Being with what is

My mom, Anelda, 1960s. 

I have come to a place of peace in my life, despite circumstances. Or maybe because of circumstances. While our current reality is hard in many ways, it's not the hardest thing I've ever done.

I come to this place honestly—this place of peace and mindfulness, of relative comfort with uncertainty. Today I feel like writing a bit about my journey because I'm sad today—knowing this is a place I occasionally visit but don't stay.

Today is Mother's Day. 

I write this today for anyone who's ever felt alone. For those whose mothers are gone, for those who didn't have a mother figure in their lives, or for those with no children of their own.  

My mother left this mortal plane 20 years ago next week on May 19. While she had been ill for several years, she was maintaining and doing OK. We were getting into a new groove, as she'd recently moved into assisted living. So when I returned home from a morning run and got the call, I felt like I'd run into a wall. Hard. Not yet, it's too soon. 

In hindsight, I am proud of my mother for living as long as she did, despite dying at 64. The youngest of four children, she was unplanned—an accident—and felt unwanted throughout her life. When her oldest sister died at 48, my grandmother was inconsolable. My mother was never the same; now, she was also the recipient of my grandmother's spite.  

Family matters...  

Still in my formative years, with my aunt and grandfather gone, we moved into the family home to care for my grandmother, who was paralyzed on her left side from a stroke. She graciously died three years later, and despite an end to the misery, I found myself unhappy and alone. With mom working every day, and no adults around, I went from a well-mannered, thoughtful kid, to a rebellious, self-destructive teenager.  

My mom was a single mom when it wasn't socially accepted; my dad died when I was two, and I didn't know his family. My dad was the love of my mom's life, and I'm not sure that sentiment was returned. (By the way, today would also have been his birthday.)

My grandfather, Ben.
(mid-1920/30?)

During those earliest years, there were many family gatherings—no siblings, but grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, first cousins, cousins of cousins, and cousins once and twice removed. Holidays and harvests and many family funerals—funerals which resulted in fewer and fewer family gatherings. 

From abandonment to independence 

So my friends became my family, for better or worse. I attracted those on the same destructive path. We were a generation with absent parents, latch-key kids. Hindsight being a brilliant teacher, I see the impacts, from an abandonment mindset that impacted my early marriage, to later self-reliance and fierce independence. 

We are both always, and never, alone

So today I write for those who feel alone. I understand. I felt alone for much of my life. I was alone for much of my life. I even made sure I was alone, unconsciously pushing away anyone who cared—just in case they planned to leave.    

I rarely feel alone now because I have learned to be here for myself, above all else. Because in the end, I'm all I've got, and I'm here for me. I spent my single years building my resilience, learning to love and care for myself.   

Now, I'm fortunate to be with a man who chose to grow with me, even with a rocky (and long-distance) start. We, too, have an important date this month: 24 years together on May 18. This wasn't a given. A therapist once said our wounds recognized each other. The odds were against us—to come together in a healthy, interdependent relationship was not expected nor even anticipated. And yet, what we created will endure, because (with help) we learned to care for ourselves so we can care for each other. 

We learn from our mothers, intentionally or not

I still miss my mom. Always. We didn't have the easiest relationship, and yet, we grew to appreciate each other. She did what she was able to given the resources she had, which were few. Throughout it all, it was always just the two of us... me and mom. I know she loved me. 

Growing up, I wanted a mother I could be proud of, and I am. I'm proud because she found a way to survive despite it all. She offered words of wisdom that, while seeming less than adequate as a kid, now serve me well, like trusting my instincts and using my better judgment. From her, I also learned resilience and determination. A therapist once asked if I was angry at her. I'm not, although I am sometimes sad. But mostly, I feel gratitude and compassion.  

To honor her, today and any day, I take care of myself, including giving myself grace. Because I know she wanted me to have a good life.

I write this today because we are each on a journey, and we do this alone. Finding our place and being OK with "alone" is essential. No matter who we have, or don't have, in our lives, we have to show up for ourselves. 

Life is a continual journey to grow and learn. Pain is part of it. But through it all, we get better, stronger, and more fully human. The more we accept ourselves and our path, the easier it becomes to change our minds, our beliefs, our experience, and ultimately our lives. 

As my mother said so frequently, this too shall pass. 



If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

When life takes a hard turn... can you fix it?

Talented gardeners, builders, creators

Imagine if you will... 

You live in an RV, parked on a city street, with few resources—no running water, no working toilet, no refrigeration or cooking facilities, and little money for food or propane for your stove or heater.

I know two people who fell on hard times and this is their current reality. I feel profound sadness for them and try to help by providing work when they ask, and a little bit extra. And maybe just as important, inviting them in for coffee and conversation, with some dignity and compassion on the side. 

I write this today because I can't get these two out of my mind, and today is Thanksgiving.

I truly believe that nobody should live in an RV or a tent, especially in one of the richest cities in the country. I don't understand why some who have power and means don't connect that caring for others means better care for all, including themselves. Basic health and financial support give those who are able the opportunity to contribute in meaningful ways, for them and us, enriching all of us. We also need better mental health and addiction policies and practices. 

So... now imagine if you will... how can anyone possibly turn circumstances like these around? 

Random vs choice

While randomness is real and bad stuff happens without reason and to people we label good or bad, we can make meaning out of anything.

In our favor, for those of sound mind and body, there's a philosophy that suggests if your life isn't working the way you want it to or think it should, you likely made a choice about what you believed you deserved, perhaps in early childhood. That choice wasn't conscious, because if it was, you'd probably make a different one. Maybe you made that choice because you suffered badly by another's hand, actions, or words. 

While this isn't true for all of us, it's true for a lot of us. Assuming it is, for you as you read this, my questions to you:

• Do you know that much of what you do, feel, think, and experience, is the result of a choice? 
• Do the choices you make improve your life and circumstances, or make them worse?

While other people's actions aren't your fault, as adults, we choose what we make it mean, and what we do about it. This is not victim shaming or blaming. It's a potential way forward. 

My experience, my belief 

Therapy helped me gain perspective on all this, which helped shift my outcomes. For much of my life, I believed I wasn't supposed to be here, that I didn't belong. Long story short: I didn't have a dad; he died right after I was born, signed paternity papers but met me just once. He and my mom weren't married, which was unpopular at that time. His mom and sister dismissed us; his brother was overseas. This and the loss of other caretakers early in my life left me with that deep but unrecognized belief. 

The impact

That belief, an unwitting choice, drove all my actions, including adopting other beliefs, like not being worthy, smart enough, nor capable enough. I looked for love and approval in all the wrong places, all outside of myself. My teen years were precarious, full of bad choices, leading to some scary paths. 

Thankfully, I didn't get far along those paths, but I lost several friends to addiction, the streets, suicide. 

It's hard to internalize that our beliefs drive our choices, and our choices create our lives. Especially when we have no conscious access to what's below the surface of our thoughts and actions. But if we're tired of the life we're living, there are resources to help. 

Meet Kelly & Barry

Kelly takes care of my garden since my allergies prevent me from doing all that needs to be done. We met a few years ago through a neighborhood group. A self-described businesswoman, when we met she was in a vocational program to help others with addiction. She was close to receiving a certificate. 

Kelly's partner Barry gets odd jobs here and there. They're smart, capable, talented, and caring people who've struggled with their own addictions, and while clean and sober now, they had a recent relapse. 

A health crisis sidelined Kelly initially, and family helped her through it. But she hooked up with Barry, still unable to work, and then lost their subsidized housing. They rallied, did some manual labor, and earned enough money to buy a decrepit but out-of-the-elements RV.

On Sunday, we spent time talking as they prepped my yard for winter. Growing up, both had their share of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs). 

How do you fix that? How do you reverse the cycle that's grounded in deeply buried beliefs? They deserve better. We know there are therapies that help, but typically require resources, ability, time, and an extraordinary and often difficult commitment. 

However...  

Barry said it: I know I'm responsible.

OK. Awareness is the first step toward change.

Kelly added: But without meeting that base layer of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, when you're solely focused on survival, it's nearly impossible to move up the hierarchy.

Fair enough...

They offered to work for whatever I was willing to pay them, whether it was $20 a day or $20 an hour. My head screamed: Know your worth! Let's start there. 

They say they know they deserve better, but at their core, I know they don't believe it. They have dreams and desires, and truly, I believe, the capacity to achieve them—when they find a way to get out of their own way. 

Sound mind?

Addiction changes the brain and can impair cognitive and emotional ability, but generally, they're of sound mind (from my layman's perspective). I also know that depression is a serious issue, and Kelly mentioned a while ago that Barry is sometimes incapacitated by this. 

Having watched family on my maternal side suffer from depression, I've seen the impact up close. It's like being stuck in an abyss with no way out. And yet... it's not impossible. Help is out there.  

My own experience with depression gave me extraordinary empathy, as well as the knowledge that change can happen, and it's not a life sentence. I was lucky to have help. Both medical and therapeutic help, along with a better diet and exercise, gave me the leg up I needed to change my own beliefs. 

Dig deep and unearth those beliefs, diligently work on your mindset (stop, notice, redirect, or tell yourself, "there's no place for that language in here!), make better choices, have better problems. We can change our trajectory. Not so simple, but not impossible. Sometimes we can get there by working backwards: Make better choices, see the outcomes, mindset shifts, and eventually, we uncover beliefs. 

Leverage points

I wish I could do more for Kelly and Barry but it's not mine to do. I offer what I can, but I can't change them, their circumstances, their choices, or their minds. I believe in them, and know they're capable. I hope that maybe I'm at least a leverage point.  

This is probably a good time to acknowledge that those who have little also have fewer leverage points. It's hard to get a break. I think about my own privilege and how easy so many daily activities are, like eating, showering, even using the loo. Let alone the stuff I write about here. When you're living on the edge, it's extremely hard to climb up and out of your circumstances. And again, it's not impossible. 

The court of public opinion

On top of all that... Right now, what they face is a scathing public, a public that lumps all homeless people together, as addicts or lazy people who leech from the system. While mental illness is a huge part of the addiction, garbage, and public health problems in our homeless population, and while some do aim to buck the system, not everyone deserves these classifications. 

They are an 'other' and treated as such. There's a both/and here: mean-spirited neighbors throw garbage around RVs or tents and residents aim to keep them clean, while some encampment residents create their own filth due to mental health or active addiction. It's all a public health issue.  

Since housing is a challenge we can't seem to figure out, what if our tax dollars provided a safe and sanctioned place to park, with toilets, showers, and proper garbage disposal areas to better serve them and address public health concerns?  

I think it's on all of us to be aware of the complexity here, mind our own judgments, and do what we can, when or if we can, especially when we see an effort and willingness to make change.   

Our choices have consequences...

Our choices range from the most minuscule to life-changing. Some changes require a deep honesty with ourselves, a willingness to let go of who we are and what we believe, and some solid determination. We have to always ask if our choices line up with what we say we want. We have to imagine what better looks like.

My mantra from Ken Keyes' 12 Pathways comes to mind: I feel with loving compassion the problems of others without getting caught up *emotionally* in what they need for their growth. 

As I told another friend, there are some journeys we must take on our own, and the journey inward is one of these. Even with help, only we can do that inner work.

Live your best life

So, if you're not living the life you want to live, how can you stop and hear your inner voice? Where do you need help? What small choice can you make today that may impact tomorrow's experience?  

It may be hard, but it's a way through. Pain is part of life but how long we suffer is on us. Both are thankfully impermanent.  

We're all here to learn and grow, and we often learn what's most important through pain. My hope for all of us would be that we learn through less suffering.

***

Update 12/3: On Sunday, Anderson Cooper did a story for 60 Minutes on homelessness—or, the 'unsheltered' as they were referred to—where Seattle is front and center. We apparently have the third-largest unsheltered population in the country. While it's mostly fair reporting and speaks to the root problem of unaffordable housing and the growing wage gap, it's not entirely representative. Cooper gets kudos, though. You can watch it here. 


If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

How to get out of your own way and achieve your dreams

Infinite possibilities

About ten years ago, I unearthed a belief I'd held all my life: I didn't belong here. I had no right to take up space.

You might wonder where that came from, or how I came to realize it. Or why it even matters. 

A little background

While I had reached a certain level of my definition of success, I never got where I wanted to go. I was undervalued at work, overlooked for better roles or promotions, didn't have the means to do the things that mattered most. I never sought the spotlight, and consequently got no rewards and limited recognition. I'd put myself out there just enough to improve my position, but every step was painful and hard. I gave everyone else more credit for being smarter, better, or more able to 'play the game'. 

This was behavior I arrived at to keep myself safe, and even though I'd do the "work" and spout affirmations, I continued to get in my own way. I felt it physically, in my chest and throat, like I was somehow stopped or trapped, and I didn't understand why. Because I was doing the work. 

What's underneath 

My dad died right after I was born and my parents weren't married—not acceptable at that point in our societal evolution. My father's mother and sister insisted I couldn't be his, and I didn't meet my dad's family until my early 20s after reaching out to them and asking if we were related (they said yes, thankfully). 

A 'goody-two-shoes' until I was 12, I did a 180 when I hit 13. I was the black sheep on my mom's side of my family before and after the 180 (each for different reasons). Throughout my childhood, my mom worked full-time, and many of my caretakers died during my formative years. My mom checked out emotionally and abdicated her role as a parent when my aunt died. I was 9. My grandfather died when I was 10, my grandmother at 12. 

I believed everyone who loved me left me. As an adult, my intellect told me they didn't leave because of me, but under the surface, my childhood internalization believed differently.  

I carried that belief beneath my awareness until 10 years ago. 

In high school, as mentioned in previous posts, while smart enough, I was the classic underachiever. Nobody cared. The ongoing message from teachers and other significant adults was that I'd never amount to anything. I was too much of a f*ck up. I was always in trouble, always looking for love, acceptance, and approval in all the wrong places, from all the wrong people. I had no appropriate role models. 

What I know now? I was ashamed. 

I carried the shame of being alive, of having no right to take up space, until 10 years ago.

There's no blame here

There's no blame here, nor do I regret my past or wish I could change it. I am who I am today because of my experiences and I am authentically grateful for all I've experienced, for where I am, and for what I have now.

And... you can bet I'm happy to say goodbye to those beliefs.

Ten years ago, my partner and I separated (a continuation of 'everyone that matters leaves me'). Thankfully, we both saw an amazing woman, separately, who guided us to understand how we got in our own way. 

I didn't know I carried that shame or had those beliefs. Beneath the surface, I felt unworthy and never good enough, even though I told myself this wasn't true. Whether I believed that or not, I can't say for sure. 

I knew these—and more—life events happened and were reason enough to have the not-good-enough not-worthy-enough beliefs. These are also common beliefs; most of us experience a version of them for part of our lives, if not all. 

But those weren't my core beliefs. There was more. That underlying, body-snatching, mind-numbing, deeply-buried but driving belief that I didn't belong here... that I had no right to take up space—these were new to me. And as soon as I saw them, I knew they were true. And they were cemented in shame.  

Why this matters

Unearthing these allowed me to see how I got in my own way, heal, and then change my circumstances for good. I still sometimes fight old patterns and behaviors; they were part of me for so long that they're deeply ingrained, and in many ways, they're still part of me. But now I can appreciate them; they're part of my shadow and give me perspective. I don't recall the last time I called myself stupid—a pattern I developed, likely learned, as a teen. Awareness is the critical first step to changing these. Now I take up space, ensure my voice is heard, and in turn, I make space for other unheard voices, too. 

Brené Brown, an expert on shame (I'm sure many of you have seen her TEDTalks on shame and vulnerability or read her books), gives this definition of shame in Dare to Lead:

Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection. Shame drives two tapes: 1) Not good enough, and 2) Who do you think you are? 

These beliefs keep us small. We stay in the background, don't reach for our dreams, get complacent, get comfortable with comfort. We don't take risks. We rarely achieve our potential or fully share our gifts with the world. As she notes, we put our armor on and ultimately, suffocate. 

We fear change. 
We fear risk. 
Instead, we do what we think 
keeps us safe and we 
die inside a little every day.

Shame is universal

Brown also notes that we all have shame. She gives examples: we feel ashamed when we're laid off (✔), get divorced (✔), are sexually harassed or abused (✔✔) (even though it's not our fault), or when we feel proud of something and then we're told it wasn't all that by someone whose opinion counts (✔✔✔✔...). Maybe it's just feeling disconnected, that we're unable to keep up with everything around us (✔). I'm sure you have your own examples. Sometimes, these embed themselves within us before we're even cognitively aware. 

Still not sure how or if shame shows up for you? Shame is often masked as perfectionism, blaming, and the isms (e.g., workaholism, alcoholism).

How to change your experience

First, be clear. Shame isn't guilt. Shame says we're bad; guilt says we did something bad. Brown writes, "the opposite of experiencing shame is experiencing empathy." 

The only way to release shame's hold on us is to recognize it and talk about it. To allow ourselves to be vulnerable, and look under the proverbial hood at what makes us tick. Love yourself enough to ask the hard questions and do the hard work because it's worth it: 

• Ask yourself what you believe about yourself at your core, and then ask what's underneath that. Keep asking. Be honest. 
• Look at your life events and ask what you made them mean about yourself.
• Ask whose opinion mattered more than your own, especially growing up, and whether you still believe those opinions.
• Look at your core values and make sure they're your own. 
• Think deeply about what matters most, and if you're not doing it, ask the questions again and again.

If you're not achieving what matters to you, however you define it, you may have an old belief still holding you back and getting in your way. It's worth getting a little dirty to see what might be lurking behind your awareness. You may want to work with a therapist or coach; that's what made the difference for me. 

Compassion is empathy's cousin. Be sure to be compassionate with yourself because this is hard work. And these beliefs aren't our fault. That said, we're now responsible. While I firmly believe we create our circumstances, these beliefs weren't in our conscious awareness and were adopted or learned based on the best information we had at the time. Now, with new awareness, we can let go and unlearn, and ultimately, we won't suffocate, we'll soar.  

If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

We can't fight what we can't see

Daisies symbolize love,
beauty, and new beginnings.

There's a lot of unrest in the world right now, and this creates unrest within us, too. I'm not going to say much about the world at large here, as I aim to keep this largely apolitical, but I feel compelled to say something. 

The strife in the world is uncomfortable for many of us scary for more of us, and even dangerous for some of us. 

But I want to point out that much of what's happening in the world right now, particularly based on what people believe about the world and other people, isn't new. What's different is that those who hold beliefs about others based on ignorance and misinformation now have permission to vocalize and act on those beliefs in ways that are detrimental to individuals and the greater good. 

We can change the world

I am forever an optimist, and I believe that change is coming that will be better for all people. That said, it's likely to be painful; hell, it already is. 

Sadly, not everyone believes as I do, that "in our sameness we connect, in our differences we grow" (Virginia Satir, author, 'mother' of family therapy). Some feel very threatened by those who are different. 

But we can't change what's hidden, and with so much hate and anger now visible, we can fight it. We know what we're up against. 

For those of us who hold different beliefs, it's time to find what's ours to do. We must take a stand, speak up and speak out, and do what we can to create change. We have power, individually and collectively. 

Little things or big, it all counts

Sometimes all we can do is hold space, and that's OK. Energy matters. Putting compassionate, caring energy into the world has a profound ripple effect, so if that's all you can do, do that. 

If you can do more, do that. One singer / songwriter / friend holds "Pie and Persistence" house concerts, believing that backyard and living room gatherings with pie and music are where we connect, grow, and can make a difference. In just over two years, she's raised more than $20,000 for non-profits fighting the good fight. I've held two (and attended many more at homes all over the city): one for the National Resource Defense Council, another for Powerful Voices, an organization that supports girls of color to become leaders. I'll attest: these gatherings are powerful. 

Others are donating individually or volunteering. Many host birthday fundraisers on Facebook. Others are sharing their world views in ways that add to collective understanding and don't diminish other people. There is no shortage of opportunity to do something that matters. 

Our internal worlds are just as important

All this applies to our internal world, too. We can't change what we can't see. And to live a fulfilled, satisfying life, we must continue to learn, grow, and ultimately change. Ceasing to do so will literally kill us. 

That's why any kind of change means surfacing underlying beliefs that hold us back. Twelve-step programs require a moral inventory. Therapy and coaching require deep self-reflection. We must create awareness for those beliefs, behaviors, and mindsets that don't serve us. When we have this awareness, we can start living more mindful, conscious and empowered lives.  

What we do inside spreads outside 

When we start to live more consciously and authentically, we benefit the world at large. As we have more, we give more. As we feel happier, we spread happiness. When we do good for us, it's so much easier to do good for the world. As we have more energy, the world around us responds. Energy circulates.  

If you're not sure how to make a difference in our crazy universe, start with the two-feet in front of you and behind you. Take care of you in the best way you know how, do that deep work to find your highest and best self and remove beliefs that keep you small, and you'll be giving yourself and the world a huge gift. 

This may not be easy, but it's worth it, and definitely possible. We all deserve more joy, satisfaction, compassion, and forgiveness. 

Start with 'us'

The bottom line: to make the world a better place, whether our own individual worlds, or a much broader world, we must make visible that which is hidden. Start with you, me, us. Seek your internal truth. Give generously and often in any way you can. Don't be afraid of change. We must change. 

And eventually, love will win. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."

Indeed, it does... 


If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

Extra grace required...

While some may call these weeds,
some of us appreciate their presence.

Extra grace required... 

I heard this statement on Sunday at the spiritual center I often attend. The talk that day was a Father's Day tribute to all the men who love, nurture, and teach. 

My grandfather was my father figure; he left the mortal plane when I was 9. But love, nurture, and teach he did during those scant short years, and his lessons and love endured. I am forever grateful. That said... In the coming years, starting at about age 12, I needed a whole lot of extra grace.  

Thankless work 

Parenting is a lot of work at the best of times, and while there are countless books available about how to do it better, it's one of those things we only learn through experience. While I don't have children of my own, I dipped my toes into that icy water during a stint as a step-mom. To say I needed extra grace, as did my step-daughter, would have been an understatement at the time. 

We will all need extra grace at one time or another. And likely many times over; as humans, we're all just making it up as we go.  

Our deepest desire is to be loved

Extra grace came up while talking about love: Those who are easy to love need our love the least because they love themselves; those who are hard to love need our love the most. And they need extra grace, because they don't love themselves.  

Referencing the biblical verse from the book of Matthew, love your enemies, we were asked from the podium if we could all think of someone who was hard to love (including those holding high political offices). Um, yeah... I can think of a few. While the center isn't Christian- nor Bible-based, the Good Book occasionally comes up as a source of wisdom and lessons, filled with great stories and parables from which we can all learn, even if we question their validity as truth.  

Tough love, love tough...

We also heard a few examples. One in particular stood out: Blues musician Daryl Davis, a black man, armed himself with knowledge and then befriended Klansmen, which eventually led to at least 200 of them giving up their robes. Initially brought together through music, he took the time to listen, talk, and learn, and yes, extend grace.  

This reminded me of a story I read a while ago about Derek Black, a former white nationalist and son of Stormfront's founder, one of the most extreme hate groups in the country. Derek was being groomed by the Klan's grand wizard to be the next leader of the movement. But while attending college in Florida, Derek hooked up with a new set of friends who were gay, Jewish, and immigrants. Love, knowledge, and grace made him see the light and walk away from hate. You can read his words here in the Southern Poverty Law Center's Intelligence Report.  

While these are extreme examples, we all know people who need extra grace. With a little bit of grace, change is possible. And if the seemingly worst of the worst can be granted grace by those they've harmed, can't we all do that? 

And again, gratitude... 

I count my blessings every day for the grace I've been given over time: for losing my temper, doubting myself, doubting others, acting out, outright failing at life sometimes. I am as human as the rest of us, after all. And the only way we continue to grow and expand is to be, do, and say—for which there's no real blueprint. Mistakes are inevitable;  hence, grace. 

Love your enemies... bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you... 

If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

Practicing impermanence

Callas are symbols of both rebirth
and death. They die back each year,
but the next year, they're stronger,
more beautiful, and more plentiful
than the year before. 

I am reminded this month of life's impermanence. Although I believe we are all energy, and energy can't be created or destroyed and only changes form, as humans on this mortal plane, we are impermanent. 

So as in life, so as in death.  

As humans, we are ever-changing, moment-by-moment, with every breath. As humans, we attach identity and meaning, but we choose these, either consciously or unconsciously. 

Our circumstances are also impermanent. And this is all good news.  

May is a month of anniversaries for me: the week after Mother's Day is the anniversary of my mom's death—this year marks 19 years. Her sister, who preceded her in death by several years, also left her earthly body in May. There are more. 

I currently have friends who just lost or are about to lose their closest relationships—one whose father recently transitioned, another whose parents are nearing their final days, and another whose date with death is literally planned through a MAID, or Medical Assistance in Death. It's not an easy time for many. 


The gift of presence


Death is hard for those who are left behind. 

On the same side of anguish, however, is presence. Death changes us, marks us, and shifts our perspective, reminding us of our own impermanence. Which makes today, our present moment, that much more meaningful and precious. 

On the other side of anguish is gratitude—for the moment, for our current experience, and for the future we still get to create. For the memories and gifts of those who left. 

On the other side of loss is forgiveness—for words unsaid, deeds undone, and grace not given. 

Parallel to pain is beauty—without pain, we cannot experience joy, happiness, contentment, nor peace. 

Perspective...

Physical loss is real, however the gifts that accompany that loss never leave us. We gain perspective. We grow appreciation. We soften over time as memories fade but feelings remain. We gain compassion and empathy, and are more likely to see others from a widened point of view.  

And, just as we are impermanent, so are our circumstances. There are other losses in my life right now. Changes at work and home, with friends and family. 

Change has many benefits... 

Impermanence serves us. We are not stuck. We can change how we think about our experience, change our response, and see our circumstances through a new lens.  

While loss of loved ones is truly one of the hardest things ever, I will always be grateful for change. Change is hopeful. Change is interesting, bringing meaning, substance and expansiveness from which we grow and learn. I wouldn't want to be the person I was in my youth, or even 20 years ago. Ugh! I am SO grateful for change. I have gained wisdom and experience that only comes with age and change. 

Good, bad, or otherwise, change happens, and our best option, for our highest and greatest good, is to find our way to peace with that. We must go through—there is no shortcut. If you're struggling with change, or the idea of impermanence, Buddhist sage Pema Chodron may be the preeminent authority and her foundation has many useful resources. 

Embrace what is...

We must embrace the anguish, the bittersweet experience that engulfs all loss. Mourn what was. Miss our loved ones. And trust that on the other side, life has its sweet rewards. There are still precious memories to make. Experiences to have. People to meet. I love yous to say. We will grow through loss, gain much, and love ourselves and each other that much more for it.  

Without impermanence, there would be no life.  


If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.

Listen with your heart, not your ears

(Source: "the good quote")

A friend and I stopped for an appetizer after stocking up on produce at the local farmers market, and a comment she made about how I prioritized my time prompted a curt knee-jerk reaction from me. I caught myself and apologized, but this isn't the first time I reacted this way to her.

Knowing that our relationships are our greatest source of growth, that we humans are complicated, and that we all have blinders, I spent time journaling, had a sleepless night, and got more clear about why I react to her; this doesn't happen with anyone else.

We know what we know...

We think we know someone else's experience based on our own experience. But we don't, not really. We can attempt to walk in another's shoes, and empathy is essential, but we each have different reference points with different needs and desires.

I often say words matter, but I'll also add that tone, body language, and facial expressions also matter and are subject to interpretation.  

My friend has a way of being with me that taps into my self-doubt, where I question and judge myself. I actually felt judged. I felt unseen, disregarded. I felt mothered in a way that wasn't motherly. And I reacted defensively—only for a moment, but enough to change the dynamic.  

Relationships take two


I kept journaling, and a conversation with an 'intentional conversation' partner reminded me of The Four Agreements—one agreement is not taking anything personally, and another is don't make assumptions. 

I can't make this personal. If she is judging me, it's about her and not me. I know my friend isn't happy. Could it be that her unhappiness shows up in how she perceives me, how she interacts with me, and could be what I react to? Maybe. I won't assume, but it's worthy of consideration. 

My journal, and author Joe Dispenza's
Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself

And... all relationships take two. My responsibility is to consider how I hear, ask clarifying questions, and clear misconceptions. Instead of feeling judged and unseen by her words, I can listen differently. Just as we see from our own unique lens, we hear with our own unique filters, and our monkey mind then interprets. 

What did you mean when you said that? What made you think that? Do you want to know... why I feel that way... don't have time... what I'm doing? 

We learn about ourselves from each other

In the Landmark Forum, they describe a way of listening and perceiving as "already always listening"—those unconscious filters that define what we hear. I have an already always listening for my friend—and I realize it's been developing for a while. I'm not wrong when I say I feel unseen—so much has changed both for me and about me in recent years that she has no insight into, but if I care enough, it's my responsibility to speak up and be both seen and heard. I haven't done that. 

This also requires trust, and I'm not sure we have that right now.

So, I'm going to listen with my heart and not my ears, and do my part to use my voice and claim my space, and see what changes. I can also listen with love and compassion, knowing she's having a hard time and may have clouded vision. 

I don't want to react. No one has power over this but me. When we know better, we do better, said Maya Angelou. I hope I know better in the future.   

Is there anyone you have an already always listening for? Do you anticipate what someone will say or how they'll say it? Again, all relationships take two... It may be up to them to change what they say or how they talk, and up to you to speak up and listen differently.  


If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

5 simple steps to take when nothing feels possible...

Spring is late this year;
the crocus only just showed its colors.
Nighttime temps are still in the 30s (F). 

Maybe it's just Mercury in retrograde. I'm not very versed in what that means, but when others remind me, I usually say, "Oh! Now it makes sense!" 

What I notice is that something doesn't feel right. Planetarily, Mercury went retro on March 5, so that could explain my last week or so.

I've felt a little SAD (for those who live in sunnier climes, that's Seasonal Affective Disorder—an acronym that actually describes its associated feeling) and unproductive. I couldn't put my finger on why, even with valid reasons like a long winter and painful anniversaries of long-past March events.

I don't track retrograde dates, and...  should there be actual truth to the retrograde effect, those who know say it contributes to crossed communication, unexpected tensions, missed connections, etc. Rather than make bold moves, sign contracts, or have heartfelt conversations, they say it's a better time to reflect and just be. However, I know some of us don't do this well without prompting.

So let this be your prompt. 

Take time out, stop, think, and contemplate what you want your world to look like, be like. The time for action will come—just not yet.

Here's a list of simple, albeit not always easy, self-care strategies to use until you can take your next steps. It might require some mental gymnastics or shifting some energy, but you can do that. There's not a lot of 'action' in these steps.

1. Be compassionate and forgiving of yourself. Feelings of unworthiness, self-doubt, ineffectiveness, or just low energy, can show up and stop us. Remember this happens to everyone, even though our social media highlight reels make that seem untrue. Here's a line I've read and heard numerous times: Don't compare your insides to someone else's outsides.  
2. Check your self talk. If your inner critic is doing all the talking, think about how you'd talk to your best friend. Then do that for yourself. What would you want that friend to tell you right now? Say that. And say it over and over, even if you don't believe it.  
3. Take stock and do small things. What are you able to do right now? Can you go for a walk? Have coffee with a friend? Maybe listen to a meditation app like Insight Timer or affirmations online. If it's too much work to make a green smoothie, can you buy one? If you usually pray but can't, listen to the Hawaiian Hoʻoponopono. Whatever you can do, do that, and acknowledge yourself for it. Know that food and exercise affect your mood, so even small tweaks can help lift the fog. 
4. Be grateful. Every day, remind yourself and reflect on what you're grateful for in that moment. 
5. Surrender. Sometimes, that's all there is to do. I've found that word coming out of my mouth more times than not lately. My word, or theme, for the year, is manifest... but perhaps surrender must come first.  

And here's a bonus step. Ask for help. I add this as a bonus because most of us can't, or won't, ask. It's a very hard thing for many to do. But it's also important. And if you can't, or won't, ask someone with the physical or emotional means to help, then say it out loud or write it down and let the universe, your higher power, or whatever you believe, think, or hope might be out there, know. Ask for what you need and be specific.

It gets better...

Even during our darkest hours, there's always something to hope for and be grateful for. As Leonard Cohen sang, the cracks are how the light gets in. When we're stuck and pondering, frustrated and worried, we can trust that answers will come, and at some point, everything will look better and brighter than before. It's almost always true.

Note I say this from a place of relative comfort—I am healthy, partnered, and I have a job and a home. I know at least one of these isn't true right now for people I care deeply about. Still, despite the sadness I feel and my desire to take their pain away, I must trust that what happens in our lives leads to our highest and greatest good. I know it's been true for me, and I've had some hard knocks.

When we stop learning and leaning in to life, even its hardships, we stop living. And damned if that hard sh*t doesn't move us forward in ways we couldn't have imagined. It won't feel like it at the time, and likely won't for a long time, until one day we look back in hindsight and realize we're thankful for what we gained. We learn to navigate, and with that, we get closer to having the lives we want, when so much more is possible.

Mercury leaves retrograde on the 28th, when spring will be in full swing. So if waiting it out is what you've got, do one of those small things listed above. Even if they feel hard. They'll keep the momentum moving so that when the fog lifts, you can take that next step, and maybe even leap.

What's your strategy when the fog rolls in thick and heavy, and nothing feels possible? Let me know what works for you.

If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find out more here.