Unedited Thoughts From 35,000 Feet Up

It comes at you suddenly and in the most unsuspecting of ways. 

The words whirling around like dust provoked by the swooping touch of fingers on a windowsill, my body sits curled up miles high, eyes fixated on the crescent moon that rests just above the wing of the plane, while my mind opens the door and allows the dust to have one last hoorah before all goes still.

Before it settles. 

Before it clears.

Before thoughts take shape out if the stillness and the eagerness to create something. 

To make sense of anything. 

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I Am Done Running: Why Lyme Disease Will Always Be Part of This Story

The air stagnant, thick with thoughts carved out of yesterday’s happenings and the anticipation for tomorrow’s anxiety, I sigh and welcome myself to a place I think of as the in between.

Where wanting to fix, repair, dissect, analyze, and make new, is second nature, and the idea that one can simply be with where they’re at and the accomplishments that run alongside the act of showing up for the day, however that looks, is absurd and entirely unrealistic.

Work more, achieve more, learn more, be more more more—with that mindset, no wonder I’m falling short. No wonder I feel let down. 

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A Holiday “Inspired-By” Guide to Belonging: Here Are a Handful of People, Experiences, Movements, Artists, and Other Such Things, That I Think You Should Know About

I have sat with this post for awhile, going back and forth on what to call or it or how to phrase things. What is the best way to showcase the artists, movement makers, and thought-leaders that leave me in awe of what this community (and the one just beyond it) is capable of?

Surely I’m going to neglect to mention someone, mis-interpret who they are and what they do. Not just that, but fail to get this out in time so that I can maybe, just maybe, bring them a few sales.

In short, I don’t want to fall short, but I’m quite certain that that’s inevitable with these sorts of things, so I suppose the alternative that I came up with will be much simpler with a lot of room to breathe and do and create, with the root of it being: We all have something to give.

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Unexpected Ways That Your Art, Your Craft, and Your Ideas Only Just Planted, Are Changing the World for the Better

The things that I think I should write about have stopped me from writing at all. I mean, not entirely, but in that way that gives me motive and drive and a sense of understanding. One that helps to clear things up and let things go. 

Often what can stop us from doing something are, at first, the expectations we put around the outcome. Second, what we believe others will think of us doing them. Third, the approval and desire to feel qualified before stepping into that role (whatever it requires of us). Fourth, having it fit into current affairs, ideas, and movements—if it’s outside of that box, it can almost feel irrelevant. 

At one point or another, I’ve found myself blocked by all of these things.

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The Wellness Divide, Why More Than Lyme, and What’s Been Brought to the Surface Since Beginning to Offer 1:1 Mentorships

This Real Talk took an unexpected twist sparked by an email.

It was 7am, I had just finished writing the newsletter for the morning, and there it was. An email that pushed me to ask myself, “why am I choosing to show up in this way?” And maybe more importantly, “why now,” in deciding whether to offer a service (specifically the one-on-one sessions) through this platform.

At first, I wanted to shut it all down. I wanted to create a 100% discount. I wanted to run away and hide from what was surfacing. Money can be an uncomfortable thing to talk about, especially within a community where obstacles are seemingly everywhere, and not just that, but what we each have access to, our support systems, and the activities that our bodies and minds are able to do at any given moment.

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Because There Will Always Be More to Do, Say, and Be Part of, What Do We Have to Offer From This Moment?

The moment where I stop myself.

Where I pull out my notebook or computer and gaze blankly at the space just above; the bigger picture extends from here. From this place. From my seat at the kitchen table, sipping on my coffee, while intermittently watching the lawn be mowed at the park that pushes up against our back yard. 

This morning, I listened to OPB, or rather, NPR, while slicing, de-pitting, bagging, and then freezing plums that were once dripping from the tree outside of our kitchen window. The one that the bluebirds converse from while fluffing their undercoats, as I happily put on mine and watch from the porch below.

Again, of course, with a hot cup of coffee.

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