I Can’t Know

1 min read

Picture of Lisa walking on a curving path

A few days ago I woke up anxious about something.  Given our current COVID-19 state of affairs, I just couldn’t see how a particular scenario was going to turn out well.  I started going down a nasty path in my mind.  Basically catastrophizing.

Then the thought occurred to me that in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined this COVID-19 world that we find ourselves in.  So how could I possibly expect to know the outcome of my worrisome situation.

I can’t know.

It reminded me that I wrote a blog about this very thing – “There are just so many  variables that I can’t even imagine … How limiting to assume that if I can’t imagine it, it’s not possible!”

Now, when I start to get anxious about how things are going to turn out I remind myself that just because I can’t imagine it doesn’t mean it’s not possible.  I think about my experience in the blog and it helps me drop the worry and move forward.  I hope it helps you too.

Posted in Fearlessness, Perspective | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Now

1 min read

Photograph of flowers by Lisa Ivaldi

So still struggling at times.

Before the pandemic I was finding my way through grief and mourning.  My father passed away last June, my last living aunt died in January, and my eldest sister passed on March 10.

In many ways it felt like I had lost my past.  Who was I now in a world where so much of what I had always known was gone?

And then, with this totally new and surreal reality, it almost felt like I had lost my future too.  I can’t plan.  I can’t know what tomorrow will bring.  Of course, I never could know.  But based on the past I thought I had a pretty good idea.

So, what’s left?

The present.  Now.

COVID is forcing me to live in the now.  Exactly what I have been trying to do for years.  Cool.

Thinking about all this reminded me of the post Experience Your Life, but I didn’t realize how much until I reread it.  This moment is my life.  Not the past.  Not the future.  My life doesn’t start again when the pandemic is over.  My life is now.

Posted in Fearlessness, Life, mindfulness, Perspective | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Struggling

1 min. read

Photo of The Floating Heads installation at the Kelvingrove Museum in the Scottish city of Glasgow

I’m struggling with this new normal.

At times I’m fine and getting on with my life – such as it is.  At other times I’m sad for no particular reason – just feeling sad.

Life has changed.  I didn’t choose this.  I can’t control this.  And I don’t know what the world will look like when it’s over.  At least before this pandemic I had the illusion of some control – and a steady supply of toilet paper!

And to top it all off, I’m feeling fairly useless.  Sure, I’m doing my part by staying away from others and following all the social distancing rules.  And I’m sending out loving thoughts and gratitude every morning and night.  But I’m not essential to society like health care workers and food providers.

Then a friend suggested that I could share my blog posts.  People are online now more than ever and they are looking for positivity.  So, in addition to writing new posts I will be sending out older posts that are relevant to the times.  I hope you find them as helpful as I am.

When I reread this post – Stop Paddling – I realized it was exactly what I needed to hear.  I can’t change the way life is right now but I can relax, put down my paddles, and go with the flow.

Posted in Behaviour, Perspective | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Loving Fear

4 min read

Photo of iron gate

I recently participated in a Writing and SoulCollage® workshop exploring the Shadow, “the realm of the unclaimed parts of ourselves, waiting to be known and received for the gifts and energy they hold”1.  I know – very cool right!

Our shadow is not just the negative aspects we try to keep in check or hide, like greed, jealousy, and laziness.  According to Melinda Burns, the workshop facilitator, “the Shadow contains all the unclaimed parts of ourselves, positive and negative”.  When any aspect of us (and we have them all) becomes out of balance, when we have too little or too much of it, it becomes a shadow aspect.

We did some writing exercises in the morning.  We wrote about the things we strongly disliked in ourselves and others, as well as people we greatly admire.  We can find our shadow by looking with curiosity at what we have a strong reaction to and asking “what do I need to see or learn here?”

I wrote about people who were selfish and greedy and caused harm to others through their behaviour.  I also wrote about people who were giving and abundant with love – think Mother Teresa and foster parents.  And when I put it all together to see what Shadow aspect I was drawn to, it turned out to be fear.

Fear is a large warm hug.  She wants to keep you safe – “Stay here with me where it’s warm and cozy.  No need to go anywhere else”.  Fear is welcoming and enveloping.  She feels safe.  Fear will distract you with stories of what could go wrong or how you are not equipped to handle life, while life plays on without you.  She wants no harm to come to you.  Fear is generous and loving.  She has your best interest at heart.  But she can’t keep you safe if you venture too far.

Once fear was personified through my writing it was easy to ask her the questions Melinda provided.  These two questions sum up my dialogue with fear. 

How and why in our history did you originate?  I’ve been around since you were born.  You were little and new to the world.  You needed someone to keep you safe and help you navigate through a confusing and unfamiliar world on your own.

What do you want/need from me?  Acknowledgement that I am here to help you.  That I love you.  That you have heard me and my warnings.  That you have weighed the situation and looked at the consequences.  That you understand the circumstances and can handle the situation.  I need to know you will be careful and keep yourself safe even as you move forward.  I need to know you have grown up and are wiser now and don’t need as much protection.  But that you appreciate my presence and all I’ve done for you and that you hear me and take my advice into account.  I need to know that you love me and you know I love you.  I want you to appreciate me.

This exercise was very freeing for me.  It helped me to see that having or feeling fear doesn’t make me a coward or weak.  It is actually just a part of taking good care of myself.  In fact, when I read my answer to the last question, I realized that it is exactly what I want for, and from, my daughter – the person I most want to protect and to be happy.

From this new perspective I could see that fear really is a large warm hug.  But like the parent of a growing child, the key is knowing when to let go – finding balance.  Because, when in balance, fear is love.  Self-love.  Not something to be hidden away and ashamed of.  But something to be listened to, acknowledged, and appreciated.

The challenge is letting fear keep me safe, but not so safe that it keeps me small or as Dr. Gay Hendricks2 describes it “trying to keep you imprisoned in the zone of the known, where you are safe.”  He suggests that “When you are feeling fear, breathe in the direction of the sensations … feel the fear in your body and breathe to embrace it … like you might greet a friend: you nod hello and then give him or her a hug … When you love your fear, you give it room to breathe, and this is often all it needs.”

Thank you fear.  I love you too.

1 Melinda Burns, Deep Play: Writing & SoulCollage® Workshop, www.melindaburns.ca

2 Conscious Living: Finding Joy in the Real World by Gay Hendricks, Ph.D.

Posted in Behaviour, Fearlessness, Life, Perspective | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

Living Small

4 min read

Picture of colourful lamps

I recently read Amanda Lang’s The Beauty of Discomfort.  She explains that “As we learn to lean into our discomfort, it will gradually turn into comfort.  Our zone of discomfort moves, in other words, as our comfort zone expands.”   And apparently my comfort zone really needs expanding because uncomfortable situations keep presenting themselves.

Like when we were in Antigua for a family vacation.  Every night the resort had some form of entertainment and our last night was a Christmas party with a steel band and a children’s Christmas choir.  The choir was comprised of a dozen children from a special needs school on the island.  It broke my heart to see children with various levels of ability and think about how challenging their lives must be – both for them and their parents.

When the show started it reminded me of some of the school Christmas concerts we had attended when our daughter was very young – cute but a little uncomfortable to watch and slightly painful to listen to at times.  So, I plastered a polite, fake smile on my face and prepared to endure it.  But the teachers and the kids were putting their whole hearts into the show and having such a good time that slowly my fake smile became a real smile.  There were three older boys in the choir and the huge smiles on their faces clearly showed that they weren’t thinking about challenges or hardships.  They were singing and dancing and loving every moment of it.  Living their best lives as my daughter would say.

I think that if I had followed my urge to leave after the first scratchy, ear piercing, notes I would have missed out on something special.  The more the audience clapped and whooped for the children, the more joyful and exuberant they became.  When it was over, I realized that their performance was a real gift.  I experienced something I would normally have shied away from and it left me feeling uplifted.

I’m learning that by allowing more discomfort in – expanding my comfort zone – I’m opening my life up.  In The Brain Fog Fix, Dr. Mike Dow describes a “belief that we should never be uncomfortable in any way.  On a much deeper level, this conviction comes from fear.  Living life and making choices based on fear is no way to invite abundance, joy, and love.  For human beings, it is our experiences that have the profound power to change the way we think and feel.”

My experience with the children’s’ concert changed me.  Last year, watching the Hospice staff caring for my father lean into uncomfortable situations – when I wanted to run away – changed me.

Recently, my experience of helping someone declutter their house – when it was the last thing I wanted to do – changed me.  I was with a group of new friends when one of them shared her overwhelm at moving her mom into a care home and selling her house, all while being a single mom with two kids.  I had recently gone through a similar situation cleaning out my dad’s house and was still trying to declutter my own house of the extra stuff we’d brought home.  When another member of the group offered to help clean and declutter her house, my initial reaction was “Been there, done that and didn’t particularly enjoy it!”

So, I stayed silent when the others said they’d help too.  I really didn’t want to help.  I was busy and didn’t want to clean another house.  But when the emails started about picking a date to meet and the recipient of the help expressed her deep appreciation and gratitude, I couldn’t say no.  So, I went.  Reluctantly.  Very reluctantly.  But you know what?  It was fun.  I actually enjoyed myself.  I liked being part of team accomplishing a goal and it felt really good to help someone.  And bonus, I grew closer to my new friends in the process.

Once again, had I followed through with trying to avoid perceived discomfort I would have missed what turned out to be a fun and enriching experience.  If I always try and stay in my comfort zone who knows what other cool experiences I’ll miss out on.  Hopefully I’ll remember that the next time I feel a tinge of discomfort and lean into it rather than running away.

Posted in Behaviour, Perspective | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Labyrinth of Life

4 min read

Picture of Labyrinth at Ignatius Jesuit Centre in Guelph, ON

Several months ago, about three weeks before my dad died, a friend and I walked a small stone labyrinth close to my home.  I’d never walked a labyrinth before but thought I was familiar with the concept.  Slow, contemplative walking around a set circular path.   I thought we would enter the labyrinth at the largest, outside ring and slowly make our way to the centre by walking round and round in ever smaller circles, then exit at the same point we entered.  Pretty simple, except the labyrinth didn’t work how I had thought it would.

I followed my friend into the labyrinth and, after the first few turns, realized that we had completely missed the outer two or three rings.  I couldn’t help thinking we had done it wrong.  Totally missed a large part of it.  I kept trying to put that thought out of my head – there is no right way, just follow the path – but it kept coming back.

My friend had been clear before we started that this was to be a silent walk.  So, I couldn’t point out to her that we had messed up.  Even the walk out after we got to the centre didn’t feel right to me.  We did the largest outside rings at the end and exited at a different spot than where we started.  Totally not how I thought it would be.

After we finished, I realized that I had been so wrapped up in how I thought it should be that I almost ruined my experience of how it actually was.  It occurred to me that the labyrinth was a metaphor for my current life situation.

I’d been struggling more than usual with the whole “trying to control life” thing for a few months; since we had been told that my dad was “actively dying”.  I didn’t make that up.  It’s a thing!  Luckily for all of us he was admitted to our local Hospice, which in my opinion was the most loving and caring place in the world for him to get on with the business of actively dying.

However, in his case, actively dying didn’t appear to be very active.  Nothing much changed in his condition from day to day and after a few weeks I began to worry that he would outlive the three-month maximum that a person can stay at Hospice.  I wasn’t being heartless.  He was physically bedridden and mentally ready to go.  But he was so happy to “have ended up” there and the care was so wonderful that I couldn’t bear the thought of moving him somewhere else for his last days.

The staff at Hospice were wonderful.  When I questioned them, they would gently tell me that “there is no defined pattern to dying.  Everyone does it differently and in their own time and not everyone ‘looks’ like they are dying.  Don’t worry and we’ll work through future arrangements if and when that time comes.”  But, like in the labyrinth, I couldn’t let go of thinking and worrying about what we would do at the end of the three months.

Even though the labyrinth’s life message was clear to me – just keep going, trust the path – I still couldn’t let go of wanting it to be another way.  Even though I could see the whole labyrinth laid out before me, I still didn’t know exactly how it would unfold.  And I wanted to know.  I wanted to know “your dad has X amount of time to live and this is what it will look like and he will be able to stay at Hospice and be lovingly cared for until his last breath.”

I recently looked up the definition of a labyrinth, “A complicated irregular network of passages or paths in which it is difficult to find one’s way.”  However, unlike a maze, a labyrinth “has only one path to the center and back out … the path twists and turns back on itself many times before reaching the center. Once at the center, there is only one way back out.  In this way, the labyrinth symbolizes a journey to a predetermined destination (such as a pilgrimage to a holy site), or the journey through life from birth to spiritual awakening to death.”  (definitions from Lexico and verywellfit.com)

And that’s how the last leg of my dad’s journey unfolded.  It twisted and turned back on itself.  We were all confused at times.  We let it play out.  No intervention.  No control.  We had time to say what needed to be said.  We did our best to make his life as enjoyable as possible.  And he died peacefully with us by his side two months after his arrival at Hospice.

I went back to the labyrinth recently during a family hike.  Even walking it again just for fun I was still surprised by the twists and turns and how it doubled back on itself several times.  I still got confused and wasn’t sure if I was doing it correctly or if I had missed a turn.  Even when I knew from experience to just follow the path and trust that it will get me where I need to go, I still had trouble accepting it.  Accepting what is.  Letting go of trying to control the situation.  Trusting that life is unfolding just as it is supposed to be.

Posted in Life | Tagged , , | 16 Comments

Allowing

4 min read

Picture of tire prints on a dirt road

I attended a meditation retreat last summer and heard the poem She Let Go by Safire Rose for the first time.  This beautiful poem resonated so deeply with me that I printed it out and put it in my daily journal so I could read it every day as a reminder.  Full disclosure – my daily journal is sometimes weekly and occasionally monthly depending on life at the time.

Recently I’ve seen the poem posted twice on Facebook.  It has such a powerful message that I thought I would share both the poem and my recent experience with letting go.

I really struggle with letting go – especially with what Buddhists call letting go of attachment to outcome.  Sometimes I think I’m doing pretty well with letting go and then realize that I am still really attached to the way I want something to turn out.

My most profound experience with this was last year when my daughter Kathryn was very ill and in a lot of pain.  Not surprisingly, I really wanted her to get better.  Miraculously, spontaneously, just be better – now.  Back to the way she was before she became ill.  Even when she was finally diagnosed and scheduled for surgery I still just wanted her to be better right now – no hospital, no surgery, no more pain, just better.

I was totally holding on to the outcome I wanted even though the doctors had found out what was wrong with her and they were going to correct it.  I was suffering because I didn’t want any of it to be happening.  Fortunately for me the day before Kathryn went into hospital a very spiritual friend came to our house for a short visit.

While she was there she told us that Kathryn’s guardian angel was in the room.  I was pleased to hear that Kathryn had a guardian angel but I was also quite ticked off that the angel wouldn’t just make everything all better – right then and there – like in the movies.  I didn’t voice my thoughts but our friend passed on a message from the angel – I love Kathryn and I’ll be with her, but I can’t change her path.

There it was.  Exactly the message I needed to hear to let go of my attachment to the outcome.  The relief was instantaneous – like a weight being removed.  Just like the poem says.

I can’t say that I was thrilled that Kathryn was going through such a tough experience but I can say that I resigned myself to the fact that for whatever reason, it was her path.  I couldn’t change it but I could be there to love and support her.  And I could do that so much better once I had let go of the way I wanted things to be and allowed “them to unfold in the new ways they’re supposed to.”1

1 quoted from I’ve Been Thinking…Reflections, Prayers, and Meditations for a Meaningful Life by Maria Shriver

She Let Go

by Safire Rose

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

© 2003 Safire Rose (reprinted here with permission)

Posted in Behaviour, Perspective | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

I Said What?

4 min read

Today is my mother-in-law’s 90th birthday.  Joyce passed away two years ago.  I still miss her no-nonsense, real way of looking at life.  We didn’t always see eye to eye but now that she is gone I realize what a great influence she had on my life.

I woke up one morning this week thinking about one particular incident.  It’s very clear in my memory because I wrote this unpublished article about it in 2003 when my daughter was five.

I listened to the words come out of her mouth and I couldn’t believe a mother could say those things to her own child: “Go away … you’re bugging me … get lost … leave me alone.”  When I became a mother I promised to do everything I could to develop my daughter’s self-esteem.  You wouldn’t hear me saying those words to my daughter – no way!  So why was I listening to my mother-in-law repeat those very words that she had just heard me – yes me – saying to my five-year-old daughter?  What a shock it was to hear those words repeated back to me.

My daughter had been particularly “five” the day before.  We were on holiday at the family cottage and had gone to visit friends.  I believe she had three, maybe four, complete meltdown tantrums.  That’s a lot for one day.  I was still upset with her the next day and thought I deserved a little time to myself to sit on the porch and read.  So acting like a hurt five-year-old myself, I told her to “leave me alone”.  When she didn’t, I got really indignant and told her to “stop bugging me”, escalating to “go away”, and culminating in the very mature “get lost”.  It seemed justified at the time.  It didn’t seem okay hearing it repeated later.  It seemed mean and heartless.  I felt like the worst mother in the world.  I completely agreed with my mother-in-law when she said my daughter was acting like a dejected and neglected little girl trying to get her mother’s attention.  Ouch!  Bad parent moment – you bet!

Several weeks later we decided to ride our bikes to a local restaurant for dinner.  We sat outside on the patio and had a really enjoyable dinner, which was not always the case with our active five-year-old.  We were calm and relaxed – the very picture of a happy family.  While our daughter was taking our credit card inside the restaurant to pay, a lady at the next table remarked what great parents we were and what an independent daughter we had.  Good parent moment – oh yeah!

Sometimes I have good and bad parent moments in the same day – in the same hour!  One day my daughter and I were enjoying ourselves on a bus ride to the mall when a man on the bus commented that he could see how much I loved my child by how happy she was.  I felt great after hearing that.  Had he heard me fifteen minutes later yelling at my then not-so-happy child to hurry up and get off the mall rides, he probably would have shaken his head and thought that some people just shouldn’t have children!

That incident reminded me of an article I read explaining that we are the same caring, intelligent, loving person during our good moments that we are during our bad moments.  So, when I start beating myself up because of a bad parent moment, I try and remember my good parent moments – the days when I said the right thing and dealt with the tantrum without melting down myself.  And then there is always damage control.  Once my mother-in-law brought me back to reality, I apologized to my daughter for telling her to get lost.

Someone recently laughed at me as I was trying to apply a new parenting technique that I had read about saying, “You’re funny, you are trying to be such a good mother.”  He’s right.  I am trying to be a good mother.  I may not always succeed but I try to remember that everyone has bad parent moments and good parent moments.  Hopefully, by the time Kathryn leaves home my good moments will have outnumbered my bad moments.

Thank you Joyce for speaking your truth, even if I didn’t always want to hear it.  Thank you for holding the mirror up so I could see my actions from a different perspective.  I am grateful you were part of my life.

Posted in Perspective | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Listen

4 min read

paint-268221_640Sometimes innocuous things scare me.  Poetry was one of those things.  My fear dates back to high school when we had to read poems I didn’t understand, composed of elements I didn’t understand.  Iambic pentameter comes to mind.

Even though poetry scared me, I was still drawn to it.  So to overcome this fear I went to a poetry workshop put on by the public library – Mindfulness and Poetry with Melinda Burns.

I loved how Melinda explained that mindfulness is “moment to moment non-judgmental awareness” and that poetry “puts that into words”.  Basically, a poem is “someone really paying attention to life experience.”

Melinda introduced me to free verse poetry.  It didn’t have to rhyme and I didn’t have to know the meaning of iambic pentameter.  All of a sudden a form of expression with a large number of unknowable rules had no rules at all!   A poem didn’t even need punctuation.  How wonderful!

In her poem, How to Write a Poem, Melinda says to:

Forget everything you know about poetry

and remember this:

the poem is inside you …

Listen for the words that

lift the veil to the other world

where you know what you know …

I wrote my first poems that evening and they lifted that veil for me.  I’d been feeling really down for a few days and not sure why.  Before we started writing our poems, Melinda asked us to do an exercise where we wrote down things we had noticed in the last few days – ordinary things we had seen or heard or smelled.  The one that stood out for me was the pastel colours on the cover of a book I had been reading for several days.  I chose that book cover for the subject of my first poem and that poem shed some light on why I was feeling so down.

The book was filled with stories about the author’s life and recent losses.  It was well written and I was quickly immersed in her world.  Her personality and sense of humour were similar to mine so it was easy for me to take on the heavy energy in the book.  The author’s world had become mine.  I was carrying her grief and her frustrations.  And from that low place I seemed to have no trouble finding examples from my own life to fuel my sadness.  Misery loves company and I was able to find lots of company for my literary induced misery.

Writing those poems helped me access the inner knowledge of where my sadness was coming from – someone else’s life – someone else’s losses.  Even though it felt like mine, it wasn’t my sadness at all.  However, just knowing the heavy energy wasn’t mine didn’t release it.

Fortunately, I have been working with a gifted teacher, Kelly Pritchard, and she led me through a guided meditation to release the energy.  She guided me to ask myself “What is standing between me and feeling fine?”  It felt like something heavy and sad weighing down on me like a heavy, grey, wet blanket.  She asked me to get quiet and first ask myself “Is this my energy?” and see how that made me feel and then ask “Is this someone else’s energy?” and see how that felt.  The heavy feeling went away in response to the first question and came back in response to the latter.  It was clearly someone else’s energy.  With Kelly’s help, I pictured myself connected and rooted to the earth and sent the heavy energy that wasn’t mine permanently back to the earth.  I felt lighter almost instantly.

I’ve spent the last several months cultivating getting quiet and listening.  Opening space to hear what my body and spirit are trying to tell me.  Now I have poetry to use as another way to get quiet and listen and a powerful meditation practice to use when I’m feeling out of sorts.  Thank you Melinda and Kelly!

The Book Cover by Lisa Ivaldi

Which book to read next?

I love this moment

Full of promise

New ideas, new perspectives

 

I love the colours on this one!

Beautiful pastel lines on the cover

Such a joy to behold 

 

So glad to be finished

the beautiful book filled with sad stories

Posted in energy, mindfulness | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Pause

3 min read

Photo of sky

If you follow this blog, you may have noticed that I haven’t posted anything in several months.  I’ve been trying to write posts but I haven’t been feeling inspired.  So instead of forcing myself to decide whether or not I should continue with the blog; I am choosing to take my own advice and give myself some space and the permission to do nothing right now.  No decisions.  Pause.  See what feels right in the moment and where that leads me.

So here’s a reprint of my April 2016 post – No More Decisions:

How many times have you stressed over a decision – unsure of the right course of action to bring about the outcome you want?  Decisions can feel big, life altering, permanent!  A lot of thought and planning goes into them – a lot of agonizing over making the right decision.  That’s why I am no longer making decisions.  It’s too stressful.

I was at a talk by Sharon Lewis where she encouraged us to stop making decisions.  Instead she suggested we make choices and that we change them every 10 seconds if need be.  Choices are lighter, smaller, and easier.  If you don’t like the direction your choice is taking you, make another choice.  How freeing is that?

I’m a bit of a control freak, so I like to plan things out.  Many times I’ll get stressed trying to decide things that really don’t need to be decided at all, or sometimes can’t be decided.  For instance, my husband and I have been in a bit of a transition.  He was transitioning to autonomy from a 30 year career in government.  His transition prompted me to start thinking about my career future and what that would look like.  I thought I needed to make decisions, finalize my plan, and announce it to the world.

However, forcing myself to make decisions about my future was causing me stress.  It felt like I had to decide NOW, even though I didn’t know the best course of action.  I finally realized that I didn’t have to make any big decisions.  No one was pressuring me, except me!  I didn’t have to decide to wind down my business on a certain date.  I didn’t have to make a proclamation and set my plan in stone.  It could just evolve naturally, one right choice at a time.  I could focus on doing what I want, what I have energy for, without ever having to stress over a big decision.  The pressure to decide was causing me grief rather than the contentment I thought it would bring.

I don’t need to make a firm decision about my career future right now.  Decisions are big.  Choices are smaller.  So, rather than forcing myself to decide – NOW – life or death; I am stepping back and making it smaller – what is the next right choice?  Not a forever decision, but a present moment choice.  If that choice doesn’t work out the way I hoped it would, I will choose again in 10 seconds, or tomorrow, or next year.

Enjoy the summer!

Posted in Behaviour | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments