Exhaling fully tells the nervous system that there’s too much carbon dioxide and that there’s too little oxygen. It’s a nice metaphor for other aspects of our lives. What’s building up in our lives that needs to go away, to make space for something fresh?
Even amidst the hustle and bustle of this season, there are some days that are just made for soaking up sunshine.
I wonder if we might find a way to celebrate the wrinkles in our lives, even the wrinkles on our faces. They’re evidence of the nature of living. And living is worth celebrating.
Sometimes we need a pause—even a micro-pause—to consider what we really want to do or say. Other times, we need a pause just to rest.
Sometimes we need rest sentences. Time to do something nourishing, calming or just innocuous. To give a part of ourselves the space to make sense of what we’re experiencing.
As the days get shorter and the nights get longer, our bodies beckon us toward slowing down, perhaps even hibernation. Yet, our culture encourages a frenetic level of activity—shopping, sharing, eating, decorating, celebrating. How might we reconcile these demands on ourselves?
The good news is that so many of our fall and winter holidays bring light into our dark season. It’s a season of so many mixed feelings. The joy of being with people we love; the sadness of missing those who can’t be with us; the contrast between the idealized holiday images and what we really experience.
The good news was that some of the long-buried seeds of long-forgotten native plants were bursting forth with new life. Some seeds only open up for new growth after a fire.
There’s a period of time for muddling through and wondering if you’ll ever get it. And then, at some magical point, it all makes sense. When it makes sense, it suddenly seems simple and obvious. How could I not see that before?
Sitting on the front porch this morning, there was a tiny bit of fall in the air. But my thoughts kept going back to western North Carolina.
