I can choose fear, or I can choose trust

Yesterday, after I finished lunch, my mind started to take me to a place of potential future outcomes that very immediately felt scary. It pertained to something I was processing into a new understanding, a new reality, the other week. Through the waves, I had found—I have found—a wider stability, a deeper capacity to be in the now, rather than what if’s. Still, there are moments, and that’s OK. The voice that settled me as those frightening possibilities began to form as thoughts in my head, said, “You can choose fear, or you can choose trust.”

I choose trust. I chose trust in that moment, and I choose trust in writing right now. The reality is what it is; the rest, and me, is whatever I choose for it to be.

Sierra's pace

Back when I was marathon training, I shared some runs long runs, medium runs and stops under the Venice sign with my friend Sierra, who I met through Venice Run Club. I loved her energy, grit, spirit and sweetness (still do!). She, as a seasoned competitor, helped me prepare for a lot of the not-just-running parts of race prep, like logistics with fueling (“You need to bring water on these long runs!”) and being with it, better with it, even when it felt hard. (“Just don’t think about it,” she said on that infamous 18-mile run day in 88 degree heat under the open sun. We cried in gratitude looking out at the ocean along Manhattan Beach, and also probably from delirium. We made it.)

One Wednesday a few weeks before the marathon, we set out on our weekly 4.5-mile group loop. Everyone was clicking their smart watches and Strava apps on to start, timing it all, calculating. I saw her start and called out, “What pace are you going today?” to see if we’d run together. She turned back and smiled, responding across a few rows of people. “Sierra’s pace!” she said, shrugging her shoulders and continuing to run. Which meant, whatever felt right that day, in that moment, for her. Sierra’s pace. We say it often now, as do others who heard her response that night and, like me, loved it. Sierra’s pace. Your pace. Whatever that is.

For Sierra, who runs, swims, bikes, rests, resets and lives her own way, at her own pace, through life.

It's a blessing to have it around me

My friend Ryan is someone who has the incredible ability to get as excited about wonderful things happening in her loved ones’ lives as she is in her own. And she’s made a practice of it, too. She’s supported me in celebrating big moments, helping me to see and celebrate them even more than I would have—as much as she’s been there for me during difficult ones. I think there’s something so special, selfless and beautifully abundant about that.

One time when I was on the phone with her, I shared some good news about another good friend, someone she’s never met. She took it in, appreciating it with an “mmm,” and then said something I think of often and repeat, years later. “I remind myself it’s a blessing to have it around me.” I’d never heard anyone express appreciation in such a wide way, two connections away.

We can often get so caught up in how something is showing up for us, especially when it’s something we really want. That thing, just for us, only for us and not to be shared. We’re so focused on that, that we miss all the ways and forms in which it’s so present in our lives already. I think there’s a lot of culture-of-the-individual and competitive programming around this, but (and) it can be peeled back. Because when it’s around us, these good, desired, beautiful things, these blessings, we share in it, too. It’s also ours to appreciate, ours to celebrate.

For Rainbow Ryan, who is as incredible a healer as she is a friend, and who truly is a blessing to have around me, even though we’ve yet to meet in person!

Let it be light

In the last half-day, I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s not that deep,” in a few moments. Said in a show I was watching, shared in a TikTok that found me, mentioned in a memory to myself. Rather than dismissive, it’s been it a welcome reminder. It’s also had the power to gently dissolve the intensity or heaviness that often accompany something “deep” for me.

I’ve followed it up and filled it in automatically for myself, too, with a reminder I had on repeat about a month ago: Let it be light. Let it be light—”it’s not that deep;” it doesn’t have to be. It’s not that heavy; it doesn’t have to be. It’s not that intense; it doesn’t have to be. Something can be light and easy and still have impact, still have resonance.

Let it be light. Let it it be easy; let it be with you; let it lift off you. Let it leave you, and let it return to you, if it’s meant to. Let it be light. And, in being light, it can also illuminate.

We're here, we may as well enjoy it

This thought started visiting me often, when I would find myself waiting in a line, on hold for something, existing in some between-space of time and/or place that really didn’t seem all that exciting, that wasn’t really my preference, but was what it needed to be then.

“I’m here; I may as well enjoy it.” I found myself saying. And, magically, I would almost automatically find a way to enjoy it. Something would become comical, I would come more into the present, or I would feel more like the whole situation was more mine, because I was choosing to make it into enjoyment. And I think that’s what it’s about, remembering that we deserve enjoyment, to live life in joy, regardless of the circumstances

Attention and appreciation make anything special. And when we can turn the mundane into the magical, I guess that’s called alchemy.

Joy is a practicality

Doing something because you want to, because the act alone of doing it brings joy, happiness, delight is reason enough to do it. Just knowing you want to, without knowing how you’ll feel, that’s also reason enough.

You don’t need a “practical” reason. Joy, being—are practicalities enough.

Do something because you want to, not because of what you expect in return

Do something because you want to, not because of what you expect in return, or because you expect something, anything, as a result. In that way, in this manner, it can only ever be positive. You are doing what you want, for the joy of it. This is mom advice (advice from my mom) that came through over the years in a simple moment It continues to reveal, reorient and simplify in all it touches in my life.

Orient toward the action, for the joy and the purity of the action, rather than the outcome. And whatever comes, will come, and it will be welcome.

For Mom who has done many things…