Category Archives: Acceptance

Day of Rest

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It’s not about letting go of worry or getting over fear.

It’s about letting go of the idea that you can control everything, or anything.

It’s about making space for uncertainty and doubt.

It’s about surrendering to impermanence and getting past resistance to change.

It’s about “having the life you want by being present to the life you have,” (the subtitle to Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening).

It’s about confidence, “the willingness to be as ridiculous, luminous, intelligent, and kind as you really are, without embarrassment,” (the brilliant Susan Piver said that).

It’s about paying attention, being mindful and present.

It’s about letting go of both hope and fear.

It’s about having faith in basic goodness, our innate and fundamental and natural wisdom and compassion, our essential and shared humanity.

It’s about risking heartbreak and failure, knowing that it’s so much better than being numb.

It’s about living a wholehearted life–“engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It’s going to bed at night thinking, Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging,” (from Brene’ Brown’s new book, Daring Greatly).

It’s about refusing to smash yourself to bits, and not being afraid of yourself.

It’s about choosing vulnerability over safety and predictability, letting go of the longing for solid ground, for a life of nothing but happiness and security.

It’s about love.

It’s about having the courage to face your own life, show up, keep your heart open, and allow yourself to be seen.

It’s about being brave.

a winnebago parked in my neighborhood, the brave model

Who’s with me?

Book Writing Saturday (and yes, I realize it’s Monday)

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Confession: This Saturday, I did not spend four hours working on the book I’m writing. I am still struggling to wrap my head around the idea that Dexter is terminally ill, that we are going to lose him. Some days, some moments, it’s all I have room for, can’t think about or do anything else. I feel stuck and small and sad and scared, and my voice sticks in my throat.

On Saturday, I developed a cough. My chest was worn out from holding my heart so tight, from the tension that surrounded every breath, from the struggle of suffering. I took a long walk with my three boys, did laundry, swept the house, paid bills, made a dreamboard, had a long talk with a friend, watched some tv, played scrabble on my ipod, rested, loved on my dogs, went to bed early, but I did not work on my book.

I accept that this will happen. I can set the intention to write this book, clear space for it and have faith that it wants to be written, but sometimes life will get complicated and there will be obstacles. I forgive myself. I surrender. I realize that while there are times I won’t be actively writing this book, I am probably still living some of it, so all I can do is show up with an open-heart, bringing my tender awareness, open to both the beauty and the brutality of my experience.