I refuse to succumb to the word “success” anymore. That word has been hijacked and polluted. Instead of compelling or inspiring to greatness, I see it harm and diminish both clients and friends. I’d rather talk about fulfillment, joy, meaning, or whatever word makes me and them smile longingly.

My personal favourite is Glorious…

I am sipping wine in a garden in Tuscany where the flowers tumble, one over the other, with little effort and great glory. They flirt with me, confident in their radiance and their right of place. I am struck with how bold these flowers are. Not just in their colour and form but in their conviction; to bloom and to be.

A rose is a rose…

It had been typical English weather for 5 days and counting. We were locked into cloud, fog and rain so dense that at 2 o’clock in the afternoon we had all the lights on. I looked up from my coffee, and just gazed at the dreary drizzle.

“Want to go watch the sunset?” my friend asked…

Such a calm comes over me as I peer into the profound depth of the night sky. You would think that lying under such limitlessness I would feel my own insignificance but, for reasons that I cannot explain, I feel instead such a profound sense of connection– I am flooded with a knowing that I have a place in the world. It is as if the act of looking at the stars makes me one of them.

…and then this young bridesmaid stomped by. Her expression was riveting. It had no doubt been a long day. Her stormy blue eyes said it all. Everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere. I watched in fascination as she gave full expression to her grumpy indignation. Her little feet stomped on the pavement.  Her eyes, shiny with tears, glared with outrage at no longer being the center of attention. Temper mixed with a little pout, all unedited, visible and raw.

Oh goodness, how pure and how glorious!

This winter has tested my stamina and optimism. Snow came early with its dark skies and alternating ice and wind storms and has not abated since. It has been cold long past the time I am able to hibernate; even the squirrels are confused by the lack of spring as they run the slippery snow slopes, their bodies demanding for what the weather will not give – reprieve.

 I am longing for the daffodils, those happy optimistic heads dancing, challenging the sun and my mood in a game of “who can be brighter”…

I was out for a walk. Spring finally tempting us with her promise. She is not here yet, and they are forecasting a few more weeks of cold winds, but if I tilt my head to the sun I can feel the warmth in the rays. There is a faint bird song in the trees. Caught in the transition between two seasons, these days are rarely remarked on. We are no longer in the grips of winter, not yet released by embrace of spring…

I had forgotten the soft feeling of ease that comes with the absence of the pressure of a deadline. I rediscovered the freedom of a soft space around me, where I could sit quietly in the midst of nothing and just allow time and the world to gently move around me. 

I remembered the quiet peace of no to-do list…

As I stood in front of a massive redwood I was surprised to find myself overwhelmed by emotion –tenderness. And in one graceful step, I reached my arms wide and leaned in. I just knew that I had to hug her. Luckily, in the depths of these forests, tree-hugging seems natural. People seem to get it. And so I did it.

I was looking at my feet as I picked my way over some jagged rocks, when, like a jack-in-the-box, this little one popped her head out at me. I stopped, startled and looked at this funny ball of white fluff with huge eyes. 

I was immediately entranced…

I have become a seeker of what’s right in the world. I have become a keeper of celebrations. I feel a calling now to notice and to hold up the ordinary moments that when viewed through the kaleidoscope of celebration show us that there is much right with the world. The vast quantity of things there are to celebrate has continued to shift my experience of the world. Even in the complexity of anger or grief, I can remember to breathe compassion …I breathe in and celebrate. I sometimes ask, demand and beg of myself to find the thing in any moment that I can celebrate.

Perhaps people run to remind themselves of what we all need to remember – we live in community, we win in community, all of us play a part in getting to the finish line and in the end, it is always, quite simply, about putting one foot in front of the other.

I’ll admit I have a sneaky suspicion that in becoming what I was striving for, I may have unwittingly written the climax to my story. I have achieved and …well, how do you escape the possibility that that was, quite possibly, all there is?

To “celebrate what’s right” is not about finding the good and the beautiful things, it is about the practice of CHOICE. For me, it is a discipline, when tempted by fears, familiar doubts, ego-based concerns to step away from the worry-fondling that we do, like small children stroking the satin lining on a stuffed rabbit’s ear, and chose something else. 

Can I live today with the soul purpose of connecting with those I meet in a moment of kindness? And you? Can you commit to this ultimate act of love?

I’ve decided that that is the folder I want to grow. Of course, that means that those are the moments that I must pay attention to, stay present in and notice in the first place. I must first be aware of my experience of bliss before I can relive it.

I wish you could see what I can see; that the only reason that you can’t fly, soar and rise above is that you haven’t opened your wings. You aren’t trusting that they are glorious and strong.

To Dance like nobody’s watching is to bow to the weight of judgment and criticism that others, and ultimately we have of ourselves. To Dance like your BFF is watching is to hold yourself with a tenderness and joy that allows for the full expression of who you are –foibles and fabulous rolled in one.

When did we start to value the carefully calibrated pretend moments instead of the spontaneous real moments?