There are many times when we know what we know and don’t necessarily know why—or don’t know the why. Unfortunately, through our culture, we’ve been taught that we need to provide a solid reason for our decisions. Here’s the thing: You don’t need to know why.
Be the innkeeper of your soul
When a prospective new client noted that she didn’t feel like she was a good innkeeper of her soul, I was curious. What did it mean to her that she isn’t a good innkeeper of her soul? And so I asked her. Then it occurred to me: What does being the innkeeper of your soul mean to me? It is, after all, the thing I’ve been talking about for awhile
Just be here
I have spent a lot of time and energy thinking that I need to find my people, that I should be out there finding my places and things here in Bend. I’ve lived here for almost two years. What’s wrong with me? But every time I think about putting myself out there, my essential self just says, “Meh.” And again I think, “What’s wrong with me?”
The next thing
While looking at photos from a friend’s recent wedding, I became aware of two feelings—happiness and sadness. I am so happy for my friend who has found the love of his life. But I was also a little sad, remembering my own wedding just a couple years ago and how life’s special moments (and they’re all special—good, bad, and in between) go by so fast.
Piece by piece
I’ve written before about letting go. For me, it’s been a constant and critical part of my journey, shedding that which no longer serve me—people, places, things, and thoughts. It’s something I think about a lot because I’m continually discerning what feels authentic to my essential self. It occurred to me recently, though, that perhaps I make letting go sound like an easy thing to do. It’s not. It’s a slow, unfolding, and sometimes painful process that can take days, weeks, months, even years.