaken the automatic responses – before I even know it, I’m back in the old ways, swirling in the old thoughts, feeling the old fears. I don’t have to stay here. I am grateful for the reminders that change is not a smooth linear upward path. It never is. Growth happens in fits and spurts, in setbacks and hesitations, in erratic and unpredictable ways. The path is rarely clear.

So, keep my heart open. Allow space for what’s here in this moment. How can I be with myself? Who can support me? It’s clear I need to expand my network. My immediate desire is to call Mary… and, of course, I can’t. And though she plays me music to let me know she’s right here, it’s just not the same. Thankful for the friends who do call. Who ask, “What can I do to support you?” or who simply offer their care and love. Thankful for talking with my family. Thankful for hard, honest conversations that reflect so much. Thankful when I can help another.

This week has hit me in so many ways, from mundane and simple overwhelm from trying to do too much in too little time, to self-criticism for doing that, to more extreme situations. I’ve had moments of absolute divine flow and grace, sailing smoothly through with no rushing or lateness – definitely a rarity! And I’ve had moments of forgetting things like money to pay my acupuncturist or important documents to share with my coach. Oh well… move on through. I can pay her next time and bring those papers in a couple of weeks. We work with what’s here.

Driving through our old neighborhood the other day brought up so much… dreams of what was to be and the reality of what wasn’t. A mix of sweet memories of my kids’ childhoods twirled and danced with scary, disappointing, and terribly sad ones of later years. I felt my heart ache for it all, felt my throat clench as sobs started to rise, and I took myself to the park. I sat in the car in the parking lot and I journaled… I let everything come through my pen onto paper. I let myself cry. I let myself feel and release what had been stuffed tightly down for too long as I claimed all of it as part of this reality that is my life.

I know for me healing includes walking through the fire, facing what’s before me. As I can face it, I can release it. I can see where I’ve been and where I am now. I can reckon with the horribly hard stuff, embrace the sweet stuff and I can accept all that falls in-between.

Contemplation sometimes moves to action too quickly for my being to keep up. I love our spontaneity overall. And, sometimes it catches me off guard. We decided to sell our boat. It took less than 72 hours and it will be gone – whisked away to some other lake to cart grandkids around. That makes me happy. We had a nice run over to Beachcomber the other night for the classic summer dinner by the lake while they play beach volleyball. One of the things we’ve always loved doing with the boat! This morning we took our last spin around the lake. Getting to be captain one more time, I soaked it in. Tears ran down my face for all the reasons – mostly because this dream ever came into reality! All my life I wanted a ski boat. 9 years ago, we got our first one and it’s been a wonderful thing. Savoring the memories and at the same time relieved to be done with any hassle. Knowing there will be moments I will miss it and long for it, and knowing overall it will be a relief.

Why in the world am I carrying on about such an inconsequential thing at a time when the world is raging with so many consequential and incomprehensible things? Because it’s all part of it… each one of us is affected by the small personal things, the big personal things and the collective stuff of the world. I don’t know anyone who’s not feeling some level of weariness right now.

It’s a really good time to take good care of ourselves. And it begins, for me, with allowing the many mixed emotions to move through me. Tears, laughter, delight, agony… they can all come through in any given day. What I try to remember is that “this” won’t last. Whatever this is… it will change, morph, release, move on, and something else will quickly fill its place.

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The Way Through...

5/31/2022

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The Way Through…
Is with presence. With breath. With showing up. Steadily, consistently, slowly… one moment at a time. One breath at a time.

As long as your heart is beating. As long as you breathe. There is hope. You are here. You can be part of a better tomorrow. In whatever way you are called.

So much pain surrounds us, bombards us, ceaselessly, endlessly, an onslaught of horror and devastating destruction beating our tender hearts. We may even feel numb to it at times – our systems simply can’t take in any more. This is a brilliant, inherent form of self-protection. We are not meant to live in stress 24/7, and yet that is what our world offers us.

Each of us has particular causes that tug at our hearts, keep us awake at night. Many have so many causes pulling at us that we feel stuck, spinning, uncertain of what to do or where to even try to do something that matters.

We may feel guilty that we aren’t doing enough. That we’re not on the front lines, protesting, marching, directly supporting survivors. We look at other people and feel inadequate. We feel the weight of the need and the impossibility of holding it up ourselves. The demand is intense, and perhaps, at times, in our sense of not-enoughness, we collapse. We surrender in defeat and don’t even do the one thing that we could do.

Sometimes we need beautiful, vital self-compassion or tender care for our hurting, depleted souls. Understandably, we need a break. Sometimes we stay silent because our voice feels too small, our words ineloquent, our knowledge lacking. Sometimes we pretend we’re ok and we soldier on, because we think that’s what we’re supposed to do.

Often, we don’t ask for help. We forget there are others feeling exactly as we do, and that together we are stronger. Together we are a force that can move mountains. We are impatient and want results right away, so we forget to notice the tiny steps of hope and progress.

We may not even know what to do. So, begin with presence. Allow yourself to get quiet and still so you can hear the inner guidance. Ask a question, “What would you have me know?” whether that’s to Love. God, the Universe, or your own heart or soul. Ask, “What is mine to do?” Is there an action you feel called toward? Whether it feels enough or not, what is part of your mission in this life? What can you offer?

If you are depleted, then first rest. Fill yourself up. You cannot give when you are not abundantly filled. Do this with complete permission and lack of guilt. We need you restored. This rest will benefit everyone. There are many who share your concerns. We can take turns showing up.
The one thing I am certain of is that it is our job to make it through. To find our way to what’s next. I don’t know if there is “another side” to the pain you’re feeling right now, but I do know there’s another day and a natural, messy, complex evolution. I know for certain that things in this moment will change. For better or for worse? I don’t know.

We transform meaningless pain into meaningful pain when we offer our heart’s gifts to the world. Whether the heart touches one other person who needs your words or gentle caress or you touch millions with your words and actions, it does not matter. What matters is that you find your way. Your expression. Your next teeny tiny or gigantic step.

Along the way allow yourself to feel everything that you feel. Sometimes all at once. Our hearts can hold it all. Our souls know how to be with extreme opposites. You don’t need to deny moments of joy in favor of heartache – invite them both in. You don’t need to push down the outrage that is screaming to be unleashed.

You are well-resourced to find ways to feel, to release, to express as part of the healing and growing journey we are each on. When you feel not well-resourced, reach out. Get help. Invite people into your life who can help you find your next breath or your next step.

Let go of expectation. Stop comparing yourself to what others are doing. You have your own way. Your own way of dealing. Your own way of helping. Your own way of healing. And your own way of difference-making.

Some are on the front line, marching, protesting, shouting. Some will run for office. Some will write letters and send money. Some will offer practices that nourish and nurture others. Some will write poems or posts that speak to the hearts of someone else. Some will offer food, shelter, blankets, and clothes filled with love. Others will silently send their loving kindness meditation and their prayers out into the world. Every bit of it matters. Stop comparing and judging. We need it all.

What’s your way through? Where will you begin in this moment? What is it that your heart, soul, mind, and body need right now? How filled up are you? Do you need to step away to be recharged? (We offer our phone that luxury – let’s offer it to ourselves!). Do you need to reach out and connect with someone to help or be helped? In different moments each of these things is a valid response. Each one will feel right at times.

Whatever you do, begin with breath. Begin with love. Come into your doing from the heart, holding an intention of highest and best. Begin with care and compassion for yourself so these are the energies you exude out into the world. If you are not filled with these qualities, you will find yourself burned out, resentful, bitter, and that is what will bleed into even your best-intentioned offerings.

Love, what would you have me know this day? That is the question that’s alive in my heart. This is the place from which I long to be led. And so, I ask.

In response I hear, “My dear, this is a painful time. Your heart is breaking – again. It breaks over and over with every death and every senseless act of violence. It breaks when you hear the despair. Your soul feels the pain of loss, for all the families. Your heart is tender. Care for it and then offer love. Send it out in waves – through your writing and through your prayers. You will know when there is another action to take. For now, let this be enough. I am with you. I love you.”

Here's a meditation "The Way Through" to support you.

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Planting Seeds, Practice, and Possibility

4/19/2022

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In today’s #AtoZChallenge, let’s look at planting seeds, practice, and, of course, Possibility! I couldn’t miss that chance when P came around!

Planting Seeds
We are forever planting seeds in our own lives and in the world, so it seems worth pausing (oh, there’s another great P word!) to notice the seeds we spread. Are they seeds of kindness and generosity, of love and possibility, of hope? Or are they seeds of doom and gloom (which, quite frankly, would be understandable these days)?

My yoga teacher reminded us that Loving Kindness practice plants seeds of kindness and compassion within us that hopefully we will carry into our days and lives. As we sit and take the time to offer to ourselves and others these universal wishes of peace, happiness, health, safety, and ease, we become fertile ground for embodying these qualities. From there we can more readily offer them out through our actions. We begin with ourselves, offering some variation of the following:

May I be peaceful.
May I be happy.
May I be healthy.
May I be safe.
May I live with ease.

I must admit it can be hard for me to be fully present for this initial offering - to quiet myself enough to simply receive. My mind and heart automatically wander to others I want to send these wishes to. I forget the incredible value and absolute necessity of filling myself up first.

I do believe Loving Kindness practice is one of the most valuable practices we can engage in these days. As I wondered in my Kindness post, I can easily question if this practice matters or makes a difference. I have to believe it does. Because I can feel in my own being what a difference it makes to my heart and spirit. The act of taking time to offer love to myself and then out to others, known and unknown, feels like it creates a ripple… it feels like planting seeds of goodness in a world that is hurting.

Practice
And, so, there is the first practice I’m considering. What other practices will support us in troubled times? What practices will support us to move toward possibility? And, what does “practice” even mean?

Practice, to me, means that we will try or do something, we will likely forget or drift away from this thing we are doing, and then we return again. It does not mean that we will be perfect, even with all the practice in the world, but simply that we will remember and come back. Over and over again.

Meditation is a practice. In it we welcome ourselves where we are as we are. We allow our thoughts and feelings to be what they are and to come and go, naturally, without force or harshness. When we find we’ve drifted away for whatever reason, we return to our anchor (often the breath, but it could also be the sensation of your hands or feet, the sounds you’re hearing, or to a word or mantra), and begin again. In that permission to drift and return as often as happens, there is a gentleness. And so, meditation is a very good practice to support our way of being in life. When we drift from how we’d like to be, we remember, we adjust, we return, and we begin again.

Living and loving are practices. Human is messy, and so we offer ourselves compassion and forgiveness as we find our way.

Self-care is a practice. It’s not something we’ve been taught growing up, and so we need to find our way as adults to what it means for us to care for ourselves, moment by moment. We often begin with gung-ho intentions and goals, and inevitably life happens and we become less diligent. It’s ok. In that moment of noticing that we’ve drifted off our intended course, we awaken, and we have the chance to return and begin again.

Gratitude is a practice. It takes awareness to pause and notice what we’re grateful for. To take in the beauty of this moment and appreciate it. To reflect on the life we have and name what we are thankful for. Even in hard times to find what’s still here that we can appreciate. What can give us a tiny lift or glimmer of hope toward the next step.

What other practices do you have that support you, that help you plant the seeds you’d like to in your life, and to move into possibility?

Possibility
Possibility is perhaps one of the most under-rated beliefs we can tap into. We tend to look at probability and get stuck there. We forget that all new creations began with someone taking a risk, daring to believe that something might be possible. I recently listened to a really great conversation between Emmanuel Acho and Brene Brown about this very thing in their episode of “Unlocking Us,” entitled Being Illogical. Please give it a listen if you’d like to bring more possibility thinking into your days!

Had the Wright Brothers let probability stop them, we would not be able to travel across the country in a matter of hours. Had Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King, Jr. let probability stop them, they would not have taken a stand for the rights of people of color. Possibility requires a bit of imagination, a bit of daring, and a bit of willingness to play, experiment, or take a stand.

I believe possibility opens us to the life that we desire to be a part of. That opening to possibility is where everything begins. Our minds only know what’s happened before. Our imaginations can tap into an unseen and unexperienced vision. It’s this energy that lights a fire within us to keep on showing up, to do the hard work of healing our own hurts, and contributing to the world in the way we’re called.

“Man often becomes what he believes himself to be. If I keep on saying to myself that I cannot do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end by really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning.”
- Mahatma Gandhi

Please join me in planting seeds of compassion, love, kindness, and hope. In practicing things that nourish and nurture your heart and spirit so that you can show up with possibility in your soul to be part of the change you desire to see in your life or in the world.

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L - Love Questions

4/14/2022

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What I am LOVING about this #AtoZChallenge is that it’s raising questions about topics I didn’t anticipate questioning… things like hope, kindness, and how we look at and feel about bodies. I love that one friend and reader told me the posts are “like a cup of espresso. They’re waking me up!” She’s been willing to read critically and dive into her own thoughts about certain words and topics. I couldn’t ask for any more than that!

So, with that, let’s dive into some questions I have played with around the idea of love for several years now. These questions change my experience of life and my way of being in it.

Is Love available, even here?
First, from Sufi teacher and business coach, Mark Silver, “Is Love available, even here?” This is a profound question to ask ourselves when we are facing desperate and painful times in our own lives or when we look at catastrophes in the world. Is Love available, even here? Can you find it, feel it, access it? Might Love be at play even when times seem the bleakest? What’s the opportunity?
I recently talked with a friend who is grieving the dying of a beloved pet. It hurts so deeply to let go of those we love so dearly. And yet, we know that death is part of life. The more we love, the more it will hurt. So how might we use our alive time to honor walking alongside someone at the end of their life?

I suggested that there was a gift in knowing that the end is near (and also gave her permission to tell me to F off because I know it doesn’t feel like a gift in this moment)… that she has time to spend with this animal, to let it know all it’s meant to her, to do some ceremony around saying goodbye, even when she doesn’t want to say goodbye. How can we weave love into our living days with those we love, whether the end is near or not?

'"Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Loving someone who struggles with substance use disorder can lead to a chaotic existence… there can be a lot of anger, blame, shame, and broken trust. Things can get ugly and painful in a deeply wounding way. Is Love available even here? Even as relationships are torn apart, words spoken that can’t be taken back, and fear rules the day. Can we remember the essence of this person, the bond that brought us together, and if it’s our child, the bond that runs deep and may be non-negotiable? Can we find enough ground within ourselves and get enough support to bring Love to the situation? Can we trust in a Divine Love surrounding us, even in the hardest moments?

What does Love look like?
Through my journey with my son’s substance use disorder, I’ve struggled to find the Love many times, getting caught up in the human messiness more often than I’d like to admit. I’ve also had to redefine what Love looks like, what love means, and what a loving mother is or does.

We have ideas growing up (or at least I did) about these things. In my case I believed a loving mother was kind, gentle, caring, nurturing, and never got angry… at anyone, but especially not at her children (anger was a “Wait til your father gets home” situation). This was not a healthy foundation for me to step into the reality of parenting, and I am grateful for the counselor who early on challenged my belief that I would never get angry with my child and gave me permission for this very natural human response.

Active addiction stirs up lots of anger along with exhaustion which is a recipe for disaster. It can be hard to find or feel the love. And, in the moments I get good support, care for myself, and have some practices to find my center, I can love my son in a different way. I’ve learned that loving my young adult son is different from loving my baby or little boy, and that I can no longer mend all of his wounds or keep him safe. I’ve learned that love shines through in clear boundaries communicated in a straightforward way, and that love also allows us not to be rigid. When love enters in there is room to determine what feels right and doable in this moment. Love doesn’t always say “yes,” but it doesn’t always have to say “no” either.

When I am the loving mother I desire to be, I walk alongside my sons. I see them for the beautiful people they are. I listen to them and allow them to guide their own journeys. I honor their uniqueness and that each of us have our own journey. I take care of myself and know that my life is most certainly affected by theirs, but it is not determined by theirs. I remember that there is love for them and also love for me, and that when I love and honor myself, I am better able to love and honor them. I no longer believe that a good mother sacrifices herself for her kids. I also love myself enough to allow for and expect imperfections along the way.

What would Love do?
Perhaps my favorite question of all, which I believe I first heard from Elizabeth Gilbert (but I can’t confirm because I often don’t remember for sure), is “What would Love (with a capital L) do?”
Oh, man! Such a great question! And, here’s why… because what Love would do is so often different than what my little pissed off, resentful, hurting human self would do. Now Love still wouldn’t sacrifice me or encourage me to save someone else, because Love knows that’s not my job. Love wouldn’t ask me to do more than is reasonable or to suffer abuse.

However, Love would reach deep and find compassion. Compassion would allow me to consider another person’s point of view. Love helps me to see the humanity and soul of another being, no matter what I see on the surface. Love helps me to show up to the world from a softer place.
When Love is our intention, our guiding light, when Love is how we want to live in the world, how does that change our words, actions, and way of being with one another?

So, I leave you to consider: Is Love available, even here? What does Love look like? And, What would Love do?

What questions do you have about Love? Please share in the comments! I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!

A little musical inspiration for you - Love Wins

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But, How Are YOU?

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Love IS Tough!

Feeling Blah...

Many & Mixed Emotions

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Planting Seeds, Practice, and Possibility

L - Love Questions

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