Mary Oliver and the Moon.
The compliments that move me most.
I hope these words find you in a soft moment with yourself, or invite you into one.
Lately the work of my inner world has been layered. Mostly unlearning. Which, for me, means being revisited by old narratives and this time, responding differently.
Call it the effects of capitalism, innate perfectionism, or a result of growing up with positive reinforcement mostly coinciding with accolades. Whatever the cause, my behaviors for most of life have been motivated by how others will respond. At this point in my life, I am less interested in why I am this way. I am more curious about how I can continue to heal myself.
As Danielle LaPorte shared in a recent-ish podcast, “The more responsibility I take for loving my wounded-ness, the less conversations about ‘who did what’ need to happen.” It’s been a radical-feeling notion to put into practice - un-learning people pleasing and loving my wounded-ness, my human-ness.
For the sake of simplicity
Taking responsibility for my wounded-ness means creating the life I want to live. Living the life I want to live, means:
pausing to read poetry (at least) once daily. If this happens before my work day starts, it is probably better for everyone.
asking for what I need. More details about this one day maybe. Ya girl’s been doing it though.
moving my body however feels right. Some days, running. Most days, yoga. Mindful walks with my dog, every day.
showing up (with my partner, in my relationships, at work, with strangers) with integrity and kindness.
For me, peace is found in the details. Intentional choices about how I spend my time and what surrounds me while I do it. However simple, the small things stabilize my core and allow me to do whatever else I need to with love.
As I am unlearning perfectionism and performing, what success means for me also appears to be shifting. I used to believe that until I am a therapist, published author, and facilitating healing events, whatever else I do isn’t my purpose. (I hope you can also hear how polarizing and ridiculous this belief is).
Right now, I am an administrator and operations leader at a therapy practice. I write for myself, my family, my friends, and whoever you are. I play a large role in bringing together healing offerings at work. Much to my thirty-one year old surprise, these things aren’t what bring me the most fulfillment.
What gives?
The other week, a friend told me that they’ve been sitting down to read Mary Oliver more frequently and every time they do, they think of me. I noticed the joy that message brought me. That’s the feeling I’m going for.
A few days ago, a friend told me that when she saw the big bright moon, she thought of me. Because I often share stories about aligning intention-setting with naturally occurring cycles. The feeling that brought me, the same wild, gracious fulfillment. Hmmmm.
Curious, isn’t it? It has me wondering what it is that will really bring me alive in this life. I am realizing that maybe I don’t know what that is yet. Maybe it’s small or lower impact than I once thought. Maybe it’s quite different from what the narratives I was taught about success led me to choose.
In this process of unlearning, I am continually struck by how truly contradictory content, peaceful lives are.
Some kinda legacy
When my friends look up at the feminine force that guides the ebbs and the flows of our mother, the ocean. When my friends cozy up with words that remind them they are a part of nature too, and also only a part, and also an important part, these are moments when I am thought of.
I can think of no legacy I want more than inspiring my loved ones to pause and to notice beauty in themselves and in the world around them. I’d like to believe my beloved, that you’d take of yourself in these ways anyway. And if the way I live inspires five friends to participate in stillness and gratitude a smidge more frequently, my ripple effect in the world is what I want it to be.