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February 2026 Quote: What’s the Invitation?

Posted on March 2, 2026February 28, 2026 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 February 2026, my quote was, “What’s the invitation?”

I generally love February. A quick final blast of winter warmed by a day dedicated to love, just 28 days. This year, February froze in time, literally encapsulated in ice and glaciers. I didn’t leave my home for 14 days except to chip away at icy snow mounds around my car piled up by snowplows. The day of the week became meaningless as there was no change between them. The gray sky reflected in the dirty gray snow. I regularly scrolled the 10-day forecast on my weather app looking desperately for a day above freezing to thaw us out.

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

We fade; We return; What strange moons we are
End only means we have reached the limit of our ability to track what is occurring; End is the word that introduces us to an intimacy with, an anticipation of, and even a readiness for, new beginnings
Without death, life is only half lived
End is transition, a temporarily visible seam in the invisible
Freedom is a radical sense of letting be and being let be
May our world be better for your loving efforts
The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom
Has it ever struck you that life is all memory, except for one present moment that goes by you so quick you hardly catch it going?
Rest in that awe

I’m writing this on the last day of the month. The sun is bright at 8:30am. The forecast projected to be a glorious 60 degrees. I made it through.

I sit here – fingers poised over the keyboard – reflecting; bouncing back between weather and invitation, weather and invitation, weather and invitation. And what broke through that mental spin cycle were warm memories…

…Knitting a bonus blanket for a friend’s 3-year-old son after already making one for his newborn—my accompanying note inviting the 3-year-old to honor and enjoy his new title as big brother as it was a precious one (and I should know as I have the best big brother)… then days later getting a series of photo of big brother with blanket in tote all over DC.

…Inviting a neighbor and church member whose wife died just a few months ago to meet at the coffee shop one block away from us both—sharing loss, progress, laughter, and hope in the stillness of a cold early morning.

…Accepting an invitation from a coworker, now bestie, to visit her in Raliegh for a birthday/housewarming party—which the led me to invite another bestie in Raleigh to dinner; warming my heart twice as much with soulful conversations, champagne, and laughter.

…Helping mom create a Valentine to express her love to so many friends and family who’ve cheered her, comforted her, inspired her, prayed for her, laughed with her, and invited her forward through life’s complex moments.

…Texting a friend whose mother died about 4 months ago, to invite her to our “usual spot for ginger tea” and enjoying a 2.5 hour leisurely chat on all things life—a continuation of the ongoing conversation we’ve had for years now since both leaving the same company years ago.

…Responding to a besties invitation to review her new website as she prepared to relaunch her business—offering input, making edits, and celebrating all she offers leaders as a kind hearted, thoughtful, experienced, rebellious executive coach.

…Inviting my college to share the news of my grief guide certification in the next alumni newsletter, and within minutes – to my surprise – a staff member replied, “This is perfect. There are so many people who definitely can use your wonderful support and kindness.”

…Watching a 5-year-old boy invite a the coffee barista, “to see my favorite rock” … only later to have the barista come talk to me about how that child was the angel he’d needed – and prayed for – as the month had been filled with knock downs.

…Receiving an invite for brunch from a much younger college alum, befriended nearly 10 years ago, and over eggs and crispy bacon learning this once undocumented “dreamer” was now a citizen, corporate executive, community volunteer, wife, and homeowner… all because one of my friends, pulled in her friends, who pulled in their friends to support a dynamic young woman seeking a meaningful path forward.

… Reading a friend’s post inviting folks to donate to support her child’s band trip to Hershey park, and I in response ordering $120 of popcorn (which is shipping direct to my nephew) not just to fulfill the financial goal, but to support a family ensconced in fear due to transgender hate.

… Stomping my foot listening to the “Joy Factor” play live thanks to the invitation of a band member’s proud mom (my former boss and long-time friend) … original reels, waltz’s, and acoustic tunes that captured lives indelible moments.

But the most mundane and wonderous invitation came from the frozen tundra: an invitation to clean.

The icy road and ice encapsulated cars prevented our housekeeper from coming. As a result, I tackled the “deeper clean” I’d postponed for way too long. Half way through, I empty and cleaned our two book shelves, and found a book I’d given dad when I was probably 25—a Hallmark book that recorded and played back your voice. I’d forgotten about it. My heart tightened and I held my breath as I opened the book. Nothing.

I invited John to change the batteries as I continued cleaning. He cleaned off the corrosion, found new AAA batteries, and gently handed me the book. Again, I held my breath as I opened it. Nothing.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.” “It’s OK.” And I went on cleaning.

A bit later, after a few YouTube videos and a small piece of tin foil, John called me into the living room and said, “I don’t know if what I did will work, but I tried.” Handing me the book with an invitation to try once more.

Breath held, I opened it. There dad was singing to me, “…You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

The invitation of love everlasting.

Rocks

Posted on February 27, 2026February 28, 2026 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

On Wednesday of this week, I posted about what I encountered at the coffee shop across the street from my home. Since then, to my delight, several friends have sent me photos of their rocks … from a long-time favorite to their child’s new-found stone. So, I’m sharing my post here to keep things “rocking on!”

Before work today, I sat in a locally owned coffee shop enjoying a toasty warm chai as I wrote a bit. A mom and little boy (maybe age 5) came in, and he went up to the barista and opened up his hand, “Look at my favorite rock!” A conversation ensued between the boy and the barista for quite some time. Chat ended, coffee shared, good-byes waved.

The barista walked over toward me and stated, “Wasn’t that great? He’s so excited about his rock! And guess what, I have a favorite rock too — had it for years. I’m going to bring it in so I can show it to him next time he’s here. I love his energy!”

He also shared that February had been a hard month of “knock downs” but he’d prayed and heard God say, “just take a step forward” …. then today the boy showed up, they talked rocks, and the child gave him a sticker: “You Got This!”

The bearded barista’s eyes sparkled with joy and a tear. His happiness apparent and radiant. Fully felt.

So… share your rocks! The pretty ones, the unique ones, the ugly ones, the heavy ones, the magic ones.

From a boy’s hand to a man’s heart to a woman’s post… a rock lifted spirits.

What might your rock do?

January 2026 Quote: Vulnerable

Posted on January 31, 2026January 31, 2026 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 January 2026, my quote was simply the word “vulnerable.”

Like I do so often before I write, I lit a candle, fixed some hot tea, and exhaled a deep breath. The ritual felt more important today—no, more necessary. A little more soothing before I explained my word choice for the month. You see, vulnerable is not just for January, it’s my phrase for the year. Or rather, my intention. It arrived, unexpectedly, through the use of Kristen Lasanti’s Leadership Intention Workbook which is available on the landing page of her website. While I’ve intentions over the years – I use to pick them. Last year I used this reflective workbook which led me to “authentically helpful” which served me well through a complex year as a federal government consultant. But never did I see vulnerable coming … and well, I even feel vulnerable just saying my intention is vulnerable. Thirty days in, and the intention is starting to take shape. Awkwardly, yes. Mysteriously, yes. Meaningful, yes.

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

Care never sleeps; care has been there all along, living at our center, and because of the way we are made, care will emerge in the end
Think about the seeds we are planting in the cosmic soil
My call—what sparks, what nags, what excites, what yells, what bellows, what beckons?
What seems crazy, is always to begin with, just our inner unrecognized, creative edge meeting our surprised surface life
The temptation is to trade unpredictable wildness for the safety of mediocrity, but the brave thing to do is let a little wildness have its way with us, to see where it takes us
No mud, no lotus
We are never too old to be young at heart
Or like the moon light on the whitest sand, to use your dark to gleam, to shimmer
Allow myself to linger in this place where I know myself as your beloved
Challenging to trust the unfolding
We can put seeds in the wounds
In situations of instability, look for the possibilities
I pray that amidst the heartbreak of your labyrinth of grief you will find a place and a still moment where you are blessed
What’s the invitation?
Would you be interested in reimaging our life?
I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding
Clearly something is stirring that is beyond my experience and comprehension
It’s only the journey that brings the traveler home
There are more doors in the dark than you can imagine
Wait for it, still yourself, stay

When I write my monthly quote blog, I go through the same steps. Opening centering ritual. Type out the quotes that I collected that month in the order in which I found them – the last quote noticed just 3 days ago. Then I write the open, re-read the quotes, and write the rest. I don’t really edit my words… I accept what arose as I wrote, look for typos, and am done. All in, writing a blog – from words to photo selection to posting – takes about 1 hour.

I don’t come in with a plan, theme or purpose. I let it arise in the moment. I share my process because the first and last quotes this month—from “care will emerge in the end” to “wait for it, still yourself, stay”—felt like book ends for my first month practicing vulnerable.

Those who know me professionally, have heard me say “words matter.” Over and over and over again. My work as a strategic communicator (e.g., public relations, video production, speeches, media, online content) relies on me finding the precise word to explain a complex system, frame an issue, or inspire a workforce. I believe words and images, backed by data, can change the world. So, I choose them carefully.

So, to see vulnerable pop into my workbook I didn’t like it as its primary definition is someone who is “capable of being easily hurt or harmed physically, mentally, or emotionally… being defenseless or susceptible, needing protection” and stems from the Latin word vulnus which means “wound.” This was not what I wanted for the next 365 days.

But words have layers… and so I explore my intention some more.

I read that vulnerable is the birthplace of courage, connection, and authenticity, though it requires risk and exposure. Another description explained that vulnerability is about having the strength to be seen, share feelings, and embrace uncertainty, which builds resilience and empathy despite the potential for hurt.

Vulnerable brings about courage, resilience, and empathy: “care will emerge in the end”..…“wait for it, still yourself, stay.”

So now I practice and see “the surprise of its own unfolding.”

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.

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.

February 2025 Quote: This Moment Matters.

Posted on March 4, 2025March 4, 2025 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

When asked what I do for a living, I sometimes respond, “I work at the intersection of ideas, information, and emotions.” Facilitator. Strategic Communicator. Coach. Change Manager. Planner. News producer. I love the possibility of what can be and the use of words to bring them into being. In all these roles I bring with me curiosity (lots of questions), optimism with side of practicality (small goodness can always be found), and a collaborative spirit (everyone can contribute). Even with 30 years of work inand around change, these last few weeks had my internal system on overload. The moments felt heavy. Being “here” in them was something I wanted to escape. Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the last month:

In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there
How can kindness be so radical?
Anam cara: Soul friend
God went to quite a lot of trouble to make us all different
You’re going to live in me forever
You can dance in the hurricane but only if you’re standing in the eye
You might make it longer if you stay
Hold on to the center
To love someone is to learn to song in their heart and sign it to them when they have forgotten it
My favorite words are the ones that you’ve said to me – ordinary words that people use every day, unaware how sacred they are
You are breaking like the dawn – it’s a new day. Become! Become!
Your soul is an indomitable force
Action absorbs anxiety
We refuse to be enemies
You are becoming
You are a visitor to this world, from the next
You are not what you are holding, you are the hands that are holding it
Whatever is happening right now is everything you have

Whether change is desired or forced upon, it’s disruptive. Disruption wears out our nervous system with a rotation between fight, flight, or freeze. Simple tasks and routine decisions seem monumental. Uncertainty breads doubt and doubt breads fear and fear breads withdrawal (often predicated with outbursts). Basically, a full body fritz.

Even knowing this (with several certifications to boot), it’s hard to manage. And what I’ve found is that “manage” causes me to hold tighter when transformation in fact requires more of an open hand in order to let go of now and welcome – or at least explore – next.

For me, the more things feel out of control, the more I want to control them—or find some kind of “normalcy,” usually a sense of false comfort. On 9/11 for example, after I finally made it out of Washington, DC, and spoke with my immediate family, I couldn’t continue to watch the devasting news. I could feel my internal system begin to short circuit. So, I did the most mundane thing I could think of. I went to the grocery store and walked up and down each aisle buying a handful of comfort foods. This dull routine calmed down my nervous system so I could process and think more objectively.

February was a full-on assault to my nervous system – my brain and heart struggling to process everything around me. So much in my professional life going on, that I couldn’t even figure out what to try to “manage.” As I explained to someone in my industry, I felt like I was standing in the middle of a frozen lake – listening to the cracks and pops around me – safe at the moment, but vulnerable. Frozen, wondering if I (or someone I cared about) would lose footing and sink with the next fissure.

I wanted to manage (cover up and control) my emotions. I wanted to manage the pain I saw in my social media feed. I wanted to manage the unknowns that’s swirled in my head at 3am.

I couldn’t.

My false sense of control slipped away, replaced with a sense of having swallowed a Tickle Me Elmo doll… an emotional ball of confusion, doubt, anger, possibility, incredulity, worry, and panic vibrated inside my body. I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t release it.

So, I had to be with it.

To be of service to my community (clients, co-workers, friends, and family), I first had to be of service to myself. This involved sitting with and exploring my emotional ball of goo. It was the only control I had.

I’ve come to learn (re-learn as it’s an ongoing practice) that when I avoid my own goo, then I’m not engaged in a meaningful solution – one that aligns with my values, my purpose, my vision. My emotional vibrations move me haphazardly, erratically, if unchecked and unacknowledged.

So, I became curious about what super charged my emotional ball of goo and what sedated it—and make adjustments accordingly. I began to apply my pragmatic optimism looking for goodness (it always exists if I seek it out) and then discern how I could lend a hand to my community (I can’t control but I can always help). I scheduled time to be with those who bring me comfort and laughs, even in hard circumstances (authenticity is a balm for me).

Yes, the emotions are still here inside me. No, I don’t have clear answers. Yes, the frozen lake continues to crack. No, I’m not sure where to step.

This moment does matter … every moment does. Skimming by it – the hard, ugly, scary, uncertain – reduces our chance to take it all in, wrestle with it, learn from it, and determine how we will take intentional action on it.

What will you do, feel, be, or explore in this moment?

January 2025 Quote: I Believe in Wonderment.

Posted on February 2, 2025February 2, 2025 by Emily Oehler1 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 January 2025 my quote was: “I believe in wonderment.”

One year ago, I wrote in my January quote post that “I saw the beauty of the end of something done amazingly well” in regard to the end of my father’s life after a decade with Alzheimer’s. In the 12 month’s sense, wonderment just might be the best word to encapsulate it all, especially grief. As Meriam-Webster’s defines wonderment as “a cause or occasion for wonder (marvel, miracle, rapt attention, a feeling of doubt or uncertainty), astonishment, surprise, curiosity about something.” Throughout this past month here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

There is no greater adventure than the present moment
The fierce urgency of now
With hope comes resilience and with resilience came new beginnings
Mavin, misfit, and muse
Turn it over and turn it over, and see everything in it
Who are you to deny God’s perfection and possibility?
Doubt is the space between good and evil
Courage to love with a rigorous inside-out consistency
Mystery and manifest come from the same source, darkness
To be faithful to take the next step; to rely on more than the map; to heed the signposts of intuition and dream; to follow the star that only you recognize
How much love? All the love
Because a broken heart is easier to share
What are you going to do with all that dark? Find a way to glow in it
Seek that which is best for another person
It’s like studying for the test instead of learning the lesson
I am steady

I learned a lot throughout my “year of firsts” (a grief phrase to capture going through one of everything without your loved one). And, there is much I’m still processing, and will be for a while, as the pain of love and our unknown next are big things to try to come to grips with. It’s like looking in a room of mirrors and seeing your reflection continue on and on and on and on and on with no end.

My Core Truths for Grief

For me, the mixture of loss, love, and wonderment led me to these core truths about grief:

(1) God will show up, always, but not as you anticipated or wanted – but as you needed … and the same is true for your dead loved one.

(2) The emotions of grief are like a squirrel that’s been day drinking – all over the place – but let them come and go as they need as they can be vicious when bottled up.

(3) While grief is personal, it should be done in community, whether that is a formal group or with friends and loved ones.

(4) There is much laughter to be had in grief and it’s not only OK, it’s good.

(5) Grief resides in your bones forever – it changes your spiritual DNA – but the love remains in your heart, always accessible.

As I completed my end of “the firsts,” I chose to begin my next year focused on wonderment. I’d experienced a great deal of wonderment (astonishment, surprise, curiosity) throughout each milestone in 2024, and I wanted more of this electrical charge in 2025. This connection to the energy of life and the golden thread beyond. Just hopefully without so many moments of snot nosed tears.

October 2024 Quote: “Affirm the Sacredness of Mundane Things”

Posted on November 14, 2024November 14, 2024 by Emily Oehler1 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 2024, the quote that centered me was “affirm the sacredness of mundane things.”

I find it a bit hard to affirm the mundane when it’s your birthday month – a time for celebration with loved ones of who know the nooks and crannies of who I am and how I got to be the current version of myself. But upon reflection, I realized birthdays really are the celebration of the mundane. All the average, simple thoughts and decisions got me to this point. The mundane supported me during the eventful moments and big decisions. It’s the mundane that built the strong foundation from which I could jump to greater things or rest and recover safely.

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

Is the space sacred because God is there or because we are there seeking God?
She who believes in hope can accomplish miracles
Aging is not lost youth, but a new stage of opportunity and strength
Power is the ability to pursue purpose
A leadership laboratory
Listening is so close to love most people can’t tell the difference
I come into the peace of wild things
You are everything that is
In courage one sees the brilliant triumph of the soul over the flesh
Pay close attention to the adventures before you
All your experiences are soaked in magic
Never take for granted all that radiates in you – you were born to blaze
Emancipate the imagination
We are the photosynthesis of grace and wonder
When life becomes deliberate pitter-patter of wonderment
It’s the reminder to live now; to be bold; to be electric
The border that exists between temporary dust and everlasting spirit
You were formed out of an ancient whisper to become a natural wonder
Radical hospitality
Strengthen what remains
Be the walking piece of rainbow shag carpet

My birthday sat differently this year. In past years I filled it with activities and my favorite people – a gift to myself to be with those who fill my heart with joy. This year more solitude felt right. I slowed down, settled into each moment, and just was. I replaced the doing of my birth with presence in the day… absorbing.

I took in the mundane and seemed to find more magic in each moment. The soft breeze that stirred the leaves, as if to awaken them to their color change. The balm of a hug extended for just a few seconds longer. The connection that occurs when you cook with a loved one – nourishment for the heart. How much better life feels when you share concerns, normally activated by late-night gremlins, with a friend in the daytime. That sitting around an open fire converts strangers to friends. The realization that deep laughter generates pixie dust that infects those around you in the best way. The soothing sway to a favorite song that culminates in an all-out kitchen dance at lunch time. That knowing you have disco ball shoes on that sparkle in the sun makes you walk with more effervescence. The nightly “I love you” text ritual with mom that settles me for sleep.

This year, stillness – presence – was my greatest gift. Rather than an electrifying month of events, I felt time slow down. I got to see, sense, and soak up so much more from each moment.

I was more alive … and isn’t that what our birthday is really all about?

September 2022 Quote: “Don’t Be Afraid to Start Over”

Posted on October 9, 2022October 9, 2022 by Emily Oehler1 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 for the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For September 2022 the quote was, “Don’t be afraid to start over, you might like your new story.”

After doing this mindful quote practice for more than a year, it still surprises me how much the quote I pick for the following month rings so true and offers the space for the reflection I didn’t know I needed. This was especially true this month with this quote. Here are quotes that caught my attention in September that connected to “…start over”:

One day or day one – you decide.
You can end up navigating with a compass that doesn’t actually belong to you.
By being here, you have given.
Trajectory.
You are the reason.
May it help you to manifest positive things today and every day.
The time is now.
If you see a turtle on a fence post, you know it didn’t get there alone. Someone had to pick it up and put it there.
Settled.
Our jobs as humans is to honor ourselves.
Be free. Choose you. Amplify your voice and dream louder.

September was full of transitions. The 80-person change management/strategic communications practice I built from scratch and led went to someone else in a re-org. The place where I worked for 8 years dissolved through an acquisition. I automatically started a new job at the company that purchased us with 60-days’ notice. I got aligned to their defense account after 20 years in health care. My Outlook calendar was not transferred as part of the deal. I did not have a leadership role in the new organization – no practice to lead, and no clarity that they even had a similar practice of specialists.

I was truly starting over is every way.

But yet, I wasn’t.

This start began on a foundation of community of coworkers – 1,200 of us started together. This start began on a foundation of experience – I had my commercial, non-profit, and public sector client work to draw upon, as well as work at 3 other consulting firms. This start began on a foundation of mindfulness – I didn’t panic, I didn’t rush in, I didn’t look for the exit hatch. Instead, I simply sat with the phrase, “I’m open to opportunities” and took a lot of deep breaths.

In this transition I found the opportunity to start over with my Outlook calendar. I’m setting it up with a more mindful lens. Mindful of when I am most productive in the day. Mindful of how long certain tasks actually take and to block it accordingly. Mindful of my team and having standing 1:1 time with each person to connect more personally. Mindful to eat away from the computer. Mindful of having a “cherished chat” each week with a co-worker or community member who brings me joy and inspires me.

In this transition, I found the opportunity to start over with my career goals. I realized that for quite some time I’d focused on the progression of the company’s “career continuum” – what actions and metrics are needed to “level up.” I realized in the silence of not having a practice to run that I’d let the outside voices still my inner voice… that while my career was moving, it was moving in a rapid circular hamster wheel kind of way rather than one driven by my personal goals and core purpose. And, that I needed to really re-access how I most wanted to apply my expertise and passion next.

In this transition, I found the opportunity to start over with my community. As things wound down at Grant Thornton, I took time to connect personally with those who had impacted me – from my deputies and leadership team to mentors and teammates – to thank them. I sent a weekly Monday email to my broader team during the final month together that included self-reflections, links to songs, funny memes, and hope. I reached out to my personal community to share the news and ask for time to reacclimate. I set up “play dates” with my closest friends and had long calls with those farther away to be as refilled with as much joy as possible before I started the new job.

In this transition, I found the opportunity to start over with my identity. For so long, I was “Emily, the lead of Business Change Enablement.” But, that is not who I am… that is what I did. The freedom from roles and expectations gave me space to think about the alignment between my who, my what, and my why. I learned I am not my title. I am so much more.

In this transition, I found the opportunity to start over with vulnerability. As an introvert, so many thoughts and emotions remain in my head. Yes, I am comfortable talking and can banter with the best, but what is at my inner core is held close. I took this opportunity to work on a lesson the universe puts in front of me time and time again – let go. Let go of the need for control. Let go of the fear of failure. Let go of the need to succeed. Let go of the protection. Just be. So, I tried it. I shared more authentically. And, well, it was amazing! My conversations were deeper. The emotions comforting. The tense shoulder looser. The smiles more frequent. The connections more personal.

This transition also reconfirmed the follow: Making time for your co-workers is essential and a top priority, always. Routine exercise keeps my emotional boogie men at bay. Sometimes a giant bowl of coping ice cream is really what you need and it’s OK. Starting over is tiring. Setting up new technology inspires my use of curse words at a whole new level. Quiet time in my work day is a blessing and requirement. Laughter or a good cry make all things possible.

Finally, this transition reminded me that we’re all in this together… starting over each day with a fresh 24-hour slate with which to learn, try, grow, fail, progress, stumble, soar, help, and heal. How will you start over today?