desk and items on wall

September 2024 Quote: “Give it a try,” whispered the heart.

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 2024, the quote that centered me was: “Give it a try,” whispered the heart.  

I still consider September the start of my year. Perhaps it’s due to the conditioning of “back to school” – a new season to learn… or because I’m a “fall baby” and sense this is my time to reflect and renew. Regardless of the reason, I treat fall like a sacred time. A preparation for what is to come. It’s like fall is nature’s way of saying, “wake the fuck up!” through the air’s crispness and the vivid colors before a restorative winter cuddled up. There is an energy I feel as the wind arises in autumn or maybe it’s more of a targeted whisper, “Get ready. Get clear on what you need. Gather acorns that will nourish you as you rest, regain, and restart in the spring.”

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month…

  • Cosmic consequences of everyday occurrences
  • This rushing mercy
  • Affirm the sacredness of mundane things
  • That’s the debt you must pay for taking the risk to love somebody else; You are sending your heart to heaven one bit at a time
  • Education is not the filling of a pot, but the lighting of a fire
  • Don’t race through your heartache because you might miss a miracle or two
  • You are the disco comet from deep space
  • You are the only thinker in your brain
  • Accept that it may be changed, even remade, through the power of the Spirit
  • If you think you are to small to be effective, you have never been in bed with a mosquito
  • Play to learn
  • You are the art
  • I’m not going to miss a beautiful day because the day before hurt
  • It doesn’t enhance sacredness, but it acknowledges it, and there is power in that
  • The reader is the co-creator of the written word
  • It is good to love many things, for there in lies true strength, and who soever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done
  • I don’t know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream
  • You were lit long ago to never be put out

I tried to listen to the whispers in September and set into motion my spring’s bounty.

History

First, I explored my history. I tackled our storage unit which began as an organizing activity and became an emotional exploration. Five hours later, I not only had a car full of items to donate and treasures to mail to loved ones, but a heart full of gratitude. Each box extended my roots causing a renewed mix of groundedness, connection, and confidence. Pictures, keepsakes, and hand-me-downs took me on a journey back to myself. To the love which made me and the God-given spark and spunk that resides in me.

Home

Next, I adjusted my workspace at home. I write at an antique secretary. This piece, once housed in my Dad’s study at church, was a gift from a member. Beside it, I placed a re-upholstered prayer bench from France that he and my mom picked out together years ago. In September I add images around the prayer bench … first the four Oehler boys (dad, his two brothers James and John, and bonus brother Leland Park from their fraternity at Davidson College) – now all deceased… next an angel made by a local artist at Sunset Beach, NC… finally, the stole mom cross-stitched by hand for dad which he wore at weddings, Christmas, and special services. This gave me a place to be in peace and comfort as the gray winter days creep forward.

Self

Finally, I looked inward. I joined Momentum, a 12-week mindful leadership program. I took time to build new habits through practices that help me excavate my head, heart, and gut – and choose rather than simply react. To push back against the brain’s survival stance of negativity bias and get intentional about what is grown and nurtured inside of myself. So far I practiced RAIN, Loving Kindness meditation, and SCARF model. Each one like a hard workout… awkward to start, sore after, but easier with time – all to help me emerge better.

I tried each one – history, home, and self. Each try required a try again, and again, and again. All with the recuring theme “pause and prepare.” To try to pause with my head, heart, and gut. To try to think, feel, and decide what to keep, reframe, toss, and embrace. To try to prepare to be a more intentional me.

And my heart feels better for it.

stone stairs surrounded by plants

3 Mentorship Tips to Improve “Generational Leadership”

Recently, it’s been a bit like an episode of “this is your life” – leadership edition. Folks from various stages of my career seemed to pop up unexpectedly and in the process of our chat they referenced something they do in their leadership role now because of our work together. While at times it’s awkward for me to take the compliment of how I influenced someone’s career journey, it’s also intriguing what stuck with folks… from the trusty notebook for client notes and quality control neurosis (aka proofreading/formatting) to facilitation approaches and recognition programs (Brussel Sprout award… and associated necklace!), and everything in between.

I get so excited to learn how they forged their own type of leadership.

These conversations led me to realize mentorship impacts generational leadership. The good and bad that formed me was passed on to others.

Just like generational trauma, “occurs through biological, environmental, psychological, and social means” – leadership is formed much the same way:  leadership norms based on historical gender roles (biological), a firm’s culture (environment), DEIA/psychological safety/belonging (psychological), and the “requirements” to look or sound like a traditional leader (social means). Generational leadership is both the good that is transmitted and the bad that is absorbed or conformed to as the norm.

Here are three ways you can get more intentional about your personal or organization’s generational leadership.

Endorse Individuality

There are thousands of books that will try to convince you that leadership is done Mandalorian style, “this is THE way.” A single model or expectation of leadership breads weakness or vulnerability in the workplace ecosystem. It would be like the U.S. Department of Defense only having an Army… rather than a force that works in land, sea, and space. Show your team that leadership comes in all forms:  quiet, effervescent, big picture, black suit, calm, colorful tennis shoes, remote, tearful, young, technical. Review the impact your leadership programs and promotion cases have on generational leadership.

Mentorship Program

Mentorship maintains or breaks the cycle of generational leadership. A training, book, podcast, or HR framework are the bricks of leadership development with opinions, case studies, and metrics. Mentorship on the other hand, gives you the color commentary – or mortar between the bricks – to make personalized choices about how to apply the information. Review your mentorship program… How does it measure success? How are mentors recruited, vetted, trained, evaluated, and removed? Who uses the mentorship program and how homogenous are they? How do you encourage staff who are not familiar with a mentor to take the risk with one? How do you incentivize participation? If you cannot offer one internally, do you have a vetted list of mentor programs that are free or have costs covered by the firm? Do you have “reverse mentors” – newer professionals to mentor seasoned ones?

Your Choice

Executives, get serious about your leadership team and the impact they have on generations of workers and future leaders. “High performers” who hit the financial metric but leave a trail of trauma and bad habits should not be tolerated or promoted but rather given a measurable performance improvement plan. Professionals – leaders of all ages and stages – take a hard look at your leadership legacy and current environment, then determine what you need to break or build your own leadership health. Collect mentors… at one point in my career I had a full house of mentors—one to understand client business, promotion/career mobility, consulting, and my specialty. Can’t find one in your office, look to your community programs (e.g., church, volunteer work, sports) or find a mentorship program. Get intentional about how you want to invest in generations of leaders … this is your legacy to build.  

Finally, to the dynamic leaders I watched, worked with, and learned from along my own leadership journey. I am grateful for how you…

  • Taught me accounts payable and receivable and how to use my left hand on the massive calculator so I could write down calculations with my right (yes, before excel!)
  • Had Stephen Covey’s 4 quadrants of time management on her office white board for all to see to remain focused on what mattered most
  • Incentivized my attention to detail with my first spa pedicure
  • Showed me feedback and annual reviews could be both constructive and fun (not to mention the reward of movie day!)
  • Planned the next team social the day before the current one to be sure our team took play seriously
  • Demonstrated compassion with thoughtful words and tokens of care during life’s inevitable heartbreaks
  • Took me aside for a candid “put your big girl pants on” talk about office politics
  • Gave away opportunities you could have kept for yourself
  • Held me accountable
  • Showed me the value of having folks sit in a circle at an offsite
  • Leaned hard of me to improve and grow while also advocating for me with others – client and co-worker – so I continued to grow with new experiences
  • Made yourself available to listen, just listen
  • Celebrated the wins, big and small … hello “happy dance” in a cube farm in the basement of the Army Human Resourced Command HQ

I am grateful for how my generational leaders balanced business and heart, let me see behind the curtain through vulnerable conversations, looked beyond the metrics to see the person, and instilled a habit of mentorship I work hard to carry on.

Emily in front of view of mountains

August 2024 Quote: Absorb the Grace and Glory of the World

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 August 2024, the quote that centered me was: Absorb the grace and glory of the world.  

This quote seemed fitting for the month when so many are on vacation, me included. And, I would be in two majestic places in the month where there would be plenty to absorb. A beach island for two weeks – one with my family and one with my hubby’s. Then the mountains of North Carolina for a writer’s conference with poet John Roedel at the Art of Living Retreat Center.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month… of which most were captured when writers read their work on the last day of the 30-person conference:

  • You are your own birdsong
  • Go down the rabbit hole of wonder
  • Listen to the wind…pay attention to the patterns
  • When is the last time you heard your authentic voice?
  • More joy, less head trash
  • You’re going to be my favorite memory
  • I have made my home in the bend of a question mark
  • We are but a whisper; but oh, what a chorus
  • Share your gooey nugget center for others to chew on
  • Sorrow, sister of joy
  • But someday you will be the one who ignites the blaze in another person’s heart that won’t ever be put out again
  • There is no such thing as an ordinary life
  • A moonbeam winked at you
  • Fitting in is for sardines
  • Damn the gatekeepers
  • Your words grew feathers and floated off each night between the bars
  • Gentle wishes for one another
  • Sharing yourself is an act of service
  • You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be gentle – with others and yourself
  • A blank page is an empty universe you get to create
  • You are here to be a lamplighter that hands out little bits of your flame to ensure the rest of the world doesn’t exist in darkness
  • Lost in the weeds of your heart
  • I want bees to rest on my crown
  • Good morning new perspective, I haven’t met you yet
  • An unsettling quiet, even with all the elephants in the room
  • You were created to make us gasp
  • Your heart creates a park bench where you and others can meet
  • We’re all just beads on a prayer bracelet
  • The first bird of the day to be brave and break the silence

As the month started, I sat behind a car with the license plate MO FUNNER that seemed to confirm my choice of quote and I absorbed the vibe for the month.

At the beach I absorbed how nature seemed to externalize my internal as it was our first family beach vacation without dad. You see hurricane Debby slowly moved over our week. Each day a circulating pattern of rainbands, pressure drops of stillness, sun breakthroughs, 40+ mph wind gusts, and vivid warm pink sunsets. My body echoing Mother Nature’s emotions, or she mine: tense, calm, sad, peaceful, tears, wound up, happy, hurt, laughter. All a swirl like the vanilla/chocolate soft serve ice cream, a family tradition at the beach. But as the storm settled, what my body absorbed and felt was gratitude. Our family was together in a sacred space with decades of memories of love to cherish and build on.

Later in August I cruised down I-81 over the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia behind the license plate FUN AW8S. I absorbed a favorite – and sacred – activity of mine:  the road trip. Open road, good weather, snack bag, singing to the sky with my sunroof open, savoring the journey, and not concerned about the destination. Freedom. As the hills grew taller, the distance between my ears and shoulders grew as well… my body unwinding.

I stopped on my trip to give two cases of prosecco to Mary Baldwin University’s new President to help him recognize staff and faculty’s “golden moments” as they work to step into the “next” of the school’s ever-changing legacy of liberal arts education. Much like Superman soaking the sun’s rays to regain his power, I stood on the campus hilltop where I graduated when it was an all-women’s college and absorbed potential. Again, my body shifted, softened. My corporate work edges, personal expectations, and mental exhaustion absorbed by the earth beneath my feet.

By month’s end, I found myself standing under the universe in the black of night as countless stars winked at me. There was no absorbing, it was consumption. The Universe absorbed me… a melting, perhaps a thawing, as my deep sighs, concerns, big fat slow rolling tears, appreciation, awe, and all the mortar that shored up my internal wall of worries dissipated.

Spent. Weightless. Open. Relieved.

I stood.

Absorbed in the grace and glory of it all.

Wooden bench by a mailbox at the beach

Kindred Spirit, Just Keep the Memories

I thought about skipping this one and instead sitting back in my chair with a book down at the ocean’s edge. It was the last day of vacation though and I would not squander a walk along the waves next to the white sand dunes under the Carolina blue sky.

SPF 70, straw hat, and big Jackie O sunglasses – and off I went.

I chose a lazy pace. No music or audible book. Just me, mindful of all around me, with my feet in the edge of the cooling water as the sun’s heat gained intensity.

About halfway down, I saw a fairly large white shell. Thin, delicate, with frayed edges. This one spoke to me. There was a luminosity to it. A delicate strength. Imperfect but strong. I picked it up in remembrance of Dad. He always came back from the beach with shells in his pockets. Each one a magical treasure.

Farther down the beach, I walked in a shallow pool of water slowly being filled as the tide rose. As I waded out of it, I saw a clump on the beach. What at first looked like a piece of driftwood, I realized was a piece of coral reef. I picked it up as well, smiling at all the times Dad found and tossed icky seaweed at us over the years with the giggliness of a 10-year-old-boy as mom and I would squeal and splash away.

Soon after, I climbed up the hot sand dune to the welcoming spot of all who wonder in faith. A 50-year-old weathered wood post hoisting the Kindred Spirit mailbox as a beacon. Framed by a wooden bench on each side, pews for those called.

As was often the case, there were other travelers there. They’d come to write thanks, hopes, heartbreak, memories, and dreams in the notebooks the Kindred Spirit mailbox always contained.

I put my collected offerings on the bench next to the man. His wife standing beside the mailbox writing a note. I got another notebook from inside the Kindred Spirit mailbox and sat down.

“Honey, what day is it,” she asked the man next to me.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

I chimed in, “that means you’re on vacation” – and we all laughed in appreciation.

With a thick Boston accent he responded, “yeah, but they always go so fast. I’m just now ready for summer and fall is almost here.” He paused and added, “I think it’s the eighth.”

I looked at my watch and shared, “well, actually, it’s the 16th – so you must have had a great vacation.” We all laughed again, and I thought of the thousands of little interactions Dad had with strangers along his way; always sharing his warm hearty laugh.

“Would you like a picture?” I asked them.

She asked, “Do you want one George?”

My breath caught. Chest tightened. Tears welled up.

“No, we’ll just keep the memories,” he replied as he stood, and they began to walk down the sand dune. His wife adding to me, “have a great vacation.”

George.

We’ll just keep the memories.

George?

We’ll just keep the memories.

George!

We’ll just keep the memories.

There I was at Kindred Spirit. A heartfelt laugh. An offering of treasures. Sitting next to George, my Dad’s name.

Alone but with him.

I’ll just keep the memories.

pink couch

July 2024 Quote: Be Grateful for Whoever Comes…

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 2024, the quote that centered me was: Be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.  

Near the end of COVID, I became a certified mindfulness facilitator. While I sought this certification to support my facilitation work, I discovered I actually needed it for myself. There are many ways you can practice mindfulness… breathing, walking, listening, and recently as part of the Radiant Leader community I practiced with writing. The weekly host read “The Guest House” – a poem by Jalaluddin Rumi. Our practice was to listen to the poem, read the poem to ourselves out loud, and then read it to ourselves silently. After reading it, we were to select a word or phrase that caught our attention and write about it for eight minutes. This mindful practice in June led me to July’s quote.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month:

  • An umbrella of peace opens around me in difficult times
  • I am because we are
  • Live fully in my God-created body
  • And you can still find peace and grow in the wild of changing times
  • We find only the world we look for
  • Justice is what love looks like in public
  • The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper
  • A God moment
  • This is my story, this is my song
  • Follow the energy
  • When the world goes mad, become wildly kind to everyone, everyone
  • There are some people who have sun inside them; They have an eternal being that sheds light and feels the sun
  • Peace is the most disturbing force in the universe
  • Gratitude is the gateway to grace
  • The adventure we were supposed to have
  • When I let my heart constantly stir like a cotton candy machine, the lighter and sweeter it becomes
  • Normal, natural, not a problem

This poem stirred me. And like many mindful practices, uncomfort showed up first—the squirm. Then I resettled, re-read,  and practiced again.

I thought about who was not there and my heart ached. Then I resettled, re-read, and practiced again.

As I sat with the poem, I realized that my difficult “visitors” in life were not alone. Each complex, unwanted thing came with several more that were supportive, delightful, compassionate, and silly. This mindful moment enabled me to review my last six months and see all the bright lights around me.

Unexpected conversations. Steady friends. Surprise adventures. New connections. Moments of peace. Each visitor a nightlight, a warm glow, or a bright beacon—blessings that lit my path forward.

My mind full, I realized loss and love coexist – and it’s not just good, it’s welcome.

“… The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.”

Fenway Park sign

Grief, the Rock-n-Roll Edition

I stood there. 

Feet planted.
Shoulders back.
Spine straight.

Still, in the frenzy of those around me.

Breathe. Listen.

There I was in the midst of 37,000+ people in Fenway Park. Surrounded alone.

See. Feel.

I recognized the panic in my head and the twinge in my stomach… but I stood planted accepting of the inevitable.

The first tear ran down my cheek. Then the next one fell.

I let them come. No wiping. No concealing.

Grief found me again, swelling, releasing, and consuming.

I stood planted, and let it move me and move through me.

I then leaned into the moment and the music that stirred my sole, and joined Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl sing “Under You” – written after the death of their drummer Taylor Hawkins.

“I woke up and walked a million miles today. I’ve been looking up and down for you. All this time, it still feels just like yesterday. That I walked a million miles with you.

Over it. Think I’m getting over it. There’s no getting over it.

There are times that I need someone. There are times I feel like no one. Sometimes I just don’t know what to do. There are days I can’t remember. There are days that last forever. Someday I’ll come out from under you.

Someone said I’ll never see your face again. Part of me just can’t believe it’s true. Pictures of us sharing songs and cigarettes. This is how I’ll always picture you.”

My brain lost in the moment, the music, my memories.

Drowned out by the speakers. My heart singing loudly, a declaration.

“Over it.
Think I’m getting over it.
There’s no getting over it.
There are times that I need someone.
There are times I feel like no one.
Sometimes I just don’t know what to do.
There are days I can’t remember.
There are days that last forever.
Someday I’ll come out from under you.”

Each tear a release.

… Dad loved music… listening, playing, singing—feeling it.

… Dad loved his friends… there I stood next to a bestie who brought me here as a gift of replenishment—feeling it.

… Dad loved to provide comfort to those in need… as I looked out I saw the connection of all these people, each one with a personal loss as they sang—feeling it.

… Dad loved to play… this trip had been filled with fun adventures as we “had the journey that was meant to be”—feeling it.

I stood planted. Tears fell. Words sung. Emotions felt. Gratitude given.

Because as the Foo Fighters later sang that night — and I with them smiling…

“…I’m a wild light, blinding bright, burnin’ off and on.
It’s times like these you learn to live again.
It’s times like these you give and give again.
It’s times like these you learn to love again.
It’s times like these, time and time again.

I, I’m a new day rising.
I’m a brand-new sky to hang the stars upon tonight.
I, I’m a little divided.
Do I stay or run away and leave it all behind?

It’s times like these you learn to live again.
It’s times like these you give and give again.
It’s times like these you learn to love again.
It’s times like these, time and time again.”

below a beach pier

June 2024 Quote: Create What You Wish Existed

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 2024, the quote that centered me was: Create what you wish existed.  

We each exist in different large, complex systems. Work, church, school, and family to name a few. But we often forget about the most complex system in which we reside, ourselves. A mindfulness practice I participated in as a member of the Radiant Leader community brought my own system into a new focus… and just how much I can create and recreate it.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month:

  • Your alignment comes from your foundation
  • Some how grace has found me, and I to let her in
  • Just like that, your life can change with what the angels send
  • Body and heart are already free and the door is wide open
  • I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set attention him free
  • More space
  • He did not know he could not fly, so he did
  • The joy of every day
  • We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share
  • No one has a hard time listening to something that is interesting
  • I am enough; I can make anywhere home
  • He’s one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith; Spread your arms and hold your breath; Always trust your cape.
  • To be, beyond

There I was on a Friday morning with several other Radiant Leaders on a monthly Zoom call exploring. While we often explore change and leadership, that Friday, I sat there exploring a thick, damn cold, melting ice cube that was laying in the palm of my right hand.

I explored my mind: Did I just want to drop off the call? Did others think this was odd. Why was I doing this? What if I sat here and just watched and listened? How long is this going to go on?

Since I wished to learn and be more mindful of how I show up and respond to those around me, I decided I would do the mindful practice fully and hold on to that ice cube, no matter what. I continued the practice.

I explored my body: The cold of my palm and fingers from the ice cube. The wet skin from the melt of the ice cube. The tightness of my fingers from the cold. The tenseness of my shoulders as I focused on what was happening in my hand. The warmth in other parts of my body that I sought to mentally move to my hand. My skin getting pink from the cold.

Since I wished to be more present in the big and small moments of my life, I settled in and accepted each bodily sensation. I continued the practice.

I explored disruption when the host guided us to keep the ice cube in our right hand and start to rub the pointer and thumb together in our left hand. Because of my fixation on the ice cube, it took me a minute to calibrate and get the fingers in my left hand moving – a bit like a rub your stomach and pat your head moment for me.

Since I wanted to see where all this led and how it might help me be a better me, I sat there, ice cube in my right hand and fingers rubbing in the left. I continued the practice.

I sat there with my brain and body wrestling and chatting. Unsettled busy bodies. Then space opened up between the comments, and long, calm pauses filled my system. My left fingers took away the overwhelm of the ice cube in my right, and an equilibrium occurred. My body relaxed. Controlled focus shifted to curious acceptance. I continued the practice.

Upon reflection, I learned my brain is quick to distract, discourage, and dig in (as I never thought about putting the cube down like others). I realized my body is a better radar for my system than my thoughts. I came to embrace the patience of practice. I came to understand I can create peace in my system.

What do you wish create?  

Canopy of tree limbs and leaves

May 2024 Quote: Align

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 May 2024 my quote was simply a word, “Align.”

I chose align partly because of its simplicity. One word. To get things in a row, organized. While there was a bit of organization that needed to be done after a year focused on caregiving, it was more than that. I felt out of alignment, like parts of me didn’t fit like they used to. A bit like a shirt shrunk in the wash or going back to college or your hometown and seeing how much you’d changed and grew since you were there but yet, still the same. Upon reflection, what I sought was inner congruence—alignment of, as one definition wrote, “your genuine essence, our deepest passions, and your unique talents.”  As I sought to align, or realign, here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the month:

  • To perceive the world in binary is to forgo knowledge of the divine
  • And then, I realized what you do with an idea—you change the world
  • The work, it seems, for us is to draw sustenance from that central, eternal space without denying the experience of the storm—so to find the center and spread our battered wings is to feel the God within
  • Sticky bits
  • You are here to enrich the world
  • Joy is a birthright
  • Each of us are tiny waives on the vast ocean of bliss
  • We try to prove our self-worth by what we get done, which means we always have to do more
  • You are here to enrich the world
  • Make it a place to play and not a final destination
  • Strength and ease
  • Remember who you are
  • In the end, we’ll all become stories

I began my month trying some physical alignment:  yoga. I did yoga for about a year in my early twenties. Not sure what called me back to it, but the call was strong and persistent. I bought an unlimited pass for two weeks and jumped in. While there was much misalignment on the mat as I faced upside down trying to remember my right from my left, my brain was singular. Quiet and still. Yoga is the one place I cannot think of anything else. I can only do the pose and breath (and usually my breath takes reminding). This quieted brain was what my being had begged for. I bought a year-long membership.

The next opportunity to align arose at work. I suddenly had several calls on my calendar from younger co-workers I didn’t know. These calls were connectional in nature rather than about a project or task. Simply two people getting to know each other. We shared the basics – background, career journey, location, loved ones – and then shifted to personal. What they sought. Lessons I’d learned. Curious questions. Admitted secrets. Bold moves. Emotional decisions. We were not different. We were connected by a life thread – a continuum of humanness. I left these calls refreshed and smiling, reminded that wherever we are on our journey, we are all connected so it’s important to pause and simply be and align with others where the are.

Nature became my next source of alignment. After a 6-month renovation effort on my condo building, I finally got access to my back porch, OK, it’s more of a nook with a fire escape – but it’s outside. I got a small table with two chairs. I worked here in the coolness of the mornings. I read here on sunny weekend afternoons. I called my mom from here as dinner cooked. But the alignment came when I sat here. That’s it. I just sat here. I sat here as light rain fell. I sat here as the sun danced through the leaves of my neighbor’s three-story magnolia tree. I sat here in a steady breeze that rustled the leaves. I sat here and listened to and watched the birds, squirrels, and bunnies. As I sat in a stillness that extended from my bones to the soul, I recalled one of my mother’s favorite Bible verses, Matthew 6:26-27: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you worrying add a single hour to your life?”

This month reminded me that alignment begins within, and it is a muscle that needs to be worked, stretched, and soothed.

I realized that what I needed was less out there and more in here. That taking care of and replenishing me, my being, would enable me to be more of me in the world – and that, that was what I truly sought.

Not alignment to the world, but to align to myself within it.

House with a tree

April 2024 Quote: The World Will Unlock Hundreds of Doors…

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 April 2024 the quote was, “The world will unlock hundreds of doors when you give this day all the courage, love, and intensity you can.”

My month ended with mom and I in North Carolina for a family funeral in the area where she and dad both grew up, just north of Charlotte. During our three-day trip we saw countless doors. Just about every Presbyterian church in a 20 mile radius and countless homes of loved ones long gone. I saw them all with new perspective… physically as I was now 5’10” vs. kid size and emotionally, 50 from vs. 15.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month, and this trip:

  • Your life so far has proven it’s possible
  • Maybe we’re not here to solve it; We’re here to evolve it
  • Soul work is not a high road; It’s a deep fall into an unforgiving darkness that won’t let you go until you find the song that sings you home
  • I realized belonging is not something I just receive – I actively cultivate belonging through the way I see and know others
  • Days like today remind me we receive what we practice
  • You can’t fake the frequency
  • It’s a privilege to grieve – it means you loved someone and they loved you
  • If I do but one thing today may I be human sunshine for someone
  • Write our story, sing your song, speak truth into the hard parts
  • I never worry about the places you invite me
  • There is no “we” in chocolate (or bourbon)
  • One day you know what you had to do, and began
  • Can we sit with it, and keep going anyway?
  • Grace always finds you exactly where you are, and does not leave you where it found you

While in North Carolina I saw more than doors. I saw the potential they opened and the legacy they built.

I saw church doors in four communities that welcomed various branches of my family tree which led to a foundation of faith for generations of Oehlers, Goodnights, Reynolds, and Lipes. I saw the door of the church where my parents met at kids which led to a 59-year marriage (and me!). I road by and saw the front door of my grandmother MawMaw’s house which led to three generations of educators (principle; elementary, middle school, and high school teachers; university dean, librarian, Sunday school). I saw the front door of four small “mill houses” given by my great grandfather to each of his kids which led to hundreds of community leaders – business owners, teachers, writers, corporate executives, volunteers, fireman, policeman, pastor, and more. I delighted at the cute, well-kept door at my grandmother Nanny’s old house that led to the comfort of thousands through the pies, casseroles, and visitations made by Nanny and her descendants. Then there was the door to our favorite BBQ restaurant that led to countless family meals and laughs for 40+ years (and us luckily being able to eat their twice and take 3 pounds home!).

For me, these doors were portals that allowed me to time travel to loved ones long gone and previous versions on myself. My mind connecting a thread between them all. Every person. Every thought. Every action. Every emotion. Every hope. Every loss. Every choice. Everything separate. Everything together.

Every door both a fixed point in time and with unlimited possibilities.

woman in front of wall where wings are painted

March 2024 Quote: Every Great and Difficult Thing Has Required a Strong Sense of Optimism

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 March 2024 my quote was: “Every great and difficult thing has required a strong sense of optimism.”

I was present in March, and yet it’s a blur. When I think about it, it’s like my memories were captured in watercolor, and someone poured water over them. The memories seem muted rather than crisp and define. Everything has a soft edge and is fuzzy – blurred. But I do have the clarity of quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the month to anchor me:

  • The rules of the road are to begin and to continue
  • The real gift of being a daughter of fire is that you remember always the world can be remade in an instant, if you have will enough
  • There are seasons for all things and there will come a time when the pieces that are not you will fall away easily, when you stop holding so tightly
  • Awe enables us to perceive in the world imitations of the divine—to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple
  • You are changing the world whether you like it or not
  • Only when fully in each moment can we draw strength from the oneness of things
  • The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks
  • One thing happened then another, and another
  • She was a supernova of joy
  • Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the weather is clear?
  • Not solving for, just being with
  • Each soul is a gust of God’s breath (unfolding in the great energy that surrounds us like an ever moving stream)
  • What we carry deep within, if we live honestly, with inevitably be worn outwardly
  • But what is grief, if not love persevering?
  • When the morning stars sang together
  • Where is your tender touch required?
  • It’s good to be in community with you
  • There is no end of things in the heart
  • Unwilling to be smaller than she is
  • Step into a soul-led path
  • I believe in kindness; also in mischief
  • Bet on your blaze
  • It is what it is, so let is be is
  • Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is to small for you
  • Now all your questions about heaven end, and all mine begin

I think March was a testament that life goes on and simply by being present – showing up – you get swept forward and move on too. After months living at my parents, supporting mom as dad’s caregiver, and then his death, I returned to “my life.” As if returning would be a reset, the pause button lifted.

I sought to re-establish routines, but they felt like they belonged to someone else. I sought stillness to try to feel, hear, and honor the emotions that churned, and cried every day as my body worked to released all that flooded me. I sought to rest, but the franticness of months of adrenaline surges had short circuited my wiring – full restorative sleep never came. I sought reflection and attended a mindfulness art class in which yellow emerged for me, along with the words: snub winter, vibrant renewal, energetic hope. I sought connection and found conversations of hope, comfort, joy, and understanding. I sought identity … how to be a daddy’s girl and preacher’s kid when the person who made me both was gone. I sought solid ground, to step off the wobbly Jello on which I stood, and feel planted, rooted again.

Seeking moved me forward with sunrise walks with a friend; new restaurants with mom; a different take on Easter in Fort Lauderdale; a soul-filling half-day with an out-of-town friend here for work; an alumni event with my college; a good strong bourbon; a boat ride soaking up sun; Sunday morning chapel; watering my plants, sharing memes with work friends; mailing fun cards to my besties; fresh oysters and a locally made cider; a new pair of boots; donating to good causes; and hugs from my sweetie.

Searching showed me that delight and devastation can go exists; that I can savor the past and dream for the future; and that the next will come.

My exploration – while not done – confirmed that life, specifically living it, heals.