Emily Oehler, Author at Golden Acorns

November 2025 Quote: Hospitality and Angels

Posted on November 30, 2025November 30, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For November 2025, my quote was: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for in doing so, some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

This quote comes from the Bible, Hebrews 13:2. It found me as I stood in my friend’s farmhouse kitchen. A friend who decades ago became family and now faced the black hole of the sudden death of her mother. The pastor picked the passage for the funeral. For hours over an October weekend, I stood in the well-used farm kitchen as loved ones came by to not simply show their respects, but to soak up the lingering presence of a woman who welcomed, fed, and resorted hundreds of people with her faith-filled cooking. Using this quote seemed only fitting for my focus throughout November, a month of gratitude and hospitality.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart this month regarding “show hospitality to strangers”:

To be concerned, grieving, furious—and still be present and grateful to the quicksilver whimsey of a chipmunk darting under the porch… that’s you winning
The process of letting go makes room for something new
We’re all just walking each other home
This is the baptism of true feeling: The deeper we go, the slower the world; the slower the world, the softer our way
To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord
You’re always becoming more yourself

It’s pitch black at 4:30am as I sit to write this. Unable to sleep. Toes cold. Body cozy in a favorite lime green fleece.

As I read and reread these few quotes – a bit lost for what to write about them – I notice it.

Stillness.

No sound. No movement.

Stillness.

Darkness pushed back by the glow of my monitor.

Stillness

A sense of being held. Emersed in a tranquil moment muffled from the external chaos of the world and internal clutter of my mind.

Just quiet stillness except for my large exhale.

I close my eyes. Relax in my chair. And simply notice my breath, in and out.

A small grin as I thought beyond the moment, to the month.

So many everyday events. Mindless habits, routine activities, detached encounters. Noise. Bricks laid building a life. Moving forward yet not really going anywhere.

Between them the mortar.

Another sigh exhaled

Oh, the mortar.

The space between.

The hug. The check-in. The encouragement. The card filled with love. The soul bearing phone call. The cardinal. The humorous meme. The compliment. The tears. The prayers. The sunrise. The text. The car. The outburst of laughter. The thank you. The acceptance. The dog. The walk. The colored leaves swirling. The meal at the kitchen table.

Another sigh exhaled.

So many angels.

Grief Guide

Posted on November 23, 2025November 23, 2025 by Emily Oehler1 Comment

Today felt circular, complex, and connectional. Like a standing in a wide-open field and seeing a new constellation take shape in the sky. Blinking and it was gone, but the warm sensation of wonder remained inside me.

I sat in my favorite pew in the little quaint white chapel of Westminster Presbyterian Church as sun pierced through the wooden shades. Before the service started, I turned to the back of the space, and whispered, “Hey dad.” Acknowledging his remains – and ever presence – in the small columbarium. Then jubilantly sang, “Come Sing, O Church, In Joy.” The sermon focused on searching for beautiful and truthful words, said plainly.

Next, I shared my words as part of a three-person panel on how our faith fit into my career journey. How did it guide me or impact my career decisions? Where had there been conflict between faith and my job? Where and how did I work with others with a different faith, and what was that like? What would I offer to folks to think about in terms of faith and work? Big questions I’d honestly not thought of before, and candidly, had a hard time working through in preparation for the Sunday morning discussion in our adult Christian formation program. What I sought were lightning bolt moments. What I found were small whispers of light in my own constellation….

How faith and career were rooted in a family legacy of stories of how various loved ones demonstrated their faith, such as my Grandmother Oehler who as an elementary school teacher would strong arm local dentists and physicians to care for students in need of care in her class… How my parents encouraged me to boldly use my God given talents… How there was an element of faith as I stepped into each new opportunity at work, such as starting my consulting career with Army’s program to support families of the fallen during OIF/OEF.
How the Bible’s guidance to care for the “least of these” called on me to mentor and advocate for those outside the typical corporate structure—to try to help level the playing field and empower those with their own unique and beautiful constellation to shine more brightly in a way that worked for them and others needed too.
How learning about my co-worker’s faith – from Judaism to Muslim and Methodist – deepened our relationships, made me a more aware leader, and grew my own faith.
How helping severely wounded combat Soldiers tell their complex stories changed how I saw and showed up in the world.
How my intention for 2025 – “help authentically” (taped above my computer camera) – guided me in ways I never could have imagined this past year as I got on numerous calls the past 10 months with clients, coworkers, and friends regarding contract cuts, layoffs, and career loss. So much grief.

On a day that started talking about faith and work… it seemed fitting to close it with the start of a new chapter in my career. This afternoon I attended my final class to be a Grief Guide through a three-month program offered by The Grieverly. As I explained in the one-hour grief session I hosted for my capstone project, “When asked what led me to become a Grief Guide, the best answer I’ve found is, ‘I had a feeling and listened to it.’”

The first portion of this final class featured a gratitude ritual, then a 10-minute break. During the break I received a text from my brother. While I’m typically phone free for my class, I picked it up. There I saw him wearing one of our Dad’s stoles. A white one for Christ the King Sunday. Tears of joy and grief fell as Dad once again showed up to encourage my growth, my career, and my faith as I stepped forward into the unknown.

For our final course activity, we took 20 minutes to write a letter to our future self as a Grief Guide. And, in keeping with this morning’s sermon on plain, beautiful, truthful words, I boldly share mine:

Emily,

You know. You are grounded in a legacy of faith. You are touched and you are called. The path is there – always – regardless of its line of sight. Feel your roots. Welcome others to the protection, cover of support of your branches. Let them rest – and rest with them. The care is not yours alone to give.

You know. The seasons will change, and in that there is sadness, wonder, relief, and joy. All are good. All should be accepted, felt, and allowed to move on.

You know. You have a call, a skill, an intuition, a spirit. Pause and play with her. Open your hand to invite rather than clinch tightly. Let her flow and flow with her. Feel her breeze. Sway.

You know. There is a spark. While strong and steady it dims from exhaustion, doubt, outside expectations, internal pressures, habits, and protection. Feed it. Let it rise and shine. Watch as it gets thin and fades. Draw up the renewal and renewed energy of your community of women—each gifted and big hearted.

You know. Stop doing. Listen. And listen more. Step forward. You are protected as you protect others. You are loved, appreciated, and supported. Fully accept it and bring that space and experience to others on your path.

You know.

Welcome it.

Welcome others.

With love and ease,

Emily

October 2025 Quote: Be Still… and Practice

Posted on November 2, 2025November 2, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For October 2025, my quote was: “Be still… and practice.”

October always marks my new year. Crisp air that reawakens my spirit. Color kissed leaves that make me pause in awe. Sweeping wind that moves me forward. Nature’s way of shifting me into a discerning state: reflect on my year, check in with myself, and plant some intentional personal seeds to grow for the new year. I also try to connect more with those I love who feed my soul with goodness, curiosity, and joy. They are my fertilizer.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart as I was still… and practiced being me:

Love is the only revenge
How do we live in such a way that the wonder of feeling out fuels the pain of breaking?
Each of us a tiny well striving to find and ride the Universal current without perishing
Notice. Breathe. Allow.
The most profound thing you said this weekend was, “what is next?”
How are we going to live a life we look forward to looking back at?
Sprit lead me to where my trust has no borders
To new beginnings and beyond
All that you touch you change; All that you change changes you; The only lasting truth is change; God is change
Discern what belongs in the present and what echoes from the past
My actions are my only true belongings
Jumping for joy is good exercise
Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach
I’m grateful I get to know what it’s like to be in the circle of your shine
Jump before you fall
We’re better off for all that we let in
You are that which you are seeking

Along with the weather change, nature was the backdrop to my month, especially farms. Every where I went, I felt grounded to the earth – as if my roots were soaking up nutrients for my soul.

Be Still… and Practice in Community

I pulled the quote for this month from the title of a weekend retreat I created and led for Westminster Presbyterian Church. Specifically, for its members who are more senior and also single. On a farm in western Maryland with an open vista and mountains in the distance we joined in community to “be still… and practice” with our minds, emotions, bodies, life, and faith. It truly was a gift to start my month with such wise, heart-open, playful people. In between neuroscience and neuroplasticity we breathed like lions, named our rocks, prayed in the dark, and sang in the silo. In the evening, I snuck out – as I’ve been apt to do at every church retreat since childhood – and laid on the grass under the glitter of a clear stary night. “Hey Dad…” my conversation began. This stillness brought connection, and also practice with grief – a lingering state of “and” that tethers love to loss.

Be Still… and Practice in Nature

Mid-way through October, mom and I went on a spontaneous adventure to North Carolina. We ate our way across the state visiting family and friends… and ran into trolls at Dix Park. We wandered through massive park and on wooded trails to meet these giant wooden friends. I felt a bit like I’d stepped into the book “Where the Wild Things Are.” (Mom’s favorite.) It was a delight – true childlike wonder – to run and play hide and seek with 20 foot tall wooden trolls… and then I laid in a hammock looking up at the sky-high pine trees. Their wisdom swayed around me as they danced with the wind.

After being grounded in the forest, mom and I took a higher perspective at the North Caroline State Fair. The serine evergreens replaced by more lights and sounds than we could consume. Total sensory overload as we took a birds-eye view on the Fair’s “sky high” gondola ride. On our way out of the Fair, we made a last stop in the “ag exhibit” – like a detox from all the afternoon’s sights and sounds. Inside we delighted in all the earth provides thanks to farmers’ expertise, persistence, and faith. A 2,300 pound pumpkin. Five rambunctious piglets with their worn-out mom. More than 20 kinds of sweet potatoes and nearly as many kinds of apples. Milk and beef cows. Roosters and hens. And the little royalty of it all, a queen bee with her hive.

Be Still… and Practice with Faith

On my birthday I once again found myself in the “and” of life with my little sister from college, at her family’s farm, following her mother’s death. “There is no way to count how many people my mom let live here with us over the years. Farm workers. Our extended family. Truck drivers. Orphaned children. So many.” “The farmhouse was home to everyone who walked in the door.” “Oh man, her biscuits were the best. She made a tray of ‘em each morning to feed everyone working here.” “She was like a mom to me.” “The orange room was mine room for several years… Hey! That was my room too!” Story after story family, friends, and neighbors smiled at they spoke broken hearted about Willie, a woman who mothered a community.

I stood in the kitchen, the heart of everyone’s memories, and listened to person after person spoke of her lived faith. I heard of the meals she made and the canned goods she shared. I heard of the acceptance she gave her son, grandson, and community as she worked to have a part of the AIDS quilt displayed in the county. I heard of the “least of these” she cared for inside her home for months and years at a time. At one point I looked out the kitchen window and saw the black angus cows gathered in a field close to the house. I wasn’t sure if they too had stories to share or simply wanted to gather close in community, feeling the farm’s loss. All that Willie harvested – people, animals, and plants – connected.

As I listened, I thought of dad and all the stories he heard as a Presbyterian pastor. While I think he had many talents, I think funerals were his greatest gift…weaving love and the gift of the resurrection into broken hearts. As I took notes and worked on a eulogy for the family, I felt him with me. A calm presence that helped me be fully in the moment so I could absorb and reflect back the grace, grit, compassion, and care that emanated from this faith-filled woman.

Be Still… and Practice with Life

Upon reflection, I realized it wasn’t the quote that matters, but rather each word…

Be.

Be in the moment. Be in the emotions. Be with life. Be with loss. Be with an open heart. Be with wonder. Be with laughter. Be with tears. Be with others. Be with yourself. Be a safe place. Be grateful.

Still.

Still sing when your heart breaks. Still play as an adult. Still star gaze. Still soak up a sunset. Still listen to the cows moos. Still dance with the fire ants. Still pray. Still hope. Still seek the trolls. Still ride the ride. Still pass on family traditions. Still welcome a stranger. Still hug everyone you love. Still bake the biscuits.

And.

And know you’re not alone. And that this too shall pass.

Practice.

Practice planting. Practice nourishing. Practice growing. Practice sharing. Practice being your better self in this moment, and the next, and the next, and the next.

September 2025 Quote: What is the Gift You Carry in Your Soul?

Posted on September 28, 2025September 28, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For September 2025, my quote was: “What is the gift you carry in your soul?”

September had soul-full book end milestones.

It began with presentations on how to be more mindful in order to build a brand that is comfortable and aligned to you, not a mass-produced corporate model.

It closed in a circle of strangers crying barefoot on the grass next to the Washington Monument.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart as I thought about the gifts in my soul:

Fortunately, I’ve learned not to listen to my mind all the time
Sit with it
I will seek your good
Wiggle your butt and get to work
What am I in service of?
Longing is sacred, it tells us what mattered
Slowness is not less than
A beautiful quilt of beings
Who is your choir?
Embrace mystery
We are part of the universal tapestry
Community transforms grief from isolation into belonging
Sorry is not a weakness, but a thread of love
The healing wisdom of darkness and dirt

Three times this month different accounts at my company asked me to talk to emerging leaders about how to build a personal brand and executive presence. First, I make sure everyone has a common understanding of brand. Brand is not a logo. Brand is what folks feel about you based on interactions with every part of you over time, from conversations and texts to broken promises. Your brand is how they feel due to the way you consistently do, or don’t, show up. Next, I talk about different ways to demonstrate the brand they want others to experience through “mindful presence” – from how you show up online in a remote work environment to active participation in a meeting (voice, questions, listening, body). Finally, I try to make it clear that brand is not about copying an influencer, mentor, or boss. It’s about knowing who you are and how you want to be in the world. How to express your innate gifts, values, and learned expertise in all you do.

Additionally, various career-centered coaching calls this month contained conversations that touched on the hunt for alignment between paycheck and purpose. What were they good at… what did they want to bring about… how did they want to be… and how to put it all together. Basically, work was work. Transactional exchanges, system habits, and ladders to climb. There was a desire for different. To be doing something that satisfies their soul. Purposeful work.

At months end, an invitation from a friend reminded me why soul-centered work – using your gifts for a greater good – is transformational.

“Let me tell you how this all started…,” the host began as 20 people stood in a circle next to the iconic Washington Monument just after daybreak on a Saturday. He shared that that more than 40 Soldiers in the 1-17 Infantry Battalion were killed in Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. A Google search I did later revealed that this battalion suffered the highest casualty rate of any U.S. infantry battalion in the War in Afghanistan.

“It was a lot to process, and they wanted to honor them. So, each day, the remaining Soldiers would gather, say the names of the fallen, and then go for a run together.” And then added, “That is the origin story of Wear Blue: Run to Remember.”

“We are hosting our run, walk, and yoga remembrance in recognition of National Gold Star Mother’s Day that’s tomorrow. Mothers – and loved ones – who’s children died in service of our country–from training to combat.”

“On this day I remember…” One by one, each person in our circle spoke this phrase and shared a name of a fallen service member. I remembered 1LT Thomas Martin, killed in action at 27 years old, whose “Wear Blue” photo card I held in my hand, and also my dad.

This “circle of lost souls” as it was called generated not only tears, but connectional compassion.

A young woman crying comforted by a Veteran who walked through the circle to hug the hurting stranger.

An Afghanistan service member with his 2-year-old daughter on his shoulders building a new life in the United States.

Active duty services members carrying the legacy of a lost – but not forgotten – battle buddy.

Me recalling the loved ones who called the Army’s Long Term Family Case Management call center, where I was a consultant, looking for answers and help following the death of their Soldier during the height of OIF/OEF. “Ma’am, none of the case managers are available. They are on the phone with other family members. I’d love to hear about your son while you hold…,” I offered one mother, and then listened for 30 minutes as she shared her love.

Strangers in community sharing our souls.

Now that is a true gift.

August 2025 Quote: Sunshine

Posted on August 31, 2025August 31, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

Only one or two other times have I picked 1 word for my monthly phrase. I saw many phrases but they felt forced, judgy, and heavy. Or, perhaps that’s what I was feeling all arAs I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For August 2025, my quote was: “Sunshine.”

Only one or two other times have I picked 1 word for my monthly phrase. I saw many phrases but they felt forced, judgy, and heavy. Or, perhaps that’s what I was feeling all around me and it tainted what I saw? So, I sat, reflected, and sensed my phrase from within. Sunshine arose, and it felt good in every way. Brightness to invade the dark corners. Vitamins for my body. Warmth for my soul.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart as I lived in the “sunshine”:

A radiant, glitter-covered menace of joy
But a holy thing to love what death can touch
Grief dares us to love one more
An ongoing exchange with the great body of life
We are most alive at the threshold between loss and revelation
We are designed to encounter this life with amazement and wonder, not resignation and endurance
Everything is a gift, and nothing lasts
Grief is akin to praise
I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just to the length of it; I want to have lived the width as well
Finally on my way to yes
Worth and welcome
Holy ground of sorrow
Soul activism
Embrace the amazing chance we have to be alive
I consider eternity as another possibility
I want to step through the door full of curiosity wondering

August, as it always does, brought relaxation with our annual family beach vacation. Sunshine fully present around me.

I welcomed the daybreak of sunshine a few mornings on the beach, standing with others like the angels each day in the movie “City of Angels.” Cool blues and lavenders snuck across the morning sky as the gold slowly merged. I protected against sun’s fierceness slathered in SPF under a tent and in the ocean. Bold yellow at noon-day peak. I honored its spirit at day’s end. Oranges and pinks as the bold ball sank at sunset.

The stillness in the sun’s presence soothed me… and illuminated just how depleted I was.

Tense.

Worn out.

Forlorn.

Frustrated.

Angry.

Sad.

Lost.

There was no single cause, more like depletion from a thousand paper cuts.

Tearful clients.

Fearful friends.

Panicked coworkers.

Ailing loved ones.

So many in my community unsettled, vulnerable, broken, and in need.

But the sunshine persisted, as she always does.

Light in the darkness.

Nourishment.

Hope.

I soaked it all up.

Recharged.

Recentered.

Renewed.

Reinvested.

Reinvigorated.

No, the sunshine didn’t change the factors that weighted down my bone and being. But her rays bore in and bolstered me. Filling up the marrow of optimism in my bones.

My time in the sun’s cocoon reoriented me… rather, reminded me that rest is restorative. And essential. Our nervous systems (brain, body, soul) require time to calibrate, process, and renew—to be still in the frenzy. Staying in hyperdrive or constantly being hypervigilant is not sustainable.

The sun has the moon.

And… with the new day comes new possibilities.

A Belief from Leadership Presence

Posted on August 24, 2025August 24, 2025 by Emily Oehler1 Comment

I regularly train, coach, and mentor executives on executive presence. The allusive trait tossed out in annual evaluations rather than meaningful growth-centered feedback or the aspirational goal of an emerging leader as if it’s a one-size-fits-all check list.

Yes, there are things a person can learn more about and practice to convey a more traditional styled leadership model (confident speaker, connected extrovert, business acumen, technical expertise, active listening, mindfulness)… but then there are the intangibles.

What I’ve come to realize over the years is that “presence” is a felt thing, both by yourself and those you interact with as a leader. It’s less about how you speak or the ideas you share, and more about the consistent emotions you generate. Emotions of internal alignment for yourself (showing up with intention and attention), as well as how others feel with you and the emotions they recall days, months, or years later because of their interaction with you.

For me, the leaders I am most grateful for gave me the trifecta of leadership presence: knowledge, experience, and emotion. Some of what they shared (their presence) became embedded in my DNA. I couldn’t shake it off. It bubbles up when I most needed it but in a way that was an essence of “them” yet distinctively now me. A bit like pixie dust—magically elevating my own personal leadership presence.

Last week, I spent a lot of time thinking about leadership as I prepared to receive one of the City of Alexandria’s Chamber of Commerce’s first “40 over 40” award for scholastic, professional, and community leadership. An unexpected award for decades of an active leadership presence across all of my communities.

What came to mind on award day were the many leaders who actively gave me their presence… passing on and demonstrating wisdom, standards, encouragement, vulnerability, feedback, listening, and possibilities. And as a by-product the corresponding emotions that became more present in myself… confidence, calm, acceptance, security, playfulness, curiosity, boldness, and ease.

Belief as a Leader

All of which culminated into belief that as a leader…

I am more than what I can imagine by myself (so listen to and explore what others see you are capable of)
My thinking is essential in the room, and to share it.
There are always alternate paths to explore.
Doubt is OK, check in on it, but don’t let it stop you.
My gut, instincts, and faith are valuable in decision making.
I must lead publicly and privately to affect change, support others, and address imbalances.
That I can make hard decisions and be OK… and that my worse decisions are made in fear, hunger, and isolation.
True impactful teamwork is only possible through playfulness.
Words are important and silence is centering.
“I messed up” and “I don’t know” must be shared openly.
I should ask the questions–all of them
Meaningful relationships make all things possible.
My path is my choice… and scenic detours and rest stops are helpful.

To those who poured into me throughout my professional and volunteer career, thank you.

Presence

Your presence in my head and heart helped me grow beyond what I saw for myself, and I’m grateful for the leadership presence I now have.

Presence to dream with boldness.

Presence to listen with heart.

Presence to act with determination.

Presence to learn more.

Presence to guide others with compassion.

Presence to pause with gratitude.

Simply put, presence to be more of me in the moments that matter.

A Walk with Dad

Posted on August 11, 2025August 11, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

Yesterday I enjoyed a long walk on the beach with dad.

Nearly a 90 minute discussion.

Questions. Ponderings. Silence.

The usual when we’re together.

We strolled slowly observing all that nature offers … a moon that manages our water from a far… an ocean that houses many and provides delicious food to others… clouds that delight and warn… soft soothing sand that can turn into hot coals under the sun… sea oats that wave like plumes on a Derby Day hat.. the cry of a seagull and a squeal of a child both in delight from a beach snack.

As we neared the island’s end, we moved toward the water; a new section exposed at low tide. There our conversation quieted as the hunting began.

Sea shells.

Some exposed. Some hidden.

Various colors and sizes.

Unique sea offerings, each beautiful.

“Oh, look at this one!”

“Check this one out.”

“Ooooooh, look what I found”

“Isn’t this one beautiful?”

And so it went till I had two handfuls and whispered, “this is enough.”

I looked around the shoreline and saw a raised mound of sand. Perfect. Smooth. Just above the rising tide.

I positioned each shell. Moved a few around. Looked again as I squatted at the water’s edge.

It was good.
It was right.
It was fitting.

I stood and watched as the water encroached more and more.

Our walk was nice; they always are.

There is both a sense of being buoyed up and anchored down when I’m with him.

Sure of self. At ease. Loved.

My tears poured, salting the waves that washed apart my shrine as I stood alone.

“I miss you”

July 2025 Quote: Being Where My Feet Are

Posted on August 1, 2025August 1, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For July 2025, my quote was: “Being Where My Feet Are.”

I’m once again in physical therapy. Adjusting and rebuilding my body through dry needling, physical manipulation, stretches, exercises, stretchy bands, weights, and the damn foam roller. Such precise focus on my body – and getting the chain of events to work better together with intention and muscle memory – shows me just how disconnected I am from it. I wear my body every day, but with such little thought.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart as I lived in the “backcountry of my soul”:

It may take a lifetime to unwind you
Grief reveals and reweaves
Beneath the ache, something radical is at work
Chaos wrapped in melody
In spaces where difference and tenderness can coexist
On the day each of you were born, you were covered in the dust of the first-day creation; you were forged out of the most brilliant of celestial fires; never take for granted all of that radiates in you; you were born to blaze – don’t forget
A vigilant witness to the magic of everything
Teach us how to live tender but not undone; Help us carry the weight of this world to you—not on us
Become a living witness to the million beautiful curiosities of your life
There are some people who have sun inside
Someone left fingerprints on your heart so brightly, the light still catches on them
That you lived a moment so fully its echo still finds its way back into our lungs
God, please put my feet on the path of your will
Change is grief
We write to taste life twice—in the moment and in retrospect
Plant seeds in the garden of your own mind

If physical therapy, yoga, and mindfulness have taught me anything it’s just how disconnected I am from myself. How much of my body and mind are on autopilot … or checked out completely. These practices also show me – time and time again – just how much wisdom is in my body.

All that it stores. All that it communicates. All that it makes possible.

It’s an immense source of knowledge, as well as an articulate warning system.

My most priceless commodity that I often lug around rather than listen to.

These mind-body centered practices also show me how uncomfortable it can be, to be with myself – my body. Each intentional visit shows me a new internal landscape. The aches I find from loss. The emotional landmines waiting patiently. The pockets of pixie dust left by love. The darkness of doubt. The electrical crackle of new ideas. The constant, soft murmur of faith. The deep in my DNA exhaustion. The tension-formed boulders I carry. The fragments of others I store for rainy days. The golden thread that ties me from the earth to the stars, connected to something more than the arteries, veins, organs, muscles, and bones that are my being.

My body is both a map of and guide to my life’s journey.

A map in constant formation.

Storing the past. Absorbing the now. Adjusting for next.

The map of a body – a being – that is still evolving.

Here’s to being a better map reader.

Practice

Posted on July 20, 2025July 20, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

I started yoga about 5 months after my father died. I recently got an email from the studio congratulating me for completing 100 yoga classes.

Getting to this point has been, well, a bit mystical–and very educational.

Following dad’s death after a decade with Alzheimer’s and four months with my mom, I sought to re-enter my life, but nothing felt comfortable. My old routine felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone I wasn’t familiar with anymore.

For a while I thought, “give it time, you’ve been through a lot” or “be patient, it’ll come back to you.” What the “it” was, I wasn’t sure.

Then it began.

The whispering to and from my body.

“Settle in and get reacquainted with yourself.”

The pull to and from my spirit

“Be still. Slow down and just be with yourself.”

Then finally, the acceptance to listen to where my inner golden acorn wanted me to be.

“OK, I’ll give it a try.”

While I’d not had a practice before this, every cell in my being called out for yoga. It was a pretty odd sensation… a gravitation pull… a force at work at my cellular level.

I questioned it.

Avoided it. Mocked it. Dismissed it.

But in the end, I trusted it.

I found a local studio I could walk to. Signed up for a class. And began my practice.

Throughout my 100 hours, I’ve learned a lot. More than just poses…

My tongue is a stress barometer. The more force it exerts on the roof of my mouth the more I’m trying to control the situation (needlessly).
Breathing is magic, and a full body activity. It’s also the only thing that moves my shoulders away from my ears when I’m tense (and when I don’t realize I am).
The concept of a “practice” gives me permission to wander through my body and see what it’s up for each day with anticipation and enjoy whatever occurs—rather than judge it against myself or others.
Being upside down can be just the perspective that is needed to recalibrate in world of chaos.
Balance is not about being still but rather about making micro movements to stay steady.

As I’ve shared with some, starting yoga in my 50’s has been a humorous and humbling experience. But I cannot deny that what guided me there was right. I needed to get to know the new me. As I explored her through a steady yoga practice, I found more patience, acceptance, questions, bravery, tenderness, and peace. She was different… is different… and she’s OK.

More grounded in some ways while untethered in others.

Standing, breathing, stretching, falling, and practicing yoga has helped me realize that while I lost an external drishti of my dad (a focal point to help center you in a position), there are many more inside of me to draw upon in the greatest balancing practice of all – life.

The whisper. The pull. They just called me back to my center. To practice myself more.

“Well, hey there!”

June 2025 Quote: Let’s Get Lost in the Backcountry of Our Souls

Posted on July 1, 2025July 1, 2025 by Emily Oehler2 Comments

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For June 2025, my quote was: “Let’s get lost in the backcountry of our souls.”

I love a good plan… well, more specifically, I love a good “to do” list. They help me get the things done that matter to me. They give me a wonderful sense of control (which I know is false and fleeting). They give structure to my world that continually seems like it’s falling apart—or at best like an old car you hope will start when you get it first thing in the morning. It gives me direction when all too often I feel as thou I’m treading water in a vast ocean. They also give me normalcy, mundaneness which I especially welcomed after dad died. An anchoring, tangible item I can hold in my hand that brings me into the present moment when the swirl inside my head and heart blurs so much as the world spins.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart as I lived in the “backcountry of my soul”:

The Universe only pretends to be made of matter, secretly it is made of love
What is sometimes called “loss of focus” or “loss of motivation” is often accumulated fatigue
Your calm matters more than your answers
When you let go of trying to get more of what you don’t really need, it frees up oceans of energy to make a difference with what you have
May your vibes shift the whole damn frequency of the room when you walk in
Be brave enough to start at something new
This single grain of cosmic sand contains infinite wonder
These holes in our hearts are holy sites and we should treat them as such
I wish you could see what I see; it’s all such joyful chaos
Chasing the fringe of infinity
I want to become a river; I want to flow into wonder
Intermission is over
Daydream with me a forest made of our prayers we thought were being unanswered—but were just growing roots

A few years ago, a sister-friend surprised me with a trip to one of her favorite cities, Boston. She planned it all out so I’d get to see all the tourist favorites like the “Make Way for Ducklings” statue, “one if by land and two if by sea” church, the Beacon Hill Bookstore with Paige the squirrel mascot, and one of our shared favorites, the Foo Fighters. This trip was both adventure and salve as it occurred a few months after I left mom’s and merged back into life following dad’s death.

We romped all over and I was grateful to be in a new place with no attached memories.

We followed my friend’s activity plan building memories as we walked, ate, laughed, photographed, and drank together with ease… until we missed the ferry and our plan disintegrated. What emerged from a missed checkmark on our itinerary was a phrase that opened up the rest of our weekend to the unknown and one I rely on to this day to help me navigate through, beyond, and in spite of my plan.

“It’s not the adventure we planned, but it’s the adventure we didn’t know we needed.”

I pass this phrase on in hopes that it gives you acceptance of the moment in you’re in and the freedom to forge ahead into the unknown with curiosity, passion, hope, and ease.

This is, after all, your adventure. Make the most of it.