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. 

Start 2020 with a strong foundation: 3 practices

Peace lily

On a recent stormy morning, Sam Harris guided me in the Buddhist practice of loving-kindness. Each day, the Waking Up 50-day course offers a different style or approach to meditation. Loving-kindness isn't new to me but I don't use it much... and then I had an a-ha moment.

Why NOT practice loving-kindness? Not as part of my morning meditation, but... Every. Single. Day. All. Day. When I'm out in the world, at work, in traffic, with friends... why not just wish everyone I encounter happiness, wellness, safety, and peace?

I typically start my year with gratitude—it's at the core of everything else—but this feels like it needs to be at the core, too. I want to make this a new habit.   

A quick note: My new year planning starts in late December (birthday/solstice weekend), but how I want my year to unfold, what I want to create, how I want to feel, and what intentions I'll set fall into place over about a month. It's OK to take time with this. It's your life!  

Here are three practices you can try, too. 

1) Loving-kindness

The loving-kindness practice, or 'metta meditation', starts with us: May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease—essentially putting on our own oxygen mask before we care for others.

But my new a-ha was... why not do this for others, at any time, in any circumstance? I do my

The traveling Buddha
in my garden

morning meditation and listen to an affirmation I recorded, so I already start my day with self-care. How would my day be different if I adopted this mindset all day every day, every time I feel frustrated or defeated at work, or when I feel triggered by a situation? 

This seems like a great way to smile more, too, which author and entrepreneur Dean Graziosi says decreases stress. A smile tells your subconscious you're happy, even if you weren't just a minute before. And if you radiate positivity, he says, you attract similar people into your life. Who knew smiling was a success habit, and who doesn't want more positive people and experiences in our lives?

What if I practiced loving-kindness with a smile on my face? How powerful would that be?

2) Forgiveness

To have any kind of peace, we must forgive others... and we must also forgive ourselves. Both of these acts benefit us in countless ways. And while we must forgive someone else for any harm they cause, two things: it doesn't mean we forget or condone, and we do this for ourselves as much if not more than we do it for them. 

This practice is an essential part of our healing and self-care toolkit; it allows us to be free of the past, let go of suffering and resentments, and move toward the life we want with self-compassion.

It's often easier to forgive someone else than ourselves, especially for what we think. We've all hurt someone at some point, usually unintentionally, but who reading this hasn't experienced being your own worst enemy, flogging yourself far worse than anyone else would for indiscretions and mistakes? One critical step to changing this habit and moving on is forgiveness.

A daily forgiveness practice can be simple. I include mine in an affirmation I recorded that I listen to each morning and evening, but even just a statement to yourself in the mirror each day, or catching yourself beating yourself up, may be enough. And... perhaps combine it with your new loving-kindness practice... Just sayin'... You can also say or listen to the Hawaiian Ho'oponopono chant: I'm sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you. I can't explain it, but this has power. Listen to Carrie Grossman's version here. 

Without forgiveness, true peace-of-mind will always be elusive. Jack Kornfield has far better words than I do about the practice and its importance. If you haven't spent any time doing this work, I encourage you to read his book, The Art of Forgiveness, Loving-Kindness, and Peace, since it's not for the faint of heart if you're just beginning.

3) And yes, gratitude 

Anyone who's read anything on this blog knows that gratitude underpins everything else for me. I am nothing if not grateful for all of my life experiences, even the painful ones, for everything I have, and for all that's yet to be.

This is the one practice I encourage everyone to adopt, as it immediately makes life better. Where focus goes, energy flows. However you do it... whether you jot a daily journal entry, send a message to a gratitude partner as I do, or put a note in your phone. Something to consider, if you don't use a journal for other types of writing: physically handwriting sends a message to your brain and further enhances neuroplasticity, creating new pathways for good. Acknowledge what you have, even if you don't have much, and attract more of what fulfills you. 

A friend gave me some 'pocket affirmation' cards for my birthday. I wasn't feeling particularly grateful earlier today, so I pulled one. Here's my message: I am proud of myself. I take the time to celebrate how far I've come, even if I'm not yet where I want to be. This couldn't have been more fitting as I lamented my current work frustrations. Which is exactly what this recent Forbes article about gratitude speaks to... we just never know where we'll find our lessons. I'm not where I want to be, but I am extraordinarily grateful for where I am. As I have said many times, my life could have been so different, and more than likely not in a good way. 

There's wisdom everywhere if we're open to receiving it.

Why it matters 

Of course, there are goals to set and lists to make and tasks to start to get the year rolling along, but putting mindfulness practices like these—along with meditation and/or journaling—in place right out of that proverbial gate provides a solid foundation from which to achieve everything else that, after 365 days, will deem the year a success.

Gratitude and forgiveness are my foundation, but I'm eager to see how adding a loving-kindness practice will add to my day—and my year. 

The world needs more kindness, empathy, and compassion, and these further that ideal. As we embrace and embody these practices, we also attract those who share that desire, which then makes our own lives better, too.  

Outside of goal or resolution setting, do you have any practices you do consistently at the start of each year? What do you do that helps to ensure success?


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. 

Convergence: the wise words of Death, and decade reflections

A stairway to... somewhere? 

"It gets under your skin, life..." said Death. "Speaking metaphorically, of course. It's a habit that's hard to give up. One puff of breath is never enough. You'll find you want to take another." 

This, from Terry Pratchett's Hogfather, a twisted take on a Christmas story that I faithfully watch every year. 

Discworld is no Planet Earth, but BBC brings this other world into clear focus, and while entertaining, it also offers keen insights and intriguing perspective we can apply here, too, on our spinning round ball.  

A heartwarming tale, though the villain is truly villainous and not for the faint of heart, Death gets some of the best lines in the three-plus hours—worth considering as we close out both a year and a decade. 

"You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" 

Some of the major themes I wrote about this year: create your future, the role of mindset, and the power of beliefs (conscious or not). 

We must believe: 1) in ourselves, 2) in our capabilities) 3) that we create based on what we want and not what we've done or what's necessarily true, 4) that we deserve our good, and 5) that the universe, or life force, or divine energy—whatever you want to call it—conspires for our highest and greatest good. 

It's important to note that we often get in our own way, usually without knowing it. It's those underlying beliefs that hold us back, the self-talk we don't notice or don't give credence to, and persistent patterns and habits that no longer support us. 

We can create the life we want. Sometimes we have to #dohardthings first, though, which usually includes a thorough self-audit, and there is this thing, I believe, called Divine Right Timing. Self-awareness is critical to growth and change. It requires deep reflection, soul-trembling honesty, and a willingness to let go of who we are for who we can be. 

"Human beings make life so interesting. Do you know that in a universe so full of wonders, they have managed to invent boredom?" 

Life is precious, and while I don't believe we should always be busy, always striving, nor always productive, I do believe curiosity is a superpower—one that consistently helps us grow and moves us forward. It's one of mine, and one I'm deeply grateful for. 

What do you wonder about? Are you curious about why you've made the choices you have? Are you curious enough to realize you've made choices your entire life, and the results of those choices are why you do what you do, live how you do, and determine who you have around you? What about the world-at-large fascinates or befuddles you? 

As far as we know, or at least as far as we can conceive consciously, we have this one life, and it's up to us to make it what we want it to be. We can live in ignorance and blame the world for our situations and be victims of our circumstances, but we'll perpetuate the life we're already living. It won't get better. We can 'create better problems', as author and blogger Mark Manson writes about. 

There are endless places and ideas to explore, things to try, entire libraries to delve into, new people who cross your path every day who have a different story than your own, and now, in our digital world, podcasts and new music to listen to, and encyclopedic volumes of information at our fingertips. I've mentioned my sociology professor before, who often said: See everyone as your guru of the moment. In other words, everyone has something to teach us, even when it isn't immediately apparent. 

What do you want to know more about? 

"There is always time for another last minute... there's no better present than a future... "

My birthday, the winter solstice, Christmas, and year-end all arrive within two weeks of each other. I take this convergence to mean it's a powerful time for me—a time to go deeper than usual, to reflect, assess what I've learned and what about the last year had meaning, and set intentions for creation and change in the, or my, new year. A Christmas birthday can be hard—I've had a lot of stories around it that aren't supportive... but shifting my thinking to one of convergence is how I've not just finally made peace with it—my initial thinking—but how it truly works in my favor. 

We can all do this, whether at year-end, around your birthday, or whenever it makes sense. But now, as we close out a decade, it can be helpful to take a look back as you think ahead. 

Could you have ever imagined, 10 years ago, where you'd be now? Whether you observe it / judge it to be good or bad, is this what you had in mind for your life?  

Ten years ago, I could barely see beyond what was immediately in front of me. Forrest and I had separated and didn't know if we'd be back together. I started a new job, and my first six months were rocky. I had a balloon payment due on my mortgage and had been out of work following a layoff when the 2008 recession hit, so even my home was at risk. 

While I had plenty of self-awareness and had been doing a lot of this work for a lot of my life, suddenly, nearly everything was in question. 

And, I was intentional. I got very clear when this all seemed to happen at once that something still wasn't working. I recognized I had beliefs and patterns and habits that kept me stuck, including that life was hard, I didn't believe I belonged here, and that I couldn't have what I wanted. 

So, with help, hard work, a lot of soul-searching and solitude, I changed all that. And here we are, at the end of one and the start of another decade. There are some outward similarities, but on the inside, I'm a different person. Just as much of our bodies regenerate every seven or so years, so too, have I regenerated my beliefs, my thinking, and my actions. 

That's a lot to celebrate. And it's important to acknowledge what we consider success. I can build on this as I look ahead to 2020, and the decade in front of me.   

No matter our condition, that we are living, breathing, evolving individuals all connected through an energetic system invisible to the eye, is nothing short of miraculous, considering the complexity of our very existence.

What do you want in these last minutes of this, our second decade of the 21st century? As Death so wisely stated, there's no better present than a future. How can you set the stage for an awesome 2020, and the next decade? 

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 good can you stand it?

My idea of bliss

My cousins and I met this morning for our semi-annual Christmas breakfast at Fishermen's Terminal. Pondering the lengthy menu, we all noted we don't eat much for breakfast these days, but it was still a good idea. It's not quite a tradition but gives us quality time together, a rare thing these days. 

There were fewer of us this year. Over warm citrus scones, we reflected on our family. One cousin recently turned 60, and we noted how she's now lived longer than her mom and two sisters—gone before they turned 60.   

We acknowledged how grateful we are. We're generally healthy in mind and body, working, and in relationships that work for us. And we weren't cursed with addictive or destructive patterns like some who prematurely left this plane. What a gift.  


Creating more good

We're now in the throes of the holiday season... a time for giving as well as receiving. While I consume less than I used to, I find joy in finding just the right gift for someone I care about. And, I find giving so much easier than receiving. Part of emotional growth is learning to accept a gift graciously, even or especially when not reciprocated, whether it's a wrapped package, a compliment, or an act of kindness.  

What helped? Understanding the law of circulation: it feels good to give, which has a ripple effect, and if we give and don't receive, we'll get depleted.  

Acknowledging our good

Whether a daily gratitude practice or just counting your blessings as you see them, good begets good. As is true for most of us, my life is hardly perfect, but it's the hard things that ultimately make it better. Moving through a challenge, diving into a problem, navigating a hurdle... those bring meaning and purpose to our lives.  

When we know this, our lives get better. How you ever said, "I'll be happy when..." or "I'll be happy if..." It's a never-ending pursuit, and rarely brings happiness. 

Happiness is right here, right now; we choose. If it's elusive, look at how you fill your time, who you spend it with, and your expectations. You might find clues. 

Good perspective 

Many of us look back at the year in December. Radio stations play top songs, writers and readers share book lists, newspapers review top stories. Before setting goals or intentions, it's useful to take stock. 

• What worked well for you this last year? 
• What are you most proud of? 
• What do you want more of that you started? 
• Are there lessons you learned from what didn't work? 

Please don't lament or shame yourself if you didn't achieve your desires; it's easy to be optimistic about what we can accomplish and forget to account for real-life twists and turns. Look for what you learned instead.  

How much good...? 

So... How much good do you want in your life? What brings you meaning? How would it feel live in bliss? Do you know what this looks or feels like?   

For me: outside, in the woods or on the water. Sometimes in meditation or when I reflect and write my gratitude lists. Spending time with people I love. Diving deep into something new. Laughing. ...   

Bliss is fleeting but so delightful as it melts into contentment. 

Define it. See it. Create it. Own it. And when you can, just be it.  


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. 

Thank you

Autumn glory

On this Thanksgiving eve, with just a month of posts to go to achieve my goal of one post a week for a year, I'm grateful to all who read this blog, for your encouraging feedback, and for all I've learned this year through writing.

Having had a gratitude practice for many years, I recognize it's one of the most important things I do for myself. Over the last year, I also had the good fortune to witness what gratitude looks like from a position of leadership when it's authentic and coupled with humility. It's transformational.

Through a number of experiences this year, I also deepened my appreciation for forgiveness and acknowledgment. While it seems we do these practices for others, we really do them for ourselves. By continually forgiving and acknowledging, we give ourselves and others the grace to be human.

I also learned even more how important it is to tell those I love how much I care, continually, because life is short and we never know how long we have on this earthly plane.

I've shared the Hawaiian Ho'oponopono before, but here's Carrie Grossman's Thank You version again. (For my Canadian readers, if you can't access the link you should be able to find it with an online search.)

I'm sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you. 

There's so much power in these words. You don't need to say them out loud, or to anyone. Just say them whenever you need grace, or feel grateful, of need to shift something in your life.

Please know that I continually strive to be the best version of myself, and I hope that through this blog and other ways, I help you, too. 

Four more weeks! And then? Stay tuned... 


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. 

The fixings of possibility

A world of abundance

So many of us in the northern hemisphere are incredibly fortunate when we compare our lives to the world at large. But as the divide between rich and poor continues to increase, the wealth gap ever-widening, there are more of us who aren't so lucky. 

Here in the US, we have millions who live below the poverty line, and there are growing numbers of people who have nowhere to go at night other than an urban, unsanctioned, and makeshift campsite. This is all a giant shouldn't be and why those who have the power to enact policy to at least keep people fed and safe don't do that befuddles me beyond comprehension.  

Wise choices 

That said, we're all blessed to live in a time of inconceivable prosperity, although for many, there is no trickle-down. The majority who read this blog I assume live in a place where you can make choices that serve you, and you can course-correct when you make a bad decision. Peter Arnell, in his book Shift, wrote, "we can be our own aspiration." 

That's the stuff I write about most of the time. I love that we can choose a better life for ourselves with every decision we make. 

But it's important to remember that not everyone can—or at least, they don't know they can. We're all blessed with free-will, too, but even that's a non-starter for so many. If you can barely take care of your physiological and safety needs, it's highly unlikely you'll think about or maybe even know about the higher levels of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. 

Celebrate your gifts 

Danielle LaPorte, author of The Firestarter Sessions and other amazing books and resources, wrote on Instagram, "Can we be grateful for what we have when others are going without?" Yes, she says. Be modest and respect others, but celebrate all you're blessed with. 

She's right—because when we have more resources, we can do more, be more, share more. When we live into our potential, or lift ourselves up, we put that into the universal energy field and lift others up, too. 

We're grounded in belief

Yes, we all have the fixings of possibility (thanks to Liberte for the phrase). Even those who seemingly have nothing. But sadly, they don't know it, and may not have a way to find out. They haven't received a hand up and may rely on handouts, which feed their bodies but not their souls. As I view our growing homeless community, I wish I could help in a way that matters most—at that deep subterranean level where we know we have value.  

No matter where you live or what your experience, so much of what we have as adults is based on what we believe. No one spoke more eloquently and meaningfully about this than Austrian psychologist Viktor Frankl, in Man's Search for Meaning, who spent years in a Nazi concentration camp.  

Those living in abject poverty may not know any other way. They may believe that's all they're worth. Many come from childhoods with countless 'adverse events' with no tools or resources to change. They may have never had a lucky break, a mentor, or an opportunity to see life from a different vantage point. Eric Butterworth, in Spiritual Economics, writes, "We have been erroneously conditioned to believe that our lives are completely shaped by what happens around us and to us. But life is lived from within-out. It's not what happens 'out there', but what we do or how we think about what happens."

What we believe can keep us in poverty, lonely, and unwell. It's for those reasons we owe it to ourselves and everyone else to use our freedom and privilege wisely and to do what we can to live from an abundant mindset. 

Know your worth

Those fixings of possibility? Know your worth, know you're part of something bigger, and carry with you at all times the mindset of abundance, gratitude, and generosity. Even if you don't feel privileged, if you live in the US, particularly in the Pacific Northwest, you likely benefit from some kind of privilege by the very fact you live where you do. 

When we acknowledge and accept this, we can make choices that contribute to a better world. We owe it to those who have less to make smart choices, to expand our capacity to be the best we can be, and to model the way for others. And, extend a helping hand in whatever way you can, in a way that's meaningful to 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.

The art and practice of forgiveness

Roses are the flowers of love,
a true love stronger than thorns. 
Forgiveness is the ultimate
act of love. 

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things we do, along with self-compassion. Forgiveness isn't about forgetting, or letting someone off the proverbial hook. But it is about letting go, and creating space for peace of mind. 

Forgiveness also isn't about doing something for someone else; while it is a gift to them, it's an even bigger gift to yourself. 

Practicing forgiveness

I had an experience last weekend that took me by surprise, and triggered an emotional response that I in no way expected. 

So now, I'm trying to find space within myself to forgive: my friend, who's grieving a major loss and lashed out in anger, and myself, for not anticipating that something I said could be received in a way I hadn't intended, and for my teary and completely befuddled and reactive response. I believe fully that the few words I chose were said with no intent to minimize or take away from her in-the-moment experience. And, that's how they landed.     

...Holding space

Holding space for someone isn't easy. It's being present and allowing what is to just be. It's stillness, understanding, grace, and getting our egos out of the way. It's also forgiveness. 

As Amy Wright Glenn writes in Holding Space, On Loving, Dying and Letting Go, we fear holding space in part because we don't want to say the wrong thing. "We don't want to add to the pain and suffering." Of course we don't. I certainly didn't. And yet, even though my words came from love, and while in no way meant to add to or even ease suffering, they were heard in ways I didn't and couldn't predict.  

Under normal circumstances, my friend would assume positive intent... (the only kind of assumption we should ever make, by the way, and one we should make often), but grieving such a loss isn't a normal circumstance. 

Letting go...

Surrender. Forgive. Let go. Those are the words that keep coming up for me as I process my own experience this last weekend. We all do the best we can in any given circumstance with the knowledge and capability we have. I know this to be true, in this case for her and for me; I also know "one's best" may be different every day, every moment, and that not everyone will see one's best in the same same way.  

Relationships are truly the hardest things we do, and there are times when I want to throw up my hands and say, "I'm done!" and isolate like my mother did. But that's not the answer. 

Practicing presence

Show up. Listen. Witness. That's what we do for the grief-stricken. I did those things, as well as cried, held, and honestly said few words.  

I'm not a therapist, and I know better than to wear my coaching hat when not asked. I showed up as a caring friend and nothing more. And yet, my few words were interpreted as the wrong words, words that apparently felt invalidating and unsupportive of her feelings and her need to be present with them, pushing her along before she was ready. 

I know myself well enough to know I wouldn't invalidate or not support. We must go through our experience, and the more we can dive in, bathe in it, breathe it in, the more meaningful and powerful it will be for us. It's necessary—and yes, it's necessary for healing. 

Because we do heal from loss and grief. 

And while loss stays with us until we, too, say goodbye to the mortal plane, it won't always be our daily moment-by-moment experience—hard as that may be to hear when we're right there in it. We must stay in those depths for as long as it takes. There is no timeline for grief, and there are no shortcuts. The one caveat—if after a period of time (for many, it's typically one to two years), we're still overcome with sadness and can't find joy in any part of our lives, we may need to get help from a skilled outside source.  


The tension of opposites...

There is both beauty and anguish in grief. I know this from personal experience; I've had many losses throughout my life—most of my immediate family, many extended family members, and some of my closest friends have died too young, lost to disease, drugs, depression, and accidents. In my earlier days, I endured huge abandonment issues that still show up on my very worst days. 

What I know most of all is how grief shows up differently for all of us. We each have our own process, and it's even different each time. There is no pushing through. We must feel what we feel, because there are consequences if we don't. 

So... we must give ourselves and those we love a lot of grace, and the room to make mistakes—we must hold space for and forgive again, and again, and again. Because dammit, there is no great love without great loss. 

Onward. 

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.

10 years: On anniversaries, getting started, starting over, and now

Our garden path, today

This month marks 10 years since I first wrote in this space—full of hope, excitement, and commitment to this new journey of writing—and gardening. 

The beginning

Growing Things started as a gardening blog, when we launched a community garden in our yard through Urban Garden Share, an online matching service for gardeners and homeowners (you can read more about that in the 'about' sidebar). But it quickly became personal when, a few months later, my partner and I separated after 13 years together. 

That first year I wrote with fervid commitment—at first it was fun as we transformed the garden space, and then it became a place to share my challenges, my pain, to express, and be witnessed. The name "growing things" took on new meaning, and the garden became a metaphor. 

Backyard

After that, even though the garden thrived, the blog languished as work and life took over. Just over a year after separating, he and I got back together, and began putting the pieces of "us" together in a new, different, and ultimately better way. 

Starting over

With help from an extraordinary therapist, he and I learned to relate to each other differently, to talk with each other and hear each other while noticing and monitoring our own filters. We learned to call each other on our stuff, gently but clearly, and even laugh about it, too. We both learned we got in our own way, and it was the "I" in the relationship who could fix it, not the we. So we focused on ourselves, and became capable of moving forward independently and together—interdependent, as we learned to call it. 

In the years following that first year, I worked hard to find my voice, both here and in real life. To speak up, not withhold or wither, to know my worth, know my value. To understand that life just is, and continue to nurture new ways of thinking and being. I still struggle on occasion with these—with my own self-confidence and the limiting beliefs that linger in the background, threatening to unearth themselves and derail me. 

But overall, I wouldn't trade any of these experiences. I've learned to be comfortable being uncomfortable, to be more brave, and that without challenges and pain, my life would be very different, and far less satisfying. 

Recommitting

Together and separately, we have dreams, goals, and ideas, respect how each other interacts with the world, and know we both act with our best interests in mind—no longer in our own way, or that of each other. 

Early years

Since this online journal came to be, he's traveled the world by ship, I've had a couple different jobs, and thanks to life's constant insistence that we grow and not get complacent, we've had many opportunities to further our inward journeys. 

To say it's occasionally been a slog, well, yes. Yes it has. Nothing seems to move at the pace we'd prefer. We've had countless bumps, hills, roadblocks, potholes, and the occasional crater slow us down. His recent work injury is the latest crater, with a 9 - 18 month healing window and an inability to do much with his right arm due to intense shoulder pain. A few years ago, I was laid off when my employer re-organized and I nosedived into a confidence crisis. A few years earlier, he took a circuitous route to a career change that required more learning and growing. And within those 10 years, our three precious furkids all took turns going over the rainbow bridge and for the first time, we are without cats. 

"In the shade of the old apple tree,
there's a place just for you and for me... "

And here we are, 10 years later. I'm still writing. We're stronger together. The garden continued until two years ago, when we ended the relationship with the current garden partners and made plans to sell the property. That's one of those slow parts—two years later, the city is still backlogged and we haven't moved forward. While my heart will ache when we finally say goodbye—I have often said I'd miss the Gravenstein more than I'd miss the house I live in, the tree and the property require more time, money, and resources than I can give them. It's more complicated than I'll go into here, but the house and garden are on separate lots, and given circumstances, keeping the house makes more sense than keeping the garden. 

While I'd love to kick things into higher gear—his healing, his work goals, the property sale, my developing career and personal goals, travel plans—there's not much I'd change. I know that through pain, we grow, and without it, we wouldn't have joy. 

We have a lot of joy in our lives, and much to be grateful for—good friends both near and far, a warm and (mostly) comfortable home, nourishing food, overall health, our careers (and my job), cars that get us where we're going, and plenty of resources and tools when we need them. We've even hung onto some of those earliest gardeners who became our friends, and I'm so grateful they continue on this journey with us. 

Lush life: first year with Urban Garden Share.  Shiv, 
our neighbor, often sang mantras to the plants, saying it 
helped them grow. Together, we created something amazing.  

This year I recommitted to writing and for the most part, I've penned my thoughts about once a week. Some posts take longer than others, or morph in an unexpected direction, so which day they publish isn't guaranteed. But I have a lot more to say and share, hopefully with insights that help those who join me here. Stay tuned. 

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.