I went on a girls’ weekend with a friend who is probably my most worldly friend.  I always learn a ton from her when we hang out, and this time I came away with a new delicious phrase:

Hurkle durkle.

When she said it (“I slept great and had a hurkle durkle”), I giggled and thought I either misheard or she was making a silly sound for morning ablutions 😂

Little did I know, it would become not only my favorite sounding phrase for the weekend but a sweet mindset shift…

As someone who makes their living as a coach, I probably shouldn’t say this…but I am SO OVER the word PURPOSE and relentless focus and glorification of finding your purpose! or living your purpose!

[insert the most intense teenage eyeroll you can imagine]

With the rise of coaching and self-development (yes, two realms I love and feel are deeply important), purpose has been elevated to feel like the pinnacle of your life’s focus – as if everything else you do is just filler until you find it.

Well I disagree…

I’ve been in a bit of a creative slump recently.  While that was certainly influenced by being sick as a dog for a couple weeks, it’s mostly just been a muddy slog in creativity-land.

I tried the usual things – get outside in the fresh air and move around, read a book, listen to some new podcast episodes, call a friend, get immersed in small projects that allow my mind to wander…but nothing really shifted.

We all know there are peaks and valleys to things.  Times when things are up and times when things are down.  There’s a saying I think of in those valley times that offers some comfort:  This too shall pass…

Probably a lot of us grew up hearing this phrase:

What’s the worst that could happen?

Usually it’s said rather casually or even in an off-hand way, indicating that the possible negative outcomes of an action are probably not bad enough not to do the thing.

But there’s a deeper dive here that is actually extremely useful in those times where we hold ourselves back from taking action – to truly consider what our worst fear is…

Every year for Easter, we gather at my aunt’s house in central California.  While the specific agenda of the weekend have shifted over time, the main themes have remained:  time together, talking over good food, resting, and relaxing.

It’s also a unique weekend and a little oasis for a specific reason:  there is no TV service or internet.

Yes, you read that right…

When I worked in my corporate job years ago, I used to dream of freedom.  Freedom to decide my own hours, to decide what projects I made, to decide (aka be the final approver) of when I take time off…it seemed like a vast utopia of delight and joy.

Actually, I was probably dreaming of freedom long before that.  Freedom to stay up as late as I wanted, to eat sweets whenever I wanted, to watch whatever I wanted on TV.  Funny the freedom you dream about as a kid – when later in life you end up being naturally more restrictive than the rules ever were as a kid (for the record, I can barely stay awake until 10pm, I limit my sweets more than my parents ever did, and I barely watch TV, usually opting for a book).

The thing about freedom, though, is that the ultimate version of it – with no bounds whatsoever – actually leaves you floating out in an abyss.  You may feel untethered, but you may also feel ungrounded...

Last week I visited Austin, Texas, to meet up with friends to venture to a bookstore we were all really excited to see (that’s for another post).  Naturally the trip included other adventures around Austin – getting BBQ, sampling multiple ice cream shops, seeing the bats fly out from underneath the Congress bridge at sunset, meandering through parks…just enjoying the city in all its loveliness.

On one of our leisurely strolls through a park, we saw on the map that there was a labyrinth and decided to wander over to it.  Most labyrinths I’ve seen are shaped with large rocks in a gravel or dirt area.  This one was simply made of two colors of stone – gray and pink – to delineate the path and the edges.  My friend and I exchanged a look that said – OK, let’s do this!

And off we went...

There are several people I follow who talk about “choosing your pain”.  Which, in its essence, boils down decision-making to choosing which outcome and its consequences that you can best live with.  Every decision we make has an outcome, and every kind of outcome has pros and cons (and those cons include pain).  Hence…whatever choice you make, with the expected associated outcome, has pain.  So we are, therefore, choosing our pain with any given choice we make.

So I started to wonder – why do we think there is some choice that avoids pain entirely?...

Remember the days of “book reports”?  I love to read, and have since I was probably mid-elementary school, but I remember the days of having to give reports on books, and often they weren’t ones I was all that interested in.

Nowadays, though, I usually can’t shut up about whatever I am reading and what I’m learning from it.  Oh, how times have changed.

Last month, I read a philosophical book about time and how we regard it called Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman.  There are dozens of nuggets throughout the book that have kept me thinking since I read it, but one of them was top of mind on a recent Friday as things were winding down for the week...

You know that moment when you’re thinking about a project and you get a flash of energy, curiosity, and inspiration?  It’s what happens right before you run to your computer or your workspace or your notebook and dive in, losing time into the flow of the thing that has captured your focus.

And it’s so delicious when that happens.

But oddly, I have noticed this other weird phenomenon that can happen right after that flash.  It’s when I talk myself out of it.  When I think, “Oh, that’s a great idea, I should work on that later when I have a proper amount of time to sit down and really get into it for as long as I need or want to.”

And nothing kills the mood like procrastinative pragmatism (my new made-up phrase)...

Many moons ago, a mentor of mine asked me a simple question about an issue I had brought to her for counsel:

Is it a skill issue or a will issue?

I had never considered this lens before in first defining the core of an issue before problem-solving for it.

A skill issue means there is a deficit in our actual ability to do something.  A will issue means there is a deficit in our desire to do something.  Figuring out the true deficit is the most crucial first step in working through something because treating one issue like the other is not only setting us up for failure but also inviting a LOT of frustration...

I went to an event last month where we welcomed in the new year with things we were shedding and were invited to write ourselves “love notes” that would be sent to us later on.

Like a good little participant, I did as I was invited.

I decided I would write myself a note the way I would write one to a friend, telling them the wonderful things about themself that I would want them to know that they might not hear otherwise.  I decided to think as clearly and honestly about myself as I could – not overly critical and not overly humble.  But about the things that define me, the ways I consistently show up, the things that matter to me.

And I wrote myself my first love note...

In our culture, we make a big deal about goals.  Setting goals, monitoring goals, achieving goals.  Goals can be a great way to keep our eyes on the horizon, to focus our gaze and direction.

Goals also get all the glory.

But do you know what gets little to no recognition as they work quietly, consistently, fastidiously in the background?...

Back when I started my business and created my website (yes, I designed and built the very first version myself!), I made a space for a blog and I thought, oh good, a place to put all my big, important thoughts about things! 😂

And in the first five years I wrote about a dozen posts.

(When were all those big important thoughts gonna show up??!)

Five years ago, I decided to commit to posting once a week.  Given my track record, this seems rather ridiculous in hindsight.

But here I am, five years later and, aside from summer and winter breaks, I have posted every single week of those five years.  And it feels like a real milestone...

I love to travel.  Always have.  I love the feel of a new place, the different smells, the different signs, the different currencies and languages (when you travel abroad).

What I’ve never cared for was the transit.  The to-and-from required to be in those new places.  And yet those are the unavoidable parts.

I get antsy on the way to the airport.  I am itchy at the airport when checking the departure boards for gate assignments and flight status. I hate figuring out how to get out of the airport and to where I’m going - where the adventure awaits me! - once I’ve landed.

But therein lies the missing link...

I was on a walk last week in my neighborhood when I saw the saddest sight:  two (still delicious smelling!) Christmas trees out by the sidewalk, awaiting their transport to what I hope is a big, happy Christmas tree farm in the sky.

It almost brought me to tears!

As you might remember from prior posts, fall and the Christmas season make up my favorite time of the year.  So you can imagine that, in the dark and cold that is the winter season immediately following all that joy and light, it can be a little hard for me to let go of Christmas and adjust.

But ironically, this is what happens, all the time, in all facets of our lives...

I’ve been having issues with my hamstring for a while now.  Nothing specific happened (no distinct injury event), it has just been hurting for weeks.  I’ve been stretching, taking it easy on my jogs, icing, rolling on a tennis ball…nothing (yet) has turned things around.

The other day I thought, “Is this going to last forever?!” and “If only I knew it would be over by some specific date, I could just relax.”

And there is the rub...

There are new beginnings all around us.  And the most infamous one is a new year.  That seems to be the time when folks envision big changes – a new job, a new relationship, improved health …everything will change with a turn of the calendar page.

New year, new me!

It’s so easy to sit down and write out all the things we wish were different.  And all those heroic steps we’ll take to make all those things happen.  All at once.  Starting in January.

But the irony here is thick.  January 1 rolls around and often those ambitions and plans fall to the curb like last month’s Christmas tree...

As the winter solstice approaches, the darkest day of the year, I feel the weight of the darkness.  Light barely breaks by 7am and it’s almost fully dark by 5pm. The days feel short and the nights long and heavy.

This is the time of year I feel most compelled to retreat.  To hibernate.  To be quiet and think and plan and rest.

As the seasons go, winter is the time that things die.  What falls away makes room for what is yet to bloom in the spring.  From my warm hibernation spot, I like to think about what to plant and grow as the weather, and the energy, warm again.

This can feel like a big deal…and yet it happens every year...

It seems like we’re always on a quest to understand ourselves. Or to figure ourselves out. Or to know ourselves better.

But maybe this has never been the problem.

Maybe we have always known exactly who we are...