Exploring Your Passionate Heart
You’d think that, as heart-centered as I am, I’d love the idea of Valentine’s Day. But actually, it’s never been a favorite for me. Maybe because it’s so Hallmark-y. Maybe because, if you’re not in the throes of a passionate, romantic relationship, you feel somehow less than, like you’re missing out.
Maybe it goes back to when I was in fifth grade and someone left a dead goldfish in my desk next to all of the other Valentine’s cards.
On the surface, Valentine’s Day is all about hearts and flowers, chocolates and stuffed animals. But if we look deeper, the real heart of Valentine’s Day is about love.
And so this year, I’m proclaiming this as a day to honor the love in our hearts, not just the loves in our lives.
When we look inward, into our own hearts, love becomes an opportunity for self-awareness, self-care, self-inquiry.
When we look into our hearts, we are inviting personal reflection. We begin to ask deeper questions, like, what is really important to us? What are we passionate about? What sparks our heart?
Oprah Winfrey says this about passion:
“Passion. I love to say the word out loud just to hear the sound of it.
It resonates with me, causing me to think of all the experiences that fuel me, give me my juice: my work, speaking in front of 50 people or 5,000 and seeing someone have an aha moment, my great friendships, my dogs, the trees in my front yard, my wondrous, amazing unfolding life.”
When I first read Oprah’s quote I cried. Because I had no idea what I was passionate about. I was so out of touch with my heart that I didn’t even know what passion meant, or even felt like.
And so I started asking myself deeper questions.
1. What does the word passion mean to me?
2. How does passion feel?
3. Do I know people who I consider to be passionate?
4. What about them makes me think this?
5. What qualities define passion?
6. If I think about passion in terms of what fuels me and what gives me my juice, what else is passion for me?
Often, when we ask ourselves big questions, we answer with our heads. So it’s no wonder that we get the same answers, Or, “I don’t know.”
But if we get quiet, and go deeper, we can hear the truer answers from in heart.
I invite you to take some time and get quiet and really ask yourself these questions about your own heart’s passion. Write down your answers, and pay attention to any new questions that arise.
And if at first, you only hear silence, listen deeply to that. Trust that your heart is there, waiting to sing.
I’d love to hear your answers. Please share them below by clicking on the comments.
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[ssba]Seeing What Is Unseen
A thick layer of fog fills the folds in the hills behind me, like blankets rolled up to keep out the draft. Morro Rock is gone from my view, though I know it is standing somewhere behind the stretch of gray that rises higher than the Los Osos hills. Across the creek, the fog settles over the buildings on Ocean Avenue like the puffy white clouds you see out of an airplane window and I can barely make out the shops and the cars parked on the street.
Sounds are louder, while, at the same time, everything seems more still.
I remember a time in my life when I felt like my whole world was engulfed in this kind of thick unseeing fog. It was unsettling, disorienting, anxiety producing.
Because I was trying to move through it.
I was desperately wanting to not to be in the uncomfortableness that I was feeling, the sense of being lost, the place of not knowing.
But the more I tried to push through, the harder it was to see.
Until I stopped trying and was able to be with the discomfort, sit with the feeling of not knowing, relax my whole being into the gray that was all around me.
We’ve all experienced a time in our lives when we have felt lost. Undirected. Uncomfortable not knowing what’s next. Our tendency is to run, make a plan, rush toward something, anything that is more comfortable than sitting still.
But often, staying, sitting, being with the not knowing is the only way to discover what’s next.
These days I love the fog because it is a visual call to be still. The fog reminds me that this is not a time to navigate a new path, but to look inside, to see the things that are unseen.
One of my favorite children’s books, which I didn’t read until I was an adult, is Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle In Time. It is a story of time travel and good versus evil and it is filled with wisdom and life lessons. One of the themes is to look for the unseen, like music, joy, and love.
These same wise words come from Antoine de Saint Exupéry’s The Little Prince, when he tells his friend, “”One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
When we are in this hazy, foggy space of not seeing our paths clearly, we tend to panic. We think we are lost because we cannot see our way through.
But if we allow ourselves to relax into the stillness, it becomes a gift, a quieting where we can hear our heart beat, where we can turn our attention to the things unseen.
By sitting still, looking and listening inward, we may realize we aren’t lost at all. In this quiet haze of seeing the unseen, we are, in fact, just coming home.
I’d love to hear how you see the unseen, how you find ways to be with the fog. Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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[ssba]We Always Get to Choose
Even the simplest life can offer up obstacles. Things break. Propane leaks. It is always our choice HOW we deal with these challenges.
Marika and Mabel came for a ten day visit this month and one of the first things Marika said when she stepped into the RV was that she smelled propane. I was surprised since I’d only gotten a whiff every once in a while and chalked it up to my imagination.
But she immediately took action. She made me get my nose up close to the stove burner where, indeed, I smelled it very strong. We turned off the propane at the tank and scheduled a repair. We called a mobile repair company so that we wouldn’t have to drive into Morro Bay and wait around. The convenience was worth the $95.00 trip charge.
The company came, did a check around the stove but found no leak. They recommended we remove the solenoid, a device between the propane tank and the system that shuts down all propane flow if there’s a leak, since it didn’t function. But they assured me that the alarm part of the system was still working.
We also got a new regulator for the tank since they recommended that it needs to be replaced every 8-10 years. They left, all was fine. And the next morning the smell of propane was even stronger.
They returned and again, checked around the stove and yes, she did find a leak. But she said that, because our RV is so old, there are no replacement parts so we opted to have them cap off the affected burner. There was no smell, no bubbling of soapy water around the capped valve so we were good to go.
Until the next morning and again, the smell of propane permeated the air, this time not at the capped burner but in the drawer underneath the stove.
Instead of calling them a third time we made an appointment at the repair place in town.
We dropped the RV off and headed into town, awaiting their phone call. After three hours of testing every fitting and appliance in the RV, they discovered a small leak around the stove that was fixed with a little tightening of a fitting. They changed out the cap to a more substantial piece of hardware and informed us that we no longer had a working alarm, which was against the law, so we had them install one.
As we drove over to pick up the RV I could feel myself getting upset, angry, pissed off and cranky about the whole business. I was already composing a nasty letter in my head to the first company about their incompetence and the inconvenience of everything.
But by the time I was driving the RV back home, I was so grateful that no one had gotten sick from the leaking propane and that there hadn’t been an explosion. And there really was no inconvenience.
We were able to leave the RV to get repaired while Marika and I took the dogs for a lovely day of outings. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast outdoors with a view of Morro Rock, then took the dogs for a great walk out to the rock where they had the best time sniffing all kinds of new smells.
I was able to relax in the back of the car with the dogs while Marika studied the soaring peregrines with her spotting scope. And then we drove to some nearby ponds where Marika caught glimpses of widgeons and shovelers and the dogs got to check out even more smells.
It was a lovely day. We were able to be out in nature while someone fixed our problem. There is no more propane leak, and we have a working propane alarm. With so many things to be great-full for that there is just no room for cranky!
What would you choose? How do find the gratitude in challenging situations? Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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[ssba]Our Real Work
So often we hear people asking, What is my real purpose? What is my true work? Sometimes our most important work has nothing to do with a paycheck.
Back in November, a client scheduled a four week Mac training series to begin in early January. She emailed me the day before our first session, saying that she was just so overwhelmed and felt terrible, but could we postpone until the following week.
I could feel her anxiety and stress and so I wrote back:
Breathe…
And honor the fact that you are recognizing that adding one more thing to your life right now isn’t going to work.
Breathe again.
Let’s cancel tomorrow and hold off on next week too.
I’m about to roll out a group training program that will address all of your needs.
And breathe again.
She wrote back that she was crying in gratitude, because I knew she just needed to breathe.
Interactions like this remind me how much I love my work, especially when it has nothing to do with making money!
Because often, the best thing that we can offer our friends, our colleagues, our clients, is to hear them, to honor what they truly need, not what we want to offer them.
Last week she wrote again, sharing that our interaction “has already paid itself forward many times since. Your kindness helped me handle a client of mine in the same understanding way because I remembered how wonderful it felt to not be judged or feel shame for letting someone down.”
Listening, supporting, holding space for others, that is sometimes our real work in this world.
I’d love to hear about your real work. Please share you stories with me and my readers on the blog at www.sparktheheart.com
[ssba]Thank You For Breaking My Heart
“Broken hearted often leads to broken open. And broken open is the perfect environment for finding out who you are and why you’re here. Break and grow.” - Michele Woodward
The last time the moon was full, so was my heart. I had just met a new friend and the connection was electric. I hadn’t laughed so much or felt so alive in a really long time. And, as much as I tried to convince myself that it was just an exciting new friendship, my heart was beginning to tell me otherwise. And I thought hers was too.
Turns out she was not being completely honest with me and, when I found out she was interested in dating someone else, well, I was too all-in to just be friends. And so I had to let it go.
I felt betrayed. Taken advantage of. Even a little heart broken. I missed the hour-long phone conversations and the back and forth of daily emails. I missed laughing. I missed bouncing ideas off of each other and talking about painting and writing and new creative endeavors. I felt lonely all over again.
Often, when we experience this kind disappointment, like not getting the job we wanted, or the house we thought was perfect or grieving the one who got away, we focus on what we’ve lost.
But by shifting our thoughts to what we’ve gained from the experience, what new pathways may have been created, what we learned about ourselves, we can find some sweetness in the experience. We can find things to be grateful for.
First, I wrote myself the apology letter that she never sent. I needed to hear that she was sorry, that she took responsibility for misleading me, and that she would miss my insights, my thoughtfulness, our inspiring conversations. It mattered less that it was from her and more that a part of me just needed to hear it.
And each day, as I moved through the feelings of loss, I was able to shift my focus to what the brief encounter brought me. I remembered things I love. I remembered things I love about myself. I remembered how much fun I am. And I realized how ready I am to be in a relationship that makes me feel that alive.
So, thank you, Patty, for showing up in my life. If you hadn’t come along, I might still not know these things about myself. Thank you for awakening love in me, even if you couldn’t stay, even if you were more like a hit and run driver.
You broke my heart, open, and I thank you.
How do you find gratitude in a difficult situation? Please share by clicking on the comments below…
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[ssba]Dreams of the Heart
“One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
– Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
We all have dreams. A picture perfect vision of what we want our life to look like. Maybe you envision a beautiful home and you have walked through the rooms a hundred times in your mind, running your hands across the furniture, choosing the colors of the walls, even imagining who is standing around in the kitchen, sharing a delicious meal with you.
Maybe you have a vision of your ideal partner. You know what they look like, smell like, if they speak with an accent. You imagine how their skin feels and how you feel when you are with them.
On one hand, it’s important to engage in these fantasies. They awaken the imagination which sparks an opening in our heart. The danger comes when we start looking for this exact manifestation of what we’ve envisioned and we close our heart to any other option.
Our dreams are there to guide us in the direction of our heart. But as we get closer to manifesting something, our perspective changes, and we must be willing to let that original vision become something else, something that will better serve us, even if it’s not at all what we, in our feeble little minds, have imagined.
If we continue to open to the new vision, we may realize that, even if the house or the person isn’t what we imagined, the heart-felt feelings we have when we remember our original vision ARE still there.
Every time I imagined living at the beach, I connected with how I would feel living there. My body would feel alive, I’d be breathing deeply and fully, walking a lot, and loving being in nature.
When the option of moving into that beach bungalow came to me, I realized that, even though, in the original plan, the house and my life there looked exactly like I had imagined, with a yard and a laundry room and a view of the ocean, it didn’t resonate with those strong heart feelings of freedom and aliveness.
If I hadn’t allowed my vision to shift, I’d be living a very different life right now. I’d probably be feeling the pressure to work a lot to afford the rent. And I’d be so busy working that I wouldn’t have the luxury of my many daily walks at the beach. Or the time every morning to write. Or the space to let go of all that, to begin to dream new dreams.
So what are you dreaming? And how insistent are you that it should manifest exactly how you’ve imagined it?
How can you let go of all of that and allow your heart to lead you to what you really love?
Please share in the comments below!
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Full Heart, Full Moon
Life continues to offer me opportunities to push against the uncomfortable and follow the energy that makes me feel alive. And each time I say yes, I find deeper joy, deeper meaning and deeper love. Each time I say yes, I find more of myself.
I met Patty more than 25 years ago when she was a singer/songwriter in Phoenix. We had a few friends in common, but we never dated, though I do remember having a little crush. Then she moved to Texas, got married, had kids and we all lost touch.
Her kids are now in their twenties, she’s no longer married and last year she sold her house and packed up her life in Texas to follow her creativity into the high desert of Arizona.
A few weeks ago when I was in Arizona, she had come down to Phoenix to pick up a friend at the airport and she invited me to dinner so we could talk about our mutual experiences of following our passions. The funny part was, she contacted me because one of our mutual friends had suggested it. She had no memory of us ever meeting before.
But within five minutes we both felt like old friends. The energy was palpable, how we mirrored each other’s language and ideas and focus on living awake and alive and present. It had been so long since I’d felt that kind of magnetic attraction.
We had such a fun time at dinner, laughing, yes-ing each other’s sentences, spilling our dreams onto the table with glorious abandon. She told me that she’s been painting for years – landscapes and portraits and still lifes- but in all of that time raising her family, she hadn’t written songs or played any music.
Then she came to the high desert in Arizona to visit the woman she used to sing and write music with, and they started playing her old songs together. They gave an informal concert and everyone there knew all of the words. She cried. Her heart opened. She said she remembered who she was.
I told her about my own adventures to the coast, how surprised I was to be enjoying the freedom and simpleness of RV living and how new and exciting it is to not know what’s next.
My whole heart was glowing with excitement and energy and possibility. And, more than all that, I realized how much I missed that feeling of connecting with and being met with such an open heart.
It thrilled me and scared me at the same time. What WAS this? What if this was love? What did that mean in terms of my relationship with Marika?
But instead of thinking my way through and getting caught in the stories that were swirling in my head, I focused on the energy. I was giddy. I was excited. I was smiling a lot. Marika even joked that Patty was my new girlfriend.
After a week of emails and phone calls, Patty invited me to come for a visit to her house on the hill on my way back to California.
My knee jerk response was No Way. It’s not on my itinerary. I don’t “like” the desert, I need to get back to the ocean.
But I knew the real reason I was saying No was because I was afraid of what this was and where it might lead.
And then I breathed and reconsidered and realized that I didn’t have to stick to a schedule. I have the freedom to change my plans. And it would be great to spend more time together.
I reminded myself that if I just stayed in the present moment with it all, I could actually allow myself to enjoy it, whatever it was. And so I listened to my new mantra, to follow the energy, and I said Yes.
The drive from Phoenix ambled through unobstructed Sonoran desert. Saguaros and cholla cactus dotted the flat earth, and the sky, wide and blue, stretched ahead of me. I passed through little towns that had a single diner or a convenience store and a small RV park, often marked with a handmade sign welcoming visitors.
Past Wickenburg, the highway wound up the side of a steep mountain and I drove slower than the speed limit, hugging the inside lane lines and avoiding looking out at the view over the edge.
I followed Patty’s directions through the town of Yarnell to the Mountain Aire convenience store in Peeple’s Valley. I turned left and then left again, onto a gated dirt road that dipped and curved and crossed a dry creek bed before ascending to the top of the hill.
When I pulled up to the house, Patty was out on the porch with Zig, her eleven year old black and white rat terrier. She was prepping a canvas with gesso. We hugged like old friends and I marveled at the view.
Patty’s house sits high on a hill above Peeple’s Valley, a community of cattle and artists and retirees. This area between Prescott and Wickenburg is surrounded by mountains, the earth is brown dust dotted with rocks and rounded boulders, low desert brush and a scattering of wintering trees. The nearest neighbors are a mile away and the only sounds are the wind chimes, the constant rushing water in the goldfish pond and your own breathing.
I unpacked my things from the car and Patty made us lunch. She showed me where the javalina come though at dusk and we watched a scrub jay knock birdseed from the feeder onto the ground for the quail to eat.
Laddy and Zig wandered, sniffing, peeing, exploring together, but always with several yards between them.
Patty talked and I talked and we laughed. A lot. She told me about donkeys and how she found this house. She talked about her relationships with her family and played me some of her new music. She remembered the names of people she wants to invite back into the recording studio early next year. She shared that her biggest dream is painting really big paintings that hang and sell in a New York gallery.
She asked me about my own art-making, which I’ve tucked away for so long. I told her about my story boxes and the series of paper shoes and the novel I started writing years ago in Marika’s garage. And then I remembered the first vision I had of the book I’m writing now and suddenly, I knew exactly the direction I wanted to take it.
We drove down the hill with the dogs and hiked around big boulders, exploring an abandoned rock castle that I’d heard about so many years before. In the evening, wrapped in sweaters, we tracked the light spreading over the valley, climbing up the mountains in a parade of color. She traced the curves of the landscape and we watched the almost full moon poke a hole in the sky.
Even with all of the easy hugging and touching, it became clear that this connection is not about a relationship with each other. It is all about our relationships with our own selves and that we are each true and unconditional mirrors for the other to be our biggest and best selves, truly alive, truly awake.
What a gift to have a friend who encourages the endless ways we can keep coming back to yes and ease and effortlessness and this present moment. It was like being on a retreat with a reflection of my best self. The shiny parts glowed and even the dark spots were beautiful in all of that light.
The next morning I sat at the kitchen table eating my breakfast, preparing to leave, but my heart ached from all that had been laid open and bared. I was full of tears, not ready to pack it all up into the back of my car. I wanted more time in this wide open space to really claim what I was remembering about myself. I wanted to let it all seep out and in, flow from me and back to me so that it wouldn’t get lost again.
Sure, I had a hotel reservation and a meeting scheduled, but I knew it would be so easy to change them. And so I asked Patty if I could stay another day and she loved the idea.
I embraced the whole extra day to explore all that was cracked open about my creative self. Patty went off to work and I wrote. I walked the land with Laddy. I took a nap and wrote some more.
That night the moon came up full and fast. It was huge and bright with beautiful rings circling it, almost touching nearby Jupiter. We marveled how the moon has no light of its own, that all of its brightness is reflected from the stars that surround it.
A far off town on the side of the mountain glittered in holiday lights and a chorus of coyotes howled down in the valley. Stars popped in the night sky and Patty named them, drawing the outlines of the constellations with her finger against the sky. I stood behind her, my arms wrapping hers, my heart nestled between her shoulder blades and my hands, tender and still, catching the beat of her heart.
The next morning we drank our coffee on the porch and watched the sunlight slowly rise over the dark mountains in a glare of light and color. We walked around the back to find the moon, still full and bright, hanging high in the western sky, big and ready, calling me home.
How does your full heart feel? Please share by clicking the comments below.
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[ssba]The Big Why
I got together with a friend a few weeks ago who is also a coach. She was in town for an intense training to get more clarity about her own coaching practice. On the drive from the airport to the waterfront restaurant where we were having dinner, I asked her who she wanted to work with in her practice. Her answer was clear and succinct, but it sounded rehearsed.
And so I asked her WHY she wanted to work with these particular women.
Again, her answer was clear, but I still didn’t feel any real passion.
I asked her why SHE was the one to do this kind of work. And she shared how she had been one of those women who had tried to find joy and acceptance in things and experiences outside of herself, thinking that IF she had THIS degree or THAT house, then she would be happy.
“But really,” she said, “it’s not the piece of paper we want, it’s the feeling we have when we get the piece of paper. We have to find that joy and acceptance within ourselves.”
For the first time in the conversation, I could feel the fire in her words.
During dinner we talked about her past jobs, how she often gets bored when she isn’t challenged. And I asked her how she will keep herself excited and engaged with this new coaching practice.
She sat back and thought for a good few minutes and then said, “You know, the best job I ever had was with Outward Bound.” Her whole body came alive as she shared how much she loves being physical, doing anything outdoors, challenging herself to be independent, knowing she can take care of herself.
“My dream coaching practice would take women out into the wilderness and teach them self-reliance and independence.”
Finally, I felt her passion, her motivation, her energy.
Then she leaned back, deflated, “But it’s not practical. I don’t know how I would do it, logistically.”
“You don’t need to know that right now,” I said. “You just need to stay connected to this passion.”
So often we get stopped by the How, the When, the Where.
Life is not a journalism class. We don’t need to have a lead paragraph that answers the who, what, where, when and how.
We only need to know the WHY.
Our WHY is our passion.
Our WHY is our guiding light.
Our WHY keeps us moving forward when we hit a road block.
Our WHY is our heart, leading us to those other questions.
If we stay strongly connected to WHY we want to, WHY we need to do something, and let go of figuring out how and when and where, somehow, those other answers come to us.
I invited my friend to write about her experiences at Outward Bound as a means to re-connect with her passions. I even suggested she have a dialog with herself, writing the questions with her dominant hand and answering them with her other hand. This is a great tool for opening to unexpected responses.
When I checked in with her a few days later, she was still excited about wilderness coaching. She’d been on a few hikes along the coast, and was loving being in her body, exploring new places and she was beginning to see how it might all come together.
Again I reminded her that it’s not her job to focus on the HOW, but to keep nurturing the WHY and allow her heart to continue to guide her to the answers.
When you think about something you really want to do, do you know your WHY? Can you focus your energies on this, the heart of all things, and let go of knowing everything else right now? Can you imagine if you did?
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[ssba]Claiming Your Brave
When’s the last time you did something brave?
Brave isn’t just for big things, like driving alone in Europe or going skydiving.
Brave could be painting your nails a new color. Or driving a new way to work. Brave could be saying NO to a party you really don’t want to go to.
Brave is doing anything that brings you to the edge of your comfort zone and you do it anyway.
And doing it makes you feel on top of the world, so full of yourself, like a red caped super hero.
And yet, too often, we don’t acknowledge the act, the risk, the courage we’ve had to muster to get there, to step up, to do it.
I’m making a conscious choice these days to do at least one brave thing every few days. And I’m keeping a WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list. Some are big things. Others might seem so easy for another person to do. But for me, they require a lot of brave.
I’m using the list to acknowledge my courage and applaud myself for taking these beautifully brave steps.
Here’s a sampling from my WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list:
- I invited a never-met-in-person-before Facebook friend to lunch
- I joined a meet-up group for singles over 50
- I took Laddy on a new adventure walk
- I got my hair cut by a new stylist
- I introduced myself to a neighbor
- I said yes to friends going clothes shopping with me
- I backed into my RV spot without assistance! (It only took three stop and checks, just to make sure I was pulling in straight)
- Oh yeah, I packed up my life in Arizona and moved to the beach!
Funny, each of these things may have scared the pants off of me, gotten my heart racing, and taken me way beyond what is comfortable and easy. But they also led me to something even more wonderful than comfort. They’ve led to an even bigger, fuller, richer me.
So what brave things have you done lately?
How did it feel?
And how did you celebrate?
What’s on your WOW! I REALLY DID THAT! list? Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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[ssba]The Joys and Challenges of Living In The Moment
I’ve been living in the RV for more than three months now, and have been here at the Bella Vista Mobile Lodge since mid-September. I am settling in. I wave to my neighbors and engage in conversations about the weather. The woman in the bakery section of Spencer’s Market and I are on a first name basis. And Mark, my neighbor across the street, even helped me when my new mattress arrived. I am calling this place home.
In some ways it is exactly what I imagined—clean air, cool breezes and much less stress. But in other ways it is nothing like my dreams. I don’t live in a house with a yard and a laundry room. I am not going to clients’ homes every day. I’m not even trying to build up a local Mac training clientele.
The other day as I was walking with Laddy, I noticed that one of the mobile homes is for rent. I peeked through the windows, looked around at the outdoor patio space and thought maybe a little more space might be nice. But when I put the numbers down on paper, I realized I wouldn’t be getting much more square footage, but I’d be paying almost twice as much. But what I would be getting is a permanent address.
Right now, I’m living here month to month. As we get closer to the holidays, I may need to move out of my space to accommodate people who have long-standing reservations. It’s not really an issue, since I have solar panels and can easily live without being plugged in and hooked up, as long as I can dump my tanks every five or six days.
But psychologically, it can sometimes be a challenge for me.
I thrive on schedules, plans and control. Living here, I’ve had to be flexible and loose, not knowing beyond the current month, whether or not I’d have a space to call home.
So far, I’m doing really well with it, embracing it, even, and seeing how living month to month really keeps me living in the present moment.
But when I think about long term, I get a little unsettled, because there is no guarantee that I’ll still be in space #50. And so I grasp at ways to have control. Certainty. Stability. And I think about renting that mobile home.
But as soon as I realize that it is fear that is fueling the idea, I’m able to let it go and breathe back into This. Here. Now.
I assure myself that I will never not have a place to park – I may just have to spend a few nights in the overflow area. I remind myself that being open and flexible actually feels fun. I realize that leaning into not knowing is not just about WHERE I am living, but about HOW I’m living.
This living month to month is a real gift. It’s an opportunity for me to embrace my freedom and flexibility and learn this new way of being in all aspects of my life. And I’m liking it. A lot. How could I not, when the view from here is so beautiful.
How do you balance the not knowing with the need to know? I’d love to hear your stories. Please click on the Comments below to share.
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