I received a writing prompt that has me musing.

It suggested that I draw a giraffe with my eyes closed.

I found the suggestion rather astonishing, who would propose such a frivolous thing? How could this possibly lead to anything meaningful? Surely there are other more impactful things to tend to right now?…

Good morning Sweetheart

I used to greet her every morning with these words before bending to scoop up her little body. I focused on my hands, willing them to speak of reassurance and comfort. From the day I rescued her, abandoned and near death in the Baja desert, she was dependent on me to give her life and love. 

Turns out, I would also be dependent on her for the very same things. 

Wholeness, peace, positive energy- I so desperately wish it for the world right now. But I believe that achieving it all depends on what we hold within ourselves—our peace with who we are.
Would we not start to heal the world if we first cleaned up the self-talk of hatred and pretend as we looked at our own faces? 

This year we had a glorious Canadian fall - full of sunshine, bright blue skies and warm breezes. The leaves danced on the trees well past the date that we should have been raking them into big brown compost bags. I took time to sit in a sunny spot with a warm cup of coffee in hand, laughing and enjoying the reprieve. “Glorious day, isn’t it?” we said to one another; we were giddy knowing that winter would be weeks in coming.

The next day it snowed.

I am no longer in the world of 30-something-vibrant-flat-stomached-world-achievers (heck I am about to enter the world of 50 something) and suddenly I do not register in people’s awareness as I walk by. I am no longer the sassy upstart that people used to see when they looked at me. 

Am I having a midlife crisis?

I always thought those were reserved for unfulfilled, uninspired people who sit themselves down in a moment of reckoning and wonder "what went wrong?" and "what has it all been for?"

Surviving is a short-term strategy, necessary in times of stress. It places one foot in front of the other, with the primary aim of keeping all systems “a go” in order to get to the next day.

Survival mode depends on messages from our threat-seeking radars - we are constantly attuning to what might knock us off track and measure success by making it to the finish line.

Figs, on the other hand, are a part of thriving; where our radars don’t seek threats but opportunities, moments that contribute to our flourishing, a state where we are filled with the vigorous energy of growth, expansion, fulfillment and joy…

On safari in Botswana. Everything is primal and basic and within hours I can feel my senses and my instincts sharpen. Before sunrise, we are bundled up, and head out to witness life as it has always happened. I watch the world begin to wake, the birds, the grasses, the big cats. It is such a privilege to participate in the magical and mundane; a mother giraffe and her babes are on the move…

The proclamation makes me smile.

As I enter the room my new portable Bose speaker greets me by announcing that it is “ready to connect”. It will even remind me a few moments later, without judgement or frustration, that it is still there, open and waiting for the moment that I may want to pair with it and play some music…

Maybe it was because of the long flight, the punishing jet lag and my constant refrain, "it will all feel better once I get there," but when I opened the little fridge and noticed that someone had deliberately replaced the milk with almond milk, decanted in a pretty glass jar, my hand suddenly lay itself on my heart, and I gasped.

I waved goodbye to my friends and headed off, in search of the villa. After only 5 minutes of navigating the medieval streets of Orvieto (Italy), things weren't going well. I stopped, took a deep breath, stared at my map, then turned both it and myself to face a new direction. Just when I thought I was back on track, my right turn snaked left and then left again, leaving me far from where I should be. I grew increasingly frustrated as I bumped my suitcase over the cobblestones….

My list of to-dos has gotten out of hand. There hasn’t been a day in the last few months where I’ve crossed everything off the list. The overwhelm is, well, overwhelming. I am splitting at the seams.

I’ve been reading about the start-up world where “minimum viable products” are released to clients early on to engage quickly so that important learning and relationships can develop. Instead of aiming for a final product, they aim for a “launch and learn series” (you know, all those updates!) with an assumption that the “perfect end product” is less important than the ever-striving towards one.

What I find most intriguing about these unprecedented times is that it is not only the world that is in a state of "not known or done before"; it is also ME. I am unprecedented. How intriguing. This reminded me of a time when I made a conscious choice to step into a version of myself that I had "not known or done before"...

Everything plunges into darkness. For the first few minutes, I am disoriented.

Slowly, the family emerges, one by one, around the kitchen table. Candles are lit, a game is found, a cozy blanket covers two of us, a bag of chips gets passed around.

The intimacy of candlelight. We sit close to one another, our faces barely lit. The light softens our expressions and holds us close.

I love how audacious spring is. No matter the harsh season that preceded, one day, it suddenly, unabashedly, tumbles forward, with tender shoots of possibility; hope personified. It never looks back, and it never holds back.

Am I headed in the right direction? I don't know.

When will this all end? I don't know.

Should I be doing something differently? I don't know.

Will I handle being cooped up all winter? I don't know.

Will Covid bring the incubation time for a new creative start? I don't know.

I am hanging in space in a moment of perfect stillness, no resistance, suspended between my launch point and my destination.

The point after my in-breath and before my out-breath.

There is no rushing.

I am lingering in the memory of what it feels like to be held.

This time of physical distancing has felt cruel to me; I miss the feeling of someone leaning into me, and I, into them, our synchronizing breath connecting us in a symbiotic heartbeat.

Joni Mitchell made a mess in aisle 6.
It’s early morning at Whole Foods, we are choreographed in a dance of space and calm. The music that someone has intentionally chosen reminds me of carefree, simple times - you know, The Beatles, Carole King, Mamas and the Papas… singing tunes.

I hadn’t noticed it until I realized I was humming…

I woke up this morning with a sense of dread. I was greeted by the voice in my head saying “I don’t think you’re doing this right”. This feeling followed me around yesterday too. I remember coaching my clients just a few weeks ago… “everything is going to change, what we do and how we do it is going to shift. Be prepared to let “the way it is” go and accept that we are going to create a new normal”.

-and then the world shifted -