There’s a difference between free fall jumping off a cliff, leaning backwards into the wind, wings spread to catch the air, and just dropping the cottony gauze wrapping your gaze.
Snow perpetually obscures the view, but the ceaseless drift is soothing, the challenge of watching an individual flake from cloud to ground, impossible. So there is no choice but to let go into the fluttering fluff, dazed, mesmerized, present to the shifting flow of flakes, stark against ancient maple trunk.
It’s like sitting beside a brook at the height of summer. Lazy days, feet dripping wetly splish splash, cooling water…
I opened my computer, the girls had already gone to bed and I was very tired from the wild combination of working at my job, working for myself, and parenting all the way through it with kids home because of snow and minor cold symptoms.
I can’t remember the last time I had a good hug, besides from my tiny three and half year old (she’s the best hugger). I mean, I’m sure my husband has hugged me, but when was the last time we truly had a moment to see each other, really? It’s been ages.
I opened my…
Catharsis. I seek catharsis.
I am bottled up-frozen-barren-rigid. In short: a train wreck.
But, aren’t we all right now?
I gaze out at the rolling hills through my window and see that the earth in its oestre is melting, however. The young deer nibbling on the tinge of green in my yard is proof. The budding trees an affidavit. The crocus stretching her thin neck to the sky, testament.
So why am I still frozen? Why does my mud not ooze with spring release?
“Why so rigid, young mother?”
“Why so broken asunder, old friend?”
“Why so unrecognizable, little one?”
We all begin somewhere. And that place becomes defined as home.
In a time of global pandemic and local lock down, we have no choice but to reside in whatever place we find ourselves that we can call home.
For many of us, we are fortunate in our location and have a beautiful home to be in. For many of us, we are dissatisfied with the place we have, but it’s good enough. For still many more, we have no safe place to be, and we rely on the support and kindness of strangers.
It is a time of global…
“I’m worried about going in to work tonight at the hospital-they aren’t sure they have enough supplies for us to stay protected. I’m worried I’ll be walking into a war zone,” my cousin Joe in London texts me.
“I’m scared of being alone for a whole month,” my cousin Claire tells me.
“My boss is asking me to consider firing people to save our company at this crucial moment and that does not align with any of our core values,” my client says shakily on our phone call.
“I am stuck on vacation and can’t figure out where to go…
This time, it’s crowned in the form of COVID-19. A global pandemic. A local disaster.
From my vantage point, the greater harm is from the tidal wave of fear abrading each of us. Fear is stronger than the virus itself and the tsunami is razing our society.
Some of us are fortunate to live in small communities that are working hard to disseminate information, increase education, awareness and ultimately, prevention.
Some of us live in dense cities and have no choice but to don a mask and gloves and douse ourselves with detoxifying solutions.
Wherever we are, life has been…
…Which is not a sentiment I like, encourage, or adopt, and I feel uncomfortable uttering it out loud.
Perhaps I’m too kind. Perhaps you think I’m a Pollyanna. Perhaps you think I’m too cheerful, too sunshiney, too grandiose.
I like to be encouraging. I like everyone I meet to feel good in their skin and bones, to feel satisfied and full of possibility.
But maybe I need to stop that nonsense. Maybe, in order to properly crush it, as Gary Vaynerchuk promotes, I need to reify the fact that truly you can’t do everything I can do.
At least once…
So, let’s agree right here, right now, to set that word aside for the moment and just talk about how to practice connecting with your very own mind.
The practice is called meditation. In Tibetan, the word for meditation is gom, which means “to become familiar with.” The practice is simple, yet profound. It’s a practice I have incredible intimacy with, having practiced it for nearly 25 years.
I welcome you now, here, wherever you are, to pause for a moment and give this a try.
Here at the beginning, the first thing we do is set our posture. I…
I believe that #transformation requires time and space for integration. I know this because I’ve experienced it.
Last summer I had the opportunity to attend an inspiring conference — the BLD Leadership Conference. The theme of the conference was itself “Be Inspired.” I was grateful to participate as a workshop leader for the conference, and have the opportunity to network with like-minded business owners and #BCorp employees.
What I didn’t realize was that the opportunity to be outside of my normal sphere of life meant I was more open to being touched, inspired, and rocked awake than I realized I…
Historically, and still in some instances, there is no clear beginning to our experience of community, we are simply born into it.
Ancient ruins reveal to us the relics of clan, tribe, village. Our ancestors teach us the power of belonging. You belong because it is where you are from. Like the wild beasts on the plains, you cluster with your herd for protection, safety and comfort. Like a warm blanket, your communion tastes like belief, and so you gather together, seeking a communal source of heat, warmth and sustenance. You work hard to keep away the feared “other,” and…