The Wind Beneath Your Own Wings

Who knew it was a butterfly moment.

An elementary school teacher friend of mine recently sent me a screen shot of a nine year old Facebook post. The unnamed subject in the post was one of my kids involved in some humorous banter about the naming of some beetles in a classroom project. A conversation unexpected from a kid of that age, but a conversation I was happy the kid felt comfortable to be a part of.

Teachers have a way of creating safe spaces for kids to participate, to feel seen, valued, and accepted. In that safe space, a child is free to shine a light only they can shine. And when they start to shine, they’re empowered to shine even brighter, fueled by the momentum of an ever-growing level of confidence.

The Butterfly Effect on full display.

As adults, finding our own safe spaces to shine becomes a bit of a challenge. Many family and organizational structures usually don’t make room for such spaces. Because, hey, we’re adults which implies there’s simply no need for the safe spaces we needed as children.

We never outgrow a need for a safe space to shine.

The outside world is usually too busy to even notice us, let alone create a space where our most authentic self feels free to shine. Short of going back to third grade, the most reliable safe space is the one we create for ourselves.

It can feel quite daunting when you need to be the wind beneath your own wings, to create a safe space for you to shine when you’ve been conditioned to believe you’re the only reason why you’ve yet to fully do so.

The butterfly imprisoned by the the weight of its own wings.

But those are the only wings that will set you free.

We need not wait for others to create a safe space for us to shine. We don’t need their permission to express our authentic energy and light. We need our own permission to do so. To start, to flutter, to allow ourselves to move forward at our own pace and shine in the way only we can shine. The more we are willing to move the more confident we will become in our movement.

The more wind beneath our wings.

It took me the better part of a lifetime to allow myself to become a safe space for me to unfold more fully into me. To allow myself to trust me with me. To allow myself to be me, embraced with patience, kindness, and unconditional love.

Some lessons certainly take their time being learned.

Your safe space to shine is yours if you want it.

You just need to be willing to start.

The Homes I Can Never Go Home To Again

Ruben’s Atomic Chicken Fingers!

I unexpectedly found myself back in an area I briefly lived in about 30 years ago. A break in the meeting schedule and I was free to roam around for a few hours and I spontaneously decided to retrace some footsteps I had left three decades earlier.

Driving around brought me back mentally and emotionally. I even found a Spotify playlist of 1990’s alt-rock and grunge to bring me back even further. Salem to Nashua via Rte 111. Much was the same. Much was different. I knew I was different, much different than who I was back when I first traveled these roads those many years ago.

And then I remembered Ruben’s Atomic Chicken Fingers.

The more youthful me would find himself many a night belly to the bar at Shorty’s Mexican Roadhouse, never a need to review their rather extensive menu. I knew what I was there for, and the only question was for how many.

Lightly breaded, deep fried chicken fingers served with a sweet-yet-hot thick and sticky dipping sauce, the sweetness lowering your guard making it easy for the heat to find its way down the back of your throat. A cold beer at the ready and at that moment everything was perfect with the world.

I found my way into Shorty’s once again and at the same bar I excitedly ordered the same Atomic Chicken Fingers and I was ready to pick up where I had left off. But one bite in and I realized something had changed.

And it wasn’t the chicken fingers.

I’d always heard you can’t go home again. I understood that to mean time inevitably changes what home had always been. What was simply no longer existed as it was. But at the bar, I realized the only thing that had changed was me. I couldn’t go back to what was because I was no longer who I was. It wasn’t the food. It wasn’t the bar.

It was me.

I outgrew the memories.

I was the reason why I couldn’t go “home” again.

There is a perceived comfort of going home again, even if home wasn’t a very comfortable place to be. But it’s familiar, predictable, and known which tempts us to want to relive and cling to and even slightly revise the narrative to accommodate what we may have wished home actually was.

But you can’t really go back because you’re no longer who you were when you were originally there.

I appreciate all the homes I can never go home to again. The physical and the emotional. They were important parts of who I was, foundational building blocks of who I am. But who I will become? That needs me to allow myself to outgrow myself, to not let the lure of the certainty of the past prevent me from moving forward into the uncertainty of the future.

The past had its place, but it’s no place to live. It served its purpose, it was an important teacher, but holding on to our yesterdays weakens our grip on our tomorrows.

When we create an emotionally clear space to grow, it’s likely we will do so.

Photo by Victor Bouton on Unsplash

Things Don’t Last Forever On Their Own

I guess it was inevitable. But it didn’t have to be.

All of my life that barn was there. Until it wasn’t. A recent heavy wet snow proved too much for its weakened structure, slowly and consistently compromised by years of neglect to a point where it probably wasn’t worth the time and effort to save it.

Its demise seemed subtly unintentional. It was built to last, a solid foundation of granite supporting its timber frame posts and beams. It should have lasted forever.

But things usually don’t last forever on their own.

The rubble of the now-fallen barn offered me a stark reminder that the majestic things we’ve built in our own lives need the consistency of regular maintenance and pro-active care if we want them to last. Friendships, relationships, our health, and our emotional well being may all be built upon solid foundations, but indifference and complacency will surely weaken their structure, rendering them vulnerable and exposed to the inevitable storms life brings upon us.

If it’s worth saving, know it’s not going to save itself.

Photo by Chris Riggs on Unsplash

The Only Place I Am Is There

“One time, one meeting.”

It was mesmerizing. The color. The lines. The contrast. It was one of those photos I wish I had taken myself. But I didn’t need to own it to be able to fully enjoy it.

I just needed to see it.

Quite often I find myself alone in nature. A short hike though the woods, a long walk on a winter’s beach. The isolation is restorative and at some point I will inevitably attempt to capture the beauty of the natural world surrounding me in a photograph.

Looking through the view finder takes me to a place I’ve spent much of my life trying to find. The present moment. In the view finder a moment is frozen. I scan everything before pressing the button. The lines, the light, the color, the texture, the noise. Every detail in front of me is seen and assessed. I can adjust or decide to capture it exactly as it is. But in that moment, the only place I am is there.

When you discover the present moment you also discover how fleeting it is.

“Ichigo ichie” is a Japanese expression often translated to mean “one time, one meeting”. This and every moment is a singular moment in time. It cannot be relived exactly as it was. Therein lies its Continue reading “The Only Place I Am Is There” →

Redirecting The Momentum Of Thought

The crew aimed their cannon at the top of the mountain. After a few minor adjustments, the trigger was pulled and the artillery shell landed in the deep snow.

Avalanche.

It started slowly, the initial subtle movement gaining velocity and momentum as the snow intensified its descent as it violently crashed down the mountain.

Reminds me of how my thoughts can work at times. Especially when the thoughts turn negative.

Sometimes one initial impact of negativity creates a downward spiral of more negativity cascading through my mind. A mental avalanche of sorts, gaining velocity and momentum as those unwanted thoughts crash down relentlessly through my head.

I’m no expert in physics, but I do understand the power of momentum. How life tends to create more of what you’re experiencing and expecting, even if you don’t want it.

I’ve gotten good at noticing where my emotional momentum is taking me. I can feel when I’m caught up in my own avalanche of negativity, anxiety, and doubt. Left unabated, the momentum of my thoughts intensifies. But noticing when I’m stuck in an avalanche is my first step of getting out of it.

Awareness is a super power. Knowing where I am allows me to create a plan to get me where I want to be. My thoughts will go where they will go, but I get to decide if a will allow them to keep me there. At times I need to give myself some time to process the negativity, anxiety, and doubt. Just give it a safe non-judgmental space to be seen and heard. To slow the momentum.

Then decide where I want to go from there.

We have the freedom to think what we want to think. We have the freedom to be empowered by our thoughts. We have the power to reframe any situation we find ourselves in.

We have the power to redirect our emotional momentum.

Just because I’m stuck doesn’t mean I have to stay stuck.

During an avalanche of negativity, anxiety, and doubt, we are the only one who can pull us to safety.

Photo by Nicolas Cool on Unsplash

Moving Beyond The Easy, The Convenient, And The Good Enough

I didn’t like the process, but I loved the results.

The prep for a routine medical procedure included the elimination of some of my favorite foods for a week ahead of my appointment. It wasn’t quite fasting, but it might as well have been given what was on the list of foods I could eat.

A week later, I was surprised to feel so much better.

Many of those favorite foods were nothing more than habitually consumed foods, favorites by default based upon the frequency of indulgence. Easy, convenient, and good enough, three attributes you’d never use to describe a healthy relationship.

With food or with people.

My mini cleanse was an opportunity to reset what I was consuming, a chance to take a break from and to re-evaluate what I was willing to put into my body. An opportunity to make decisions more intentionally aligned with the healthier vision I have for myself and less out of habit.

I’ve been cleansing other parts of my life as well. My energy. My tribe. What I am willing to tolerate. What I’m no longer willing to accept.

Stepping back we may find we’ve become consumers of a great deal of toxicity in the world we’ve built around us, a world built more out of habit and less out of intention. We can see where we’ve habitually chosen the easy, the convenient, and the good enough relationships, opportunities, and situations which have left us feeling sluggish and diminished, emotionally winded and lethargic.

Life has repeatedly shown me that in every moment we get to decide if we are willing to perpetuate what is or willing to forge a different, more authentic path forward. We can either feed the habits which leave us vibrationally hungry or cleanse ourselves of the toxins which poison the path on our way to becoming who it is we are willing to become.

The moment is awaiting your decision.

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

Finding Time For Nothing

I used to feel kind of guilty.

I mean, I’ve got a long list of things I am responsible for, obligations to keep, commitments to live up to. Yet, almost defiantly, I’d sneak off into a secret space and engage in one of my favorite non-activities.

Nothing.

Sometimes I just need nothing.

To do nothing.

To be nothing.

To feel nothing.

Even if for a few brief moments.

There’s a peace to be found in nothing, where I allow myself to be momentarily detached from my responsibilities, obligations, and commitments. It’s a space with no rules nor expectations. It’s a quiet, timeless space where I just breathe.

Most of my visits to nothing are often measure in seconds, seconds I intentionally create for myself when I know I need to pause and reset my emotional footing.

Nothing ever happens by itself. I need to find the time for it. I need to be aware of when I need a break and then willing to actually do so.

Even if it’s just for a few re-centering moments.

Self care comes in many forms.

Sometimes in the form of nothing.

The Peace Is Well Worth The Pain

“Art should provoke, disturb, arouse our emotions, expand our sympathies in directions we may not anticipate and may not even wish.” – Joyce Carol Oates

It’s one of my favorite photos.

And it annoys the hell out of me.

I took the photo a couple of years ago at a local park, an overhead view of a snow covered swing seat I noticed in the playground. It’s a black and white image creating a beautiful contrast between the whiteness of the snow and the darkness of the outline of the seat and the chains holding it up. It’s stark, it’s simple, yet each time I look at the photo I wish it was different than it was. The seat is slightly askew, and the two chains rising up from the seat stretching to the edge of the photo are annoyingly asymmetrical.

Even though the photo is beautiful, I instead look beyond its beauty and focus on the flaws only I can see, leaving me provoked and disturbed in the process.

I’ve never had much success arguing with reality, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Life gives us plenty of opportunities to argue with it, if we choose to, to be provoked and disturbed wishing people, situations, and circumstances were different and more aligned with Continue reading “The Peace Is Well Worth The Pain” →

How Deep Is Your Love?

I was told there’s nothing to see there.

Which is why I wanted to see it.

It’s 7:30 AM and right on schedule the ferry pulled away from the dock for the one hour ride to New Shoreham, a small island off the coast of Rhode Island. A booming summer tourist hotspot, the island is in full hibernation mode on this frigid December morning. Cold, isolated, and barren.

It’s exactly what I had hoped for.

I’m not sure when a ritual becomes a tradition, but for the past several years I select one day in late December to become somewhat invisible and inaccessible. A spiritual spa day of sorts, where I find myself in cold, isolated, and barren locations in coastal Massachusetts and Rhode Island wonderfully alone, embarking on long hikes in solitude where the only voice I hear is the one in my head.

These days are important days. These are the days of reflection, release, realignment, and reconnection. This is a safe space for me to be honest with me about me. A kind and loving space where I allow myself to process and unpack the heaviness life sometimes throws upon your shoulders and your heart. In this space there is no agenda nor the pressure of needing to Continue reading “How Deep Is Your Love?” →

Defiant Enthusiasm

“Five golden rings!”

It’s amazing how much noise 132 elementary school students can make. But there they were, on stage for the annual Holiday concert belting out “The 12 Days of Christmas” for a very appreciative audience.

It was a beautiful noise.

These kids were fully animated. Each day of the 12 included a visual interpretation of each gift given, from lords a-leaping to maids a-milking. Their enthusiasm was so infectious the crowd began to mimic the actions of the kids from their seats. Even Santa, who was sitting in the room, joined in as well.

The enthusiasm and energy these kids brought this day was genuine and real. They showed up, lined up, and dove all the way in. The innocence of youth provides plenty of room for joyous enthusiasm to be fully expressed.

For the rest of us, well, enthusiasm feels like a lot more work.

Life does have a way of trying to beat the enthusiasm out of us adults, doesn’t it? Enthusiasm is Continue reading “Defiant Enthusiasm” →

Peter Mis LivingHalfFull.com

Lessons From A Life Unfolding

Tag: life