Emily Oehler, Author at Golden Acorns

New Year’s Day 2026

Posted on January 1, 2026December 31, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

To end 2025, I tried to catch my breath. In the process I found a piece I wrote at a writer’s conference with poet John Roedel in August of 2024 in the mountains of North Carolina. It feels right to share on the start of a new year.

The guidance was to find a spot and write for 12 minutes without stopping or editing…

Here I am. Soul open. A sponge to absorb it all. Fresh Air. Strong sun. Nature sounds. Universe in every way. Peace of night. Warmth of day. Silliness. Openness. Laughter. Openness. Longing. Openness. Pain. Openness. Desire. Openness. Pain. Openness. Next. Determination. Next. Love. Next. Success. Next. Me. Next.

SHIFT

TWIST

MOVE

I want to go forward but it all feels so vast. Am I frozen, fearful, furious, forlorn?

Tired… weary… exhausted… connected… tethered… tentative… expectant.

If I move what will be lost? What will I gain? Hope is here.

Why am I stagnant? Am I waiting? Mind full or mindful? Patient? Lost? Lonely?

Untethered.

Do I want to be grounded… what will I find or leave behind?

Clock stopped. New guidance to keep going for another 12 minutes…

Is grief opportunity, escape, avoidance… a desire for lingering connection to him and to “Him”? The veil thin. The energy big but simple.

Hopeful. Still.

Am I tired or has my frequency changed? Is my dial down low… was it even good before? Did I override or overload? Is the space needed, necessary, or a hack to avoidance?

Will my energy return? Is it really gone? Is my vibration off or just more seamlessly aligned—smooth with less resistance?

LESS RESISTANCE

My call… what sparks, what nags, what excites, what yells, what bellows, what beckons?

I am good. I am different. I am grounded in space.

INFINITY

December 2025 Quote: Joy

Posted on December 29, 2025December 29, 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 December 2025, my quote was simple the word “Joy.”

While on the surface Joy might seem like an easy choice heading into Advent (with a Joy-candle in the Advent wreath no less) and the celebration of Christmas at month’s end. I chose this word, however, more as an intentional counterbalance for my internal season, rather than to amplify the external holiday season. Two years ago December shifted for me … from a habit of lit trees, holiday songs, and sweets to a bit of an annual countdown to my dad’s death. As my mind recalls the still mind-boggling rapid decline of my dad between Thanksgiving and his dead mid-January, my body re-lives it – like muscle memory – the tension, gripping hold, frenetic effort to control the inevitable. No, not to stop it, but rather to moderate it. Stop the free fall and help us all land safely in the unknown. Each December, I feel this all again… echoes… whispers… shadow sensations that I know are not for now but present none the less. So, this year, I chose Joy. Not to mask my emotions and bodily sensations but to remind me, in a way that honored what I learned from dad, that “this too shall pass” and that there is always Joy (glimmers of a greater force and larger love) amidst the heartache.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart this month regarding Joy:

Truly!
How the stars get into your bones
In their hearts, humans plan their course—but the Lord establishes their steps
Anguish is the doorway through which our personal suffering meets all the griefs that are shared by the world
We have been defending and fighting against acknowledging everything that has been there all along and has often been traveling faithfully from afar to knock on our door
Rest feels as if we are letting down our guard and refusing to defend what we instinctively feel must be constantly defended to the last
The only real invitation to belief, and to believe in what I believe in, is through my actions: actions that tell others that I still actually remember
That the source actually existed inside me in the first place
You don’t need to be perfect; you just need to be gentle
What if I could love the world just as it is and what if I could love everyone and every last thing in it, just as they are?
Breath is the very first thing we give to this world and the very last thing we are allowed to take from it… moments of pure holiness
And now love joins the dance of light
Strong back, open heart

As I sit here thinking about the month a realization emerges, along with an accepting sigh.

Joy requires presence and an open heart. Presence and an open heart also let in everything else. And it’s in that mix of sadness, worry, wonder, loss, anticipation, fear, hope, uncertainty, and silliness that Joy resides.

Joy is not alone.

Joy comes in community.

This realization reinforced as I look to my left, to the windowsill next to my desk, and see a notebook that began January 2023. The last year of my dad’s life. This spiral-bound notebook with “love wins” over rainbow color blocking contains three years of notes about my life—when love, laughter, wonder, compassion, and confirmation (in other words, Joy) appeared through my community on average days and in complex moments.

Page after page after page of Joy in all her many forms.

Surprise. Surrender. Song. Sunrise. Solitude. Smile. Support. Splendor. Steadfast. Softness.

Her presence, often more twinkling star than blazing sun, shone through others – strangers and loved ones alike. Simple comments, gestures, experiences that lessened my load and lit my way. The Joy-giver most likely clueless as to what they transmitted… and that a Joy in and of itself. That we each emanate Joy simply by being present and in community with others.

Simply put, Joy holds my hand tightly for which I’m eternally grateful.

The Both of Grief…

Posted on December 18, 2025December 18, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

Each year, near the winter solstice, my church holds a “longest night” service when there is more darkness than sunlight. This year titled “Lament & Hope.” This slow-paced contemplative service strips away the pageantry of a typical Sunday morning worship service and provides a quiet protected space to acknowledge life’s hardships–the grief we carry. The loss, the worry, and the fear are the focus. No urge to fix. No meaningless platitude given. No should-haves spoken. Just acceptance that was is felt is real and accepted. A key part of the service is for participants to light a candle for items, people, issues that are heavy on their heart… the candlelight, created in community, lights our path as we leave the sanctuary. Here is what I wrote about this years’ service…

Last night I sat in sanctuary… both a place and sensation.

Low lights with soft shadows… both a balm from life’s holiday glow and reflection of our insides.

A large, vaulted ceiling room adorned with holiday greens, candles, and religious icons… both cavernous and comforting.

Row after row after row of empty pews… both a sense of lonely isolation and representative of loved ones no longer present in our lives.

A small group of individuals with space between us… both a physical bubble as our tenderness emanated around us and yet clustered in one section craving company.

Spoken scripture, sung songs, shared meditation… both comfort and not enough.

An invitation to light… both a lifeline and heavy hearted step to take.

Others rise, reflect, and reach to light candles for their loss, loved ones, unknowns, fears, pain… both to honor and claim them in an effort to live with them in the “and” between love and loss.

The pause… both weighted and overwhelming.

The exhale… both to release and take in.

The tears… both endless and not enough.

The grief… both alone and in community.

The glow… both a call and comfort.

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”