Category: Lifestyle

The Crescent and the Moon: Seeing the Part and the Whole

As we get older, we acquire experience and, hopefully with it, we gain wisdom. We are filled up by the lives we live. But muddled in with experience and wisdom, we have loss and pain and struggle. Sometimes that causes cataracts in our vision. We long for a fresh way to see things we might already “know.”

A band I have been enjoying, Bleachers, covers a song called “Whole of the Moon.” I love the line:

“I saw the crescent; you saw the whole of the moon.” 

We usually see in part, and there’s times when someone else sees more. When we connect with someone’s writing, whether in song, prose or poetry, it’s often something that we intuitively know but didn’t have words for. Ah, that’s it! And we get to see beyond the crescent.

Creative people don’t take us to new places. They find new pathways to places and ideas we have visited before. They take us on a “scenic route.” It’s one of the reasons we need to seek out stories, poems, essays, good fiction, and new music. So often we come across something and have that “aha” moment, not because we never knew it, but because we never saw it in that way.

A fact will burst into our lives. “I never knew that,” we say when presented with a new fact. But truth unfolds. “I see that more clearly now,” we say when presented with a new perspective. Although facts can be useful, we are all really after truth. The older we get, the more we try to whittle away the superfluous.

As we read quality books, we pick up insights that the author has gained in ways we likely have never heard before. We each carry a light within us that illuminates wisdom and guides us to truth. But reading can increase that, giving us bits that make us think and process what we already know. I love when I have to stop and think about something I have just read.

Below are some books I have read this year, with a quote from each that caused me to pause. The list is not complete and some of them have multiple quotes I could have used. And there’s not the space to mention all the poems, songs, essays, and non-fiction. Maybe another time.

If any books have impacted you in some way, made you think, or simply inspired you, please mention in the comments. We can share the ways that perhaps we got a glimpse at the “whole of the moon.”

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Maggie Smith, You Could Make This Place Beautiful
“How I picture it: We are all nesting dolls, carrying the earlier iterations of ourselves inside. We carry the past inside us. We take ourselves—all of our selves—wherever we go.”

Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
“Time travel is looking at a person, and seeing them in the present and the past, concurrently. And that mode of transport only worked with those one had known a significant time.”

Steven King, 11/22/63
“We did not ask for this room or this music. We were invited in. Therefore, because the dark surrounds us, let us turn our faces to the light. Let us endure hardship to be grateful for plenty. We have been given pain to be astounded by joy. We have been given life to deny death. We did not ask for this room or this music. But because we are here, let us dance.”

Hernan Diaz, Trust
“For I’ve come to think one is truly married only when one is more committed to one’s vows than the person they refer to.”

Ann Patchett, Tom Lake
“It’s not that I’m unaware of the suffering and the soon-to-be-more suffering in the world, it’s that I know the suffering exists beside wet grass and a bright blue sky recently scrubbed by rain. The beauty and the suffering are equally true.”

Shelby Van Pelt, Remarkably Bright Creatures
“In the vastness of the universe, each remarkably bright creature has a unique purpose and contribution.”

Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns
“And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. She was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. a mother. A person of consequence at last.”

Yaa Gyasi, Homegoing
“We believe the one who has power. He is the one who gets to write the story. So when you study history, you must ask yourself, Whose story am I missing? Whose voice was suppressed so that this voice could come forth? Once you have figured that out, you must find that story too. From there you get a clearer, yet still imperfect, picture.”

Jessica Knoll, Bright Young Women
“…women who wish to advance in their career face an insidious kind of discrimination…no response at all. It was subtle discouragement by neglect, what the author called “motivational malnutrition.”

John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us
“There is a light that shines in every heart….it is what illuminates our minds to see beauty, our desire to seek possibility, and our hearts to love life.”

I also read a number of page turners that were just fun. A few of those include First Lie Wins, Guest List, None of This is True. Because sometimes we just like a good story!

Sounds of Silence

As we get older, our lives often get quieter. Perhaps at times, even silent. What do we believe about the silence that can surround us during this season?

“Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.” Hauntingly captivating or painfully paralyzing.

When we are younger, silence is often a welcome respite. I remember, raising five children, the times that I found myself alone in my home. I wouldn’t turn on music or do anything that might disturb that glorious sound of nothing.

But today, silence is often a reminder that retreating is no longer necessary. We may even be tempted to run from it, turning on music or picking up our phones. Perhaps we need to look at the quiet and get brave enough to sit with it. The question I try to answer these days is: What is silence holding in her hands? At this season in life, silence still offers us gifts.

1. One of the most important gifts that silence offers us is the space to craft a different narrative, one that will reorient our perspective and point our minds in a more purposeful and hopeful direction. We get influenced all day long by social media, news, family, drama of all types. We can get a sense of heaviness, not realizing how we even go there. It’s good to stop, identify our thoughts, and refocus where necessary.

2. Silence also offers us space to listen to our own heart beat, a heart that we can hear be full of gratitude for another day to lead our bodies in life. We allow (and sometimes force) gratitude to have the loudest voice.

3. Finally, and possibly most important, is the space to connect with God, or Love, or whatever it is that’s bigger than us. Because if we’re the measure of all that there is, our story will consume us. It was never meant to be our yardstick for measuring joy or happiness or contentment. So we stop to breathe deeply, meditate on all that is beautiful, pray. We change perspective.

Silence allows us to hear the deep longing of our own hearts. It’s centering, painful, and hopeful all at once.

I am learning to not only accept the hauntingly captivating beauty of silence; I am learning to embrace her hallowed space. Noise often cobbles together a storyline that’s less than encouraging. Silence allows us to identify the lies we hold about ourselves, especially relative to aging, and craft a story that’s more hopeful. We need that story and so do the people we touch everyday.

“Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.” There’s a lot she has to share with us.

It Came to Pass

If we could peek behind the air we breathe, we could see a kind of trickery taking place. It is luring us into believing that life will always be just as it is today.

We often see the daily routineness of our day as “it came to stay.” When we’re parenting young children, when we’re in school, when we’re in a challenging season, even when all is well, we think we’ll always be doing the things we’re doing today.

But as we get older, we look back on those times and know that, truly, they never meant to stay. When did they grow up, where did all those classes go, how did I reach retirement age?

It doesn’t change simply because we get older. Even though we know better, we can still see our routines as something that will always be. We still need to be reminded to look behind the scene and spot the deception.

This past weekend was challenging in a very common way. It was cold, windy, and rainy. The forecast was more of the same for the next 10 days. I was struggling. Then I thought, 10 years from now, I would probably give anything to live this cold rainy day again at the age I am today. So I remind myself to enjoy this present life, the common everyday rainy life I have today.

May we remember that this day—with all the routine and challenge it may hold—comes to pass us by. I want to breathe it in, consume all the air my lungs can hold, and live everything in front of me. Ten years is a blip.

The screenshot of today’s speeding-past-us image may be a little blurry, but let’s get a glimpse of the beauty it holds. Even if we have to squint to see it. As Seals and Croft reminded us in the 70s, “We will never pass this way again.”

Despite all that may be going on, there is something we can appreciate. Even if it’s just with one small smile.

Friendships for Life. Or Not.

Life is hard. And complicated. Relationships so often help us navigate all that. But sometimes they are the source of that. I have had this conversation numerous times over the past months.

We all know people that were an important part of our lives.  And then small, very incremental, changes began happening. And we find ourselves no longer sharing the same experiences, feelings, or lifestyles. Very often, we become sad or confused, left wondering what went wrong with that relationship.

But the reality is that nothing really went “wrong.” Change will often break things down and put them back together again. Just not always in the same way. It’s challenging when friendships fall prey to this rearranging.

If we don’t realize that this happens to all of us, we can become resentful of the other person or left feeling guilty that we are somehow at fault for the changes. 

We’ve heard the adage, “Friends come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” The problem arises when we think someone is a lifetime friend when things begin changing. That’s a tough one.

When life changes, and we no longer see certain friends every day like we used to, it’s natural for our lives to drift apart a little. That’s normal. Often, we will still find ways to get together, catch up, and enjoy each other. 

But then there are people who want more from us than we can give at this time. Or they relate with us from the perspective of who we once were. We often wish we could go back and pick up where we left off. But we usually can’t. The changes that have taken place dictate that’s not possible. 

It’s important to realize that it’s normal for relationships to shift. As hard as it is, we have to learn to release our expectations of what will be, without disparaging our memories of what once was.

Releasing someone we once thought would be in our lives forever, and not resenting them or feeling guilty because that has changed, is a sign of growth. We grieve the loss, express gratitude for what once was, and trust the future holds promise for the both of us. Not easy but sometimes it’s the only way to keep moving forward.

To Be Still

Noise is everywhere. It’s in front of us on our phones, it’s in the background on TV, it’s the constant broadcasting of news, it’s in our heads. Much of the time, it is by choice. Some of the time, we aren’t even aware. Silence is elusive, even when we’re alone.

There is a psalm that begins with, Be still and know. Can we hear our souls begging us to be still? We wonder why our nervous systems are always amped up. We read the warnings about our obsession with social media. But it’s hard to heed the warnings. Because silence scares us.

When dawn is about to break, there is an overwhelming silence around us. The light begins to appear and then the sunrise, and then the quiet beauty of that moment. Can we show up and simply take it in? Often we want to “document” the beauty and so we grab our cameras hoping we can catch a true impression.

When I was staying in Palm Springs, I was able to see the sunrise every morning. On mornings where it was very dramatic, I would walk outside to get a picture. It’s normal to want to take pictures. We want to revisit the moments; we want to share the impression with others.

But what about the impression it longs to leave on our soul?  Dawn comes and goes quickly, and the pictures never quite bring us back to that moment. But the sunrise stamps us every single time.

If beauty is everywhere, I want to show up and leave myself vulnerable to its impression. Noise blocks all that. It’s the beautiful versus the ugly, the stirring versus the settling, the peace versus the agitation.

Every time we witness beauty, every time we wish we had our camera, every time we can’t find words to describe what we saw or felt…let’s consider that maybe it was more about our souls being stamped than it was about being able to show and tell.

Showing up for beauty may start with just one minute of stillness. But it’s a good place to start. Taking a moment to be still and acknowledge the beautiful parts of our day is what’s most helpful in quieting noise, especially the noise in our heads.

Picking Up Our Power

We often don’t believe we have any power because the idea has been hijacked by people who use their positions to force their ways. People in every sphere use words to threaten and manipulate, and we have all been affected by it. As a result, most have come to see power as evil.

But real power involves invitation. Helping someone go from despair back to hope is more powerful than any act of force or coercion. We invite people to see a new perspective, to share our hope, to see bigger.

We’ve all had times when we get blindsided by something. We have a measure of hope and things are going relatively smoothly. And then. We get hit with a challenge we didn’t see coming. We are tempted to quit all the declarations we made about staying positive. We’ve all been there.

And it’s ok. Our minds can’t process life in an instant. It takes a minute to look at the challenge squarely in the face, and let the effects of the situation sink in.

I had an example of this recently. I was praying blessings over those I love, and I was seeing the effects of it. And then one of my kids was met with some misfortune. They were rightfully upset and sad over what had happened. As moms, we feel all the pain our kids feel. I texted a friend and said, “What good does blessing do? Nothing matters.”

Knee jerk response. Of course it matters. After a little time, I came back to that. I think it’s ok to go down with people who go down. It might take a minute, but if we are going to offer them a hand back up, we’re going to have to pull ourselves back up first. 

That “hand” we offer is often words. The next day, “Thinking about you. How are you doing today?” Checking in, standing with them, processing challenges alongside them. It’s not some big lecture or advice. We let them know they are not alone, and that helps them process and heal.

Despair is always trying to crash into mental spaces, our own and those we care about. By finding a thought or two that leans away from it, we are picking our power back up. The smallest of choices helps us bring light not only into our own lives, but also into the lives of those who may feel broken. 

We fill our hands up with words of invitation. We have the power to go from “Nothing matters at all” to “It all matters.” And how we see that matters a lot.

On Taylor Swift, Writing, and Also Therapy

Taylor Swift used these words to describe why she wrote the songs on her latest album, The Tortured Poets Department. Mostly about relationships gone bad, her pain was real and her life was undone. She said she HAD to write it. 

The imagery she uses throughout her songs is haunting. “My spine split from carrying us up the hill.” After writing heart wrenching songs to describe what she went through, she declared her tears holy as she released it. And then, by her own testimony, she was free of it.

We all have that same power. As we get older, our breakup stories have become distant memories, but we all have a measure of current pain. Time after time, I turned to words on paper when struggling. Those words, that so often helped me get through, didn’t exist before I dug in and pulled them out. 

A couple years ago, I went to therapy to get past some things that were hard. I wasn’t so much looking for advice as I was needing to flesh out what I was wrestling with. Speaking the words helped. If we don’t find words to express our pain, I think it just stays inside. We might be able to ignore it and push it deep, but it doesn’t get released. Sometimes therapy can help us get that done.

Here’s the thing. Sometimes we need words for our “sad stories.” We could be facing a serious problem or just finding ourselves with something we can’t get past. Poetry, stories, talks with friends, journal scribblings, therapy, and prayer…they all help us put words to what we are going through. They all provide opportunity to get “ink on the page,” and give shape to what we’re experiencing. It helps our tears become holy.

And fortunately for us, we don’t have to release our words to millions of people as part of our healing. We can sit all alone in front of a piece of paper, no one ever seeing or hearing it. Public or private, sometimes we just “HAVE to write it.”

Grateful to the poets who put words to what they go through, so we can learn from principles that apply to all of us. Thank you Taylor for sharing your pain…your poetry is brilliant. 

On Vulnerability

On the surface, vulnerability seems paradoxical. As we get brave enough to share our innermost thoughts and emotions, we often expose the weakness we have tried to hide.  

When we’re younger, we usually protect ourselves with some kind of “armor.” As we’re building relationships, careers, and personalities, we are careful about what we allow others to see. We’re building our lives and protecting our foundations.

But as we get older, we find armor gets heavy. So we begin leaning into vulnerability, which exposes those parts of ourselves that we have protected. Vulnerability takes our weakness, infuses it with courage, and ultimately reveals strength. It’s not always easy to do.

Whether it’s in conversation or on social media, sometimes our picture needs to show the rain, not just the rainbow. No one wants to see the rain day after day, but only showing rainbows is pretentious. The fullness of beauty is about the many facets of life bumping up against each other continually. The good, the bad, and the ugly all at the same time. 

Vulnerability lets people know they are not alone, particularly in their bad and ugly. We can all fall victim to comparison, and when others are continually showing the good, we often fall short. We know our lives contain so much more. And by more, we generally mean less. Less rainbow, less sunshine, less charm. What is wrong with my life?

But when someone offers a glimpse into their struggle, we find a sigh. I am not alone. I’m not the only one with a bit of a mess in a world filled with perfect images. I think we’ve all experienced times when we learned we were not the only ones experiencing a particular situation or fear or sadness. And how we came away just little lighter.

The rain and the rainbow both exist in our lives. Wisdom dictates which one gets highlighted at a particular time. Only as we’re sensitive to the needs of others can we make that call. We are most alive when we take this simple act of vulnerability, wrapped in an unseen layer of courage and strength, and help others feel seen and not alone.

Maybe vulnerability is another word for love.

Anxious Thoughts

Anxious thoughts take up a lot of space, and we can find ourselves dealing with these thoughts more than we like. There’s no magic potion that releases all anxiety, but anything that can alleviate the anxious monkey mind is welcome.

Sometimes we don’t know why we’re having anxious thoughts. It’s helpful to stop and acknowledge that they’re there, having a quasi conversation with them. “Ok, I hear you, you’re fussing about something. If you’re just in a creative mode, coming up with scenarios and what ifs, I don’t have time for that. And if it’s more, there’s nothing I can do right now. I’m going to let you you figure that out.”

If the anxiety is high, we can try to divert our thoughts. It could be a book, or music, or games on the phone. It could be a walk or some form of creative endeavor. After we step back for a while, sometimes it’s easier to see the core of the anxious thought.

Oh yeah, that. So often there’s nothing we can do about the root cause of the anxiety. But our goal when anxious thoughts arise isn’t to whack away at the root; it’s to calm our nervous system, even if just a notch.

When I’m on my game, I will stop and breathe deeply. I whisper, “This moment, not that one.” It helps when I say “this moment” as I breathe in. Breathing out I whisper “not that one,” and visualize the anxious thought dissipating. The present moment always contains some stillness that I can tap into until my body begins to soften.

The antidote for truly calming anxious thoughts is generally not an action step. After we get our minds to settle a bit, it’s generally the opposite. This moment, I can breathe deeply, I can allow gratitude and kindness to seep in, I can pray. The most we can do often looks like nothing.

So we get still and breathe deeply. Whatever is causing our anxiety will likely still be there. Our goal isn’t to dissolve the cause, it’s to quiet our nervous system. It’s a practice we learn, and if there’s a lot going on, we learn it over and over all day long.

“THIS moment, not that one.”

Standing at the Starting Line

I recently started a part time job as a sales associate at a local home and garden store. Even though I had a lot of experience in other areas, I would be a “beginner” there. No training on a cash register, no idea where everything is, the one who would have more questions than answers.

Honestly, I feel like I’m starting over in just about every area of my life. That starting line isn’t the same as it was in the past, however. When we are older, we get to bring the confidence that comes from knowing all we have come through.

Sometimes we can look at how different everything looks and feel a little overwhelmed by it all. But it helps to remember that we are reinventing ourselves and these challenging transitions allow for some wonder to slip into our lives. This quiet confidence provides a beauty and a strength which is easily passed on to others. And that is its own reward.

So I’m bringing a smile and a warm hello to all who enter the store. I might have to ask for help at every turn, but I’m not frustrated by that. I am getting to learn new things and meet new people.

I can look backwards and forward from this point because even though I’m starting over, my “success” this time is measured by my confidence. No longer by acceptance or external validation.

True confidence does not come from knowing everyone will like you, or give you the job, or invite you to the event, or give you the award. It is knowing that even if none of those things happen, you will be ok.

For me, this isn’t just about a new job. It’s about new eyes, a new heart, new enthusiasm, and a new hope.

Every morning, the sun says, “It’s time to begin anew.” Every single time, it brings beauty along with it. I see you, my friend. I’m feeling the same way. Let’s go start anew and watch the beauty unfold as we go..