On Purpose: Making It

"If you're not doing something you're passionate about, bring your passion into it."

—John Rivers—

A few weeks ago, I went to hear a local entrepreneur share his story on the journey into his purpose. My head ached a bit from nodding in agreement for the full hour—let's just say that I resonated deeply with his story. He shared poignant insights, including the quote above, about what it takes to make it into our purpose. It was so encouraging to hear someone who changed careers, after decades in his last, unpack how he landed right where he was meant to be. 

The main messages I felt freshly encouraged by from his talk were these:

• Often, we're motivated by realities that are in direct opposition to our actual purpose (e.g. money, security, incongruent outlook on success, etc).
• Learning ourselves takes time, but we may just find that we also know ourselves pretty well already if we're willing to take a good look in the mirror.
• Who we were in our childhood isn't so different than who we're meant to become as adults.

The truth is, we may not be currently living our exact purpose in the way it will unfold over the course of our lives. But, that doesn't mean that we cannot bring meaning and hope to our days. In fact, when we have clarity on what we're made for, we can actually inject that purpose right where we're living.

For example, when I was little I loved being with my friends, talking and looking pretty. I laugh at the latter because, well, what in the world? BUT, the truth is, a beautiful aesthetic is still of great value to me, both as a person and in the way I develop my surroundings. I love to be with people and hear their stories. It brings me joy to be helpful by seeing the people in front of me and drawing connections between who they are and how they matter to the world. People, conversation, and beauty are foundational pieces of my life today. And while I've developed a lot of clarity on my purpose over the years, simply having these three pieces of understanding to "run with" enable me to focus well in my days—they're a great launching point. 

We've talked before about the small steps it takes to achieve our goals and dreams. Living our life's purpose is not separate from this reality. We must start somewhere. Identifying what motivates and encourages us, what bothers us and what brings us life will provide a foundational understanding of where we're headed. And when we're striving for our more and taking care of ourselves along the way, we also must consider what is true of our lives in the present.

A great friend provided helpful advice for me in my early twenties. She said I ought to try as many things as possible in my career and curated experiences, in particular. It was time to explore and better learn about me. In my early thirties I had a much better understanding of who I was, but honestly, the wins and failures I'd experienced in my twenties taught me lessons that, in turn, soured my motivations. They became skewed by what I thought success should be in my life based on a pretty insecure foundation. I had these ideas of how I wanted to be viewed and what my contributions ought to mean to others. In the process, I really lost sight of who I was and who I wanted to become in vital ways. Good advice paired with an insecure me taught me a lot... 

Like John Rivers, I had an awakening but my path still wasn't clear. Over the past five to seven years, I've developed a deeper contentment with not knowing how it all turns out because I've learned who I want to be. I now know that I'm investing well in that bright future. Each step brings deeper clarity and understanding. Every new turn in the road feels like an adventure, not a new piece of uncertainty. 

My favorite phrase for my own journey has become this: Life is a great adventure! I say it as often as possible to remind myself of my choice in outlook. I've been learning to embrace what I don't know as an opportunity for learning and transformation. 

Truth be told, most days I mean it and some days are still hard. I find that no matter how happy we are about who we're becoming, from time to time we're going to encounter circumstances that challenge our contentment and hope. But, we don't make it into our purpose without challenges. We make it there by reminding ourselves of the truth and staying the course. (It also doesn't hurt to surround ourselves with people who tell us the truth on our dark days, too...) To do all of this, we have to know what the goal of the course is... After all, if we haven't defined who we're becoming, it's going to be hard to stay committed in the hard times.

And for the record, I really believe you're going to make it. I'm rooting for you. Please let me know when you'd like my help along the way.

So...

• Do you know what you were made for and what it will take for you to become that person?
• Have you ever thought about what you liked to do as a child and how that applies to life today?
• Are the current realities of your life aligned with who you want to be long-term?

Storms: The Deep Breath

Photo: Ryan Moreno

We've made it. The storm has passed. Typically, this is the time when we assess if there's any major or minor damage, determine our next steps and start moving forward. But, before fully jumping into the post-storm endeavors, please join me in taking a deep breath. 

When it comes to our post-storm health, I've found how it can be easy to get back into "normal" life without taking actual stock of how we're really doing. Wanting to put the storm behind us, we may rush ahead to wrap it up. We're usually attuned to realities in our environments, including the people around us and tasks that need to get done, but... What about the toll the storm took on our bodies, minds, and emotions?

In the days that followed Irma, those I encountered here in Orlando were tired and ready for our power to return. Slowly but surely, it did. Still, debris lined the streets (and currently does, actually) and I began to observe a shift in dialogue on social platforms as basic needs were met again. Most of the questions and concerns posted in my neighborhood group were about eradicating the memories of the storm by ensuring debris was quickly picked up from the curbs. The city, working hard to perform a myriad of tasks post-storm, encouraged us to notice that 4.5 months-worth of yard debris awaited pick-up by trucks that had limitations with workers who were already working deeply into overtime. That news was likely very unwelcome to some.

Just a few days prior to the storm, I'd booked a trip to Colorado and after a week post-Irma hopped on a plane headed westbound. My trip provided me with space and time to reflect. I had no idea how much I needed both. Given that life had mostly returned to "normal," I was amazed by how tired I was when I arrived. I spent no less than the first two full days of my trip in PJ's. Every time I thought of getting some work done, I opted to watch another old episode of Monk. (Anyone else out there who loves him??) 

The fatigue pointed to a larger perspective on the storm. My body wasn't ready to rush ahead. The achy, tired physical part of me was saying, "Hey there, stop for a while. Rest. Recover. You've just been through a big ordeal." But, the logical part of me was like, "That's over... You've gotten behind on all of the things! Time to get back to work!"

My Mom encouraged the rest. I felt like, "Are you crazy? Didn't I just get rest when everything shut down for a few days?" I may have also said something along these lines to her while omitting anything to do with crazy... You can see that it took me a while to take a deep breath, yes? But, she was right. My body was right. Even though we didn't experience the worst of the storm, everything leading up to it and the process of going through it meant something. Even if we didn't lose people or property, we lost productivity, some forms of connection, comfort, structure... And, our bodies needed time to grieve our losses.

Culturally, we're not very proficient in grief. We tend to move through it quickly and without much thought. This is a generalization, of course, but I have found it true in my experience with loss. We often don't identify our minor losses as pieces of death that we need to grieve, but we experience the fruit of burying them without gazing upon the face of what we lost. Agitation, impatience, anger, sadness, numbness, denial, exhaustion... Each of these showed up in post-Irma Orlando. I saw it on the roads, in the grocery stores, and in my newsfeed. What if we all took a collective deep breath, though? What would we notice? 

After soaking in 50 degree days and mountain air, I returned to Orlando. In the week or so since, I've taken a freshly infused joy in seeing the debris piled high on the curbs of my neighborhood. It's a reminder that it's okay to still feel the loss of control and comfort. It's okay to be tired right now. It's okay to take the days as they come and work hard but press more fully into rest. Browned leaves and tree branches remind me of those who have lost more than I have, too. I'm remembering how my love and time and resources are needed by others who are experiencing profound loss and need some hope. I'm not wishing the grief away today. I'm taking a deep breath and remembering what is important, what I need and who I am after seeing how I encountered my small losses.

And in the days to come, I'll focus on wrapping up this experience of loss. But for now, join me in taking a deep breath. The storm has passed. We are standing. Let's be willing to notice what it all feels like. Stay here for a while, won't you? Write, paint, draw, create a spreadsheet, share with a friend—be yourself—and employ your creativity to capture what it's like here.

Storms: Healthy and Hopeful

The calm before the storm has settled in and we've surrendered to the reality that it's coming. We have an important choice to make now. How will we weather it? The truth is, the only way beyond this storm is through it. Facing the storm and all that it triggers inside of us presents us with opportunities to grow and change. But, what does it look like to move through the storm in health?

Yesterday, I had the privilege of seeing and learning from one of my mentors at a training he was facilitating. Right before I left, he offered this bit of wisdom to the participants: "All transformation begins with personal transformation." I allowed his words to soak in again. I've heard them before and I genuinely need to hear them often because this truth is intricately connected to how we weather life's storms in health.

We will only move forward to the extent that we are willing to look at the unhealthy thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that exist in our lives in order to address them. Often, storms trigger symptoms of the root beliefs that keep us imprisoned in unhealthy patterns and habits. While many of us may be unaware of the exact triggers, we can begin to notice our behaviors that indicate we're not doing well. For me, I know I'm struggling when I'm...

• ...eating all of the sugar in sight.
• ...peeling my fingernails off (gross, I know!).
• ...having a hard time falling asleep.
• ...starting to become more judgemental towards others and offering less grace.
• ...cleaning my house incessantly.
• ...disconnecting from the people I usually want to spend time with regularly.

And, when two or more of these behaviors are in play, I'm in deep! When I'm able to see this, I have new decisions to make... How will I choose to understand why I'm doing what I'm doing?

Here are some of my personal strategies...

I phone or text or try to grab coffee with a friend. Chances are high that I need relational connection and when I invite a friend to help me process my experience, it typically helps me to gain a greater understanding of the symptoms and my root belief. Plus, it kills isolation and moves me back into community.

Getting out to get some exercise and perspective is another great option for me. Sometimes all it takes to get in touch with my thoughts and feelings is to actively create space to engage them. Being outside is a huge win for me, personally.

The other, more tangible, option to look into the root, is to sit myself down and write out the behavior and consider what I was feeling right before I engaged it. Sometimes, I have to look back over the last few days or the week. Once I identify the feeling or feelings, I look for the thought behind it. I write the thought (or thoughts) out so I can see them in black and white. I ask myself, "Is this true?" It's amazing how many thoughts actually aren't true. Though, often, they have a hint of truth in them which makes them all the easier to believe if I'm not paying attention. I then write the actual truth and practice replacing the old thought with the new thought whenever it comes up.

When I take the time to notice and address my thoughts and feelings, I notice I weather storms very differently. I engage these practices along the way, throughout the stages leading up to the storm, as well. It may feel tiring to consider looking into why we're feeling fear, anxiety, confusion, chaos and the like, but what is the alternative? Allowing these realities to rule us only makes it more difficult to make it through life's storms. But, the truth is, we have to practice and practice requires time and energy. 

Transformation doesn't necessarily happen overnight. Like most experiences in life, it is a process. But, the sooner we say "yes," the sooner we will experience the hardships and challenges in life with more peace and grace. After all, when one storm passes, we can be certain that another will develop on a future horizon—whether soon or distant. While this might be a difficult pill to swallow, we don't have to dread the coming storms. We can view them as gateways into deeper understanding, healing, and hope. We can live with positive expectancy—since we made it through the last storm, we have what it takes to weather this one, as well. And hopefully, we'll do so without befriending the things that steal life from us... 

So...

• How might you practice today? Whether you are in a storm, see one approaching on the horizon or are storm-less... Today is a good day to begin more deeply engaging your transformational process.
• What habits indicate you're in stress? If you're unsure, ask a trusted friend, spouse, colleague, or family member what they've noticed about you. The people in our lives often have incredible insight into our behaviors.
• How will you address your stress habits? Write out three ideas that will help you move out of stress when you notice that you're operating in it.

Need help? I'm always here and happy to come alongside you. Here's to weathering storms in health and hope from today forward!

Storms: The Quiet Before

Perhaps you've experienced it, too. The storm is soon upon you, but all around is calm. The flurry of activity required to prepare has ceased and as you look around, you realize you've done all that you can do. Now, you wait.

It's not that the waiting is easy, necessarily. Perhaps there's a tendency inside of you to move back into fear and anxiety, to worry about things you cannot control. The negative "What if's..." that we talked through last week might rear their ugly heads. Maybe you find a place of rest in the waiting. Still, the anticipation of the storm's arrival remains. For me, the calm before the storm has become a place in my life where I take a deep, deep breath.

My neighborhood was eerily quiet the morning before Irma arrived. Throwing on my sneakers, I headed out for a walk to get some fresh air and to see what was happening nearby. The lack of cars on the road was remarkable. The clouds swirled overhead and a notable breeze stirred tree leaves and branches into motion. All was quiet and calm. I relished the peacefulness, honestly. Irma was coming and there wasn't anything else I could do except await her arrival.

I felt so connected to my surroundings, aware of my feelings and alert on my walk that morning. It was like each cell within me was awake, taking notice of every detail. The air was cool and had a slight dampness about it. The construction near my house was put on hold and the tractors sat neatly on the lot ready for their next use. Police helicopters flew overhead capturing information from their bird's eye view, keeping all in check. 

In our culture, we don't often talk about surrender. If we do, it can carry a negative connotation. But I've been learning that as the storm approaches, surrender is one of the greatest postures I can choose. It's why I got out on that walk, actually. I realized that my preparation was complete and there was nothing left for me to do.

In surrender, I recognize what I can and cannot control. I choose not to worry about things that I cannot control. I activate the faith inside of me to tackle the fear I might experience. I rest—I actually choose to lay myself down knowing that all I can do now is ride out the coming storm. I get in touch with what is most important again. I remember that things can be replaced. I remember that I really won't know how it all turns out until the storm passes, but I can choose to weather it well. 

The calm before the storm affords me a wonderful opportunity to be. I get to relax into the quiet. I get to savor the sweetness of the space. Isn't it interesting how in the moments leading up to a storm, we experience a tangible stillness? I honestly believe this stillness exists to heighten our awareness of what's real and what's on the horizon. It's a place where we can see. So often, we do see the scary and the negative. But again, what if we focused on what we have and released what isn't within our grasp?

Last week, I flew out west and along the way I noticed thunderclouds gathering to form a storm. Their peaks were tall and beautiful. Sitting above them from my perch in the plane, I wondered what it would look like if we viewed storms from this vantage point consistently. What if we saw ourselves above them? What if we knew that even at their worst, we have the ability to rise above? We have the ability to choose this perspective in the calm.

So...

• What is the calm before the storm like for you?
• What do you notice about where your thoughts and your energy go?
• Do you find yourself at rest or reengaging with fear and anxiety?
• What would life look like if you viewed yourself above each storm that formed on the horizon? 
• How could this shift in perspective help you?

I'd love to hear your thoughts... 

Stand Still in the Standstill

We sat facing each other in a not-so-busy salad spot. When it was my turn to share, self-professed external processor extraordinaire that I am, I blurted out all the questions and the doubts and the anxiety I'd been feeling. My friend, ever-patient and thoughtful, listened. When I finally took a long breath, she reminded me not to diminish the realities I have been facing, then shared how I'd just expressed what she was feeling in her own process. We laughed. She's as internal as I am external and I genuinely had no idea that her current experience was so closely relating to mine. I wasn't happy with the reality that she was struggling, too, but I sure felt thankful to know I wasn't alone. 

We went on to talk about the challenge to stay the course when faced with the ongoing uncertainties existing within this life in the in-between. She shared how she had recently been wondering what it meant to keep going when she didn't know that she could. I nodded profusely. Who wants to go back, right? But, how does one go forward when you feel like you don't know that you can? Then she offered this powerful realization she had recently:

"What if you just stand still?" 

We both teared up. Wow. What IF you just stand still? 

Standing still might seem terrible. I mean, aren't we supposed to make progress? After all:

Fake it till you make it. 

Don't give up.

Keep going.

At least these are the things I heard when I thought about making an intentional choice to simply stand still. And, there's merit to these thoughts. Sometimes, continuing to move forward through the challenges is the right course.

For instance, when she and I were standing in line to order lunch, I told her how I'm so not into eating salad or any green thing resembling salad right now. (And, I LOVE salad... I really do...) But, sometimes you eat the salad because you know your appetite will eventually catch up with what's good for you when you keep choosing it. When, like me, you're eating all of the sugar in sight (Jessica Bott Stress Behavior 101), there are times when you pull out a big leafy piece of kale from the fridge, wash it and eat it whole; or maybe you suggest that you and your friend meet to have lunch at the salad place, because that's what's good for you even though you don't want it. So, there's that...

But what if you're really at a standstill? What if you don't know that you can keep going, but you KNOW that you really don't want to go back from the place you've just left (or are leaving)? (...even if it would be so much easier just to go back and even if you really could go back.) 

Standing still in the in-between place isn't a declaration of failure. It's like a little pause. From this vantage point, we can swivel our gaze back in the direction from whence we came to remind ourselves that we don't want to go back. We can also look at what's in immediate proximity to us—we can notice what's real right here. Plus, we can continue to look ahead and contemplate where we're going. It's possible that we may just need a little breather to regain our courage and strength to take the next little step.

It's like mountain climbing. One summer a friend and I took a couple R&R days up in Vail after a conference we attended. Vail Mountain has this beautiful trail called Berry Picker and we set out early enough to tackle the climb and enjoy the view from the top before the afternoon thunderstorms would roll in. My life wasn't super great during that season and the 20-25 extra pounds on my body didn't make the experience easy for me. I can't count the number of times I had to stop on an incline to catch my breath, drink water and refocus. There were so many times I wanted to quit. I sent my friend ahead of me so she could enjoy the experience more fully without all of the rest stops. I remember feeling so much shame along the way.

I felt ashamed that I'd let myself grow so unhealthy.

I felt ashamed that I'd held my friend up along the way.

I felt ashamed that I couldn't do something well that used to come so easily for me.

I felt ashamed for feeling ashamed.

Have we talked about what a nasty and terrible "friend" shame is? We'll come back to that in the future. Suffice it to say, it was a hard day.

What I remember now about that experience, though is how I finished the hike. I didn't give up. I was slow and I was exhausted. BUT, when I reached the summit and took in one of my favorite views (as I laid on the ground panting as though my life depended on it, mind you), I felt hope. I experienced beauty. I reconnected with my friend and heard about her experience on the trail. When we took the gondola back down into the Village, I saw what I'd accomplished with fresh perspective. I'd climbed THAT mountain. The one right over there! It just took me a bit longer to summit, is all.

Have you been there?

Are you there now?

So...

Maybe like me, you've cut the tethering cord tying you to the consistent, safe place and you've already leaped from the cliff edge.

Maybe, like the friend I was having lunch with this week, you've lit the fuse and you're waiting for the big "boom" that's to come in the not so distant future.

In either case, maybe you just need to stand still in the standstill. The courage will come. The energy will return. You will regain your strength. You will move forward. When you can.

Instead of a list of questions this week, why not take a few minutes to be quiet. Listen to your heartbeat. Listen to your breath. Get in touch with your thoughts and your feelings. Remind yourself that it's really going to be okay. Somehow, some way, it will be. There is grace and there is mercy for you right here.

Life in the In-Between

Summertime throughout my childhood was marked by make-believe play, tv, drinking pop and afternoon thunderstorms. Mom and Dad both worked, and when we were old enough we were left in the capable hands of ourselves, under the supervision of my older brother. I have so many memories of those summers, but the thunderstorms stand out the most.

Day in and out, thunderheads would form high in the sky above us. The landscape would grow darker and darker as one set of menacing clouds joined another, forming one gigantic storm. The Rockies would change before our eyes, becoming less majestic and more foreboding. Then the thunder would begin with its powerful rumbles signifying the unleashing of the weather upon us. Bolts of lightning would light up the interior of the thunderheads and at times, shoot down beneath the cloud cover to strike where they may.  

Our German Shepherd would fight his way into the house and into the bathroom tub or down into the basement. He and I shared the same sentiment: "Get me out of here!" I'd run to the large window of our walk-out basement, facing the rolling range of the back acreage, to trace the line of clouds as far as my eyes could see to determine whether the familiar circular motion of a funnel cloud was forming or not. I'd watch the colors, hoping they stayed gray, free of the green haze that came from the atmospheric change signaling the possibility of a tornado.

When I caught a glimpse of a low, straight line along the cloud horizon that seemed likely to form a funnel, I'd run the 30 steps to my bedroom and prepare for the worst. Pulling my comforter, stuffed animals, pillows, Bible and a flashlight into my closet, I'd shut myself in and pray. Where were my siblings? I have no idea. I'd lose track of the reality that I wasn't physically alone, somehow. At the end of a storm, I'd resurface and trace the lines in the clouds, once again, to ensure all was safe. Life would go back to normal, on that side of the storm.

Growing older, I noticed how my posture towards these storms changed. In fact, I've grown to love and appreciate thunderstorms. There's something about the build up, the anticipation of the storm. When it comes, there's a release. The atmosphere shifts, often bringing cooler temperatures and a deep sigh. No doubt that storms can create damage, but this truth doesn't diminish the reality that there's something awe-inspiring about them. When they're over, I've seen how I have fresh perspective and appreciation for my life—just as it is.

I've been thinking a lot about storms as they pertain to our lives this week. We're standing in one piece of land for a time, then a storm moves through and gives us the opportunity to reflect on what we want, what we value. The aftermath has this way of revealing what we internalized in the middle of it, in the waiting. We see our lives and the land differently after waiting out a storm. 

Yesterday, a friend shared another metaphor with me— this one, involving archery. She shared how the arrow has to be pulled back to the place of greatest tension before it can be released in order to hit its target. When it's not pulled back far enough, it lacks the momentum required to make it to the bullseye. And, when a person isn't lined up correctly and releases the arrow too soon, it also results in a miss. Tension and timing are everything. 

Often, we don't want to experience the tension, or the storm for that matter. It's uncomfortable to stay put, so maybe we jump in too soon or hide away hoping it'll pass. Maybe we don't embrace the tension to the fullest extent because it's just too hard to stay in it. Mixed metaphors aside, today, I'm encouraging us to stay. 

New "seeing" awaits us on the other side of the storms we face in our lives. Perhaps we have the new ground in clear view, just ahead. Maybe we're wondering what it takes to cross the threshold, but we're experiencing the tension of being pulled back tightly in the waiting. We don't want to release the arrow too soon. We want it to hit the bullseye.

The waiting itself might seem like a storm. But, perhaps things aren't correctly lined up just yet. Wouldn't we rather wait so we might actually hit our target? Waiting can feel unproductive and painful. Believe me when I tell you that I live the reality of this truth regularly. I like to achieve and when I see the green lights in a direction, I'm ready to go. To be held back by a storm, or the appearance of a storm, feels awful. But, then I remember the beautiful aftermath... 

The air clears, there's a fresh vitality to the land and all of that build up created space for a wonderful release. Each time I take a step forward from this place, I really do experience gratitude—it's cultivated in me through the process. I find myself saying, "If only I had known..." 

So today, I remind you that you do know. You've been here before and you made it. It's not that you didn't struggle or that you walked away without being affected by the experience, but you lived. I think that's the point.

Life is full of tension and storms. What matters is our view of them and what we allow them to accomplish in us. We cannot take new ground in our lives without this tension and without the storms. They actually show us what we're made of and give us the opportunity to authentically live from that place by showing us what we really, really want. Not only that, but they reveal who we really are at the core.

So...

• Where are you experiencing a storm today? 
• What do you think about it? What do you feel about it? 
• What would it mean for the trajectory of your life if you willingly stayed the course through the tension you're experiencing there? 
• Will you? 

Margin, Margin, Margin

All of this talk about hustle and rest has reminded me to create more space in my life these past few weeks. Not only was it needed, but it made way for some fresh insights to surface. The result? I've been further considering how rhythms of rest free us into connection and how connection creates room for inspiration in our lives and our work. Once this cycle is complete, it seems to begin again. 

When I noticed my marked weariness, the first decision I made was to widen the margins of my mornings. Depending on my schedule for the day, I got up earlier or took more time later into the morning to listen and reflect. I made sure my phone was set to silent, then set a timer so I could rest into the quiet without concerning myself with how many minutes had ticked away. There were days when I was ushered into grief and anger. Other days, I experienced moments when I felt such a deep sense of peace and care; and others still, when I didn't think or feel much of anything. Those days, in particular, were sweet in a way because I just felt the goodness of my choice to "be." It didn't have to look or feel a certain way. I was present and that's all that seemed to matter.

I read more during the past few weeks. Everything from fiction to online articles to Scripture. I found myself craving connection to bigger picture ideas and people. I translated that into spending time sharing ideas and meeting with people. Work meetings turned into places for sweet relational sharing. I noticed that I was less "on agenda" and more focused on how the other person was doing in those settings. 

The connection spurred my creativity. I noticed my surroundings more. The extended time spent being available to people in their stories actually produced fresh inspiration in my work. I gained ideas on new approaches and tweaks I need to make in some of the tools I'm creating. I began to see my own work through new lenses which encouraged me to stay the course. And, the work itself seemed to go faster because I had more clarity on what I was doing.

Truth be told, I had a minor meltdown a few days ago in the midst of all of this, though. I called my Mom and she heard me out, but I also felt shame for the anxiety I felt that day. Minutes after we hung up, she called me back and the first words out of her mouth were, "CALM DOWN..." (Oh, mommas and their way with words to their almost 40-year-old daughters! Ha.) She proceeded to offer tangible help and a solution I badly needed. Why do I share this blurb? Because even in the midst of all of the good that came in the margin, I still faced a struggle. I found myself living in the tension of this "building season" and felt the pressure to hustle my way out of it—even to the extreme of abandoning my course for a safer path. I know better now, but it doesn't mean the temptation doesn't rear its ugly head from time to time. 

I think this is why creating margin is so critical. We can rest well and work hard and connect and be inspired, and we will still have needs. But, we're better equipped to deal with those needs when we've created space in our lives. We become more resilient as we cycle through and recognize what's most important for our thriving on a particular day or during a specific moment. When I felt overwhelmed, I needed connection and tangible help. I was able to reach out and ask for it because I was in touch with my feelings, silly as they seemed at the time. 

So...

• How would you describe how you're doing in this cycle of rest, hard work, connection, and inspiration right now? 
• Where will you create margin this week to be present with yourself?
• Who will you invite into the process to help you with any needs you notice?
• Who will you choose to be present with this week, even if it means you maneuver off of the agenda? 

Rhythms of Rest

Typing out that title and this post feel a bit ironic today. My past week has been anything but restful with work commitments, the wonderful wedding of a cherished sister-friend and loads of personal to-do's that remain undone. Can you relate? Reading that short phrase again, something wells up in me... Rhythms of rest. It is an invitation that offers me the opportunity to take a deep breath today and I invite you to join me.

Here's a little activity to engage for a few extended seconds:

• Breathe for three rounds of breath.
• Maybe even close your eyes. 
• Deep inhale; extended exhale. Again. Again.

Did you think of anything? What did that feel like? I found myself wanting more time there. You? 

I've been thinking about our dialogue about the hustle again this week and have added a new reflection to the mix. I find it interesting how we hustle, hustle, hustle and simultaneously live for the weekend. We count the days down until we're done—until we can rest or do something we really want to be doing—then we hustle some more. And maybe some of us who live with the hustle mindset never really wait for the weekend because we're still hustling when we arrive there. 

What do you think? Is that true for you or people in your life? If I consider my choices this past week, I fall into both categories. This led me to further consider my actual activities and where my decisions led me. Here's what I've uncovered:

• I'm physically exhausted.
• I'm behind on a lot of stuff and have questions about how I'm practically going to stay focused and organized in order to get it all done.
• I haven't set aside enough time for my spiritual practices and I feel a little wonky.
• I miss my friends and need good connecting points right now.
• I've allowed some of my time to be swallowed up in analyzing relational realities and unfinished business instead of creating solutions and taking action.

I encourage you to take a few moments to quiet yourself and jot down a few thoughts of your own.

• What do you notice as you consider your activities from this past week?
• If you could recap your week by describing any tension you might be experiencing in a single sentence, what would you say? 

I'd say: I'm so physically drained that it's hard to be present and get things done because I just want to sleep, BUT I feel tension about taking the time to sleep because I have so much to do! Gah!

Does that resonate with anyone out there? Even if your tension is different, I imagine it has something to do with what you think you need to do and what is actually needed. This can be a place where we get stuck and then maybe we keep hustling just to keep the hustle alive instead of embracing a mindset and rhythm of rest.

So here's a question to consider... Where will I make space in my daily life to uncover where my decisions are leading me? I can break it down further by asking myself:

1. What am I doing right now?
2. Why am I doing that?
3. Where is this decision/activity leading me?
4. Is what I'm doing right now getting me where I want to be?
5. If not, what step will I take to get there in the healthiest way possible?

Choosing to live in this way creates a posture that ensures I'm resting well into my decisions by living with intentionality in my little yes's and no's. These decisions extend into my thought-life:

• What am I saying yes to in my thoughts?
• What am I saying no to in my thoughts?

Every day we make agreements inside of our heads. Our feelings follow these agreements. Our actions follow these feelings.

• Where are your thoughts leading you?
• Do they lead to a posture of hustle?
• Do they lead to a posture of rest?

In the long run, I think we actually accomplish more by taking stock of our thoughts and the postures they create in our lives, making decisions from there. I have definite room for improvement as I consider my last week. What about you?  

The Hustle in the Hustle

I see it on coffee mugs and tank tops, memes and social media banners, and I hear friends say it day in and out: "Every day I'm hustlin'..." Our mantra, it seems. I've dialogued with others about this piece of our vocabulary and what it stirs in me for a couple of years now. I haven't known how to talk about it fully, but I've decided to try. This week, I received responses from a few of you on social media as you shared your thoughts on what the hustle means to you. Your perspectives were helpful! Here's what I heard you say about it:

"Doing what you need to do to get to your goal." 

"It is often associated with being opportunistic, having grit, and being responsible for making sure my goal is obtained. It is up to me, so I must do whatever is in my power to get done what needs to get done and persuading others to help me get there."

"Gotta do what I gotta do until I figure something else out."

"Hustle is working for what is good with the goal of what is best!"

"Stepping into what I need to, over and over again."

"The hustle will always be a thing!"

Do these ring true for you? What about the dictionary definitions for hustle? (Posted here.) What sort of a rhythm does the reality of hustle create in your life? If I'm honest, I've found this cultural phenomenon of "The Hustle" to be a difficult pill to swallow. Here's why...

The past 10 years of my story have afforded me a wonderful education in life rhythms. Certain seasons were so filled to the brim that my head was spinning all of the time with all of the doing. Other seasons delivered so much space to me that I'd wonder if I was adding anything meaningful to the world while I sat still, being. 

A worker bee by nature, the "being" was the harder part of the learning for me. I know this isn't true for everyone, but it took great intentionality, and quite a few years, on my part to develop a posture of rest. Workaholism plagued me in my twenties and early thirties. I was seeking to validate my existence to the world through my work. Finding remedy in the affirmations of others and their growing applause of my competence, I pushed myself excessively to continue conquering bigger mountains. And I loved it. I was good at it and even felt "alive" in it.

It's probably not surprising to hear, but I sort-of missed seeing my motive in it all. Of course, there were moments when I could feel that something wasn't right, but I trudged through those with a grittiness I'm amazed to remember I had (it's called adrenaline, by the way). But eventually, when I felt totally misunderstood, under challenged and exhausted—one can't live in fight or flight mode forever, after all—something had to give.

I broke down because quite frankly, I felt totally lost and had used all of my energy trying to prove myself. As I looked deeper, I uncovered a significant root need: to be valued and known and loved. I was trying to find love in all of the wrong places, or so the song goes... This seeing freed me to begin healing and set me on the long road back into genuine life. And healing meant that I had to come to terms with reality. I came to see how I'd been punked. The illusion I thought of as life was actually death and I felt this death profoundly.

For me, this never-ending cycle of hustle and the energy required to keep it up eventually gave out. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me. One truth I've learned in this process is that hustle, as much as it is actual activity, is also a mindset. And perhaps this is where I feel confronted by our cultural embrace of the experience. I don't typically hear us saying that it's just activity. I hear us saying that we just have to keep going, no matter what. But there are times when we just have to stop. And, if we don't, there's a good chance we'll be forced to stop by exhaustion, disease, broken relationships—you name it. This is what I mean when I say, "The Hustle in the Hustle." If my mindset is set to hustle, I will always be hustling.

I don't know about you, but I find that this mindset creates a terrible life rhythm. My firsthand experience has helped me to see that when I lived it, I was never really "off" and over time, this harmed me. In the coming weeks, we'll continue to talk about this mindset and look at some alternatives. After all, my hope for myself and for you is that we are people who live a WHOLE life.   

In the meantime: 

• Do you resonate with the hustle? What does it mean to you?
• What is the nature of your current life rhythm?
• What words or feelings might you use to describe it? Why?