When you pause. When you truly pause, you see the life that is forming around you.
Here I am, driving across the state of Washington, to a speaking appearance where little girls only aspire to be me. I feel fortunate, yes, but when nothing seems like it could possibly be wrong, I turn on the news to see invasion and devastation. Lives being torn apart. Homes stolen from their dwellers. The known becoming all too unknown. And it makes me hurt, and grieve, and heartbroken, but it also makes me grateful.
When I was little, I dreamed of the life I could live. But this right here, the life I am living now, is something my 4-year-old mind couldn’t begin to comprehend.
When doors open, walk through them.
When opportunities arise, take them.
Life is far too short and too precious to meticulously plan for your 4-year-old dream when what you could be living right now is so much fuller.
So be present. Present when you wake. Present when you sleep. Present when your dog licks your cheek or you hear the laughter of your children in the living room.
Soak up every minute, every moment, the tiniest ounces of our life that make up the big picture and the story you will tell your grandchildren someday.
Leave what no longer serves you, even if it did at one point, right now, it’s about what brings you joy. Pure, authentic, relentless joy.
Hustle. But not to the point of exhaustion. We can’t enjoy what we are too tired to absorb.
I realized some time ago that this blog is not just for me. It’s for the readers who resonate but can’t find the right words to explain their feeling and emotions. And to those, I say, try.
Try to look within yourself, notice what you feel, what words come to mind. Put it on paper and create it. This life we live, we only have one chance, and once we are gone there is a legacy behind us. At some point, someone somewhere said “I’m going to write it down, every word, every human experience” and it led to connection. To reality taking hold of our breath, our tears, our fears, when human emotion couldn’t make sense of any of it.
And then there are those, who at 4 years old couldn’t imagine their life as a refugee, fleeing from their home and trying to find a safe haven to survive, not even thrive, but simply make it to the next day. Their 4-year-old self wouldn’t want that for themselves. Yet here they are.
So where do we go from here? In this grateful, broken, blessed, hurting, remarkable, devastated, humanity? We keep on being human. We help where we can, we pray when we can, we appreciate where we can, we coexist where we can. And we breathe. In and out, together on this floating rock in space.