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.

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.

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 August 2024, the quote that centered me was: Absorb the grace and glory of the world.  

This quote seemed fitting for the month when so many are on vacation, me included. And, I would be in two majestic places in the month where there would be plenty to absorb. A beach island for two weeks – one with my family and one with my hubby’s. Then the mountains of North Carolina for a writer’s conference with poet John Roedel at the Art of Living Retreat Center.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month… of which most were captured when writers read their work on the last day of the 30-person conference:

• You are your own birdsong
• Go down the rabbit hole of wonder
• Listen to the wind…pay attention to the patterns
• When is the last time you heard your authentic voice?
• More joy, less head trash
• You’re going to be my favorite memory
• I have made my home in the bend of a question mark
• We are but a whisper; but oh, what a chorus
• Share your gooey nugget center for others to chew on
• Sorrow, sister of joy
• But someday you will be the one who ignites the blaze in another person’s heart that won’t ever be put out again
• There is no such thing as an ordinary life
• A moonbeam winked at you
• Fitting in is for sardines
• Damn the gatekeepers
• Your words grew feathers and floated off each night between the bars
• Gentle wishes for one another
• Sharing yourself is an act of service
• You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be gentle – with others and yourself
• A blank page is an empty universe you get to create
• You are here to be a lamplighter that hands out little bits of your flame to ensure the rest of the world doesn’t exist in darkness
• Lost in the weeds of your heart
• I want bees to rest on my crown
• Good morning new perspective, I haven’t met you yet
• An unsettling quiet, even with all the elephants in the room
• You were created to make us gasp
• Your heart creates a park bench where you and others can meet
• We’re all just beads on a prayer bracelet
• The first bird of the day to be brave and break the silence

As the month started, I sat behind a car with the license plate MO FUNNER that seemed to confirm my choice of quote and I absorbed the vibe for the month.

At the beach I absorbed how nature seemed to externalize my internal as it was our first family beach vacation without dad. You see hurricane Debby slowly moved over our week. Each day a circulating pattern of rainbands, pressure drops of stillness, sun breakthroughs, 40+ mph wind gusts, and vivid warm pink sunsets. My body echoing Mother Nature’s emotions, or she mine: tense, calm, sad, peaceful, tears, wound up, happy, hurt, laughter. All a swirl like the vanilla/chocolate soft serve ice cream, a family tradition at the beach. But as the storm settled, what my body absorbed and felt was gratitude. Our family was together in a sacred space with decades of memories of love to cherish and build on.

Later in August I cruised down I-81 over the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia behind the license plate FUN AW8S. I absorbed a favorite – and sacred – activity of mine:  the road trip. Open road, good weather, snack bag, singing to the sky with my sunroof open, savoring the journey, and not concerned about the destination. Freedom. As the hills grew taller, the distance between my ears and shoulders grew as well… my body unwinding.

I stopped on my trip to give two cases of prosecco to Mary Baldwin University’s new President to help him recognize staff and faculty’s “golden moments” as they work to step into the “next” of the school’s ever-changing legacy of liberal arts education. Much like Superman soaking the sun’s rays to regain his power, I stood on the campus hilltop where I graduated when it was an all-women’s college and absorbed potential. Again, my body shifted, softened. My corporate work edges, personal expectations, and mental exhaustion absorbed by the earth beneath my feet.

By month’s end, I found myself standing under the universe in the black of night as countless stars winked at me. There was no absorbing, it was consumption. The Universe absorbed me… a melting, perhaps a thawing, as my deep sighs, concerns, big fat slow rolling tears, appreciation, awe, and all the mortar that shored up my internal wall of worries dissipated.

Spent. Weightless. Open. Relieved.

I stood.

Absorbed in the grace and glory of it all.

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 May 2024 my quote was simply a word, “Align.”

I chose align partly because of its simplicity. One word. To get things in a row, organized. While there was a bit of organization that needed to be done after a year focused on caregiving, it was more than that. I felt out of alignment, like parts of me didn’t fit like they used to. A bit like a shirt shrunk in the wash or going back to college or your hometown and seeing how much you’d changed and grew since you were there but yet, still the same. Upon reflection, what I sought was inner congruence—alignment of, as one definition wrote, “your genuine essence, our deepest passions, and your unique talents.”  As I sought to align, or realign, here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the month:

• To perceive the world in binary is to forgo knowledge of the divine
• And then, I realized what you do with an idea—you change the world
• The work, it seems, for us is to draw sustenance from that central, eternal space without denying the experience of the storm—so to find the center and spread our battered wings is to feel the God within
• Sticky bits
• You are here to enrich the world
• Joy is a birthright
• Each of us are tiny waives on the vast ocean of bliss
• We try to prove our self-worth by what we get done, which means we always have to do more
• You are here to enrich the world
• Make it a place to play and not a final destination
• Strength and ease
• Remember who you are
• In the end, we’ll all become stories

I began my month trying some physical alignment:  yoga. I did yoga for about a year in my early twenties. Not sure what called me back to it, but the call was strong and persistent. I bought an unlimited pass for two weeks and jumped in. While there was much misalignment on the mat as I faced upside down trying to remember my right from my left, my brain was singular. Quiet and still. Yoga is the one place I cannot think of anything else. I can only do the pose and breath (and usually my breath takes reminding). This quieted brain was what my being had begged for. I bought a year-long membership.

The next opportunity to align arose at work. I suddenly had several calls on my calendar from younger co-workers I didn’t know. These calls were connectional in nature rather than about a project or task. Simply two people getting to know each other. We shared the basics – background, career journey, location, loved ones – and then shifted to personal. What they sought. Lessons I’d learned. Curious questions. Admitted secrets. Bold moves. Emotional decisions. We were not different. We were connected by a life thread – a continuum of humanness. I left these calls refreshed and smiling, reminded that wherever we are on our journey, we are all connected so it’s important to pause and simply be and align with others where the are.

Nature became my next source of alignment. After a 6-month renovation effort on my condo building, I finally got access to my back porch, OK, it’s more of a nook with a fire escape – but it’s outside. I got a small table with two chairs. I worked here in the coolness of the mornings. I read here on sunny weekend afternoons. I called my mom from here as dinner cooked. But the alignment came when I sat here. That’s it. I just sat here. I sat here as light rain fell. I sat here as the sun danced through the leaves of my neighbor’s three-story magnolia tree. I sat here in a steady breeze that rustled the leaves. I sat here and listened to and watched the birds, squirrels, and bunnies. As I sat in a stillness that extended from my bones to the soul, I recalled one of my mother’s favorite Bible verses, Matthew 6:26-27: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you worrying add a single hour to your life?”

This month reminded me that alignment begins within, and it is a muscle that needs to be worked, stretched, and soothed.

I realized that what I needed was less out there and more in here. That taking care of and replenishing me, my being, would enable me to be more of me in the world – and that, that was what I truly sought.

Not alignment to the world, but to align to myself within it.