Posts tagged real talk
Here Are 5 Little but Important Reasons Why You Are the Strongest You’ve Ever Been Right Now

There is a bouquet of brightly colored yellow flowers in the window.

Kona is sleeping next to my tucked up feet.

I received the sweetest note from a dear friend today.

The birds start chirping with the warmth of the day instead of the sun.

The house is still, I can hear myself breathe. I can hear myself listening.

All the windows are open and afternoon smell reminds me of budding tulips.

I just spent a week with my family, eating delicious meals, laughing effortlessly, drinking too much coffee, all while working hard and passionately toward a goal that I may or may not fall short of—not the point though, is it? In fact, there isn’t one.

That’s on my mind right now, but so is this.

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So You Call Yourself a Writer but You Don't Write?

I recently pulled out a new notebook, folding back the pages and pressing them against the table.

As I put pen to paper, I caught questioning my motives. I caught myself with a handful of excuses that amounted to nothing more than just that, excuses.

Excuses, why? Because I’ve fallen out of the habit of writing daily? Because my words might come out clunky and unorganized? Because someone else can do it better than I? Maybe so. Maybe yes to all of these things. Maybe I have fallen out of practice, come up with one too many excuses, leading to heavy and clunky words and the idea that whatever I can do, someone can craft it better.

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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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A Letter: Reminders for Your Wild Self

Making space for the conversations under the stars, legs swinging inches above the ground as time feels irrelevant and the storing and stuffing and stirring of thoughts settle into a cool pool, where the only thing reflecting back at you, is you. 

You and those specks of light part of something much bigger than this. 

What if what I have to offer isn’t enough for a world so big, so messy, so swallowed up by to do’s that the conversations under these stars with legs swinging and hearts full, feel too small and unmatched next to the action we must take if we wish to keep on bettering. 

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