Quiet

“We are five months into 2019 and it’s still January.”

“January…it’s the Monday of months.”

And my personal favourite…
“January, it’s a tough year but we made it.”

There are so many memes about January being the longest month, well, pretty much, EVER…74 days long, or something to that effect.

The thing is, though, that‘s how it feels, at least it does to me. It’s usually quite cold where I live (we wear a minimum of seven heavy layers so we don’t freeze our skin if we do decide it’s necessary to go outside—winter in Alberta is no joke), the days are extremely short (we see so little daylight in our northern locale it’s literally depressing), and we’re generally confined to our homes for long stretches at a time…sometimes up to several weeks. There aren’t any holidays to break up the monotony, and time creeps slowly forward at about the same pace as a heard of turtles.

For interest sake, it’s been one month since I’ve posted anything here on the blog. (For what it’s worth, this feels like a church confessional, and I’m also having a deja-vu moment like I may have said this on here before.) But in any case, this post breaks precisely 31 days of blog silence.

Quiet.

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Sure, I could say I’ve been busy doing other things, which of course is true, at least to some extent.

I’ve been reading a fascinating book, The 5 am Club by Robin Sharma, doing online course work, cleaning and purging the house, writing in my Five-Minute Journal, doing yoga, meditating, testing my strength and stamina with kickboxing, as well as exploring my word of the year, nourish, in the nutritional sense by exploring ways to incorporate a more plant-based diet in my life (more to come with a dedicated blog post about this later).

At the same time, I’ve been isolating myself. Staying home. Being quiet. Sitting with unpleasant emotions I’d rather not feel. And if I’m being completely honest, the aforementioned process has seen me be far less intentional with my time in January than I had planned. This is definitely a common, re-occurring theme as my Five-Minute Journal asks me, every night without fail, “How could I have made today even better?” and my response often has to do with spending less time on my phone.

But alas, it’s true. Much to my dismay, I’ve allowed myself to be distracted and wasted oodles of time on social media. And while I’m on on here confessing all my sins, I’ve also taken to being distracted by online shopping, both to alleviate feelings of boredom as well as to avoid other things I’m having a hard time with, or just downright not wanting to do.

In between these things, and among the other routine demands of my daily life, I’ve enjoyed some small pockets of stillness. These slivers of quiet are, in one word, glorious.

It is in these moments I feel as though a beautiful blanket of fresh snow has draped itself, ever so effortlessly and gracefully, over the otherwise dull and lifeless landscape of my life.

A crystalline snowfall cleans and purifies the external world. Similarly, the quiet allows me to see clearly, making my perception of the world immaculate, even if only for a moment. The sun dances across the spotless surface of my freshly snow-covered mind, gleaming and sparkling as the light hits at sharp angles. And in these moments, my life is a blank canvas, with no limits as to what I might be able to create. I have access to an infinite number of possibilities.

Quiet.

And then the husband and kids come home, bringing animation, noise, and all manner of calamity with them. Oh, so much noise! Voices clamor for attention, as people yell to make themselves heard from one corner of the house to another. The girl—bless her heart—sings unabashedly at the top of her lungs as the boy blares video games in the basement while yelling at his friends over a mic. The dog barks endlessly for scraps of food or someone to bring him down the stairs or to help him down off the couch. Ding. Buzz. Beep. Alarms sound, signalling the need to go somewhere or do something important. My head rings from the chaos.

January certainly marked a return to chaos in my household, and I am thankful that it was interspersed with some pockets of quiet.

I know a little chaos in life is inevitable, but I so enjoy quiet.

It is where I connect with myself and my breath.

It is where I am able to extract order from chaos.

It is where I can hear my thoughts, separate one from the next, and discover slivers of clarity.

It is the source of my creativity, and the place from which I am able to access and honour my deepest truth.

As we welcome February in my neck of the woods, it looks like we may need to hunker down for some much colder temps and another big dump of fresh snow.

It is so beautiful and peaceful, and calls me to remember the profound power that is inherent, both in the quiet and the freshly fallen snow.

They almost seem to be one in the same.

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Brisk Walk

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, I bundled myself up in warm layers and ventured outside, no specific destination in mind. Just the intention to get outside and go for a walk.

It’s been quite cold in my neck of the woods this past week, which actually made it feel more like a month (some might even argue this past frozen week has felt like a year in and of itself). But the mercury had climbed enough yesterday afternoon to make it humanly possible to go outside, with plenty of extra clothing to pad my flesh against the harsh sting of the cold, of course.

I had been longing to be outside, to breathe the fresh, crisp air into my lungs. And so I walked, putting one foot in front of the other, focusing on my breath, and feeling the steady beat of my heart inside my chest. I walked. At some point, each of my footsteps  naturally and effortlessly synchronized with an inhale or an exhale. I walked in perfect rhythm and harmony with myself, each step a sacred partnership of movement and breath.

Not tiptoeing and not sauntering. Neither crawling nor running.
I walked, briskly and with intention, guided by inspiration and my intuition.

Call it symbolism or metaphor if you like, but I prefer to think of it as my new reality.

Intention – The deliberate approach I am consciously choosing for myself, to be all in for my own life. I like to think of intention as the opposite end of the spectrum from chance and coincidence. Sure, there’s always room for a little spontaneity, but I plan to begin each day with a strong intention to guide me. 

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Intuition – Trusting the quiet whispers from my heart and my soul, even when they don’t make sense. I am learning how it really is that simple. Intuition is like a muscle: the more you listen, the more you hear. I am listening.

Inspiration – Allowing the world’s beauty, emotion, and passion to fill my heart so full that I have no choice but to create something just as beautiful myself, as a way to express my gratitude and appreciation for all that is. To live an inspiring and inspiration-filled life, and maybe even to inspire others along the way.

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Taking in the first few deep breaths of crisp winter air as I walked made my nose run and cheeks rosy, but it also brought warmth and brightness to my soul. And perhaps the most beautiful thing of all is that I really don’t know where any of this is going, or where I’m going. But what’s more important is how, through willingness and an open heart, I’m learning to practice the art of surrender and to trust my journey.

I am grateful for the New Year that is now upon us; for the perspective and the clean slate it affords. Even if all of this is just a silly notion generated by my overactive imagination, it feels real. I am realizing there is an untapped energy source that has been resting dormant inside me. A swirl of ideas are fueling a renewed sense of curiosity, and a zest for experiencing the fullness of life is starting to take shape.

My path is not clear, and I really have no idea where I’m going. I suppose it’s possible, and even quite likely, that I could take a wrong turn. In fact, I could get very lost. I could get it all wrong and make terrible mistakes along the way. I could continue to be paralyzed—stuck in place—frozen by all-consuming fear. Or, I could walk on in spite of the obvious challenges and risks.

I choose to walk forward, one bold step at a time, along with my three faithful companions: intuition, inspiration, and intention.

There’s no way of knowing for sure what this year has in store, but I’m excited to take the walk.

 

What are you excited for in 2018? I’d love to connect with you! Drop me a line and let’s chat about what dreams and schemes you’re cooking up for the future.

 

56 Intentional Days

Although summer technically started a couple of weeks ago, in many ways I feel as though  summer with my family is just beginning. And with the kids slated to return to school on August 30, we have eight weeks, or 56 days to be exact, to enjoy our summer to the fullest.

Now, I don’t mean I’ll be scheduling and over programming every moment, because that certainly is not the case. That would be tedious and grueling and pretty much no fun whatsoever.

However, I’m also cognizant of going to the other extreme—not making any plans, flying by the seat of our pants, and leaving everything to chance. I speak from experience when I say this approach is dangerous. This amount of boundless freedom has a tendency to lure me into a state of submission, inducing an intoxicating false sense of security, which in the end only leaves me feeling lazy and lethargic.

I’ve finally come to appreciate that I’m a creature of habit. I crave routine and structure. I thrive on predictability and order. I’m at my best when I’ve got something specific to hold my attention and focus.

When I contrast my affinity for structure and routine against the fact that I’ve habitually been making time my arch nemesis, it’s really no wonder I’ve been feeling a little stuck in a continuous loop of “there’s never enough time in a day to do all of the things that I really want to do.” And as I’ve been working with a fantastic coach to help me unravel this and some other limiting beliefs, I feel like the time has come for a 360 degree turnaround and re-framing of my opinion about time.

I know some of you may be nodding your head in agreement with my time-as-enemy mantra, but I honestly believe this is just one of those things we all say to make ourselves feel better.

Because the truth is there’s plenty of time available when we: get intentional about scheduling our time according to our priorities, minimize the negative effect of distractions (insert social media here), and don’t let our limiting beliefs cloud our vision.

I’ve suddenly been able to put the pieces together and see, with amazing crystal clarity, my blockage about time for what it really is. It’s not that I don’t have enough time. Pppffffff! The truth is I have trouble putting myself and my needs ahead of everything and everyone else. And because of this, all the stuff I’ve been talking about—my deepest desires and the whispers of my heart—often end up at the bottom of my list.

With this new understanding I see an opening—an opportunity to form a new habit of making myself a priority, more often. As I see it, I have 56 days ahead of me right now when I can both be present for my children AND make myself and my needs a higher priority on my to-do list.

This summer, I am choosing to make friends with time by seeing it as a gift. No longer will a replay the broken-record soundtrack of “not enough time” over and over again in my head. This summer, I am choosing to be intentional about how I spend my time. And this summer I will value myself and my self-care needs by making time for me a priority.

Over the next 56 days, my intention is to dedicate some time every day to my passions and the activities that make me feel more alive and whole.

Starting today, movement (yoga and exercise), stillness (meditation), and words and language (reading and writing) have moved from the bottom to the top of my to-do list.

No attachment to objectives, no entanglement in specific outcomes. Just a dash of intrigue and a touch of excitement to see what changes and possibilities the next 56 days will bring.

Coincidentally, one of the first blog posts I wrote was about my perceived lack of time to do all the things I want to do in life. It’s kinda cool to see how much I’ve grown and how much my perspective has shifted from October 2013 until now.

Wishing you all a happy and intentional summer!

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