June 10, 2020
There is so much to feel right now. There is so much for your heart to carry.
Tell me, what are you carrying?
There is so much to feel about our vulnerability in even ordinary moments.
There is so much to feel about our potential for violence, the need for justice and peace, and our need for one another.
There is so much to feel when our ears and minds are flooded and we are scrambling to distill the information that serves the truth.
There is so much to feel when it seems our heart is pulled in so many directions.
You need to hear this: You are allowed to know what you know and to feel what you feel. You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to cultivate and share joy. You are allowed to be confused and at a standstill. You are allowed to run full-speed in the direction that is clear to you.
There is so much for your heart to carry. Own what you hold, as best you can, and ask for help along the way.
April 16, 2020
Hello…today I am thinking about beginnings. Perhaps because it is morning, the start of a new day– an entire pile of hours that have never been before. Or perhaps it is because I recently began this blog…again. It is a fresh start to an old idea– and I see a few things that fit that description in my life right now. Can you relate? Do you ever feel like you are again taking the first steps into an old effort– something that you’ve tried (and tried) to accomplish but could not tell if the ground beneath you was gained or lost? I have. I know this experience is not unique to me– many of us often circle back through goals, dreams, or needs that are waiting to be moved forward and will not let us go until we give them the attention deserved.
If this feels familiar to you, then let’s agree on something. Let’s agree to start at this old place in a new effort with a spirit of compassion. Let’s bring gratitude for the opportunity to begin again, not punitive memories and shaming messages about old failure.
We are still becoming who we are, and we have learned from what we’ve tried before. Why not honor those lessons and put them to work for us, so that we can be open to learning what’s in store for this new beginning. Let’s free ourselves from being narrowly and fearfully attached to demanding outcomes, and instead be patient with ourselves and present with the process so that we can see and receive what may unexpectedly arise to bless and empower us. I am in the mood to fill my hands and heart with hope and courage, regardless if this re-start goes in the directions that are most familiar or ends “perfectly”.
With Covid-19 ruling our time and territories these days, it may seem like an odd or insensitive time to talk about beginnings. I assure you I am not ignoring the reality of the Coronavirus situation and how it seems to be holding the world hostage and immobile. Daily I am stilled and stirred by the stories of desperation, death, and of people rising to offer help as best they can. I also know that the tides of suffering will relent, healing will surge around the globe, and all of us, in our own ways, will be facing the task of beginning again. Beginning from a place of grief with a sense of self that feels weak and wobbly. Gingerly stepping into what many are already calling a ‘new normal’ and trying to figure out what it means for living. Deciding where we can restart old rhythms while bravely creating new ones.
I already feel the energy of a collective new beginning seeping in. We do not know exactly when things will shift, but it is ok to begin dreaming now of beginnings ahead. It is ok to hold compassionate space for today’s suffering even while we allow our imaginations and creativity to stir toward what we can restart when the time is right.
Sometimes remembering that there are beginnings ahead of us can offer light and a place to hold on to when we feel we are in the chaotic energy of darkness and pain.
If you are unsure how or where to begin a new path in your life, consider counseling. It is a powerful way to understand yourself more deeply, and to find what you already know about gaining ground where you need, want, and deserve it most. I have current availability via telehealth care and I would love to hear your story.
April 9, 2020
I grew up in the middle of a prairie but spent much of my childhood in green hills that held a lake. Atop one hill lived a little yellow cabin, and in that cabin we made food and fires and nearly 40 years of memories. We would walk a stone path down the hill to the water’s edge and to large docks that were tethered to shore by cables and long arms of steel and concrete. The lake rolled beneath the docks and yet even the chaotic tides of angry storms could not dislocate the structures from shore.
Recent years have brought unprecedented rains to the area and as the lake swelled over the shoreline and crawled uphill, the docks, flexing like giant metal muscles or enormous silvery jellyfish, rose with the lake level and buoyed faithfully on the flood water. They were of course not without serious damage from the excessive rain and flood, but the docks stayed afloat and alive. However, the pipe and plank pathways that bridged the water from shore to door and the cables and strong arms that anchored each dock in place disappeared beneath the gray lake. It appeared as if the docks simply sat in place by will alone and with no support.
As I sat on my porch this morning I thought about how that image of the flooded lake tells a story of gratitude and loss. I am learning that one of my deepest resources in a season of grief and loss is gratitude. Gratitude for even simple sources of love during a season of separation and deep homesickness. Gratitude for the sturdiness of the earth beneath my bare feet when the path forward seems flimsy and unsure. Gratitude for how I can still fill my body with breath, even when sadness has stolen all the air from the room. These small moments tether me to myself, and to any sense of peace that may be hiding in me and is waiting to be found. Simple acts of gratitude are like those cable and strong arms of the dock, keeping me rooted to the invisible earth when the floodwaters of grief threaten to dislodge and dislocate me. I may appear to be aimlessly atop the water, afloat and damaged from the storm. But if I am able and willing to remember the things in my life that I can be grateful for and to reach for them, I am reminded that in the shadowy, watery depths, I am still secure and not adrift. I am supported. Like steel lines that root into a shoreline, gratitude helps me root into my sense of place, my sense of self, and my deeper sense of well-being. Gratitude does not resolve my hard emotions during seasons of loss, but it helps me tap into a sense of strength and stillness that allow me to be present with my grief in ways that move me forward into healing.
I realize gratitude in a time of crisis like the current Coronavirus pandemic can feel like a much harder and more complicated reach. We are not all experiencing the impacts of Covid-19 in the same way, but there is a clear sense of shared trauma and need for hope. I am not trying to minimize any experience or devastation, or offer naive solutions to global grief and heartbreak. I simply encourage anyone to just try, in any amount, to gaze in the direction of gratitude and find out what goodness can be seen, felt, and absorbed right where they are today.
Right now I feel grateful for…..
The sound of the rain in the evening. We are being watered.
The sight of the ripening green and spring colors following the death and cold of winter. We are still growing and will ripen to more vibrant life, even during this season of loss.
The sight and sounds of any neighbors, as they try to do their best in a season of being home-bound. We are in the presence of others even from a distance, and our presence is an offering to them.
The stories of people helping and being helped. We are a part of that human family, in all its tragedy and beauty.
What are you grateful for today?
Who or what are your connections and support– the things that remind you that you are not alone and adrift?
Consider keeping a jar or vase nearby, and when you recognize something you are thankful or grateful for, write it on a slip of paper and drop it in. It can be a fun and simple source of encouragement later to read those when you need to be reminded of experiences of goodness and gratitude.
Would you like to talk about anything that is happening in your life? Please do not hesitate to be in touch.