Tagged: curiosity

A Walk In Progress

We each have a certain amount of minutes. We don’t know how many that is. Research shows that the more of those minutes we spend being mindful and positive the more we are likely to have, and the more we are likely to enjoy. Taking walks tends to help me be increasingly mindful and positive. I find walks to be joyful and fulfilling. 

I went for another walk today. I’ve been going for as many walks as I can. Walks are great reminders for me. Being present during a walk brings me growth-producing benefits. 

I don’t always feel holistically enthusiastic about walks before I take them. I do, however, always feel glad I’ve taken one when I have. Remembering that helps motivate me. 

The other day I took a walk with our 9 year-old. Even better than a walk by myself, a walk with someone I love. We had been sitting on the couch. We both started falling asleep. Nothing wrong with a good nap on a lazy weekend day, but what about a walk instead, I thought. 

I gave him the option. I said we could either close our eyes and drift off into our naps, or we could go for a walk. I was glad he chose the walk. We had to jump up in that moment, get geared up and step out the door or it never would have happened. We did it. Next thing I knew we were on our way.

A mile and a half to the neighborhood coffee shop. Not too long, and just long enough. The air was crisp and the sun was shining. Perfect. A perfect winter moment. Just enough bite to feel everything and the constant companion of the sun following along the whole time, warming out faces and counterbalancing the cold. We talked, laughed and had a great time.

Sometimes on a walk, I slip away from presence and into rushing. When I do, it feels like an opportunity to return to the present. It feels like a chance to build that mindful muscle. 

I can’t think of an endeavor that has an end. We’re always becoming. Most of what we do we need to learn to do, then refine, then practice, and then spend our time continuously enhancing. That goes for mindfulness, too. Heck, that goes for going for a walk. 

Our lives are not about reaching a point at which we feel comfortable stopping, but rather about continuously developing into more happy, fulfilled and accomplished versions of ourselves along what is ideally a balanced journey. 

Walks help me think clearly. They help me spend time with people I love in fun ways. They give me exercise and they make me slow down. 

I’ve always been very much a work in progress. I find more and more each day, that the work progresses in increasingly positive and meaningful ways when I also have a walk in progress.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks. 

Breath In The Good, Breath Out The Bad

It’s been a week of family, friends, memories and love. 

Hard to believe it’s been a week since our Aunt passed. Time moves really slow and really fast simultaneously. 

Aunt Florine has us thoughtful and reflective. My initial tribute can be read here: Love, Love, Love…Love You More!

In recalling one of the many lessons Aunt Florine has imparted on the world, the wisdom of our Great Aunt Chili was evoked.

By the way, I think it was Plato who wrote something about passing twice. Something like, we pass twice, once when we stop breathing one once the last time someone thinks about or speaks our name. Something like that. 

It fills me with joy to write the name Aunt Chili. Talk about an incredible person and amazing woman. Aunt Chili walked this earth for a hundred and four and a half years. Spicy and uniquely Aunt Chili with every step!

Anyway, the lesson Aunt Chili passed along to Aunt Florine, that Aunt Florine then passed along to the rest of us is about breathing. 

Aunt Chili (and then Aunt Florine) said we should breath in the good and breath out the bad. 

In even more detail she said something like, we should breath in all the crisp, fresh, clean air we can. 

She said we should breath it in along with all the goodness we can think of. She said we should breath it in for as long as we can, and that we should fill our lungs with it. 

She said we should hold it in and let it move throughout our bodies. She said we should let it filter through the outer walls of our organs and flow through out blood. Something like that. 

Then (she said), we should let that crisp, fresh air release the good into our bodies and absorb anything bad we have floating around inside of us. 

She said we should let each particle of air latch on to any negative emotion, negative thought, confusion, and frustration.  She said we should let the bad cling to the breath we’ve brought in like dust to static. She said we should let as much bad collect on it before we expel it from our bodies. 

She said we should smile and feel calm, joyful and complete as we watch the bad dissipate and disappear. 

What’s more, she said we should do that as frequently as we can, and that we can do it whenever we want. 

Anyway, she said something like that. 

And why not? I can’t think of a reason not to believe breathing in the good and breathing out the bad is a good idea. What harm could it do? When I try it, every time I try it…it works. 

Try it now if you’d like. Try it, and really see it happening as you do. 

That’s the key. Visualize the good and visualize the bad. See the particles of air carrying all that stuff. In with the good and out with the bad.

It can’t be the first time you’ve heard someone give this advice. Our breath is so incredibly powerful if we let it be. 

Time moves so slow and so fast, simultaneously. How do you want to spend the moments you have? How are you going to spend those moments?

You can’t go back. You can’t do anything differently than what you’ve done. What you can do is make sure every moment counts. The next one, and the the one after that. One at a time. 

As long as we’re breathing, we can use our breath to enhance our lives. At least that’s what I heard.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks. 

I Don’t Need Feech!

Sometimes our youngest learners teach us the most. 

I’ll never forget the kindergarten student who loved learning and being in class so much he didn’t want to leave for speech services. 

He loved being with his friends, he loved his teacher, he loved building with Legos and he loved playing with toys.

When he left for speech he was pulled away from those things, if only for a short time. 

He was too young to understand the value of speech services.

Some, early in the school year he told our wonderful speech pathologist, in no uncertain terms, “I don’t need feech!” 

I love it!

“I don’t need feech!”

It seems that maybe he did.

It reminds me of something parents, caregivers and educators do all the time. What do you tell yourself you don’t need, even when the need is glaring?

I don’t need to eat lunch today.

I don’t need to get eight hours of sleep.

I don’t need to connect with colleagues.

I don’t need to ask for help.

I don’t need to exercise today.

I don’t need to take time for myself.

I don’t need to stretch.

I don’t need to hydrate.

I don’t need to reflect. 

I don’t need…

The irony is that some many of the needs we deny ourselves are critical to wellbeing, our learning and our growth. Even when they take time, they enhance our self-concept, our relationships and our productivity.

We all know the data around self-love, self-compassion and self-care is exhaustive and definitive.

We are absolutely better when we make sure our needs our met. We’re better for ourselves, we’re better for one another, and we are better for the kids we serve. 

Next time you hear yourself insisting, “I don’t need feech!” – whatever “feech” is to you in that moment, make sure you find a way to resist the pull, and go get yourself some “feech!”

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Do Fun Things. Enjoy Life.

There’s nothing to it. If you want to enjoy life, do fun things. There you go.

Well, maybe it’s not quite that simple. Life is jam packed with experiences. Some we choose. Some we don’t choose. Some we have control over. Some we don’t have control over.

Our eight year – old and I are reading “13 Things Strong Kids Do” by Amy Morin. He keeps reminding me that when we can’t control what happens we should work on controlling how we feel about it. That helps us set our own course in any kind of weather.

We were in Knoxville a few weeks ago. We were visiting our Nan and our Pop. It’s been almost four years since we were able take what had previously been an annual road trip. The recent pandemic shifted those plans. We love our Nan and our Pop. That shift was tough.

Now, we’re back at it and feeling great that we can be. It’s fun!

We could avoid the ten hour drive by sticking with FaceTime, phone calls and texts. We’d still be able to interact with Nan and Pop, but those kids of interactions aren’t nearly as fun or as meaningful, so we take the drive.

We laugh and play on the road. We share our time and enjoy keeping close company with each other.

When we’re in Knoxville we laugh and play with Nan and Pop. We make deep and lasting connections that we couldn’t make through screens. We have fun!

One of the great things about Tennessee is the temperate climate. Because of the blue skies and the hot sun we decided on a hotel with a pool on the outside.

Guess what…it rained every day we were there. We couldn’t control that.

Guess what else…the rain didn’t stop us.

Drizzly and cold, our crew didn’t’ waste any time not being in outside hotel pool. Day after cold, wet day we geared up and jumped in. It was fun! Possibly more fun than it would have been without the rain.

We played the color guessing dunk game, shark attack, swim race, and many more classic Berg kid pool games.

We made up a new game called, “Skip Flop” during which players try to skip their flip flops as many times as they can on the surface the pool without hitting their siblings (or their parents) in the face. Very few casualties occurred.

One of my favorite moments was when our almost 14 year – old jumped in on the first day and joyfully exclaimed, “I forgot how fun this is!”

It’s easy to skip trips to the pool wen you’re busy with other stuff, working on pursuing interests, or just too comfortable being dry. Turns out, when we push through the “busy” list, get our bathing suits on and jump in…it’s fun!

We spent hours in that pool. It was great.

I’ll alway remember the first trip back to Tennessee after the world got right side up again, and the important reminder to make room for fun, even when I’m too busy or too tired.

I understand how fortunate we are to have opportunities. I try hard to stay grateful in every moment of every day.

I know that many people don’t’ have access to road trips, hotel pools and even to Nan’s and Pop’s. I try not to take these things for granted.

My hope for all families and all individuals is that there are times when they can access people, things and activities they love…and that when they can, they choose to.

We can’t alway decide what’s in front of us. We can’t always avoid unanticipated challenges and roadblocks…the small, inconsequential ones or the big, mountain moving ones.

One of the things our fun-loving kids and a rainy week to Knoxville reminded me of is that if we work really hard to focus with open hearts and open minds we can sometimes control how we feel about whatever road we’re on, warts and all…and when we find enough calm and enough clarity we can sometimes find enough fun to truly enjoy the moments we have on this long and winding road.

Live. Love. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Let’s Never Allow Hate To Be Normalized Again

Today I chaperoned our 13 year-old’s Sunday school field trip to the Holocaust Museum. 

We gathered with the Rabbi to prep before leaving the synagogue. She came bearing food, as all good Rabbi’s do. A variety of tasty muffins helped set a foundation of comfort and a positive affects we took the moment to ground ourselves in contemplativeness (which I’m almost certain is a word).

The Rabbi asked us (adults and teens) to individually consider what it means to be Jewish today and throughout history. She told us there’s no right answer. She said each us would likely walk out of the museum with thoughts and feelings uniquely our own. 

She suggested we talk with one another, with fiends and family, that we ask questions and  that we take time to process. She urged us to be present and reflective. 

As we drove I asked asked our son what he knew about the Holocaust, what he hoped to learn and how he felt. He was thoughtful in his response. He let me know he was looking forward to learning more. I’m very proud of the young man he’s become. 

We didn’t talk much during the tour. Every so often he pointed to a picture or some other artifact, quietly and confidently letting me know about a realization he was having or an epiphany that had shifted his thinking. He was so mature and composed. 

I tried to front load him as we approached each exhibit. I check in regarding his comfort level multiple times. He maintained that he was fine and wanted got keep going, keep learning, and continue looking through this lens of his own history. 

Early propaganda, discrimination and hate, disbelief and confusion, policies of oppression, the ghettos, the uprisings, the many heroic “upstanders” who risked their lives to save the lives of others, the many who turned a blind eye, the parallels to so much tragedy still being perpetuated in our world today, the camps, and the chambers. This was a to contemplate; for both of us. We will undoubtedly be processing together for some time. 

Our tour ended in front of Ann Frank’s picture and story. A story she lived she wrote down when she was just about his age. 

In the short years she spent alive on this earth, Ann Frank somehow had the wisdom, insight and foresight to write of a chestnut tree outside her window, “From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver.”

We each have a unique vision of the world. A vision based on the complex amalgam of who we are, coupled with our lived experiences in any given moment. 

Ann Frank’s vision…the beautiful, complex and simple way in which she saw the world, a world that we literally crumbling in and around her…was her hope. It was her guide and her salvation. It was her enduring and critical message. 

She wrote, “What is done cannot be undone, but one can prevent it happening again. I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains. Whoever is happy will make others happy too.”

Michigan’s Holocaust Museum was gifted a sapling from the very tree that stood within sight of Ann Frank’s “favorite spot on the floor.” That sapling grows in the museum’s courtyard. It’s pictured above. 

Today, our son and I had a chance to look at that sapling. A living, connected artifact that had been looked at by Ann Frank. One that inspired her to the indelible outcomes she achieved.  

I stared. I couldn’t look away. An electric current ran through my body. I was viscerally aware that the unthinkable tragic events of the Holocaust, while deeply important to myself, my child and every Jew, connected to our individual and collective identities, were among a myriad of similarly tragic events that continue to plague our word. Not the least of which (and uncontrollable present in my mind in that moment) is the history of slavery in the United States and the western world.

One of our community members asked the Rabbi what we can do to make sure this never happens again. With a deep breath and a comforting smile she told offend that we must never allow hate to be normalized. She said while we can’t each move mountains, when we each take care of pebbles in this way, the world can change. 

So, next time you hear a discriminatory statement issued about a person with a disability, see a person being judged by the color of his skin, or witness someone suffering at the hands of others on the basis of her identity, do all you can to not let hate be normalized. 

Resist hate. Do it careful, compassionately and with grace. Do it with an open heart and an open mind. Remember, the beauty still remains. The beauty always remains. 

For our ancestors, for ourselves and for our children…for our history and for the future of our world, let’s never let hate be normalized again.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

I Fell Into A Dumpster (Nothing But Blue Skies)

It would be reasonable for someone to use the idea of falling into a dumpster as a metaphor for hitting rock bottom. I could see someone saying something like, “I fell into a dumpster” to address some sort of loss, misgiving, or feeling of defeat.

Well, I actually fell into a dumpster. On Friday afternoon, in fact. 

As unique an experience as it seemed at the time, I did it. I actually fell into a dumpster. Then, as I was lying on my back at the bottom of said dumpster, nestled in and around multiple bags of noxious trash, breathing through my mouth to no avail, and the only thought I could muster was, “I just fell into a dumpster…I actually just fell into a dumpster.”

It was how you might be imagining it. It was the result of a brilliant idea, of which I have many that I must admit result in less than fortunate outcomes. I do lot’s of learning (or not, some might say). To my credit, I would still speculate that it had at least a 75% chance of working out better than it did. 

You see, I was throwing a mat away. It was a really big mat. It was a mat so big, it didn’t fit into the dumpster. Picture it, I fashioned this really big, dusty and damaged old mat into a giant Little Debbie’s Swiss Cake Roll replica, dragged it to the dumpster and hulked it in like a humongous, floppy javelin. I issued a flawless tough guy grunt as I released the mat. Super proud of myself. Very satisfying.

But…it didn’t fit. It was sticking out a good several feet on a diagonal from the other end of the dumpster. 

Ironically, as my brilliant idea hatched it was accompanied by the knowledge that Lorelei would have, in no uncertain terms, denied me the opportunity to put this plan into action. 

She would have insisted that I didn’t step on the center of that half sticking out of a dumpster mat. 

She would have told me it would not have folded cleanly, giving me the ability to easily step over the mat and out of the dumpster after generating a precise fit with my engineering prowess.  

She would have confidently outlined impending disaster without blinking her eyes. She would have let me know that instead, I would end up on my back at the bottom of the dumpster. 

Ha. Lorelei doesn’t know everything about everything. Besides, Lorelei wasn’t there. It was just me, my thoughtful analysis of the situation, and my imminent glory. Also, Lorelei doesn’t have to know about every great idea that pops into my mind. Frankly, I don’t think she could handle it. 

Well, as you (and Lorelei) now know, I ended up on my back at the bottom of the dumpster. Hindsight. Maybe she makes some good points occasionally. 

Regardless, after I rested for a moment I took a picture. For posterity. It’s the picture above.

I climbed out fo the dumpster through the sliding door on the side, brushed myself off to the best of my ability and went inside to take my lumps. My colleagues and I had a few good laughs over it. 

One of the teachers I work with said, “You know what, Seth…when you’re lying at the bottom of a dumpster, looking up on a day like today, all you can see are blue skies.” 

I think he would have patted me on the shoulder but thought better of it because of the stench. 

Anyway, he was right. We face many challenges. Each of us has our share. The more we do so with a positive affect, an optimistic viewpoint and grounding in the beauty of every moment, the better off we may be.

Sure, I fell into a dumpster. When I did, all I could see was bright, blue skies. 

Through the triumphs and the challenges, life’s pretty darn good…and I’m filled with awe and gratitude. 

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. 

The Amazing Human Being – Truly a Miracle!

I was walking with our eight year-old the other day. We were downtown in Detroit. It was sunny. Winter was almost behind us. It was one of those Michigan moment when the coats come off and you’re compelled to be outside.

Loads of people were taking advantage of the beautiful day. I remembered these moment from my childhood. Walking around the city, feeling the connectivity and the rush of energy these streets so effortlessly provide.

He looked at me and asked, “Hey Daddy?”

I answered, “Yes, Sir?”

He said, “I was thinking…”

I replied, “Uh Huh.”

He continued, “It’s amazing that human beings exists and that we are what we are.”

I dug in, ”What do you mean?”

With thoughtful enthusiasm he told me all about it. Turns out, the kid views our existence as miraculous. He made some sense, too.

Albert Einstein said, “Live your life as if nothing is a miracle or as if everything is a miracle.”

I think the latter might be the way.

Our eight year-old is a thinker. He’s incredibly reflective. This isn’t the first time he’s opened my eyes. Every little thing. It is pretty incredible.

Why, then, is it so difficult for me to be grateful all the time?

I do have gratitude. It’s just that it tends to show up around majestic, magnificent moments. Beautiful sunsets, the birth of my children, huge, life changing events like when the Spartans make the Sweet Sixteen, and so on. Great moments indeed, but at closer examination…aren’t all moments miraculous?

What about every time we interact with one another? What if every time one human being had an interaction with another human being they both considered it miraculous? What if each time we connect we do so with intentionally, savoring the moments we get to spend together, listening with open-minded curiosity, and seeking to learn?

April is Autism Awareness month.

As the principal of a school with a categorical AIA program I’m keenly aware of the incredible impact children diagnosed with Autism can have on the learning, growth and strengthening of a community. As we move into April I think we can take the very important lesson our youngest taught me to heart.

Human beings are Amazing. Tall human beings, short human beings, musical human beings, athletic human beings, neurodivergent human beings, neurotypical human beings, human being who are shy, human beings who are outgoing, and every human being in between.

This seems like a really good time to be thoughtful and intentional about living our lives as if everything is a miracle. In fact, maybe it’s always a good time!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks!

Trying to Find the Source of the Poop Smell

I called home after work the other day. I asked Lorelei, “How’s it going?”

She answered, “It’s fine,” followed by, “we’re just trying to find the source of the poop smell.”

We do have a puppy and twelve shoes between us.

In this case, someone literally smelled poop. In that moment Lorelei and kids were actually searching the house for poop so they could clean it up.

Even so, the phrase landed on me with a figurative connection to the reality of parenting, education and daily human life.

My roles as an educator and a parent are both incredibly joyful. Congruently, they both also occasionally come with dizzying challenges. Not the least of which is repeatedly finding myself faced with the task of “trying to find the source of the poop smell,” in one way or another.

It comes in multiple forms.

Sometime I smell it, by which I mean sometimes I’m aware a challenge exists: the demands of putting forward a rigorous curriculum while simultaneously fostering classroom and community cultures focused on relationships, connections and social-emotional well-being, nuanced and complex human interactions that inadvertently lead to miscommunication and strain at work and at home, the heavy lifting of seeking to understand functions of behaviors that can confuse and distract us, and so on.

Sometimes I don’t smell it, by which I mean there are times when others have challenges I struggle to understand and/or recognize. My struggle to understand and/or recognize the challenges in those situations doesn’t tend to make them disappear. Contrarily, a failure to understand and/or recognize challenges faced by those around me can exacerbate the challenges. Perception is reality. A challenge is a challenge, regardless of my fallibility in any given moment.

When someone is struggling in ways I don’t understand, my ability to empathize and respond with compassion is occasionally impeded. I’m working, in part, through a study of contemplative practices such as mindfulness, meditation and flow-inducing activities (like exercise and art) to address that roadblock. It feels like I’m headed in the right direction. Still, I have a long way to go.

Sometime “the poop smell” is coming from me. I’ve stepped in it, so to speak. During times of heightened stress I occasionally even find myself manufacturing challenges that might otherwise not exist. I occasionally smell “poop” I never end up finding. Positive progress happens when I muster the strength to let it go and move on during those times (often by making use of the contemplative practices mentioned above).

We all have challenges. In fact, problem finding and problem solving are arguably what it’s all about. Through a parenting and education lens it’s important to both recognize when challenges present themselves and to find pathways toward solutions.

Ignoring the “poop smell” can cause unhealthy circumstances, both for individuals and for the community. Ruminating on the “poop smell” for too long without being able to identify it’s source or find a remedy can do the same.

When it comes to “trying to find the source of the poop smell” I believe we need to take a balanced approach. Trust your own senses, believe and support those around you, make genuine efforts to create healthy, safe spaces for all to move around in, and always remember that there is a positive way forward.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

A SQUIRREL IN OUR CAR

We didn’t plan to have a squirrel in our car yesterday morning. Regardless, it happened. 

Sometimes things we don’t plan for happen anyway. For parents, caregivers and educators this is a relatively constant phenomenon.

I was riding in the “way back” (mini-van language) with our oldest. The two “littles” were in the middle seats and our 11 year-old was shotgun with Lorelei driving. We we’re about halfway to Sunday school when I heard a strange, scrappy noise coming from just behind me followed almost immediately by a strange sensation on my right shoulder. 

Believe it or not, a squirrel sprung up onto me, brushed past my right cheek, leapt into the air, ricocheted like a parkour athlete off my son’s leg, scrambled through the middle seat and up onto the top of the dashboard, where he (or she) proceeded to run frantically back and forth in front of Lorelei’s face, stopping every once in a while to lock eyes with her. It was a strange and awkward showdown, and remember, she was driving. I can’t quite describe the energy shift in the car during this unique squirrel-related event. Time slowed down and reality shifted. Out of body, for sure.

I was impressed at how calm everyone stayed. We decided that rolling the windows down, pulling over and eventually opening the doors was the way, and it worked. When the opportunity presented itself, our squirrel stowaway exited the vehicle with urgency. 

We’re still processing. A range of emotions persists. We’re mostly laughing now. We weren’t entirely comfortable driving home but we did. 

Sometimes things happen. Some things happen that we would have never expected or imagined. Some things happen that generally seem unlikely, even in hindsight. When we face whatever comes our way with love, respect and grace we tend to do ok.

Having our squirrel in the car experience reminded me, in spite of the many winding roads I’ve traveled,  how fortunate I am to be Lorelei’s husband and dad to our wonderful kids. How did that happen? Probably just about as unlikely as the squirrel in the car, but here we are…and thank goodness for that. 

Maybe our well paved paths and surefire plans aren’t the keys to happiness, but rather our ability to appreciate the twists and turns along the way. 

If you ever have a surprise squirrel encounter, may it be a catalyst to reflection, joy and gratitude…as this one has been for me.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

One of my Daring Days

Our 12 year-old recently said to me, “Today is one of my daring days.” I don’t remember the context.

There was something to overcome and he overcame it. It might have been an orchestra concert to perform in or a tennis match to play. It may have been connecting with a new friend or sharing thinking in class. Regardless, “One of my daring days” stuck with me.

At 12 years-old he understands and can articulate that some days are daring and others are not. He knows that courage isn’t at the ready all time, but a character strength we have to understanding and intentionally enlist. He know’s even thought is’t not always available, that daring is accessible to him. He had access to it on that day and he recognized that access. I believe this sensibility will allow him to have increasingly more daring days, along with more automatic access to them as he grows. He seems to like the feeling. I was thrilled he mentioned it.

In mentioning it, he reminded me that while daring days are wonderful, some days are not daring days. Some days are cautious. Some days we get stuck in fear and find ourselves unable to move. He reminded me it’s ok to live some days within our comfort zones. Even to live some days regressed and motionless. Sometimes I feel like I can conquer any fear and travel any distance. Sometimes I feel locked in place. Human. 

Change, while essential and inevitable, requires daring. Even positive change. Change is wonderful and exhilarating. Change is also loss. Even when we change for the better, the better replaces what was in its place. Whatever was there before the better might not have been as good, but it may have been comfortable. 

“Better,” even though it’s better, can be scary. When we change for the better it often feels like we are then responsible for maintaining. Can we be expected to be our better selves indefinitely? What if we mess it up? There’s lots of pressure in change. On daring days, the motion of change, the growth that accompanies it, and even that pressure can be exciting. 

Our 12 year-old knew he was having a daring day. The possibilities were boundless. After the first daring thing he decided to do more daring things. He told me it was a daring day while we were driving toward home. After he told me he mentioned he was going to write when we got home. If you’re a writer you know it can be a daring thing to do. He was teaming with ideas and enthusiasm. He enlisted the daring he found access to. He maximized its benefits while they were in front of him. 

It’s ok to have days that are not daring. When we do have days that are, we should harness them. We should take action and make plans. We should specifically plan for open-hearted self love and for grace in the knowledge that we will continue experiencing many types of days, and that each one it gift; days we soar, days we doubt, days we show up, and days we hide. Each is a gift. Each has value.

We should ground ourselves in reality by being intentional about identifying our daring days, taking advantage of them, and settling in comfortably to the notion that our moods, our energy and our capacity to engage courageously in the world, both inside and around us, is subject to ebbs and flows. 

It is said that happiness does not come to the person who has the best of everything but to the person who makes the best of everything. We should consider that as best be can, forgive ourselves when we can’t, and dare to keep putting one step in front of the other with every bit of strength we have in every given moment.
In it together for the kids. 

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.