It’s hard to predict when you will need to step away. I’ve never been good at anticipating it, but I know how it feels when it arrives.  It’s usually in moments of grappling, discontent, or stress that I’m triggered to step away, without even thinking about the destination. 

It can feel like fleeing, but this urge to move is really the need for new energy.  If you know what energy you need, you will know what direction to step. Sometimes we need to shift into calm. Sometimes we need energy that motivates.  What do you need? 

Step back and contemplate. Think deeply, carefully, and fully. Land in the parts of life you tend to push through, stuff down, or gloss over. 

Step into nature. My yoga teacher Charu Rachlis says it’s always there to help you find the most direct path to your highest self.

Step up and make a decision. Then wear it for a while and see what energy it creates.

Step out of your comfort zone.  Feel the surge of energy that comes from taking a risk, feeling your edge.

Step away, mindfully.  Just stop.  Or go.  Whatever you need to create space for new energy to come in. I stopped writing for a bit.  I felt the need to refuel that tank.  I just spent a long weekend with a dear friend. I needed space from my day to day life. 

And then there’s the Two Step.  I was in a cowboy bar in Dallas last weekend watching the leather boots on the crowded dance floor sliding, twirling, and stomping.  The Two Step is a rhythm of two steps right and one step left.  It’s simple, but requires concentration.  I gave it whirl and it was pure fun! 

When you aren’t sure what step to take, the Two Step always works. Move in the direction of delight! You will receive fresh energy, expansiveness, and a new spring in your step.

Sometimes needs can’t be ignored: a car that doesn’t start, a sick child, an argument, a leaking roof.  This urgent straight forward “tending to” is a constant part of life.

This week I found myself in tune with a different layer of "tending to".  My eyes landed on my silver teapot that hasn’t been polished in a year.  I took an extra moment to look at myself in the mirror and plainly saw the need for a hair appointment.  It was my daughter's birthday and I had a momentary desire to make a cake from scratch rather than out of a box.  As I was standing in line at the dry cleaners I thought about the fact that my mother washed and ironed all of my father’s shirts.

There was a time when tending to life fit.  When silver was polished, cakes were made from scratch and mothers mended. It’s the stuff that in our modern world can feel unimportant or easy to outsource; able to be put off, not mission critical.

Yet everywhere I looked, something was staring back saying, “deal with me”. This part of life can't truly be ignored. You still see it and feel it weighing you down. What keeps calling out to you?

There is a difference between, "dealing with" and "tending to". They have different energies. Can you feel it? To Tend is defined as: To pay attention.

What if you allowed yourself to pay attention to the people and parts in your life that are asking for care, love, time. What if you tended to them without guilt or stress . . . with full breaths that create a sense that it is time well spent?

I decided to let myself be free this week to do some of the little and big things that I dance around, avoiding, week after week. I worked with an amazing rockstar organizer and cleaned up my garage. I dusted the leaves of a plant.  I polished some silver. I mended a sweater. I checked in on a neighbor.

The beautiful part of tending to life, is that life responds and smiles back at you.  Your heart warms. You slow down, nurture, and are nurtured in return. You become more connected with all the parts of life that are there for you: your surroundings, your belongings, your loved ones, your own heart.

I entered the cab, my family tumbling in behind me, and saw a well-loved guitar resting in the front seat.  My heart instantly warmed.  I wasn’t sure why.  

We pulled away from the airport curb and the taxi driver immediately put on his personal mix CD of slow latin luscious music.  He gave my husband a few bars to settle in and then handed him an egg shaker (mini maraca).  In a Russian accent he said,  “Go ahead and try.”

It was one AM.  We had been traveling for fifteen hours.  Taking a rhythm test was hardly the mood in the front seat. My girls and I silently waited to see what Alex would do.  He started slowly . . . shake shake tap.  Shake shake tap. Nope, that wasn’t it.

Tap shake tap. Tap shake tap.  Closer, but not quite with the music.

The large bald head behind the wheel nodded along and then gave encouragement, “It’s harder when the music is slow.”

We all listened more intently with this new knowledge and with the second shaker Mr. Cabbie pulled out to add more rhythm to the melody.

I had to try.  It was harder to go slow than I thought.

I went to bed knowing that we had received an important message.  In the morning I understood it.

Most of us just finished a wonderful period of Thanksgiving slow. Lazy days without routine or rhythm.  Now comes the first week of December.  We will be tempted to dive in, fast paced, in our normal rhythm that is easy because it’s the beat we always play.  But what if we were to consciously try to find a slower rhythm as we begin and end our days. 

It will be harder to maintain the rhythm at first.  But we will be more focused.  More expansive.  More creative and kind.  

Take out your imaginary shaker and try this song for practice.  You can do it!

I’ve been slipping in the Wonder department lately . . . all in the name of Ease.  Do you know what I mean? Let me put it this way.

Would you like your life to be easier?

What if I gave you the choice:  Would you rather your life be easier or more wondrous?

What does more wondrous mean to you? I'd love to know.

I have a hunch that the idea of adding wonder to your world upped the ante.  After all, “What’s so great about Easy?”, my favorite yoga teacher Charu often asks.  Yet often we wait for life to ease up before allowing ourselves to think bigger about a more deliciously fulfilling way of living.

When we are faced with ease versus wonder, ease often wins.  A simple example in my own life triggered this topic for me. I faced a ten hour road trip on Labor Day weekend that should have been five.  It almost didn’t happen.  My reward was a midnight shooting star extravaganza while soaking in a natural hot spring pool. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, yet I almost did.  The battle against traffic almost sent me in a U-turn back to life as usual.

And then there are the more meaty parts of life that you may face.  Do you make the investment to get a degree or certification in order to grow in a discipline you love?  Do you quit a job to seek a more fulfilling way to earn and contribute?  Do you move to a different city towards a dream?

I heard an interesting lecture by psychologist Kelly McGonigal, How to Make Stress Your Friend.  She ends by saying, “Chasing meaning is better for your life than avoiding discomfort.”

Somewhere in between weekend plans and life plans there is a space that calls us to move forward.  And when we feel we are moving on autopilot, I believe we have an opportunity to grab the steering wheel towards a more meaningful path.  

So, let’s go back to the questions of ease and wonder.  Let me rephrase them:

What does ease feel like to you?  

Could it be sureness, fulfillment, commitment, energy?

What does wonder feel like to you?

Could it be a sense of promise, mystery, stretching, delight, possibility?

Can you invite in more wonder AND ease, at the same time, just by increasing your ability to connect with these feelings? Can you find the calm and sureness within you to handle life’s grind?  It will give you more capacity for wonder:  to take in the uniqueness of each day; to go after what quietly delights you; to take action in the direction of unknown possibility and reward; to seek your shooting star and feel the awe that awaits you.

It started with trying to drive my daughter to school with my contacts in the wrong eyes, capped with needing to open the refrigerator three times to get out the salmon for dinner (never seemed to grab the right thing), and ended with my daughter finally finding my cell phone on the trampoline. Go figure.

It was truly a Give a Pig a Pancake, attention deficit, perimenopausal day.  I don’t imagine I’m alone.

Haven’t we all perfected the state of Scattered with increasing life responsibility, logistics overload, lack of sleep, the downpour of social media, and imploding inboxes.

Then there are our hormones. How do we distinguish the cause of Scattered among the possible symptoms of:

• “Decreased alertness” from our monthly cycle
• “Difficulty concentrating and memory lapses” during our path to menopause
• “The inability to cope with stress and fuzzy thinking” from adrenal fatigue
• “Impaired working and spacial memory” of chronic stress
• “Mental fog”, an official symptom of thyroid disfunction, (my personal favorite)

There’s no escaping it!

I know you know this already but as the week continues let’s try to commit it to memory (not an easy task):

• It’s not a personal problem. It’s societal.

• It’s okay to stop.  Literally stop.

• You don’t have to hide when you stop.  You can actually tell your boss, your team, your family what you need. They usually see your short circuit coming way before you do.

• Feeling guilty when you stop is personal. It’s between you and your superwoman self.  No one can squash that feeling but you.

• It doesn’t take much. Five minutes ~ set the timer, often.

• Know what works. Cleaning out your inbox on your “break” doesn’t. Grounding requires going inward, shutting out stimuli, finding stillness, shifting your breath. Try literally getting grounded horizontally. Conference room floors work too!

• Be the change: a cliche, but true. Model the self care that the world needs.  Be courageous at work.  Teach your children the life skill of self monitoring and self care by example.

Today I’m ready for more focus, more tasks, more clarity.  I know another wave of Scattered will arrive in the future.  I also know the more often we identify Scattered, care for Scattered, and give it the space and pace to dissipate, the faster we get back on track.  

By track, I don’t mean the treadmill.  I mean a conscious path of self compassion and resilience.

It’s happening.  The holiday spin.  This time of year can be a mixed bag.  There are lovely traditions, more parties, more to dos, more hope for goodwill on earth, more connection with others.  And often, there is less connection with ourselves.

When you feel disconnected, the intensity of life, in all of its imbalance, pressure, and pace takes over.  I invite you this year to use your light-filled tree, or the trees you see smiling in the windows of others, as a constant invitation to reconnect with yourself.  A favorite Mary Oliver poem came to mind as my family decorated our tree this weekend.  Read it very slowly, preferably out loud.  Let it be your mantra for this season. “Go easy.  Be filled with light. Shine.”

Joy and Peace,
Amy

Last night I stayed up until one a.m. figuring out a problem.  At first, I forced a quick answer and moved on.  But I had been carrying a heavy uncomfortable feeling inside.  I knew I needed to go back and try again.  I needed to take the time to get it right.

When I eventually crawled into bed, feeling lighter . . . aligned, I remembered the advice from one of my most respected guides. 

It was the morning of her fifth birthday party.  The backyard was set up for a day of play and the sky was set up for a day of rain. I said to my daughter, “Oh I hope the rain comes soon so it’s nice for your party.”

Aria replied, “Mommy, don’t rush the sky! How would you feel if all the grass died, if all the leaves on the trees were crunchy, if all the flower petals fell off?"

It can be so hard to let life unfold at its natural pace.  Our current societal race invites us to push through decisions, emotions, moments of not knowing, so we don’t fall further behind. But often life’s unfolding takes sitting with it, circling back, waiting for the clouds to pass.

When we try to “Rush the Sky”, we often ~

~ miss cues
~ misinterpret barriers as something to push harder against
~ live with an incessant circle of mental analysis
~ feel off balance or ungrounded
~ use up our energy faster than we can restore it

There is a sense of stillness in a clear sky, even though we know it’s in constant motion. When life feels clear and sunny, there is greater opportunity to focus on your pace and create space for your inner compass.

When life rains upon you, it’s a bit more unnatural to slow down and be in it. The first reaction is to run for cover.  But, I invite you to try mindfully getting wet.  Know that your roots are growing stronger and that by drinking it in drop by drop, you will blossom.


My Teacher ~  A Lesson in Mindfully Getting Wet: