286 Words of This and That
Over a year ago, I was listening to an interview by Brene Brown who casually said in some context I have forgotten that she believed the year should really start again not in January, but in September. That idea stood out like a spindly vein of lightning in an inky Arizona July night sky. Yes, I thought. Brene went on to explain that September meant back-to-school and schedules, returning to routines and new perspectives after summer’s slower pace and time away. With this idea in mind, I’ve been waiting all year for September. It would be the start of my new year. It made a lot of sense to me since this year August gave me significant endings (I took my eldest daughter to college across the country), and beginnings (living without her, adjusting to a new phase of parenthood and life). I adopted September as my new year and so far it’s working out. I feel more able to look with healthy insight at what I have done so far these eight months and consider how I want to spend the last four. I also do personal and professional planning beginning in October, which jibes well with that schedule. Not to mention that by January, I’m emotionally, financially and physically exhausted by the hustle of the holiday season. September gives me breathing room. September was called “barley month” by the Anglo-Saxons, who harvested this vital crop then. In other cultures, September was the time to sow fall crops. How appropriate that autumn is a time of reaping and sowing, a season to reflect on what you’ve grown and what is still within that needs planting.
Reminder from the soul of truth: Autumn is a time to both reap and sow, to reflect on how far you have come and to ground into what is still ahead. It’s a time to reset intentions and honor what has come to fruition.
Takeaway: You can have a fresh start in any moment you choose.
Inspiring Morsel
Self-compassion is a concept that keeps coming up and up and up for me. I tend to be hard on myself. I recently watched an episode of Physical, starring Rose Bryne. In it, through voice over, you hear how the voice in her head belittles, chides and diminishes her experience. It is a brutal critic, relentlessly picking at her perceived inadequacies and weaknesses, all while her character smiles beautifully and says the nice, expected thing. At the same time, she slowly destroys herself in private. I told my husband I didn’t want to watch it again. Her inner voice was too cruel. It reminded me of how I used to allow my inner critic to run roughshod over my soul.
Placing that boundary was really healthy for me. I’ve made a lot of progress on how I speak to myself, and the show was returning me to a place before I learned about self-compassion, self-love and how I can instead tap into a tender voice of acceptance inside of me. Self-compassion is a practice I return to time and again, and over the years it has become more of my default. Still, there are moments when the volume on those harsher critiques gradually build until I realize I am allowing them to tear down my appearance, my ability, my progress in life or my service to others. When that happens, I pull out Self-Compassion by Kristin Neff, sharpen my pencil and open my heart for more learning and healing.
“One of the downsides of living in a culture that stresses the ethic of independence and individual achievement is that if we don’t continually reach our ideal goals, we feel that we only have ourselves to blame. And if we’re at fault, that means we don’t deserve compassion, right?’
“The truth is everyone is worthy of compassion.”
– Dr. Kristin Neff, Self-Compassion
Notecards
I can’t remember when I started doing this, but at some recent point, I bought a slew of notecards. As I read books or listened to podcasts or emerged from meditation, I jot down things I glean on these notecards. I love their sparseness, the ease with which I can pick them up later and review their wisdom and the power they have to remind me of what I find enlightening, encouraging or challenging.
In a world so in obsessed with digital, these tangibles ground me and offer me back the thoughts that might have dashed away upon scroll.
If you’re looking for a way to ingest more of what you love, next time you pass the school supply aisle, grab a pack and play!
Poem
Chicago
Storm is peeling back,
Chicago skyline emerging
like clouds coming up from the wet ground.
Thought Cookie will be back in October when I will share another freshly-baked batch. In the meantime, thank you for returning, reading. If you’d like to ingest more of my writing, visit my full website.