One of my coaches talked a lot about how every time you level up, your shit bubbles to the top. Every time you advance, you have to shine a light on something that you didn’t know about yourself, a truth you ignored, blissful ignorance.

“We knew you weren’t happy there. So glad you’re moving back.”

We ran into our old barista and told him we were back, just down the street.

“About time! Where the hell have you been?”

I have a really, really hard time remembering my childhood. When I reflect back, there are the highlight reels, and the lowlight reels, but distinct memories are hard to recall on command. I think that part of that is protective. 

Always coming back to this work. And it is funny, I never resonated with doing "the work" until recently, but realize it is a never ending process. That work doesn't mean there is a completion date. I think the finality of school as a learning environment truly skewed my perception of conceptual learning.

But none of that will happen without the selection of a lane. A choice to commit to a priority that resonates with my values and my beliefs. A library of choice is useless without action. When I travelled last week, my choices were whittled down and my actions were clear. I felt accomplished because I had focus.

Seasons are shifting… did you know it is fall?

Caught me by surprise too.

There are the seasons that correspond to the weather, but then there are seasons in life. This season? I’m just treading the water.

Have you ever felt that hot, hot heat in the pit of your belly, raging a fire as a last advance notice that what you are doing is so, so very wrongwrongwrong?

That your instinctual nature is at odds with the pragmatic experience that is your life, and despite all attempts at internal cajoling, you in a place that will certainly not satisfy you?

If someone were to ask me today how I'm doing, and had approximately one hour to kill, I'd have quite the download for them. I've been reflecting on the last year and what it has meant to me, how I've shown up, and what I keep pushing down...

One of the old habits I used to shrug on, as easily as an old coat, was unproductive, stressed-out worrying. Often tied to work, I would future trip, running worst-case scenarios that ultimately ended with me being fired, demoted or any other myriad of unlikely events.

My thought patterns would snowball into the most negative of potential outcomes, usually manifesting physically with an elevated heart rate, headache or the worst- sweating. Try walking into a performance review after you’ve mentally already fired yourself and are sweaty, to boot.

I went to my first yoga class in my second year of university. I had never been to any sort of yoga class before, but I was definitely yoga-curious. The little I knew about yoga intrigued me—it was just so different from anything I’d done before, filled with history and culture from a time and place that I knew nothing about. I hadn’t grown up in a religious household—we did the Hallmark holidays, but nothing other than that—and so yoga seemed to hold some sort of reverence that was entirely new...

The email was signed, “Take care.” I looked at it, bursting into tears at the closing. With those two simple words, it felt like someone had reached deep into my vulnerable heart, offering to hold it for a moment...

Here is the thing. When I was deep into hating my job, Sundays were the worst. The day would start amazingly- brunch, walks, hanging out- but as it progressed, and the start of a new week drew closer and closer, a dark cloud seemed to move in. If you feel like your job isn’t where you want to be, or that you are destined for something bigger, Monday morning can bring a lot of stress into your life. And even still, if you love your job, Sunday afternoon signals the close to a perpetually too-short weekend...

When I quit my job in August, it was a weird time. I was doing something that I celebrated, that I had dreamt about, that I was doing solely for me. I was also full of doubt and a rollercoaster of regret. I didn't know exactly how things were going to work out- there was only the thinnest of plans sketched together, so thin that if you squinted, they weren't really there.

I was texting with a friend recently, and she was explaining how she had sent a certain text message to a certain someone, and was expecting a certain response. 

And was still waiting for that response. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I had a whole blog post planned up in my head. January was hustle and flow month in our house, so the whole thing was a run down of what worked, what didn't and how we made it through to the other side.

There comes a time when you can't just continue to sit and read the Facebook posts, or absorb the newscasts. I've never been an astute political science student, or as well-versed in world issues as my brilliant friends, so I often refrain from contributing to the seemingly never ending scroll of political updates on Facebook. But today, with news of the latest tragedies in Quebec, I realized that the impetus is on each and everyone of us to not just share/post/like/dislike, but rather to say something and get involved.