strength in softening
January 6, 2017 § 3 Comments
There have been years past when the muscle of January’s resolve was built in rigorous physical effort. I wrestled post-holiday lethargy with exhausting exercise routines and swapped left-over sweets for restrictive meal plans. These were self-imposed limitations; I need hard boundaries and tidy markers of progress to carry me past preventable distraction once the novelty of my interests wear thin.
This year I’ve been exercising a different muscle.
Rather than chase an exterior image of health or pounding the pavement in a new direction, I’ve nestled into the sometimes uncomfortable practice of stillness; breathing into an intention of submission and softening against the hard edges of experiences I cannot control. I expected the generosity of self-care in this practice would make the act of stillness simper, more peaceful.
I was wrong.
In the moments when I am tired or anxious, I move with the hollow muscle memory of a sleep walker; pacing, snacking or reading my way into distraction. Like a child with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I see myself caught; breath held, body tense, mind racing to catch up to this particular moment.
I’ve had to turn my routines upside down a little; sometimes, literally, standing on my head to shake up my thoughts. I’ve swapped out coffee for tea and traded speaking for listening. I’ve started stretching when I itch to pace and filling my lungs with slow, intentional breaths when I’m tempted to consume empty calories.
Relaxing my muscles rather than muscling through.
I did not expect there would be so much action in stillness, so much strength in softening.
sharing words
January 2, 2017 § 3 Comments
My daughter is sounding out her One Little Word. Each year I invite both children to join me in my New Year’s practice. Lending them printed pages with rows of words, I challenge them to read the words aloud, to strike through those words that fall flat and create space for those words that whisper recognition.
It is a treasure hunt of sorts, there is magic in scavenging tidy rows of words for suggestions of self; fragments of dreams we see only in our mind’s eye and private hopes, intimate challenges and new habits. More than goal setting, it is a mindset for the days to come.
Last night I came upon my daughter stretched purposefully beside her lists, red pen in hand, striking and circling with a confident flair. Her posture was the same form she uses for drawing and writing, painting and molding clay; her hands moving with the same certainty she shapes thoughts into art.
I looked over her papers, marveling at the key code she had created for her thoughts, the place her marks stopped, and the large circle where she explained her choice.
She landed on one brief word, four letters that held together four other words. I won’t share her word, instead I want to honor some of the words that framed our conversation at bedtime.
The first was seek, so that she might seek out new roads. The next two left me chasing down a pencil to guard her thoughts. Adding my handwriting to her own this is what I transcribed for my daughter:
“Self-love (means) to love who you are and don’t let anyone else say otherwise. Shine so that when other’s don’t feel like they are enough, I can reach out to them.”
Her last word lead to others and we fell into a conversation about the intricacy of our words, the impossibility of a singular choice and the subsequent supporting characters.
Whatever our words, I hope there will be many more late night ramblings. That my children will continue to allow me to guard their words among my own. To share traditions and explore new goals as we support one another in becoming our best selves; collectively and individually.
gratitude remembered
January 1, 2017 § 3 Comments
It is one of the few intentions I have muscled into tradition, the jar of notes we read aloud on New Year’s to remember the year past. A hodgepodge of paper scraps in mismatched handwriting; moments of gratitude we collect over the course of each year.
There’s magic in the happy exclamations of remembering, a current of joy that leaps from page to person as we take turns sounding out one another’s celebrations. The notes are read out of order and without ownership so that each memory becomes a curious discovery.
This year the greater joy came from those misplaced moments. The events and good fortune forgotten on paper that we collectively called into account. The act of reading expanding to accommodate left out Remember When’s.
Small moments and sentimental milestones that map the past in a constellation of family.
show up, surrender
December 31, 2016 § 2 Comments
Last year I choose Wholehearted for my One Little Word practice. It was the thread that bound my thoughts and actions to the quieter language of my heart. I listened more carefully, leapt more intentionally.
There were joyful permission slips and complicated choices. Some understood and where others left vacancies, beautiful opportunities invited change that blossomed into new relationships. It’s been a year of healthier boundaries and greater peace.
This year I found my new word tethered to last year’s promise, Mindfully. The two are almost inseparable in practice. After all, the heart and mind are old friends.
Unlike resolutions of year’s past, these words don’t demand lists; instead they insist on stillness of thought and intention of action. To show up and surrender.
It is a beautiful balance of holding on and letting go. Facing fears head on without distraction and making choices that resonate with a gentler certainty. There is no numbing, discomfort and joy are intimate acquaintances.
The year to come is filled with emotional family milestones and I want to welcome these complicated celebrations with mindfulness for their brevity. These moments are the material of gratitude or remorse, the difference is entirely of our choosing.
Just yesterday my children were babies; someday is a misconception, a beautiful distraction from today.
Of course, there are mechanics to the work of such stillness. Old habits and passive worries interrupt even the best intentions. I’m still learning how to get comfortable with the mess of now to invite the peace of presence.
I’m working on creating habits that nurture this choice and honors my values to better align my actions with my beliefs. In some ways, it is as simple as saying “no” when “yes” feels kinder. Telling an acquaintance that I would rather not connect on social media when I can get to know her in person, over stories and shared time.
It can also mean changing direction in the middle of a complicated trajectory; telling my son I think there’s another path when for years others have guided him in a different direction. Asking him to listen to his heart means modeling that truth with my own actions; those interests and forgotten heart songs.
Some days, it is mundane. Exercising when I would rather escape into a book or resting when the laundry demands attention. More often the magic is in small moments, afternoon dates after sixteen years of marriage and listening to my children rather than informing their choices.
I’m still learning how to balance the woman I aspire to be, Mindfully and Wholeheartedly.
back to basics
December 29, 2016 § 1 Comment
Vacations intentionally tend towards indulgence, time empty of responsibility and ripe with endless possibilities. When we travel, each menu becomes a treasure of choice; I consciously seek out those dishes with fresh ingredients that demand extra care and settle into the pregnant space of anticipation.
I am the same with new environments, surveying my surroundings for beauty with an eagerness toward pleasure and discovery. I observe strangers with the same fascination I delight in nature; mysteries completely immune to my attention.
These are simple personal truths, distant cousins to my tendency toward sad novels or my preference for silence. The everyday truths and vacation indulgences are casualties of distraction; joy lost in the rut of routine and the chaos of false expectations.
Little fears that worry the peacefulness of contentment. Am I succeeding in parenting? Is my partner fulfilled? Gestures of maturity and accountability that overshadow the value of pleasure. Are the rooms tidied, the laundry washed, papers signed and appointments scheduled?
This vacation I’ve ordered my time at home with the same relaxed amusement I so often reserve for travel; creating opportunity for pleasure with the playful insistency too often lost to the day’s demands. Small, selfish gifts of time that make the days longer despite the season.
I’ve let the kids’ bedding remain wrinkled in the chaos of each night’s dreams, looked the other way at the remnants of Christmas gifts that weigh countertops with forgotten clutter.
Instead, I’ve woken early to exercise, squirreled away stolen hours for new books, let the laundry wait, and interrupted our children’s interests with invitations for family time. In another week, when the mechanics of school days disrupt us from the ease of these holiday luxuries, I want to live more mindfully of these basic truths.
It is, after all, a tradition of clean slates and good intentions as we dress the New Year in hope for our best selves.
I’ve not yet drafted a list of goals or settled on my One Little Word. I’m still sounding out the shape of my promise, savoring the space between recognition and choice.
To exercise, breathe, rest, and read.
To play and listen with care and curiosity.
To live mindfully, with gratitude.
It is a return to basic truths and small delights.
one small thing
January 6, 2016 § 2 Comments
January often bears the burden of grand goals, intimate resolutions that too often undermine our mindfulness for the many blessings of our life as is.
Efforts at growth misconstrued into expectations of change; good intentions suffocated by the comfort of familiar routines. This week, drawing further on the subject of mindfulness for what is, I am celebrating small gestures of wholeheartedness.
One small thing, each day; from finishing projects to intentional eating, I am taking greater care with the small pockets of time that are so often lost to restless discontent.
Little love letters to a life in progress.
2016
December 30, 2015 § 1 Comment
This year my One Little Word® came to me in the shape of letters that formed almost unbidden beneath my pen. Each letter stroked seamlessly in a single wish.
It is a promise to recenter myself in presence and passion that I act from a place of intention and gratitude for the richness of each day; a recognition that in the complicated, imperfect mess of everyday demands there is grace enough to create a legacy of love and purpose.
in a word
December 27, 2015 § 2 Comments
A few years past, I joined a close friend in naming the New Year with Ali Edward’s inspired One Little Word®. It is a fresh perspective on the tradition of resolutions, an engaging and individual year long reflection with monthly directives that nurture a mindfulness for good intentions too often lost in the brevity of holiday momentum.
I have come to treasure the challenge of one word, settling into the list of possibilities; scratching them upon paper, waiting for one to answer an unspoken question with the subtle shift in the shape of my letters or weight of my pen in hand.
I sift through words that conjure strength or boast conviction, challenge play or validate care; words that elude me and those that name my hopes or weaknesses. It is an intimate exercise in honesty, a tender searching for a resolution of will. One I am still doodling playfully into the margins of these last lingering days of a year rich with more.
tidy
December 27, 2015 § Leave a comment
The nutcrackers have marched their way back into storage and the ornaments are tucked away for the year, the tree still boasts a gown of light and sentiments from loved ones adorn the wall. It is a time of delightful in-between; our hearts full with the joy of Christmas and our thoughts happily distracted by a brief holiday. This week, in the fleeting days between play and rest, I’ll sort shelves for ill-fitting clothes and misplaced clutter; readying our home to greet the New Year. We’ll tidy our nooks and sweep the cobwebs that our threshold will welcome new dreams.
write
January 1, 2015 § 4 Comments
This day will not come again. The stillness of an uncomplicated and quiet togetherness born of sleepy souls shifting contentedly between insignificant tasks is today’s alone. It is the day we gift ourselves extra care and permission to rest, the tint of last night’s celebrations casting the day in a soft filter of nostalgia for the year past. Resolutions press against the binding of a new calendar, but I am rapt with gratitude for that which I would not change as I dwell peacefully between yesterday and tomorrow.
Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
scribblechic 