Last week I was taking my morning walk after dropping my son at school. I was aware that my nervous system needed a little extra care that morning, as I reflected on how I'd taken a deeper dive than usual into the news the night before.

I was feeling the impact of so much up in our world, wanting to stay connected to what's happening and also feeling the gravity of it all.

So I went outside to ground, breathe fresh air, move my body and be in the sunshine.

I chose the route that goes by the elementary school, as it was arrival time and hearing the chattering of children as they walk by always delights me.

At the beginning of the year, my mom gifted me a week-long decluttering class, which we did together.

I am always eager to create more space in our home and savor the feeling that comes with releasing things and creating space (physically and energetically).

As I tend to do with new opportunities, I went in, all ready for massive change, sure that I’d walk out in a week with a home free and clear of any clutter and no paper piles…

And, then, as I often have to do with my enthusiastic self, I took a step back and got a little more reasonable about what I could actually make happen in a week (on top of work, parenting and life in general).

A week later, I felt pretty great about my space, and my progress, and the commitment I’d made to continue the process.

This is not the note I wanted to send.

That one’s been sitting open on my desktop, wanting to be sent but not ready.​

Here’s what happened.

I kept getting stuck – having pages and pages of ideas, of all of the things I’ve been wanting to write about. I'd managed to draft this one, but the words weren’t quite right and the message wasn’t quite landing in the way I intended.

When I do presentations or lead workshops, I ask people at the start to honor their body’s impulses and take care of what their body needs.

And I say specifically, if you need to pee, please leave the room and go pee.

I usually get a lot of chuckles, and a few startled faces. It does get attention – which is good – because it’s important.

So you might be asking, why is this important?

And what does not holding my pee have to do with my nervous system?

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Have you taken a moment to acknowledge and celebrate what you created, achieved, became, learned, walked through, grieved, or let go of?

I’ve been reflecting on the idea of integration quite a bit this week.

You may know that at the end of yoga practice, we do the pose called Savasana. Corpse pose (I know, awful sounding name).

This one is where you lie down on your back, arms by your sides, legs straight, letting yourself be (dead) still and quiet.

Just breathing.

Doing nothing.

Oh, these skies...

Each morning as I practice yoga, I look to the east and watch the sun rise as I move.

This morning a couple of days ago (see photo above) was a particularly beautiful one.

I used to look up in awe and think it was beautiful (I still do).

And certainly, recognizing and honoring beauty - in nature, in our spaces, in our hearts, in other humans - is a powerful practice, a healing practice.

Being on the mountain as the sun rises, moving my body in dynamic ways in nature, deepening my breath as I climb and touch rock that’s been here for generations longer than we can imagine, witnessing my son’s growth and capacity to climb and be surefooted and confident in uneven terrain, and sharing this beautiful nature space with loved ones…

This is soul nourishment and good medicine.

How are you doing?

I mean, really, how are you doing?

Recently I was asked to respond to this in a group I’m part of. The space was opened up to share our authentic answers, and to simply be witnessed in sharing it.

I want to share on how venturing into new terrain is a capacity building opportunity.

As I was preparing to begin our THRIVE program this month, and wanting to share some of the tips and tools leading up to the program, but feeling the time crunch, I got a tough love nudge from a mentor of mine to get started with sharing on video.

I’ll confess, I’ve been daydreaming about sharing educational video clips for months now. However, there’s been a lot of chatter to keep me from doing it.

You may be aware that I love Broadway musicals. And singing.

This weekend my son and I were listening to Ben Platt singing “You Will Be Found” (i.e. “You are Not Alone” – from Dear Evan Hansen).

And while I’m belting it out along with Ben, my son turns around and says with a bit of exasperation and a bit of a twinkle in his eye, “Mama, why are you crying at a SONG AGAIN?”

The truth is, when Ben Platt sings, I’m often moved to tears. And another truth is that I cry easily when music moves me (and I'm singing at full volume).

I laughed and said, “these are good tears -– just a good ol’ emotional release! And I’m also crying because this song’s message is one people SO need to hear, especially right now.”

The essential message is – “you are not alone.” A good message for these days – though it may not counter the actual feeling of solitude so many experience, whether from time to time or on a regular basis.

It was 1998 (whew, that sounds so long ago…).

I was standing in the feminine products aisle at Target. And I just crumbled, a puddle of tears right there in front of the tampons.

There were too many choices, so many options. Branded ones. Generic ones. Different price points. Sale prices.

The store so big. The lights so bright. The shelves so tall. The space between shelves so wide. The space between customers so distant.

Such a different world.

Just a week later, I would find myself catching my breath and swallowing tears in the bathroom of the restaurant where a family birthday party was being hosted.

The tables were filled with food, buffet style. The clanking of the huge glasses filled with unlimited refills on drinks is a sound I still remember.

Descending the 6 floor zig-zag staircase, where you could look all the way down to the bottom floor, I was moving to the rhythm of the prayers of the 90ish year old Dominican woman on the 6th floor.

She was gazing down from the guardrail, watching me descend and praying over me, every step I took.

I’d just left her apartment, after interviewing her for a public health project I was working on, something about Medicaid recipients’ perspectives on care.

We’d said goodbye, after a lovely interview with heartfelt connection. She was deeply grateful to have someone just listen, and had said sweet blessings to me as we hugged and said “adiós”.

This was close to 20 years ago now.

And yet, I can still remember her voice chanting over me, energetically cloaking me in her blessings and prayer… that I be safe, that I be well, that I be protected.

Earlier this week I was reading a NY Times article about one of the Capitol Police officers of color who met with the insurrectionists at the US Capitol on January 6. He shared the horrific mental and physical toll the incident took on him and other officers, especially those of color, and the multiple layers of trauma that unfolded for him in that space.

The account from the 6'7”, 13 year veteran of the police force, was powerful, the images painted by his words clear and impactful, in particular the visual of him sitting on the trash-strewn floor of the Capitol Rotunda with a group of weary and shocked officers.

It was their first break after battling much of the day, and as they talked of how they were hurting, he began crying about what had transpired and the feelings it awakened in him.

“If you appear to be broken or hurt, you’re weak”
He spoke of the stigma of seeking help, noting how much is needed for all they’ve been through, but that services are not being utilized.

“Nobody wants to talk about it. If you appear to be broken or hurt, you’re weak. Now people are wondering, ‘Can I even go tell them that I’m not OK without them taking my gun from me and losing my job?’”

In our most recent community healing retreat, one of our amazing women participants spoke of how she has always felt like Wonder Woman. But admitted that the past year has taken such a toll, and the grief, fear, overwhelm and pain have just taken over.

Can you relate?

You have the coffee mug, the keychain, the Halloween costume that reminds you of the Wonder Woman you are.

But then are there days in which you feel like the Wonder Woman in you has become a shell of who she was?

You know what it’s like to be so high functioning, capable, and organized. You are an incredibly competent human and leader who knows how to think critically. You’re the one everyone turns to when they need a clear head to help work through a big problem, or they need a leader to step in and get the job done, or guide a team out of a mess.

You’ve worn it like a badge. You love being the one your team, your family, turn to.

Blessings. And a big exhale. Today is Inauguration Day in the United States.

I am deeply aware of the energy stirring among our people in the US (and around the world) today – of relief, of hope, of grief and tension being exhaled and released with all that has built up and the wounds that have been activated in all that has been.

Today feels like a moment where we are crossing a threshold.

A threshold. A place or point of entering or beginning, a crossing over from where we have been to where we will go.

In my healing work with clients, there is a Medicine Walk process I guide people on, to explore – in partnership with Mother Nature – a question that they define, a question essential to their journey of healing and transformation.

Here we are in early December. In the northern hemisphere, the temperatures are dropping. The leaves have fallen. The ground is cold.

This winter cycle in nature begs us to turn into quiet, to slow down, to listen inward. It’s a time of magic, of darkness, of myths, of stories told by the fire.

And yet, often these times are busy and bustly, filled with activity, somewhat stressful as people prepare for the holidays, and then delight-filled with the lights, decorations, holidays and festivities…

But then here we are in 2020… most of us are doing this time, or these holidays – whatever we celebrate – a bit differently.

I have heard from so many the sadness and frustration about not being able to be with loved ones, or having to negotiate new “rules” for being together, or the fear of taking measured risks to have some connected time.

Today is Thanksgiving here in the United States, one of my favorite holidays.

We may not be gathering around the same tables with the same people as we have in the past. Or we may.

There may be more family drama because of this. Or perhaps less.

We might be alone, or in smaller groups. Or we might be ordering in, or cooking simply.

Let us not forget that some are hungry, moreso than last year.
(Feeding America does beautiful work addressing hunger and food insecurity, in case you're looking to give).

I’ve received so many messages from individuals and businesses of all kinds, acknowledging the holiday, offering a giving of thanks, in spite of all that humanity is moving through.

And certainly, gratitude, even (especially) in difficult times, is essential and nourishing, healing and mind-changing.

Gratitude practices are incredibly powerful. And the research shows it.

What a year (or four) it’s been. These are intense times.

Some of us are feeling challenged to find or keep our center. Some of us are managing through alright but keeping emotions at a distance. Some are doing pretty well and keeping up on self-care and connectedness in ways that are sustaining, but maybe there is still a sense of anxiety and inner stirring.

The tension is palpable here in the United States – leading up to this week in particular. There isn’t anyone I speak with who isn’t feeling it.

Our collective is being called upon to pay close attention and to do some serious repair and mending work.

There is so much “up” and so much that needs attention, from COVID to racial/ social justice, to rising political and social tensions and our beloved planet.

There is much to DO. I know I receive multitudes of emails a day of what actions I can take, where I can put my money, how I can be involved. And I feel the pull, as I’m sure you do, to be responsive, to DO, to ACT, to help make a difference and make this world better, in any and every way we can.

I hope this note finds you navigating these wild times with deep breaths and beauty in your heart. Sending you waves of both breath and beauty as I start this note…

Years ago, while I was navigating one of the health crises that led me onto a deep and long healing path, I remember despairingly asking the questions, “Am I going to die from this? What am I supposed to DO here? What am I supposed to GET from this?”

Years later, when I was doing my training in energy medicine work, I learned to dive deeper, and steadier, exploring answers to different questions, like, “What do you need to take a closer look at here that you’ve not been paying attention to? What is this health issue and crisis saying to you about what needs shifting in your life?”

In these wild and trying times, do you find yourself holding your breath, maybe a bit more than usual?

So often we hold our breath, in times of challenge, stress, and even trauma.

Whether working the front lines, stuck at home attempting to work with restless children needing attention, navigating new financial hardships or simply reeling from the uncertainty of what is and what will be, life feels stressful and demanding for many of us right now.

Since this pandemic began, and more recently in looking at “returning to normal” or re-opening, I have been ever more aware of this collective breath holding:
waiting until that moment we can re-emerge from our homes, socialize, hug each other, go to restaurants, remove our masks…