I posted the image above on social media recently with a text that talked about the investments I made to have the kind of life that allows me to go skiing on a Thursday afternoon. I wasn’t giving stock market or real estate advice. I mused about the courage and money I invested in my well-being when I decided to work part-time in my early thirties — 20% of my salary for one day off. You can read the Instagram version here.
The post got more reactions than usual. Some from people who made similar choices, some from people who…
by opinions, fears, and doubts
geese trust the Knowing.
While I was always careful and never considered myself particularly courageous I have made some bold decisions. Well, they seemed bold from the outside. I was simply following my instinct, though, or what Glennon Doyle calls ”The Knowing”, and I didn’t worry about them too much.
Two years ago, my coach at the time had me look at stand-out moments in all different phases of my life and I realized that there was a phase in my life when bold and courageous was simply over. For a few years…
“Connect to your innocence,” she said. “Connect to the time before you felt judged by other people or yourself. What does that feel like?” Strange is what it felt like. Vulnerable, rare, and raw. And sad. I cried a little last Sunday when, instead of skiing (which I wanted to do), I supported a friend by showing up for one of her meditation classes (which, clearly, I needed to be doing).
Praise, too, is a signal that what you are making is subject to evaluation.
The other day I came across a binder with a collection of my childhood art…
the creek’s happiness
relies on nothing but her
own source of water
“If our happiness depends on other people, we are screwed,” I picked up this golden nugget from a friend today.
We cannot wait for others to change.
Hell, we cannot even wait for ourselves to change. Our lives are too precious to be like: once he stops drinking so much/working so much/snoring so much. Or: once I have that job/that house/that friend.
I know it might sound revolutionary. Absurd maybe. Even wrong, depending on your circumstances. …
Twenty minutes. That’s how long I get to walk every day. Ten minutes in one direction. Ten minutes back. Hardly worth getting dressed for, in my opinion. Twenty-minute walks? That’s what my mom does, and she is 90. In fact, she didn’t quite understand my complaining tone when I tried to enter my frustration as a conversational topic. “Well, that’s just what it is,” she said. She is turning all zen on us in old age.
Winter has finally arrived in Montana, and I got to ski only once before my pain flared up. No skiing, no dancing, no walking…
Where you lead
I will follow
Anywhere that you tell me to
If you need, if you need me to be with you
I will follow
Where you lead
Carole King — Where You Lead
I was ready to do that for someone: jump on the next train when they called out my name just because they were “lonely and so cold.” And for sure, I wanted someone to do that for me: move to New York City no matter what kind of home they had always dreamed of.
Since then, I have learned a lot about co-dependence and am…
When was the last time you were at a dinner party?
A friend of mine asked this on Facebook last week, and most people answered with dates before the time when simple dinner parties became cherished memories.
My answer was “every last Friday of the month.” We call them Soup Fridays. My husband and I make a big pot of soup, I bake some bread, and if we have the energy, we make desserts, too. Then we pack everything up in brown paper bags, get in the car and deliver soup to friends around town. …
A haiku reflection on taking a break
when day sets to rest
she will not worry about
Two things floated around in my head today:
One: Yes, I want everyone to do nothing from time to time. Not accomplish anything. Get some rest. Rest it as if you depend on it. There is nothing more important to do when you are resting. It’s simply not restful if you shame yourself for not being productive.
Two: If it’s okay to disappoint anyone but ourselves (thanks to Glennon Doyle for that insight), other people have permission to disappoint us. They…