One Balanced Life

Last night the boys and I paused outside to honor the solstice and to make wishes for the coming year. As we sat in the dark, I thought of the sweet family who lost their son this year. I thought of the pain and the love that has surrounded them in the long months since their loss. I thought of a close friend who found out that her father was given six months to live. I thought of the friend whose nephew was taken three years ago and of another whose son died right before the holidays. I thought of a friend struggling with navigating her first holiday season divorced. I thought of my journey. I thought of the darkness that has surrounded us all in times of loss, transition, etc. It can seem a little dim, especially during the holiday season.

As we looked up, I remembered one of my favorite quotes “It is only in the darkness that one can see the stars.” And I smiled to myself as I remembered a conversation from last week. The close friend I mentioned above had called me in the morning to tell me she lost her job and five hours later called to tell me her father was dying. Through her tears she said “I guess the gift in being unemployed is that I can be with Dad.” We both started laughing as it has become kind of a joke with my friends that I say there is a gift in everything. Last winter I wrote a newsletter about unexpected gifts and while I still I believe that there can be a gift in everything - my faith has wavered a bit. Sometimes there is a gift and sometimes not so much. I want to believe it but sometimes life just doesn’t make sense, sometimes it sucks, and sometimes it is just plain brutal.

I do know without the dark there can be no light. They do not exist in isolation. I’ve learned that both lead to growth and a deeper connection with oneself.  But you can’t have one without the other. They both have their place.

The impossible blackness of the dark and the incredible brilliance of the light.

Ahhh…I come full circle - that is the greatest gift recognizing a full life means having both. Maybe I still believe.

If you are struggling to keep the light in the season I offer the following:

• Spend time outdoors.
• Rest, take life slow, breathe.
• Create new rituals and honor old ones.
• Gently remind yourself to return to the moment.
• And that everything really will be ok.
  

Just returned from a trip up north with my friend and colleague Julie Kesti. We headed up there to work on our January retreats and to connect before she leaves for a huge adventure - a move to China (I try not to think about her leaving).

After spending the morning making art we headed out for a hike. We were sort of meandering through the quiet woods - not sure of our path - chatting about how the quality of sound is different in winter. We decided the word is muted. It was a very calm, peaceful, and beautiful hike.

Aware that we spa appointments to get to, I asked what time it was and she responded we have plenty of time. To which I replied crap we need to be back in 20 minutes. Julie with her crazy calm personality said it will be fine. I thought to myself we are 20 minutes from the trailhead and still have to drive back to town. I found myself falling into city mode...speeding up, anxious, etc. But sure enough she was right. Everything worked out fine. All that wasted energy.

Downtown yesterday I found myself swept up in the speed of the city, then thought about our hike and decided to slow way down. When I feel that press of life I am going to gently remind myself to "walk like I am in the woods" or maybe even better ask myself "WWJD" (what would Julie do?).

P.S. We have only three spots left in our January 7th and half-full for the 14th  retreat so grab your spot soon!

I step into my harness, and reach around my back to chalk my hands. As my foot finds the first hold and my fingers search upward the world falls away. I hear only the sounds of my breath and the blood pumping in my ears. My troubles and imaginings fall away. The list of worries: kids, to-do’s, family, work, my missteps, my life - all fade and are replaced by a sense of suspended time and an intensity of focus I seem only to experience here. I forget myself. I lose myself in the moment. Mind, body, and spirit come together. It lasts until the shaking begins. The fatigued muscles remind me it is time to return. Reluctantly I climb off and face the day…but I do so with calmness, focus, and a silent joy that evaded me before.

A friend I dragged along once said, you are the most you when you climb. She is right. It is where it all comes together for me. But I am grateful it isn’t the only place I feel that sense of time falling away...I feel it when I work, when I create, when I run a trail, or dance, or sit on a rock staring at water…maybe not in the same way but I do feel it. And I feel so very lucky whenever it happens. We all need that more.

Sometimes we need to get lost to find ourselves. This is where I start when I work with anyone considering a career change and it is where I start with mothers redefining their lives after children. It is where is where I start with anyone who feels stuck. What and when are the times you lose yourself, when you look up and wonder where the hours went, the times when you feel the most you and feel that sense of aliveness running through you? It is within those moments that you can find the keys to unlocking what will fill you up with a sense of purpose and deep satisfaction.  The keys to helping you get unstuck.

Go to those moments and lose yourself in them. They will help you find insight into whatever path you need to take.

(The pic is one of my son - who has a little bit more of me in him then I thought!)

are by far my sons. Three lessons gleamed from the weekend:

Late to a party, annoyed, and moving slowly in rush hour traffic on Friday night, my four year old looked out the window at all the car lights and exclaimed excitedly, "Mom look we are in a parade!" Once again reminding me it is all in how you view the world.

Lying in bed nose-to-nose my six-year-old reported, "This is what matters Mom - love, oxygen, water and trees." So simple and so true.

And the only lesson in this last one is how good it feels to laugh and I did and still do whenever I recall my little ones comment after watching Frosty. He said "I wish that Frosting guy would take off all the little girls clothes." Laughin as I type this.