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

Real Talk More Than Lyme

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.

A few hours have gone by and my fingers still smell of plums, while the thoughts that soaked up the news this morning, have yet to catch on to the fact that I’m here not there. Though I’m not convinced that this is entirely a bad thing. Just a thing that I’m noticing. A thing that might lead me to believe, if I’m not careful, that at any given moment, I may not be doing enough. 

With there always being more to do, say, and be part of, it’s important that we first make sure we’re doing and being part of our own lives in a very present and whole-hearted way; if we don’t show up for this, for ourselves, how will we know how to show up for others?

The first steps in taking action can often be an entirely invisible feat. For the outside world, that is. The re-prioritizing in order to make room for the internal work. The letting go, working through, and asking of hard questions. The coming face to face with those parts that have either been ignored, suppressed, or pushed to the side while focusing on A, B, and C. All of which are incredibly important and worth your while.

Just maybe not your—entire—while.

The light is now turning the leaves that golden color only Autumn seems to produce.

I’ve stepped away long enough for the smell of warm summer fruit to be washed from my clothes and hands.

I’ve stepped away long enough to realize that what I’m getting at isn’t entirely made up of self-love, but rather, self-love amidst selfless acts—moments that require you to be standing on the front lines while lending an ear, arm, or shoulder to lean on.

All while knowing that the you tomorrow, might be the one that’s doing the leaning.

To make room for both yourself & others.

Going on a walk without any expectations or exterior motives.

Listening to someone without interjecting, while acknowledging how you feel. Do certain topics make you uncomfortable? If so, you take note and come back to them later—there might be internal work to do, but now is not the time to do it. Now is the time to listen. Listen so that when it’s your turn to speak, you’ll be heard from a similar place.

Wrapping yourself up in a blanket, stepping outside, and spending time with the galaxies and glow of the moon before you slip under the covers of night.

Making room for a coffee date or phone call with an old friend. Either calling to schedule beforehand, or showing up with a few treats, as well as flowers in the off chance they aren’t home.

Keeping with you a notebook that you can jot ideas in as they come to you. Don’t limit yourself. They may feel like random small thoughts, but you just never know what magic could come of them later.

Sipping on coffee or tea while diving into a book, magazine, or treasured online publication. And try to ignore the time, if you can!

Oh yes, and de-pitting plums while listening to NPR.

I’m asking myself, “what do I have to offer from this moment?” What can I take with as I continue to learn, absorb, and face the uncomfortable, from this coffee-sipping, plum de-pitting, seat at the kitchen table? That requires both the answering of hard questions, gentleness of listening, dedication of coming back to yourself again and again, while still making sure there’s room for the subtleties and nuances found on that walk through the woods or phone call with a dear friend.

For curiosity.

For creating and doing alongside healing.

For reminding yourself that though the things that you have to offer from this moment might initially feel small, they’re endless impactful. 

For reminding yourself that this is simply a place to expand from. 

Because yes, there is always be more to do, say, and be part of, but instead of starting everywhere, why not take a peak at what’s already here. With all of this said, and there was quite a bit, I’d love to invite you to, for a lack of a better word, work with me through and alongside many of the topics that were highlighted above. 

What does this look like?

Whether it be fear based, rooted in resistance, or those negative thoughts circling around past experiences, know that I’m here not as a doctor, therapist, or as an all-knowing source, but as someone who believes in you.

Believes in connection and community are everything, creativity and adventures are essential to bettering our whole-selves, and that the story you’ve been telling yourself can be re-written to work with not against. To enhance your life instead of take away from. To share your voice and story in an impactful and lasting way. In short, your illness and obstacles are not your identity. 

there is now a whole page on this platform and within this community, dedication to just this.

To one-on-one mentorship sessions where we’ll be expanding from this place.

From here.

Wherever here is for you.

Incredible photo by Julia Duke from a recent trip to Tahoe, CA.