Last month we enjoyed our annual escape to the mountains with dear family friends. In the weeks leading up to the trip each year both families create and execute a detailed plan to ensure we have everything we could possibly need to eat, wear, and play for the week. With cars packed to their limits, we set out for the nearly four hour drive with logistical details and mental lists still swirling in our heads. But within an hour of arriving, our lungs are full of mountain air and our hearts are light. Before long, we lose sight of any agenda we had for our time together and experience a powerful shift into a more restful, peaceful state.
It was in this blissful mindset that my husband and I set out early one morning for a family "nature walk" with our budding explorer. Having become familiar with the wildlife in the area over the past five years, we prepared her for sightings of bears, deer, unique birds, and unfamiliar plant life. Less than five minutes into our walk, however, she spied a small worm making its way s...l...o...w...l...y... across the road. My husband and I acknowledged it and proceeded with our mission, but she was transfixed. "I think it's a baby worm! Where do you think its mama is? Can we follow it?"
My initial inclination was to push back. There are so many far more interesting things to see! We have worms in D.C. We haven't even reached the beginning of the trail. Let's go! I tried (calmly) to impart this sentiment, but she was having none of it. So we stopped. And followed a worm.
I would love to tell you I was able to tap into her sweet and sincere fascination with the simple creature. I tried to be fully present with her in that moment, but it was to little avail. I fell immediately back into planning-executing-checking-boxes mode and impatiently scanned the horizon for something more "special." I wanted her to see the beauty of nature I knew lay just steps ahead of where we stood.
It wasn't until we returned to the house and she regaled our friends with an elaborate account of our worm sighting that I was seized by a pang of regret. With the benefit of hindsight, I wanted to rewind time, abandon my agenda, and share her wonder. While a worm isn’t MY idea of unique wildlife, it was special in her eyes. And that should have been sufficient.
How often does our (often misplaced) focus on a particular vision of how things "should" be cause us to miss a beautiful moment? How many times have we failed to fully experience something special with someone we love because of our unwillingness to appreciate the simple pleasures in life?
As we enter the final month of Summer, I encourage you to pause, set aside your agenda, and open your eyes - and minds - to the simple joys around you. I am committing to let go of what I think is “best” and allowing the day/journey to unfold in surprising ways. Won’t you join me?
I recently had the good fortune of reconnecting with a dear friend from my youth. I remembered her fondly as a remarkably talented and accomplished young lady, and her path has continued along the same trajectory for the 15 years since we were last together.
We made plans to meet for tea while she was passing through our nation's capitol. I had a general knowledge of her aims and accomplishments, and as the date approached, I engaged in some social media sleuthing to fill in the blanks.
My initial enthusiasm began to wane as I envisioned our conversation. Here is a woman who not only pursued her passions but also excelled in the execution. From her prestigious academic pedigree as a student and professor at the most elite institutions of higher education in our country to her ambitious efforts to change the way music is experienced, I found myself feeling inadequate. We shared many interests in our youth and started our journeys at an academy focused on empowering young women to pursue - and achieve - their dreams while contributing to the greater good. She was doing just that. And I was doing...what exactly??
I entered our date with trepidation. She looked marvelous - more confident and composed than in our youth - and as I learned more of the details of her current station in life, I was in awe. Dividing her time between my beloved Big Apple and the idyllic climes of Northern California. A heady romance with a leading intellectual. A thriving career in the arts and academia. Achievements. Acclaim. Accolades.
But as we spoke, something within me shifted. It was wonderful to celebrate her success. It was captivating to consider an alternative present that more closely mirrored hers. But my desire to make excuses and justify my current path disappeared. I began to relax into an increasing certainty that where - and who - I am today is where - and who - I should be. I found myself at peace.
Each of us has a different path to follow, but we all share the same journey. Your life may be exactly as you imagined it - or even better than you dreamed, but no one is immune to comparisons. Next time you find yourself seized by the temptation to measure yourself against someone or something external, can you instead embrace and celebrate who and where you are today? Can you free yourself to experience peace?
For the better part of the past month, our nation's capital has been on the receiving end of record rainfalls. It started with SEVEN STRAIGHT DAYS of precipitation - much of it in the form of thunderstorms. After a brief two day reprieve, we were plunged back into gloom, where we have remained, wet and crabby (with no end in sight...).
Spring rain is to be expected, but awakening day after day to yet another grey sky - another day of cancelled outdoor activities - another flowering plant surrendering under its own waterlogged weight - begins to take a toll on even the most ardent all-weather-is-good-weather enthusiasts.
Despite my own well-documented disdain for all things rain-related, I tried to make the best of it. I donned my rubber boots, grabbed an umbrella, and charged out into the gale. I took the babe for a puddle-splashing stroll, patted myself on the back for commuting by foot despite the downpours, and force-marched my family to the farmer's market on Mother's Day. But on each and every occasion, rather than returning refreshed, I ended up soggy and frustrated.
While commiserating with a client, she pivoted, "Oh well - there's no point in complaining about something we can't change." The simplicity and veracity of her statement silenced me. She was right, of course: grumbling is no more effective in changing the weather than in transforming other inevitabilities in our lives. Your baby will eventually grow up and leave home. Someone you love will hurt you. You will hurt someone you love.
Whether we are inconvenienced by something as trivial as the weather or devastated by a significant loss, sometimes we simply need to abide in our discomfort and acknowledge our lack of ability to change circumstances. Yes - there are times to fight and refuse to accept no for an answer. There are occasions for pep-talks from your “better” self. But we too often waste precious time and energy battling something over which we have no power.
We all encounter circumstances beyond our control. Next time you find yourself up against something inevitable and unpleasant, how will you respond? Can you release your resistance? Can you preserve your precious time and energy for what matters most?
The first few months of this year have been marked by loss. Between the two of us, my husband and I said goodbye to a beloved Grandfather, a Great Aunt, a friend, and a business partner. Some of the passings were expected - the end of long lives filled with love and devotion to family and dear friends. Others were untimely - a man in the prime of his life who left behind a wife and two young children, a successful business woman with much left to give.
While the lives of these men and women couldn't have been more different, the remembrances held to commemorate them shared a common thread. At each gathering, people huddled around collections of photographs capturing the moments - big and small - that comprised their lives. These snapshots provided comfort to those who grieved. They sparked joy among those who spied themselves in the scenes and celebrations depicted. They elicited laughs at the styles of years past. They offered closure for those who wanted to say goodbye.
In each instance, the images that most moved those gathered weren't the stylish, staged family portraits or the postcard-quality scenes from epic travels, but rather the spontaneous shot of children at play in the backyard, hands held while strolling down the street, a little girl smiling on her Great Grandfather's lap while riding his scooter on a sunny afternoon. Full of silly faces, messy hair, and unflattering angles - these were the pictures that caused onlookers to linger.
We all have in our minds an idea of how we want to present ourselves and what memories we want to leave behind. We take great pains to project our best selves and fill our lives - and the lives of those we love - with meaningful experiences, travels, and activities. But our most foundational memories and enduring connections are forged in the seemingly uneventful days that lie between - tucking in for a reading marathon on a rainy day, spending a lazy afternoon around a jigsaw puzzle, lingering at the family dinner table - the easy, unforced rhythms that make up our lives.
As we approach the expanse of Summer and all its potential for memory making, many of us seek to fill our calendars with great experiences and grand adventures - and why not?! But as you map out your agenda, I encourage you to give equal attention to the everyday. Allow space for the unexpected - impromptu park visits, spontaneous dance parties, a glass of wine with a girlfriend that turns into dinner - and give them your full focus. Capture these images in your mind and heart (and maybe even a camera). Create joy in the present that leads to fond memories in the future.
Beginning at an early age we were conditioned to answer questions about ourselves. From teachers to new friends to strangers in the grocery store we learned to converse by responding to simple queries: What is your name? How old are you? How are you doing?
As we grew, the questions become more complex - perhaps even requiring some introspection: What is your favorite subject? Why do you want to attend our university? What makes you the right candidate for this job? While they may at first have generated some anxiety, over time we learned to anticipate them, prepare a response, and deliver it with confidence.
At some point along our path, we also encountered questions we didn’t want to - or felt we couldn’t - answer. Questions for which there was no automatic response. Questions that may have been asked with the best of intentions. But they nonetheless triggered fear, guilt, and feelings of inadequacy: How are you still single? When are you going to get a "real" job? Are you sure you want that dessert? And rather than investing time in considering how to respond, we instead learned how to avoid the people and situations most likely to introduce the undesirable query.
Eventually - and usually when we least expect it - someone or something discovers a way through the fortresses we build to protect ourselves, and we are faced with the questions (and feelings) we fear. I found myself in such a situation recently while spending time with a dear friend in a houseful of rambunctious little ones (including my own). Standing in the middle of the chaos, she smiled and asked,"Aren't you glad you only have one to deal with?!"
It was a simple question. Posed without malice. But I went silent. Turned inward. And extricated myself from the situation as quickly as I could.
Later, in the comfort and safety of solitude, I seethed. I surrendered to the internal drama: Do you have any idea how many times I have dreamed of soothing sisterly squabbles or refereeing a wrestling match between brothers?! Do you know how much I mourn the opportunities my daughter misses for spontaneous silliness because she is stuck with me as her primary playmate?! Do you not realize I blame myself EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. for my inability to grow our family?!
After the torrent subsided I was able to gain much-needed perspective. While my pain was (and is) real and valid, it wasn't caused by my friend - or her question. But I needed to give myself permission to experience the full force of emotions in order to move past my pity party and prepare for the inevitability of the next time I am asked a similar question.
With the clarity of hindsight, I recognized that an appropriate - and honest - response could be as simple as, "Yes." Because I am grateful - even if not for the reasons the inquirer assumed. I am incredibly grateful for the gift of a smart, sweet girl. For perspective. For the tools to be present and soak up as much as I can of the incredible opportunity I have to parent.
Whatever your state in life, chances are you have been asked tough questions - and more than likely, you have realized you can't avoid them forever. Rather than will the questions away, can you allow yourself to sit with them and the emotions they evoke? I encourage you to spend some time reflecting on what lies beneath your resistance. Consider how you can respond in a way that is authentic and kind - to the questioner - and yourself...
Last week I sat down, put pen to paper, and reflected on the closing of another year. 2018 was full of adventures, memorable travels, professional achievements, and personal growth. I traveled to areas of the world I had never seen, brought hope and healing to new communities of women facing the heartbreak of infertility, peacefully navigated a challenging relationship conflict, welcomed my daughter into her fifth (?!?) year of life, and inched closer to a milestone birthday of my own. Yes - 2018 was a year worthy of celebration.
No - you didn't catch me in a typo (though I'm sure that has happened...) - nor did I lose track of the year (though that often does happen...). I simply closed my eyes and anticipated how I want to feel about the year we are just beginning. The exercise was both inspiring and instructive.
If you are anything like me (and I would wager many of you are), despite your best intentions for a positive outlook, your mind is susceptible to being pulled into incessant, unrelenting, unhelpful chatter. You circle back to conversations you wish had gone a different way, fret about future events over which you have little (or no) control, and attempt to micromanage the minutiae of your daily existence. These thoughts have the power to cast a dark shadow over even the best of days - and they threaten to throw us off the course of the fully realized life we want to lead.
What if you instead filled your brain with enticing snapshots of a life well lived - and allowed those desires to not only brighten your perspective but also shape what comes next?
The lovely Lisa Eaves from Heal from Within, describes an exercise called "Skillful Imagination" that can serve as a framework for your efforts. To start, choose a point of time in the future: perhaps next year, five years from now, or even 50. Envision your future self reflecting back on the year or years that have passed. What did you experience? Where did you go? With whom did you spend time? What did you discover?
When you have answered these questions consider how these experiences made you feel. What was most meaningful or rewarding? Where was your time best spent? Even if it feels a bit silly, I encourage you to jot down a list of the highlights and hold onto it. Refer back to it on regular intervals - or use it to re-energize yourself when you are feeling mired in the details of daily life.
Allow your answers to these questions to guide your actions, decisions, and priorities in this moment. What decisions do you need to make today to ensure you arrive where you want to be? Create a vision of the life you desire, then turn anticipation into reality. Your future self will thank you...
Over the holiday break I had the opportunity to connect with a few dear friends I hadn't seen in far too long. During our conversations, they each asked, "What's next?" The question made me smile. At the outset of another new year, I have been thinking a lot about what lies ahead, and I have found myself downright giddy about the possibilities...
And I know I am not alone in experiencing this phenomenon. Research has long validated the power of anticipation to affect our outlook and overall wellbeing. A study released in 2010 argued the pleasure of anticipating an upcoming trip surpassed the enjoyment of the travel itself. Author and life coach Valorie Burton goes so far as to say anticipation is a critical first step toward living a happier - and better - life.
Intuitively the principle makes sense. When we are looking forward to something, we not only reap the benefits of a positive perspective, we also become more willing to do the work necessary to achieve a desired result. Think of your own goals and resolutions for 2018. Perhaps you have committed to implementing a new fitness routine, eating better, or beginning a meditation practice. Whatever your aims, I am willing to guess you are fueled more by the anticipated outcome than the intervening steps. Is anyone truly excited about the prospect of sore muscles, more spinach, or waking earlier in the morning?!
Of course, like most things, anticipation is not exclusively about sunshine and rainbows. We all know the discomfort that comes as we prepare for a dreaded but unavoidable obligation, learn of an unwelcome medical diagnosis, or endure a seemingly interminable wait for a deeply desired outcome.
In our ongoing pursuit of living a more full and fulfilling life, I want to explore the power of anticipation in all its forms. I am eager to see what lessons we can learn as we consider - and wait for - what's next. Won't you join me?
THIS will be the year we learn a new language! Organize our closets! Write more letters! Run a marathon! Or perhaps your desires are more consequential: you want to realize your long-held dream of becoming a parent - meet your life partner - attain your dream job.
And you may!
But you may not... Because as much as we plan, prepare, and pray, we control (at most) only a small part of our lives, living instead in the messy midst of family, community, and a higher power whose designs are far beyond our capacity for understanding.
Instead of the outcomes you desire, the new year may present you with events and experiences you didn't expect - or want: the loss of a loved one, the diagnosis you feared, the phone call you never imagined. Or you may achieve your goals only to discover they fall short of your ideal. Parenting is hard work. Your partner is as imperfect as you. Your dream job isn't so dreamy...
But balanced betwixt our desires and fears is life in all its richness and beauty. A major disappointment might put you in a position for an unexpected opportunity. A loss could free you to embrace something even more fulfilling. Boredom may inspire a depth of creativity you didn't know existed.
In this final month of the year, go ahead and plan. Prepare carefully. Pray earnestly. But also allow yourself to walk forward with eyes and arms open and ready to welcome the myriad of experiences you can't anticipate. The outcomes you didn't choose. Allow yourself to embrace whatever is next...
Late last month I traversed the country to visit a dear friend who had recently relocated to the Golden State. We planned our weekend rendezvous around a yoga retreat that would provide an opportunity to reconnect and recharge far removed from the demands of daily life.
I was eager to see my friend and begin my first [!?!] yoga retreat. We kicked off the weekend with a Qigong class (a wonderful discovery!), booked massage appointments, and entered the first yoga session relaxed and ready to learn. The teacher under whose guidance we would be practicing and studying is considered a master in the field - with decades of experience in teaching and training teachers. I was sure he would provide insights that would enrich my practice and my teaching.
After a brief introduction, we began to move, and he offered an alignment cue I found puzzling. It seemed at odds with what I had been taught during my own training - and counter to what I have been teaching for more than a decade. At first I wondered whether I had misheard, but the instruction was repeated several times during the practice. I found it unsettling but tried to dismiss what was, in reality, a minor discrepancy.
As the weekend wore on and the information was repeated and reinforced, a seed of dissent lodged itself in my mind. This doesn't sound right and it doesn't feel right. Attempts to ignore the instruction left me physically tense. I found myself feeling defensive and agitated.
During a quiet moment between sessions I stopped to consider the source of my discomfort. Why was I so resistant to something so simple? Hadn't it been my intention in studying with a new teacher to try new things?
It wasn't long before I realized that at its heart, my resistance stemmed from fear: If he is right, then I am wrong. And if my understanding is off base, then I have been misleading my students...
In that moment of humility I recognized I owed it to my students - and myself - to set aside my ego, listen, and learn. I entered our final session with an open mind, and for the next 90 minutes I simply explored. Slowly I began to see how this alternative approach complemented - rather than conflicted with - the principles I have been practicing and teaching. I left the weekend with a deeper understanding and more balanced approach to share with my students.
How many times have you seen similar patterns play out in your life? How often do we reflexively reject an idea because it is unfamiliar or uncomfortable only to later see its merit? How much time and energy could we save by instead approaching new perspectives with an open mind?
As we tiptoe toward the impending holiday season, many of us will find ourselves surrounded by family and friends with whom we do not see eye to eye. In these environments, we can choose to shut down and refuse to engage, put up our defenses and prepare for battle, or take a deep breath and enter into the conversation with grace.
Listening to another perspective needn't threaten our own values a beliefs - and a sincere exchange may serve to enlighten all sides. Next time you encounter a conflicting point of view, set aside your ego and listen carefully. Allow yourself to be open to the possibility of discovery. Give yourself an opportunity to to learn and grow...
Thirteen years ago this month, my husband and I exchanged our marriage vows in the middle of a meadow on a beautiful Fall morning. Later that evening, we celebrated with dinner and dancing under the stars surrounded by family and dear friends. Full of love and enthusiasm, we marveled at the seemingly endless adventures that awaited in this next chapter of life...
On a recent visit to the Midwest, we found ourselves back in the same setting enjoying a similarly beautiful evening with family. At some point our conversation turned back to that memorable day, and I expressed regret that we never took part in the tradition of sharing a piece of our wedding cake on our first anniversary.
My mother smiled, "It is still in the freezer..."
We laughed, and before I could weigh the wisdom of my decision, I leapt up from the table to investigate. As I carefully peeled off layer after layer of wrapping, I was delighted to discover the cake was not a freezer-burned brick but instead a clearly recognizable layer of cake. I warmed, sliced, and plated the nearly THIRTEEN YEAR OLD dessert, and delivered it to our guests.
Between giggles, we raised our forks and took a bite. While the flavor and texture were undoubtedly compromised, everyone agreed it had held up remarkably well. As I continued with a second bite, then a third, my mother cautioned, "Just because you can finish it doesn't mean you should..."
Her caution reverberated in my thoughts as we returned home from our travels and found ourselves in the midst of the frenzy of Fall. New teaching opportunities presented themselves, and I found myself devising creative ways to accommodate the increased demand while attending to the logistical realities of shuttling the babe to school and related activities. The pace was initially invigorating after a Summer of ease, but after a mere two weeks I found myself exhausted. By the end of most days I was irritable and frazzled. As I collapsed into bed each evening, I chastised myself for this perceived weakness: What's wrong with you? It's time to step it up a notch. Let's go!
But as I continued to struggle, I kept returning to a few simple questions: What am I gaining by ignoring what my body and heart are telling me? Do I need to add more to my schedule? How do these new commitments align with my priorities? Will they make make me a better mother or spouse? Do they allow bandwidth for activities that fulfill me or bless others?
My mother's voice whispered clearly: Just because you CAN doesn't mean you should...
In different seasons of life and growth, we are presented with new opportunities, but we also encounter new limitations. Just because we CAN push up against the very boundaries of our abilities doesn't mean we are best served by doing so.
Simple questions and reflections often provide the guidance we need. Does dread begin to creep in when you consider a certain activity, engagement, or commitment? Perhaps it is time to reevaluate your participation. Has your longstanding exercise routine begun to drain rather than energize you? Maybe you need to integrate something more restorative into your routine. Do certain relationships create more insecurity than comfort? It might be time to part ways.
As we enter the final quarter of the year, I encourage you to listen to your heart and acknowledge your limitations. Rather than try to ignore or push past them, consider whether they are offering you a much needed caution. Let's learn to embrace our limits so we can live more fully.