Blog - Golden Acorns

Welcome to Golden Acorns

Posted on July 27, 2021September 10, 2021 by Emily Oehler7 Comments

I believe growth happens between words and actions. That there is a golden space that connects meaning between the lines of our individual story – both our external story and the one that plays in our head – and how we show up in the world. As a preacher’s kid I associate this golden space with faith. A spiritual link that makes us whole. Not just whole individually but whole as a community.

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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.

Hey Dad,

Posted on January 17, 2025January 16, 2025 by Emily Oehler2 Comments

It’s January 17…

and I miss you.

It’s been a loving, hard, glorious, heartbreaking, happy, tear-filled, bizarre, adventurous, faithful year of firsts…

and I miss you.

I can’t believe it’s been 365 days and a round of holidays. I can’t believe how time moved differently this year – part molasses, part fast forward, part reverse in memory lane. I can’t believe I lived a year without you here, but yet you were – just a bit more elusive

and I miss you.

I’m glad you’re at ease now…

and I miss you.

I know you shook your head at times and rolled with laughter at others as you watched us move forward. Living with death was kinda your specialty at work and I really missed your expertise along this wonky road. I do appreciate thought how you always showed up when I really needed help…

and I miss you.

I wear your blue wool v-neck sweater as I smell your old Speed Stick deodorant looking for a substitute to your hug…

and I miss you.

I’ve ached for one of our hugs – just one more to tied me over. One more moment of immersive love – a felt sense of wonder, certainty, encouragement, solace, comfort, joy, gratitude, and peace – transferred through your embrace. There is no substitute and that truly sucks.

and I miss you.

I enjoy our conversations as I lay in bed before I start my day but what I wouldn’t do for a boisterous “hey there!” from you…

and I miss you.

I tried to keep things steady, and time and time again smirked when I realized how many of your quirky habits are also mine…

and I miss you.

I kept many of our traditions in place, but truthfully, some I put down. As a creature of habit, I know this might have been hard to see. I also know you’d be OK with changes as long as we did it as a family…

and I miss you.

I also know our deviation from tradition revved up your mischievous middle child mentality. Yes, our feisty – and somewhat unconventional – approach to mourning has been right up your alley…

and I miss you.

I do appreciate your visits from your gold lame Elvis moment to singing together in the chapel. Damn though if I can’t hear “How Great Though Art” without a laughing now…

and I miss you.

I have to say, it can be hard when you sneak up on me and spin up my emotions… but then again you always loved a good surprise. In these moments I realized that tears and laughter can coexist. Even now you continue to teach me how to live in the “and” spaces of life…

and I miss you.

I hold you tight with an ever-present tube of Chapstick and hankie—or sometimes a bowl of ice cream…

and I miss you.

I really appreciate your continued guidance. As usual, you steered me toward family and faith – and on more than one occasion, to splurge on spontaneous fun…

and I miss you.

I know you’re happy about the role church played this past year. Hymns, scripture, sermons, committees, Sunday School, staff, pastors, and members all connected around me – a bubble of Presbyterian goodness…

and I miss you.

I have to say my friends were also incredible…. cards, check-in texts, calls, surprises, and space held for my emotions with a side or two of bourbon…

and I miss you.

I wasn’t sure about vacation at the beach or Christmas this year. They were different, hard, OK all at the same time…

and I miss you.

I will admit I didn’t realize the lasting impact of having “Joy To the World” sung at your funeral—and the added emotions that will forever arise when I sing it on Christmas Eve. A bittersweet tune of joy and longing…

and I miss you.

I met you in music. I saw you in the stars. I sought you at the shore. I heard you in the chimes. I felt you in the sunshine. I ached for you in the quiet…

and I miss you.

I’m grateful that time and time again your smile found me, felt rather than seen, but beaming all the same…

and I miss you.

I am and will always be OK because of the love you pour into me and the faith you demonstrated for me…

and I miss you.

Just know that throughout this past year I always chose from the heart…

A heart that is sore. A heart that is lonely. A heart that is held. A heart that is full. A heart that is different. A heart that is scarred. A heart that is larger…

and a heart that misses you…

“Until we meet again…”

I miss you.

2025 Leadership Intention to Help Authentically

Posted on January 5, 2025January 5, 2025 by Emily Oehler1 Comment

Several years ago, my federal client closed out each year with an email to her entire 30,000-person team, plus consultants. This was not a typical “thanks for your hard work this year, go enjoy family for a few days, and come back ready to work hard in the new year” message – for which I was grateful. Her email was immensely personal and bold as she recounted the status of her annual leadership intention.

As this leader wrote her email, she did not apply a filter on her year-long endeavor to live into a focused, intentional way of showing up in the world. She shared the missteps and missed opportunities, along with the joys, lessons learned, and mysteries of her experiences trying to embody her leadership intention—and did so in detail. The close of her email would be to share her leadership intention for the new year.

To me, her email embodied bold accountability rarely seen in modern leaders…. and inspired me and I began the practice of a leadership intention.

Set an Intention

Over the past years, my intentions were helpful, forgotten, motivating, haphazard, or often based on “shoulda’s” – set in the moment or as a reaction rather than with, well, intention. I wanted more (better) for myself this year, so I used the Leadership Intention Workbook created by Kristen Lisanti, and joined her and other Radiant Leaders in her 1.5 hour “retreat” to think about, process, and draft an intention.

In honor of the one who inspired me, I’ll share that for 2025, as a leader, my intention is to “help authentically.”

I chose this leadership intention – or perhaps it chose me – due to joy. Specifically, the joy I felt when I was my best as a leader as indicated by ease, creativity, fun, growth, and outcomes generated in community with others… that my teammates told me occurred for them too. I wanted to have more of this “vibe” and impact not just in my formal roles as a leader, but in all aspects of my life. Upon reflection and with input from others at the retreat, I realized that when I centered on helping in an authentic way – making it about the person/people in that moment rather than the task – that honest conversations emerged, barriers dissipated, ideas bubbled up, more felt possible. And most of all, everyone felt more empowered, so outcomes seemed to more easily occur. I also want to show up authentically to help others do the same.

Intentional Words

Because I love words, I explored “authentically” and “authentic” before I settled on my intention, and here are phrases that Google provided:

Being genuine
True to yourself and your values – aligned to your core self
Faithfulness
Self-aware
Open minded
Shows vulnerability
Brave and takes risks
Living in the moment with conviction and confidence
Puts others around them at ease
Courage to love with a rigorous inside-out consistency

So, here’s to my year to practice “help authentically” as a leader. A year to learn. A year to fail. A year to adjust. A year to grow. A year to play. A year to discover.

Cheerleading, feedback, and patience will all be appreciated.

December 2024 Quote: “Go Easy, My Love – Go Easy”

Posted on December 28, 2024December 28, 2024 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 December 2024, the quote that centered me was “go easy, my love – go easy.”

I found this quote in a poem by John Roedel, and knew it was the advice, reminder, and mantra I would need throughout December. Not just to balance against the added Christmas activities and expectations, but for more personal reasons. This would be my first Christmas without Dad, and the last of the “firsts.” This quote gave me permission to move with ease in the tender moments of the holiday season and be with my heart not my head of “must do’s.”

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

Habits of the heart
Claim time with the holy
Prayer does not fit us for the greater work, prayer is the greater work
Rest allows us to do what matters most
Grief that remains with us until we pass is just unexpressed love because we never have enough time
The glorious impossible
God sadly has given you the experience to hold them through this painful time
Welcome to the dream space
We are divine
Our spirit knows better
There is space for the unknown
The light resides inside the darkness
You’re locating yourself
Will you trust in your divinity enough?
Reclaim rest as holy
So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me for I, too, am fluent in silence
When you can’t look at the bright side, I’ll sit with you in the dark
Who are the sharpeners of your vision?
You can just be

Go

The quote showed up differently for me throughout the month. It began more of a command, “go easy!” as I struggled to decorate—as each decoration put me in the setting of dad’s final days last year, and a time of year he cherished most. A complex contradiction of lights, smells, and embodied memories in every Christmas decoration. It morphed into permission to walk away from some traditions, “my love, go easy.” It was a balm when my emotions continued to bubble up – a reminder to be with them rather than push through them, “easy, my love.”

Easy

The quote also inspired me to step off the glittery holiday carousel and really sit with my shit. I didn’t want to wallow, but there was too much to feel. So, I listened. “Love, go.” And I went to my first “Longest Night” service at Westminster Presbyterian Church. Held on the Winter Solstice, the day with the most darkness, the contemplative candlelight service provided space to be in community as we each individually connected with our loss and acknowledged it. Scripture, meditation, and music. The simple service did not eliminate our pain or try to whitewash it away with good news. It simply gave space – acceptance – that hurt and hope, loss and love, were part of living with heart. That we see and feel the light because of the darkness that is there. Each one makes the other seen and felt.

The service closed with silence. Each person centered on their heart’s emotions. Then if compelled to, they rose to light a candle as they prayed silently for light in their – or their loved ones – darkness.

Each person invited to remain in the tiny white chapel as long as they needed, in the warm glow of the sacred light we generated in prayer. I was the last one there. Alone in the scared stillness, snot-nosed, and held by divine grace.

My love

The tears fell. Poured. In what was clearly a needed release. My unexpressed love and unprocessed loss bottled up, now fully released. “My love, go.”

Alone, I walked to the back of the chapel. There I found the brass plaque with Dad’s name and life dates on the columbarium wall. I laid my hand on it, spoke to him, and prayed for many in my life—those who buoyed me this past year and those who need support now too.

As I turned and stood in the doorway to the chapel, it was then that I noticed just how much light our individual prayers of comfort and hope generated.

Go easy.

My love.

Go easy.

The Tears, The Visitor, and The Golden Threads in Grief

Posted on December 21, 2024December 21, 2024 by Emily Oehler1 Comment

Grief has been an odd companion this year. It’s morphed within me month over month.

What began as drowning, shifted.

What became erratic, evolved.

What became a shadow, loosened.

What became a constant hum, faded.

What came in November was a backlash.

The Tears

Ten months of my emotional evolution in mourning landed me back in grief’s grip. Back with vengeance were the at-ready tears.

This time however, I met grief more equipped. I knew it. I accepted it. I let it be… to run its course a bit, me just along for the ride.

It wasn’t that I was more sad or felt bad. Perhaps it was my body’s way of processing my next level of emotions. An excavation of the deeper unknowns in my heart, and tears were pockets of lost love that needed release for the wound to heal more thoroughly.

So, constantly throughout my fall and early winter days, I just let the tears fall.

No questions. No withholding. No stopping (as if I could).

They just fell now and then throughout each day – almost like a dusting of snow; gone before you realized their presence – a light cleansing.

As Christmas closed in, I knew the pain the tears sought to wash away… or soften the sting. Dad was Christmas. In so many ways he embraced the full magic of the season—from the Jesus to Santa, the nativity to the angel on our Christmas tree, he delighted in it all.

I listened to every single Christmas Eve sermon he delivered in my life.
I drove through a massive ice storm watching car after car after car slide off the interstate so I could hear him read a story to the young children on Christmas Eve, often from “Angeles and Other Strangers.”
I would hold my breath at the end of each Christmas Eve service waiting in anticipation for him to shout with full delight: Merry Christmas!
I would watch him package up a gift for mom in an unusual way, from nesting boxes for a tiny item to a house-wide scavenger hunt.
I would wait and see which package bow he would remove and wear on his head Christmas day.
After retirement, between mom and I in the pew, I would savor how he sang “Joy to the World” doing the echo bass refrain against mom’s soprano voice … “and wonders of his love—and wonders of his love” as his body bounced to the tune; the tune we closed his committal service with.

And like has happened throughout my grief journey moments arose between the tears. Moments, no, golden threads to him emerged that stitched through my heart like internal scaffolding. Strengthening fibers of nostalgia as I lived forward. December’s thread pulled me in through grief on Friday.

The Visitor

On Friday afternoon, I noticed the songbird sound of my Uber driver’s voice. “You have such a beautiful accent. Where are you from?” I laughed internal as I remembered Dad would always ask others about their accent – curiosity leading to connection. “Ethiopia.” We talked a bit about the wonkiness of the English language and then she shared, “I came here to have my son. It was a 17-hour flight. After I got here, he had problems–his lungs weren’t developing, and they did a c-section at 34 weeks.” (Note, full-term is 40 weeks.) “Oh my, is he OK?” “Yes, he’s well now but the bills are a lot.” “Do you have friends or family here?” “No, I’m totally alone. Just me and him. But I wanted a child for so long, IVF. It’s OK. We go back to Ethiopia in a month or so.”

A single mother.

An unknown country.

An unexpected child.

A faith of gratitude.

I could just about hear dad’s voice from the pulpit share this story in his Christmas Eve service and smiled.

She stopped on my street and parked for me to get out.

A golden thread tugged at my heart. I thought once more of Dad – one to give freely to those in need, especially at Christmas. I leaned forward in the car… handed her the $100 bill Dad taught me to keep in my wallet for emergencies… and with all my George Oehler delight said, “Merry Christmas!”

The Stories from a Room of Beth Duttons

Posted on December 12, 2024December 12, 2024 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

I’ve media trained three-star generals, triple board-certified physicians, federal executives, and severely wounded enlisted combat veterans for appearances on 60 Minutes; The Today Show; Wall Street Journal; and various trade publications and local newscasts. But the room I walked into mid-November as a keynote speaker on “The Story of Your Business” made me the most nervous.

To try to balance my nerves, I armored up: comfy consultant black attire, bedazzled rhinestone-covered penny loafers, matte red lipstick, Chanel #5, and new speckled readers… and a lot of deep breathes.

In I walked to face 70 powerhouse women. As I later joked to workshop participants, it was a room full of Beth Duttons… and I better have my content tight and my game on.

The women, from all over the United States, owned and ran ranches and farms – entrepreneurs whose products relied on the most fickle of women to succeed, Mother Nature. They attended the National Farmers Union’s conference to learn and share in an effort to make a hard but rewarding business better.

My goal was to help them understand, define, and share their story effectively – from visuals to voice – to more easily break through the clutter of content and reach the hearts and heads of customers, business leaders, and legislators. Simply put, to communicate more intentionally to accomplish their business goals.

Between my slides and anecdotes, the participants learned about and practiced:

Mindfulness to clarify your story
Brain science behind visuals and content consumption
The data of communications … the challenge to break through the information clutter
Message development frameworks
Use of your body and voice (with a side of improv)
Media relations
3 types of introductions

Storytelling

One woman business owner shared her story of firsts which included the first in her family in the U.S., that she first grew something in the window box of her apartment, the first to move to Minnesota, and first to own a farm. Talk about bold! Another woman shared she wrangles elementary school kids by day and on the side owns a ranch of miniature cows—about 36” tall. These cuddly cute cows offer comfort in therapy sessions to children and adults alike. Another female farmer spoke of her business, Wild Horse Lavendar, which I could practically smell as she spoke. Her worn leather square-toed boots, Stetson, and jeans spoke volumes to me – grounded, tenacious, and full of spunk.

Over the course of two hours, these women shared parts of their story. The ever present threat of weather. The bone-tired state of “being” as most had two jobs plus a family. The business and marketing challenges. Their compelling business goals. Additionally, we shared a side chat about my favorite cow – the Belted Galloway, or Oreo cow. Their stories showed these women ranchers and farmers were compelling, boisterous, thoughtful, hardworking, supportive, creative, and dedicated business owners. Simply put, impressive and inspiring.

This time in conversation with these ranchers and farmers – sharing knowledge and experiences – reminded me of the power of storytelling. Stories bring the unknown to life… build connections with others quickly… bring compassion into the equation… and bolster what is possible. But most importantly, it gave me greater respect for what’s on my plate and what it took to get there.

What’s your story?

November 2024 Quote: “Stay Fully Wild, Star Child”

Posted on December 3, 2024December 3, 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 “stay fully wild, star child.”

November is many things. The unofficial start of the holiday season. A month centered on gratitude and decadent food. But for me, it’s mom’s birthday month. For those who don’t know her she is a 5’2” red-headed force for good. A preacher’s wife who hugs everyone, dances as the mood strikes, dishes out delicious southern food, lives as a faithful Presbyterian, enjoys adventures, has a competitive streak, is quick to laugh, and is surrogate mom to many. And, she embodies my quote this month.

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

What is the work your soul must have?
Stillness is another door into the temple
Taste your words before you spit them out
Silence is a massage for the soul
Don’t ever believe we are thinking machines who have feelings – we are feeling machines who on occasion think
You pick who disturbs you
Love loud and shine bright
Grieve the past and the present, but don’t grieve the future—we’re not there yet
You threw dirt on me and flowers grew; I’d be mad too
Worrying is like worshiping the problem
Time is available to live in
Silence is a symphony of truth
I go in search of a great perhaps
Scapitude: a combination of scappiness and fire in the belly that gets shit done
Beautiful means “most self”
Evermore

Respite Adventures…

In the weeks after my father death from Alzheimer’s, mom and I stood side by side in the kitchen and erased his upcoming appointments from the family calendar. The months suddenly looked overwhelmingly open. What remained was the standing Thursday calendar block for respite, when she’d take Dad to a wonderful half-day program for fellowship, and she had a break. In the moment, I offered, “Let’s keep respite on the calendar so we focus on fun.” She quickly agreed with a sparkle in her Carolina blue eyes.

For four months, our respite adventures together were weekly as I stayed with her as we both shifted from the loss of her sun and my moon. As I merged back into life and work, we connected each month for joint respite. For those not familiar with respite, it’s defined as, “a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.” For full-time caregivers it’s essential, and I’ve come to believe critical to everyone as we move through the complexities of life.

For 10 months, Mom and I have respited in a variety wild of ways – big and small. We ate (all the biscuits), drank (an Old Fashion everywhere we respite), played, laughed, and cried with each adventure. Indoor skydiving, lunar moments (beach sunrise, solar eclipse watching), star gazing, Cheerwine festival, fried local oysters, shoe shopping, flamingo feeding, artistic painting, pedicures, movies, Swan Lake ballet, the oldest saloon in Texas, her first Uber (a Tesla with rainbow interior lights), our first Airbnb, fondue, Van Gough immersive experience, climbing Pilot Mountain, and plenty of ice cream – just to name a few of our respite adventures.

These adventures soothed my soul and generated incredible memories. But the best part is to be in mom’s presence, fully wild as a star child. She remains curious, eager to learn. She literally stops and smells all the flowers and communes with the birds – my own Snow White. She is truly with people she meets – open, sincere, supportive – friend and stranger alike. Simply put, she lives with her heart.

And…

Our respite adventures have not been all joy-filled as grief now resides in our bones. But with a focus on rejuvenation, we learned to live together in a space of “and.” Laughter and tears. Delight of new memories and ache from old ones. Action and stillness. Anticipation and sadness. Moving forward and looking back.

And, the understanding that love exists in it all.

A Walk with Grief and Wonder

Posted on November 27, 2024November 27, 2024 by Emily OehlerLeave a Comment

I walked to yoga early this morning. My path is down King Street — a long historic area lined with shops.

In the darkness I noticed the city hung little white lights in the trees that line the brick sidewalk for 1 mile. The lights brought to heart my dad … a life long Santa Elf, eternally age 6 at Christmas time—a true believer and filled with wonder.

He would love this.

Tears fell. Ten months into grief after the death of my dad, I’m now use to their spontaneity and just let them flow.

Sadness swirled. Lights twinkled. Tears fell. I walked on.

Two blocks later I looked over and saw this new display. My heart fluttered with wonder. I walked up close and inspected it with a dorky kid smile on my face reflected in the window glass. I walked on.

As I neared the yoga studio I looked up with light in the sky and cotton candy pink clouds. The smile on my face moved to my heart.

Hey dad.

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

Posted on September 29, 2024December 28, 2024 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 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.