We are always headed somewhere, aren’t we?

Every destination is just the starting point for the next arrival. For a long time I believed reaching those destinations was part of the life contract... and the more impossible-looking, beautiful or exciting the destination, the better.

Once guided by maps and TripTiks, we now blindly trust Apple Maps, Autopilot, and Waze. We know exactly how long until we arrive, how many miles are left, even the minute we’ll get there.

Somewhere in all that certainty, it’s easy to miss the scenery or, worse, the other passengers.

Drive. Arrive. Drive. Arrive.

Sometimes it seems like anything that takes us off the road feels like a disruption. A weekend away, the repairman, a customer service time warp... even the good detours can leave us feeling like we stayed at the rest stop too long and now our ETA has crept higher.

The other night Annapolis had our typical Maryland weather... but on steroids.

Tornado watch, torrential rain, clear skies and a rainbow all in 30 minutes.

You can’t help but watch a display of nature this fierce and loud. In fact, it demands you stop what you are doing and pay attention.

The experience reminded me of our emotions, which can demand the same from us.

This summer I have had my own storms. I think I have experienced every kind of extreme weather imaginable.

Days when I couldn’t see twenty feet in front of me. Long stretches of gray. Beautiful sunny miles of easy, windows-down, sing-out-loud driving.

Storms so strong I had to pull over and wait.

None of this made any sense to me while I was in it. I was confused by the erratic nature of it all.

But you know what they say about seeing clearly in the rearview mirror.

It’s just weather.

We always have weather. Sunshine is weather just as much as hurricanes, snowstorms, and gray skies.

It’s all just weather... and none of it lasts. Even when this snow lover wants it to.

For most of my life, I believed emotions were directions. I followed them like a recipe.

Feeling sad, OK, time to pull out the sad playlist, sweatpants, and ice cream.

I’m now beginning to understand they were never directions.

Emotions are just weather.

They may have me slow down for a bit. Turn the windshield wipers up. Maybe grip the wheel a little tighter for a while.

But I’ve been here before.

I’m beginning to trust that I can keep driving and the storm will pass.

That trust is new to me. And it makes the storms feel so much less scary.

Do you know that frustrated feeling that makes you feel like you have to say something RIGHT NOW?

And so you do, but then it becomes an emotional super storm that lasts a few days? You feel unheard and they feel offended? Yeah, me neither.

Can you hear a wise grandmother saying, “This too shall pass”? She wasn’t just talking about hard seasons and college final exams. I’m guessing she knew something about emotional weather patterns too.

Frustration is just weather, fierce and loud, but temporary. Knowing that makes it so much less toxic.

If we can give it a day, maybe two, the weather will change.

If you live in Maryland, you only have to wait five minutes.

Then, if frustration is still there, you can always have the conversation, this time with less emotion.

As I write this, I know I need my own reminders. When I am heated about something, it is hard for me to wait.

Maybe next time I will reread this and hold off.

So back to the life contract. It has changed a bit for me.

We will drive, and if we are lucky, we will get to a few destinations, some planned but most of them not. And there will be all kinds of weather, and all of it will pass.

The gift that I am starting to recognize is in being in the car.

Clean or dirty, full or empty.

There will always be weather, all kinds of it, and all of it will pass.

Focusing less on the destination and more on the comfort of knowing where the ChapStick is, listening to the playlist your kid shared, and noticing those who choose to ride with you.

How do you ground when you can’t access that part of yourself because your brain is nonstop?

I just left this writing to hop on ChatGPT to see if it could offer a visual of a fan in the same room as an overhead light. I wake up at 4:45 and crash at 9:30. The only time I am fully present is when I am playing a racquet sport. I leave conversations with my daughter annoyed with myself for not being fully available.

How did this happen?

Well...we bought a 100-year-old fixer-upper a few states away.

The last occupants were four European car builders and, as my friend recently said, it has “eyeball construction.” Complete with duct tape and single-pane windows that swing in and out of the house.

But the location will make it all worth it.

As you know I have been talking and writing about inhabiting my body for the past six months. About grounding into myself and living from that space.

This project is putting my foot in my mouth.

Right now it doesn’t seem possible to get there.

When this happens, I remind myself of impermanence. I am stuck in grit mode and need to access more grace for myself. This is my FFT (First F*$#ing Time) renovating a 100-year-old house. I don’t need to be perfect and, most importantly, this feeling of being stuck in go mode will pass.

One thing I keep reminding myself...

Resilience isn’t staying grounded.

It’s returning.

Maybe that’s what I’ve forgotten. I’ve been expecting myself to stay calm when the real work is simply noticing sooner when I’ve wandered and finding my way back.

Here is my survival plan.

Celebrate catching myself spinning out. Becoming aware is progress. The goal isn’t to never lose my footing. The goal is to notice a little sooner each time.

Set a boundary around the house. Preferably in the morning so it doesn’t disturb my sleep. I’ll still have to field calls I can’t control, but for those...it will be what it will be.

Be kinder to myself. Offer more grace than usual because I’m asking more grit of myself than usual.

Keep the basics in place. While my mind is off track, keep my nutrition, exercise, and other routines going. They aren’t luxuries right now. They’re anchors.

Empty my brain onto paper. I don’t have to carry every contractor question, paint color, and loose end in my head. My brain is trying to help me remember. A notebook can do some of that work for me.

Remind myself as often as I need to that I will not always feel this way. The renovation will end. The windows will get replaced. The phone will stop ringing. One day I’ll be sitting on that porch with a cup of coffee wondering why I thought this feeling would last forever.

I’m curious...

What is your go-to strategy when you can’t turn your mind off?

Leave a comment

I have not yet read Thank You for Being Late by Thomas Friedman, but I have experienced the feeling and I bet you have too.

You rush to get somewhere in a bluster of busy energy and when you arrive your friend is late.

These moments become precious, time to settle, take a breath and unbluster yourself.

Our favorite spot for dinner in Annapolis plays Retreat each evening at sunset as they lower the American flag.

We went the other night and I was struck by how perfect the timing always seems to be.

That night as per usual we had a full day, spiffed up our clothes a bit, fed the dog and hurried out the door. We arrived in “go mode,” moving from one task to the next and by the time we sat in our chairs we still felt the momentum of the day.

The habit continues as we peek at the menu, although we already know our order, place our drink requests and begin our loud and wonderfully chaotic conversation.

The go mode ends only because we are alerted by a speaker declaring, “Attention to colors.”

This is our invitation to pause mid sentence, set down our glasses and stand at attention facing the flag.

Go mode is over...at least for the next 60 seconds.

Everyone in the room stops, stands and takes a moment to reflect.

The energy in the room shifts from chaos to calm.

Grateful for the forced opportunity to stop the flow and come back to myself, honor those who have served our country, and retreat.

Those 60 seconds bring me back to my baseline, something I often talk about.

I didn’t discover my baseline until I was forty-nine years old and in cancer treatment.

Before then I had never known what peace felt like in my body. I had spent most of my life moving forward. Slowing down wasn’t something I valued.

Slowing down was scary.

I fought it.

It was only because of that unwelcome interruption that I found my baseline.

Four years later it is my prized possession and the key to my health and happiness.

Something that had always been there, yet I had never noticed it before.

Like a train running on the tracks might not notice the soil that holds it up.

I don’t think you need to have cancer to find it, although a forced slow down may be helpful.

I am an equal opportunity baseline advocate.

Maybe you find it in prayer, meditation, at yoga, painting or gardening.

The moment is less important than the feeling.

To me it feels like ease, releasing all tension, a calm presence.

I know these words are overused, but they are all I have.

It’s more about what is absent than what is there.

The racing thoughts quiet.

The tension in my shoulders and chest softens.

My breath becomes fuller and deeper.

When we know intimately what it feels like, we will know when it is here and when it is not.

I try to spend a few minutes each morning with it, sitting in stillness, breathing, noticing.

This seems to be key to noticing when I have lost it later in the day.

When things get busy and I am rushing from one thing to the next or caught up in uncomfortable conversations, I leave my baseline.

I am reactive, less rational, I am coming from a place of habit and automaticity.

Attention to Colors...

Time to retreat back to my baseline.

Pause in any way I can.

Step outside.

Take a few breaths.

Get a glass of ice water.

Excuse myself to the restroom.

Put my feet in the grass.

You can choose your own adventure for this.

The key is to come back to yourself for a moment.

Maybe you can hold on to that feeling for 5 seconds, 30 seconds or 5 minutes.

The practice is in noticing when you are out and coming back for a moment.

These reps are mental fitness, the more you do them the stronger you get.

From your baseline, you are the most capable, rational, present, creative, and productive version of yourself.

Yet it can be hard to retreat back to it when we are lost in a moment.

The more we practice the faster we retreat and the longer we are able to hold on to it.

I would love to know two things from you.

What does your baseline feel like to you?

Do you have any practices to get back to it?

If I asked you to hold it for the day how would you care for it?

Tuck it safely in your arms, check on it throughout the day?

Now, what if I handed you a rubber ball?

Would you let it roll around on the floor of your car? Forget about it until later, when you suddenly remembered I’d asked you to hold it?

I first heard this idea from my friend Heather Lageman, who recently wrote about it in her beautiful book The Hope Centered Educator.

We have certain things in our life that we protect and nurture. These things consume the bulk of our time and energy... They are our glass balls.

Other things are rubber. We allow them to drop, to be neglected and to roll around.

The trouble happens when we decide too many things are made of glass.

When I look back at the past few years, I can see all the different things I have held carefully... writing a book, starting a business, my kids, my marriage.

Sometimes it was friendships. Sometimes my health.

Looking back, it’s easier to see how temporary some of those seasons were.

This feels great to me right now because the glass ball I’m holding most carefully is myself.

I’ve been doing that for about six months.

And while I know it’s important, there are still moments it feels selfish. Moments I want to put myself down and pick everything else back up again.

It makes me wonder:

How much of what we hold is actually our choice?

I’ve been watching the glass ball idea play out with my mother.

She is contemplating her next living situation.

We often talk about different options and what each one offers or more importantly what it doesn’t offer.

She wants to hold all of the balls.

A good location. Close proximity to family. A reasonable price point. Mahjong. A nice dining facility. Bonus if there is a peek at the water.

None of her requests are unreasonable.

That’s what makes the decision so hard.

Trying to hold all of those things at once has made the decision harder.

They will never be able to replace the beautiful home they live in.

We’ve talked about which balls she would like to hold in this next stage. She has practiced trying to hold too many ball, picking just a few is hard.

This is a hard watch. I’m trying to remember its her choice and the glass balls she picks are not wrong, they are just not mine.

What matters is that she can identify what’s important to her and let go of what’s not.

So I’ve been wondering:

How many glass balls can we comfortably hold at one time?

What are you protecting most carefully right now?

If you looked at your calendar, your energy, your attention... what would it tell you about your priorities?

And what might happen if you let one thing become rubber for a little while?

Maybe that’s why so many of us feel exhausted even when our lives are full of good things.

We don’t struggle because we want the wrong things.

We struggle because we want to hold too many right things at once.

At this moment I am traveling to New Orleans for my daughter’s graduation. This is a huge deal… and it is worth celebrating.

There were days… let’s be honest… months… when I was worried about what college she would get into and how she would survive her freshman fall in another country with a roommate who preferred to be naked. I spent walks thinking about how she would make her way at Tulane… would she find her spot on the sailing team, would she make friends. And the housing… the worst. You have to find your roommate before you have found a friend. Those moments were stressful.

And she did it… somehow they all do. They make friends, build relationships, make good times better and fumble their way through the bad ones.

I want to celebrate the achievements of the graduates, but let’s not forget the role of the emotional support mom… a near impossible task. We took phone calls at all times of the day… leaving restaurants, answering texts in the middle of the night, interrupting movies, conversations, vacations. Some of them were funny and celebratory, but many of them were crying… even a few where crying would have been better.

Many of us spent freshman year on the phone as they walked to class so they didn’t feel alone. We shared meals virtually. And then it became easier… more celebrations, more detailed accounts of great nights. They no longer needed us to fill a void, just a listening ear.

I don’t think the job as a mom is done, but I want to take a minute and actually celebrate this milestone as a mom. Go us.

I made some huge mistakes and offered some great guidance. Her freshman fall… living with a nudist, a 45 minute train ride away from the city, in a long term hotel… and I kept telling her to hang in there. I should have told her it was temporary… the loneliness, the homesickness, the hard. I should have told her it would pass, that these feelings are normal and it is normal to feel this way. But I didn’t. I told her to push through, to be strong. This will make you stronger… you will laugh at this one day. And she will.

What I have learned, being on the other end of the phone for a child in college…

Be the lighthouse. A safe harbor for their rocky waves of emotion… the space that allows their nervous system to relax. This one is huge… and a near impossible task to not feel their distress.

Have confidence in them, in their decisions. What they really need to hear is… I know this is hard and you are going to get through it. But Moms need to believe it first, because they believe what you believe.

When they call emotional, don’t add to the fire… pull up a chair.

They don’t want advice. My favorite question… what’s my job here… to listen or to offer advice? They almost always choose listen.

Don’t judge them or their friends.

Did I do this all the time? Absolutely not. But don’t worry… I have two more daughters and two more chances.

These lonely socks, are more special to me than they look. Each one tells a story.

A long time ago… 15 years or more… I was a runner and I loved my Balega socks. They were comfortable and soft and made me feel fast. Like a kid with new sneakers. I was so careful with my fancy socks, always keeping track of them. Buying a pair or two at a time, slipping them into my Christmas stocking. Wearing them for running or tennis but not for yard work or on really rainy days. My socks and I were happy.

Then along came the Feetures socks. Man, these were an upgrade… they literally hug your feet. Not as cushy, but the hug made them worth it. They have another challenge… they have a left and right foot. I was happy to work through both challenges to walk around with a foot hug all day.

At this point in my life I had become a little more laid back and had gotten used to the finer things in life. I would wear my Feetures for most activities. I would search through the sock bin, pushing the Balega aside to find my matching Feetures. I loved the colors… they made me happy and they made me feel comforted and fancy.

Although I was now accustomed to my fancy foot coverings, I never took them for granted. Always happy to find their pair when I folded the laundry… keeping track of their whereabouts, how many pairs I had, still gifting myself these fancy Feetures for Christmas.

Whose Socks Were Whose

As my girls grew older and could wear my shoe size, I handed down the Balega. They were excited to have the first step in fancy socks. Proud to wear them, knowing how special they were. For holidays the girls would get a pair or two of Feetures… of course grabbing a pair for myself as well.

This is where the confusion began… whose socks were whose?

When they were young and I would see them occasionally borrowing my Feetures, I would catch them in the act. They would sheepishly admit to borrowing them and promise to return them ASAP. Now that they had a few pairs of their own, no one ever really knew whose socks were whose.

I sent the photo above to my girls the other day… hoping they might have matches to these lonely ones. No one confessed.

Four of these socks are Balega, which means they have been properly passed down in the last decade. How did they make it back to my sock bin?

And the four Feetures… all of them right footed.

How is that possible?

Are the left foots in a college dorm room… or at the college sailing house?

I was standing there holding them… turning them over in my hands… before putting the broken pairs back in the bin. Still hopeful they will one day be united with their other half.

These socks, that were once so cared for, so important, so whole… are now scattered.

They used to be pairs.
Now they are not.

The Ones That Leave

My college senior daughter is getting ready to graduate and start her next chapter… maybe taking a few left socks with her.

I feel so much happiness for her… and pride in the way she worked through obstacles to build a life she loved.

She is ready for whatever is next.
Her shower is moldy.
She is feeling the aches of being on a team for four years.
And she is excited to put her new college education to use in her field.

Her younger sister is on the same path… and unfortunately doing it earlier than most. Since her freshman year she has spent her summers away from home.

How many right socks does she have?

Both girls have built something they want to go back to after the holidays.

But I can’t tell you how badly I want my socks to come home… to pair back up with the left one sitting in the bin.

It feels sad and uncomfortable to sit with this.

Yet, I once dreamed of this for them.

Friends… careers they feel passionate about… connections with teachers… advocating for themselves… healthy bodies.

With tears of sadness… I am thrilled for them.

It is awkward to sit with both the happiness and the sadness. Just pick a side!

What Stays

We have been through lots of transitions… each of them loaded with worry of the future.

Will high school change our socks?
Will going to college separate our pair forever?

At each turn we have stayed connected… and I have learned that love and family are not defined by location.

Life… and fancy socks… will evolve.
And so will we.

The full moon experience, for Marylanders has been dampened literally and figuratively by rain and clouds for the past three months. I have been missing the full experience. One thing has become clear… a full moon on a rainy night is just not the same…maybe not even half.

My trusty weather app is predicting thunderstorms on Wednesday April 1st. Whomp whomp. Maybe this could be an opportunity to notice what you can’t see? Tune into your other senses.

Fingers crossed we get a break in the clouds to see the Pink Moon. It won’t actually be pink—the name comes from the early blooms of phlox flowers ( see below).

This months Pink moon is a reminder us to start preparing for the growing season. Here is what I have been thinking about….

What am I growing?
What have I been growing since the new year?

I’m growing presence—but in a way that feels entirely new.
Not presence because future thoughts are uncomfortable, but presence as a touchstone.

When the carousel of life pauses, I often ask, What am I supposed to be doing?
It has always been a path back to my to-do list.

But lately, I’m hearing a different answer:
this, right here, do this fully.

I’m learning to give my full attention to whatever is in front of me.

Lately, I’ve been practicing on my walks by “land snorkeling.”
Spring is a great time of year for it.

Energy

No energy video this month—why, you ask? Honestly, I needed a break from my daily energy practice. It wasn’t planned; it just happened. Switching it up is normal for me, We all need variety to keep things from getting stale.

What has stayed constant is taking time to notice my body. Using my breath to quiet my mind. Pausing to read what my body actually needs. Coming back to myself when I get caught up in thought.

The practice changes—yoga, Pilates, nature walks, breath work, energy, or meditation—but the intention stays the same.

Cooking

Lemon Herb Chicken Thighs with Spring Vegetables

A quick side note: after 52 years, I simply can’t eat another chicken breast. Fair… right?

I’ve officially embraced the once-scary chicken thigh. And honestly, I’m wondering what took me so long.

If you haven’t made the switch yet, consider this your gentle nudge—be brave and join me. You’ll be rewarded with so much more flavor and tenderness.

What you’ll need:
6–8 chicken thighs (bone-in, skin-on or boneless…whatever you have)
1 bunch carrots, sliced lengthwise or into chunks
1 zucchini, sliced
1 red onion, cut into wedges
A handful of cherry tomatoes
Fresh herbs—parsley, thyme, dill, or whatever you love
3 cloves garlic, smashed

For the dressing:
1 lemon (zest + juice)
3–4 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp Dijon mustard
Salt + pepper
Optional—a little honey or maple syrup for softness

How to make it:
Preheat the oven to 400.
In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon zest, lemon juice, olive oil, Dijon, salt, pepper…and a touch of honey if you like things a little rounded.

On a sheet pan, scatter your vegetables and garlic. Drizzle with a little olive oil and salt.

Nestle the chicken thighs in among the vegetables. Spoon or brush the lemon dressing over everything…letting it settle into the pan.

Roast for about 35–45 minutes, until the chicken is golden and the vegetables are soft with a little edge.

When it comes out, scatter fresh herbs over the top. Let them fall where they fall.

Listen

Spring is here—signs are everywhere. One of my favorite early morning things is hearing the birds sing.

A few years ago, I started using the Cornell Merlin Bird ID app. It listens and tells you, in real time, which bird is calling.

The birds aren’t singing for us—they’re calling to attract mates, mark their territory, make themselves known. I love that even in nature, boundaries matter.

Watch

My husband and I don’t typically watch together—usually because I’m reading while he watches. But we came together for The Madison.

I’d probably give it a few Rotten Tomatoes…but the scenery is what kept us coming back. We both love fly fishing and the West, so if that’s your thing, you’ll enjoy it.

I absolutely loved Love Story—the JFK Jr. story about Caroline Bessette. It’s well cast, spot-on actually, and watching Caroline’s confidence unfold on screen is captivating. If you’re looking for your next easy watch, this is it.

Read (Adding in my subjective grading system)

Once There Were Wolves — 9/10

If the title grabs your attention, this one is for you.

I was quickly pulled into the story of Inti Flynn and her twin sister. Raised by divorced parents splitting their time between their city lawyer mother and naturalist father who teaches the girls to live off the land.

The girls move to Scotland after a tragedy. Inti struggles to connect with the community, especially since her passion, reintroducing wolves to the land, is at odds with the locals and their way of life.

There is a murder, a love story and so much nature woven through it, and it all comes together nicely at the end. Just how I like it.

Keep noticing.

❤️ Sara

And now it’s spring break…
which somehow makes it feel more uncomfortable.

Like I should be waking up a little more.
Feeling a little more inspired.

But I’m not.

I just don’t feel it.

Remember that Dunkin’ Donuts commercial we saw as kids…

The man getting up in the dark.

“Time to make the donuts.”

I feel you, donut man.

Each day… one foot in front of the other.

I’m doing the things.

I get distracted by a good book…
a few hobbies…
my family.

There are moments that feel good.

But the feeling is still there.

Sitting heavy and quiet in the background.

I notice and feel it.

Is this how other people feel?

Because when I look on Instagram…

I see a very different story.

The Highlight Reel

It’s spring break season here in Maryland.

Everyone is posting their getaways… family time… sunsets… happy kids… cocktails by the pool.

And I believe them.

Those moments happened.

I hope they felt as good as they look.

But…

that is only a very small piece of the story.

Instagram is full of what people are willing to show you.

The problem happens when we consume highlight reels…
while we are living the full reel.

It can quickly pull us into comparison, make our own lives feel like they’re less than.

What we rarely see is what happened five minutes before that photo…
or five minutes after.

Just the moments that are photo ready.

Where are the parts that didn’t make the cut?

The low lights.

Instagram rarely shows the mess.

And when all we see is the polished version of life…
our real, messy, human life can start to feel like something is wrong.

Balancing the Scales

Here is your reminder…

There’s nothing wrong.

Life is messy.

It is the good… the fine… and the hard.

When we consume a steady stream of other people’s “good moments,” it tips the scale.

Our brains start to believe that’s how life is supposed to feel all the time.

So when we feel anything else…
we try to push it away.

We try to fix it.
Escape it.
Numb it.

Instead of allowing it.

Life is highlights… medium lights… and low lights.

No one stays in the highs.

No one stays in the lows.

When we accept that each moment is temporary…
we can soften.

We can appreciate the good when it’s here.

And we can be more accepting when things feel hard…
remembering it won’t always feel this way.

What Actually Connects Us

This is why I love my friendships.

The real real ones.

Where we can say things out loud that don’t belong on Instagram.

Where we can share the mess…
the frustration…
the full-on shit storm…

and not be judged.

Just heard.

That kind of honesty…

that vulnerability…

that is what actually connects us.

Without it…

we’re just scrolling through life.

At the Root…Prevention will arrive on the first of each month…a collection of favorite things, rooted in lived experience and what helps us come back to ourselves. I’ll also continue sharing two additional Substack posts each month, as I always have.

Blood Red Moon

On March 3rd the sky will put on a show for us, when we have a full moon lunar eclipse that will turn…you guessed it…blood red. The eclipse will shift overnight between March 2nd and March 3rd, just before dawn. It’s the moon’s light passing through the earth’s shadow.

I’ll be setting my alarm clock to catch a glimpse.

FYI… Eclipses may bring a mixed bag of emotions. Reactions that don’t quite make sense, a little extra sensitivity (sorry family) or sometimes nothing at all.

The night sky will be as fascinating as our emotions. I hope to be able to observe them both.

Energy

I used to feel like I was riding a rollercoaster of not only my emotions but those of my family as well. Like the emotional barrier between me and others had been replaced by a Scrub Daddy.

Bright. Porous. Soaking up everything.

A sweet morning moment could be swapped out for a dose of teen angst and insecurity without a single word.

For a long time I thought this was empathy. Or intuition. Or just being a good mom.

I have come to learn that my aura… and my boundaries… were porous.

This month’s energy practice focuses on tending that space. It’s about strengthening the barrier between you and the outside world… so you can stay rooted in your own emotional weather.

When you notice someone else’s mood landing in your body, feel your feet on the floor.
Take a breath
Silently say: This is not mine. And sneak off into the bathroom to do the practice below.

Recipe

This month calls for something that warms you up and sticks to your ribs. Something that fills the house with a smell that makes everyone who walks in the door smile and ask what’s for dinner.

Short ribs.

Winter food is about comfort and being well fed. Our bellies crave richer foods that sustain us. I fought it for years… but no more. I am following my needs and cravings now, embracing sourdough, cookies, stews, and soups.

I got this dish from the Hot Chef…my dear friend who cooked for me and my family while I was in treatment. Hot Chef’s short ribs was a weekly request. What a gift for all of us when life was not feeling particularly gifty.

Listen

Joy Oladokun, if you haven’t checked her out here you go. She collabs with Chris Stapleton in Sweet Symphony Soulful and perfect for when you are cooking your short ribs.

She also gives us a much needed reminder in Look up .

Look up
Do you see the sunlight
Look up
There's flowers in your hair
Hold on
'Cause somebody loves you
You know trouble's always gonna be there
Don't let it bring you to your knees
Look up

Watch

I am realizing how restorative brain candy can be.

Not the news.
Not Landman ... even though it is really good.
Not the self improvement book.

I am talking about a full brain vacation. Completely present and immersed ... so your mind can rest.

Beautiful costumes.
An English castle and garden.
A love affair between the maid and a nobleman.

No processing.
No improving.
No work.

Just letting your nervous system come up for air.

For me right now that is Bridgerton.

What are your brain vacation binges? Lets get a list going in the comments.

Read

How to Read a Book by Monica Wood.

Prison bookclub. Do I need to say more?

In case you need convincing, it’s a memoir about a woman who runs a book club inside a women’s prison. The story follows an inmate named Violet out of prison and into her new life working as a lab tech in a bird observation. We follow her as she builds a new life, trying to put her past mistakes behind her.

It’s an easy read, but it stays with you. I fell in love with Bookie ... with Violet ... and of course Frank.

At its heart, it is a story about being seen ... even when it’s hard to look. About forgiving the ugliest parts of your past ... and finding love after you thought that chapter was closed.

A monk once asked his students:

“If you’re carrying a cup of coffee
and someone bumps into you…
why did you spill the coffee?”

The students answered:

“Because someone bumped into me.”

The monk said:

“No… you spilled the coffee
because that’s what was in your cup.

If it had been water,
you would’ve spilled water.”

And then he said something I still think about:

When life shakes you,
whatever you’re carrying will spill out.

I read the monk story with a smile.

Coffee in hand.
It felt simple and true.

I knew immediately…
this one was going to stick.

Not My Best

The day after I read the it, I went to a G-Love concert. It was just what I needed to break our nighttime routine. We were completely taken in by the incredible talent and creativity that only the Sauce can deliver.

It was a late night… a school night nonetheless… and my sleep was restless.

The next morning, I tapped the snooze bar a few too many times. When I finally got up, my body felt heavy. I just wanted more sleep.

Not today.

I had things to do… a sixth grader to get out the door, and obligations waiting.

I took a moment to give thanks for my hot cup of coffee and got started on the day.

I was grumpy, and I knew it.

Life doesn’t stop because you’re tired.

We are moms. We push through. Maybe drink an extra cup of coffee, and sooner or later the momentum of the day takes over.

As I was fishing a broken bagel out of the toaster , I asked my daughter to hand me a fork (yes, it was unplugged).

As she passed it to me, she accidentally poked me with it.

My reaction suggested blood… or the loss of a digit.

It didn’t even break the skin.

My cup was full of grump.

There was a bump.

And what spilled out was frustration… resentment… exhaustion.

Thanks to the monk story, I could see exactly what happened.

A Nervous System Truth

When we are under slept, overwhelmed, or overstimulated, our nervous system shifts into protection mode.

The part of our brain that helps us pause and find a thoughtful response goes quiet.

The reactive part gets loud.

So when we get bumped… we don’t spill wisdom.

We spill whatever is already activated inside of us.

The spill is human. It happens to all of us. It’s not a failure.

It’s information.

A clue.

Middle School Cups

This has been especially helpful for me as a parent.

My middle school daughter comes home starving and ready to share the worst of her day. Reports of frustrated teachers, disruptive boys in PE class, mean girls at the lunch table. Its middle school sharp comments, drama, and meanness are on the menu.

Girls are uncomfortable, lost, and not sure where they belong.

She often needs a reminder that it’s not personal.

It’s just what’s in their cup…
and you happened to bump into them.

We also talk about her role in the situation.

If you can move past the splash that lands on you and look for the message underneath, you start to see it.

Maybe the coach wants you to focus.
Maybe the classmate want to be included.
Maybe your mom just wants you to help out a little more than you think you should have to

The spill tells a story… if we’re willing to look deeper than the surface.

A Mirror

This one is big for me.

The monk story helps me to see events as an observer.
To take things less personally and with a bigger perspective.

The next time you react in a way that doesn’t fit the situation, notice what comes out.

Its a mirror for whats inside of you.

Sometimes the spill is telling me:

You need sleep.
You need space.
You’ve been doing too much.
You’re carrying worry.
You’re carrying fear.
You might just need a snack.
You’re feeling resentful about something you haven’t said out loud.

The goal isn’t to carry only water.

The goal is to know what’s in your cup…
and take responsibility for it.

A Practice for Today

Today, notice your cup.

What’s inside?

Life will bump you. It always does.

Whatever spills… that’s the clue.

If someone else spills, don’t take it personally.

It’s just what was in their cup.

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Many of us grew up being fed on the three P’s: praise, performing, and pleasing.

We were young, vibrant, impressionable, and capable of focusing and pushing. And we were rewarded for it. So we leaned in, strengthening those muscles early.

As I’ve said before, resting wasn’t something we had many role models for. Oprah was the first woman I remember seeing sit down at four o’clock…and even she was working.

Over time, effort became familiar. Pushing became normal. And our drive slowly got tangled up with our worth.

A Question I Can’t Shake

So I’ve been wondering…

Is our drive to grind something innate within us…or is it rooted in our need for the three P’s?

That question has been puzzling me lately (not sorry).

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If you are a paid subscriber, thank you for supporting this work. I write about what feels true for me, what I am noticing, and how I try to stay in a place of ease amid a real life.

I’ve had my share of overwhelming situations. Regulating my nervous system and staying oriented toward ease is ongoing work for me. I’m grateful not to be doing it alone.

The Puzzle

Last Sunday at the bookstore, I let my daughter pick out a puzzle. This was my first lesson: never let a non-puzzler choose the puzzle. Her choice took over the next six days of my life.

I became absorbed in it. Hours passed completely engrossed. At the beginning, nothing fit. I couldn’t see the connections at all. The pieces felt random, possibly a fix up from the puzzle maker.

Slowly, my eyes began to notice subtleties I hadn’t seen before. Shapes. Color shifts. Faint.. and I mean very faint patterns. And then, piece by piece, things started to come together.

After an hour or two, the connections would slow. My frustration would rise. If I could force myself to step away something would shift.

Stepping Away

Stepping away has always been hard for me.

Will I fall behind?

I just want to finish.

What if I lose my place?

The puzzle reminded me that stepping away doesn’t set you back. It moves you forward. When I returned, the pieces that had felt impossible suddenly stood out, as if someone quietly lined up the pieces while I was gone. I was clearer.

What Surprised Me

What I didn’t expect was how singularly focused I became.

I noticed it when I couldn’t answer my daughter’s questions because I was absorbed in finding the next piece.
When we were eating leftovers for the third night in a row of a dinner that wasn’t even good the first time.

The last straw came when I pulled out another puzzle and my family gently asked if maybe we could get groceries before starting a new one.

That’s when I saw it clearly. This is how I focus. I narrow. I tune things out. What would normally matter can fall to the side in the effort to stay with whatever I’m working on…whether that’s a puzzle, a book, an event, or a big project.

Even something meant to be relaxing had quietly claimed my full attention.

I thought I had left that version of myself in the past…the one who could focus relentlessly, persevere, and push through. I associated that part of me with over-functioning, people-pleasing, and running on empty. I assumed this kind of intensity was inseparable from my need to prove something.

But the puzzle taught me something different.

I’m starting to wonder if the issue isn’t intensity itself, but what’s driving it.

I was focused and persistent, yes. But I was also present. Regulated. Calm.

Intention Matters

When I talked this through with my friend Cathy (Tension and Trauma Releasing Exercise Coach ), she offered something that landed deeply. Maybe the difference wasn’t the behavior. Maybe it was the intention behind it.

I wasn’t puzzling to earn approval. I wasn’t doing it to prove my worth or secure safety. I was simply engaged. Curious. In it.

From a nervous system perspective, this matters.

Grinding that comes from threat, from hyper-vigilance, from needing to stay ahead or be enough, activates a very different feeling than sustained effort that comes from choice. One depletes. The other can actually regulate.

Not all effort is the same. Some of it drains. Some of it nourishes.

What the Puzzle Taught Me

• I am still a grinder. If something matters to me, I will find a way to give it my full attention.
• Clarity takes time. The nervous system needs settling before patterns emerge.
• Control is always partial (my dog ate a piece and a half).
• Puzzling is an underrated way to regulate, be present, and take a real tech break.

Choosing From a Steadier Place

I’ve often wondered if I spend too much time writing. I’ve questioned whether my energy would be better spent elsewhere.

But this puzzle clarified something for me.

This is who I am.

When something matters, I give it my time. I give it care. I give it more than what’s strictly necessary. Not to prove myself. Not to earn anything. But because my intention is to offer my best and to feel proud of both the effort and the result.

Maybe the question isn’t whether we grind.

Maybe it’s why.

For me, the work isn’t doing less. It’s choosing from where I’m doing it.

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If you feel like sharing…
What is your puzzle right now?
And what are you learning along the way?

I plan to celebrate the moon this year. I love the idea of a monthly acknowledgement of nature and the quiet magic it holds. The Snow Moon on February 1st is a reminder not to fight winter…and yes I know that feels especially hard right now.

Nature is asking us to slow down. For many of us, it’s honestly demanding it. When we are iced/snowed into our homes we are forced into inactivity, boredom and rest. We sit more. We sleep more. We create more. Most of us wouldn’t choose this on our own. We need nature to nudge us into slowing down. And when the busyness of spring is here, we might just miss the pace of winter.

I missed the last full moon, stuck in the SLC airport, so I am really looking forward to Sunday night. For me its about making time to get our of my head and notice what is going on in my body. (yes a common theme for me) Although it will be frosty, I hope to bundle up for a short walk and look up. It might be followed by a bath, a book, maybe a little journaling, and preparing moon water. I hope you join me in your own way.

Before you keep reading, take a moment to check in with yourself.

Check in on your body. Take a deep breath or two.

See what’s here. Read what you need. Leave the rest.

Energy

It’s deep winter here in Annapolis, Maryland. Barefoot walks will have to wait until late spring. But grounding can’t wait until June.

This is my go-to practice for getting back into my body and feeling connected to the earth. Nothing fancy. No yoga mat required. Just a moment of attention.

If you’ve never worked with energy before, you might not feel much at first. That’s okay. I didn’t either. For a long time, it felt like nothing. And then, slowly, something began to shift.

If you feel open to it, try this.
Notice what’s beneath you.
The temperature of the floor.
The pressure points under your feet.
Some people notice tingling or warmth. If you don’t, that’s okay. Just stay curious.

Just stay for a few breaths and see what you notice. Over time, the connection tends to find you.

Kitchen

This month hasn’t been about the recipe so much as how I’m moving through the kitchen. For years, my focus was getting the meal on the table before everyone scattered for activities. Lately, I’m slowing down. Staying with the small touches I used to ignore. The ones that make dinner feel less tired, and more creative. Fresh herbs. Crisping the sage. Making the croutons.

I am no longer just “feeding people” I am enjoying my moment in the kitchen.

The other night, around 7:00, I was headed for the cheese drawer to assemble a quick “girl dinner.” I paused. Changed gears. Made a dish worthy of myself. It felt like a new kind of self-care. One I didn’t see coming. I am here for it…self-care in the kitchen.

Next month, I’ll share a recipe. If you have one you love, send it my way. It might find its way here.

Read

Mutant Message Down Under is part adventure, part invitation to self awareness, and it has a way of meeting you exactly where you are. Marlo Morgan shares her true story of an Aboriginal tribe in the Australian outback who invite (ish) her into a life-changing walkabout in the bush…for months

The story is fascinating, in the way Unbroken is, while also offering lessons about time, communication, healing, and materialism. This is the kind of book that stays with you and comes up in conversations. You find yourself thinking about it, talking about it, and seeing bugs, clean water, and even the soles of your feet differently.

Watch

Pluribus is the number one show on Apple TV of all time. The first episode was unsettling enough that I considered stopping there. I kept watching only because my sister-in-law promised it would become easier to sit with. It does… and it also lingers in your mind.

Set in a post-apocalyptic world, everyone but eleven people has joined a collective consciousness. They are happy. They hold universal knowledge, sounds great right? But they can’t create.

I loved watching Who Wants This. It felt like a hug. Like a cup of something warm. Pluribus brings something else. A creeping tightening. A clenching. More like standing in a hailstorm.

I once suggested to a client who was learning to check in with her body more often that she try noticing how she felt while watching a show. Nothing to fix. Just noticing.

It turns out Apple TV can be a place to practice nervous system awareness too.

At the Root – Prevention

For anyone who’s been on edge for so long it feels normal… replaying the past, bracing for what’s next, and wanting to feel something different.

At the Root…Prevention is a monthly offering rooted in lived experience and nervous system wisdom. Slow. Grounded. Focused on returning to ourselves and living from there. Like that first cup of coffee feeling more often. From that place, healing and prevention become part of life, not another thing to make happen.

We rush through breakfast, excited and panicky. Grab our coffee, load up the car, and braid our hair as we make our way to the slopes. Thank goodness our chauffeur is bald.

There is usually a snow scarcity captain behind all of this.

Reminding us how much snow came in while we slept, the conditions of the day, how good it is right now.

They do not need to yell or demand. The reminder of what we love, and knowing how quickly it is gone, motivates all five of us (yes even the 11 year old.)

It is not about the snow.
It’s about the feeling of flow when we are in it.

Which has me thinking about scarcity and all the places it touches our live..
money, love, time, productivity.
Which one do you wear?

Underneath them all is a single thread—
safety.

The belief that something essential could disappear and we won’t be okay.

This is what scarcity looks like.

In our daily lives we are often in a state of scarcity.

It looks like rushing, over-doing, grasping, worrying.

We call it living.

The same nervous system state. Not philosophically. Physically.

This is ski-anxiety for time, love, money, safety. Our bodies preparing for the loss before anything is gone.

The feeling of being behind before you even start is driven by outside influences… work, kids, life, money, and environments. But the one we can control, and maybe the most impactful, is our mindset. To start, we need to let go of scarcity and lean into abundance.

Besides safety my biggest scarcity is time. I dream about a clockless life.

My mornings often turn on a dime.

Morning stillness, making coffee, chatting with my family, bopping around the kitchen…and then wham.

I look at the clock.

Shit, put your shoes on, grab your backpack. Don’t forget your lunch. Let’s go.

In that whiplash moment ease disappears replaced by the grip of lateness. Who can I blame? “How could YOU have better prepared” but knowing its all mine to hold. If only life was clockless.

I know this is scarcity.

Scarcity of time creates perfection, and perfection steals presence.

I want to feel an abundance of time and for that I need trust.

Scarcity hijacks the body first.

If we notice the physical signs earlier, we can catch it before the grip and the rush.

What changes in your breathing when you look at your finances, todo list or the clock.

What do you stop doing the moment urgency arrives.

For me, it is presence.

I stop moving slowly.

I stop enjoying what is right in front of me.

What if we let go of late.

What is the cost of being on time or perfect, of having more money.

What if we stopped living from the belief that what we need is about to run out, and started living from a place of abundance.

Abundance is trust in enough.

Trust that life is in support of me.

Here is what I want to remind myself.

I am on time enough.

I have enough.

We have lived long enough to know how fast things pass.

Maybe today you notice when you are rushing and ask why.

If you are feeling brave, try leave one thing undone on purpose and notice what actually happens.

Most of us don’t put scarcity down all at once.

We loosen it.

Moment by moment.
Decision by decision.
Morning by morning.

Letting it go isn’t dramatic or decisive. It’s quiet. Incremental. Sometimes barely noticeable.

Which makes me wonder…

How long have we lived this way.

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I love sleep.

I protect it... savor it... value it.

There have been a few times in my life when sleep took a big hit. Times when even seeing my bed or thinking about sleep gave me the ick. Physical pain, frozen shoulder and chronic back pain, all three pregnancies, jet lag, and those high-stress stretches when my mind refused to quiet, no matter how tired I was.

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The Sleep Enemy: My 2 a.m. Thoughts

The two biggest challenges to a restful night for me are caffeine and those pesky thoughts that stay tame during the day but run wild at night.

I usually fall asleep easily, but around 2 or 3 a.m., when the house is quiet and dark, the thoughts I pushed away all day drift back in. They remind me of the movie Gremlins — but the mean ones. Settle one, and another pops up, louder than the first.

My thoughts don’t mean to bring havoc, yet they do. The more attention I give them, the louder they get. It’s as if frustration feeds them.

My most recent bout of sleeplessness taught me something. I don’t always have to fight it.

Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I let myself rest awake. Not scrolling or fixing or planning. Just resting. It’s often the only quiet time in my day. No one needs me. No one’s talking. No one’s watching.

Awake… not doing… just being.

Daytime is Practice Time

Sleep begins long before your head hits the pillow.

The work happens in the daylight hours, when you build the muscles to quiet your mind.
Practices like meditation, breathwork, yoga, energy works. Anything that helps you get back in your body and the present moment.

Before you say it’s pointless, ask your 2 a.m. self — the one who would do anything to get back to sleep.

The 30-Second Window

When we wake up at night, we have about 30 seconds before intrusive thoughts take over. You know the feeling… at first you’re just awake and everything’s fine, but feed that moment a thought or two and before you know it your body is buzzing. That’s when you know you missed the window.

So go to bed with a plan.

If I wake up, I will…
Count backward by sevens.
List the things I’m grateful for.
Count my breaths to twenty and back down.

Whatever you choose, make sure it’s peaceful.

Thoughts Aren’t Villains

They’re just the mind trying to stay busy in the dark.

When we wake, the brain grabs whatever’s nearby; a worry, a memory, tomorrow’s to-do list, something you said yesterday. It’s the mind’s way of proving it’s still in charge.

But that habit of thinking is what keeps us from slipping back to sleep.

Sleep needs a quiet mind… and the mind hates quiet.

That’s why daytime practice matters. You’re not just training for calm days, you’re training for that 2 a.m. wake-up when your mind starts spinning and you can gently say, not now.

The brain can’t do two competing things at once. It can’t stay tense and relaxed at the same time. It can’t focus on slow breathing and run through worst-case scenarios. It can’t feel gratitude and spiral in fear.

The mind will choose what you’ve practiced most.

From the Front Lines of Sleepless Nights

8 things I actually do to go back to sleep

1. Swipe Up
   This one came from my 11-year-old and it’s honestly the best hack I have. Don’t like one of your thoughts? Just swipe up, like on an iPad, until you land on one you like.

2. Gratitude Alphabet
   What are you grateful for from today? A for applesauce (homemade of course), B for butterscotch pudding… you get the idea.

3. Keep It Dark
   Light tells your brain it’s daylight. I feel my way to the bathroom, avoiding the lights and hoping I don’t trip. And yes, that includes your phone, the light from your screen is no different than the bathroom bulb. Aim for darkness. It tells your system it’s sleep time.

4. Body Scan and Release
   Start at your feet and slowly move upward. Tense and release each muscle as you go. The brain can’t focus on both anxiety and body awareness at the same time.

5. Focus on Your Breath
   Count your breaths up to twenty. If you lose track, start again at zero. Let it be about noticing, not perfection.

6. Anchor the Flow
   This one comes from Prune Harris. Start with your hands on your belly and heart and settle into your body. Set the intention to ease back to sleep. Then tuck your middle fingers into either side of your groin area (Stomach 30). The gentle pressure helps settle the flow of energy. This one grounds me back into my body every time.

7. Three Things for Tomorrow Night
   Think of three things you want to be grateful for tomorrow night when you climb back into bed. It’s manifestation and gratitude rolled into one.

8. Sleep Stories & Meditations
   There are many to choose from, but here are two I return to often:
   Sleep Story – Insight Timer
   Meditation – Back to Sleep

Closing Reflection

Whether it’s stress, hormones, travel, or the daily to-do list, it’s tough when any of it robs you of sleep. You’re not alone. Sleep struggles are real.

Try one of these ideas… or share something that works for you. We all deserve rest, the kind that makes you want to do your own sleep dance.

My daughter goes to Brown. She called me from the basement of a coffee shop on Saturday afternoon, where she spent six hours in lockdown with strangers.

From the moment I heard her voice, my fear took over.

Four days later, while she is safe at home, it is still covering me. My body hasn’t caught up to the facts yet.

When life turns without warning

Sometimes life takes a turn and it is just too much. You can’t plan for these things. They just happen.

This place is familiar. Maybe too familiar.

I know where it lives in my body. My chest.

This time, I am aware of an invisible suit of armor. It is protecting me. Holding me up. Keeping me from melting down. I am grateful for it.

It is also heavy. It presses on my shoulders and ribs. It makes rest feel just out of reach.

Not quite myself

I know I am not myself right now. My patience reminds me of Wile E. Coyote holding TNT.

I am fine.
I am fine.
I am fine.
I am not fine.

I can’t find my body.

What I know about this place

Here is what I know about this familiar place.

I will not always be here.
Anyone would feel this way.

This is not weakness. It is a nervous system doing exactly what it was designed to do.

Using the Body to Settle the Mind

When my system is overwhelmed, my mind works overtime. Not creatively or clearly, just relentlessly.

Thoughts loop. Fear scans for danger. My brain tries to prevent future pain by replaying conversations and rehearsing outcomes. It treats everything as urgent.

Here is the part that helps me soften toward myself. Under sustained stress, the thinking part of the brain loses influence. The survival part takes over. Rumination is not a personal failure. It is a biological response.

Trying to reason my way out of this does not work.

What helps is interrupting the loop through the body.

When we add physical or sensory input, tapping, slow blinking, holding something cold, naming what we can see, the brain shifts attention. It cannot ruminate and process new sensory information at the same time.

It is not magic. It is mechanics.

Sometimes that small interruption is enough to create a little space.

What doesn’t really touch it

Gratitude, meditation, books, mindfulness. They are a drop in the bucket when I am this overloaded.

Being on my phone too much. Watching the news. Refreshing the feed, as if certainty might appear.

None of this settles my system.

What actually helps

Getting into my body.
Trying to slow down.
Walking in nature.
Spending time with other people.
Distractions that do not ask much of me.
Being of service in small, contained ways.

These do not fix everything. They help me come back into myself.

Pockets of peace

I do find moments. Small pockets of peace and ease. Just enough to know that I am here.

I am not gone. I am just buried under the armor.

What I want to remember

I do not have a lot to give right now. If something is not a value, I let it go. I am dealing with a cup that has holes in it, and pretending otherwise only drains me faster.

This is a time for grace. Lots of it.

Am I the mom I want to be right now? Nope.
Does my house look just so? Nope.
Am I getting things done? Mostly the easy gratification things.

And still, I am trying to take care of myself. I know I have to be careful about overextending. My wick is very short.

That is not a character flaw.
It is information.

For you, if this feels familiar

If any of this feels familiar to you, you are not alone.

Maybe your details are different. A phone call. A diagnosis. A loss. A season that tipped without warning. Maybe there isn’t even a clear reason, just the sense that your system is carrying more than it can process.

If your patience is short. If your mind will not rest. If your body feels armored or hard to access. There is nothing wrong with you.

You are not failing at calm. You are responding to something that mattered.

This will not always be where you live. In the meantime, look for what helps you come back into yourself, even briefly. Protect your energy. Let go of what is not essential. Accept the version of you that is doing the best it can today.

That is not giving up.
That is listening.

I thought this week’s chat was going to be with Hilary Phelps. Instead, she became an example we can all learn from, of honoring her commitment to herself over all else. So it became my pleasure to chat with Sarah Hayes, designer, architect, and energy enthusiast. Our talk was, as I hoped, honest, warm, and full of the reminders we all need as we try to bring our 2.0 selves into a season that can pull us in every direction. Sarah and I explored what it means to stay grounded through the holidays… how and where we refill, what we prioritize, and what it looks like to keep growing while still being human.

You can watch the full chat here

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Better Together Giveaways

To thank you for being part of my intention to bring OUR 2.0 selves to the holidays, I have some party favors for you in not one but TWO Giveaways!

This weeks Better Together Self-Care Giveaway has a focus on you… and a friend. We so often offer more kindness and compassion outward than inward, don’t we… so I wanted to even the scales a bit. I gathered gifts for both of you from some of my favorite self-care spots.

THIS WEEK Our giveaway has some of my favorite ways to slow down, indulge, reset and nourish from Wrabyn Boutique, SHED, Sugar Shop and Rutabaga. Make sure you are following on Instagram so you can enter. You and your friend will thank you for it.

NEXT WEEK we shift into a theme close to my heart… resilience.
If you know me, you know the heron has always been my quiet guide. With its enormous body cavity and toothpick legs, it reminds us that we already carry everything we need to hold ourselves up.

So in honor of the heron, I’m giving away entry to Grounded in Growth, a seven week mental fitness program… along with beautiful heron themed jewelry, art, and scarves from Kim Hovell, Kimberly James, and Nancy Hammond. Following along on Instagram to enter.

What I Took Away

After three fascinating conversations on how to stay more grounded, present, and compassionate with ourselves this holiday season… here’s what rose to the top.

Lead with your values

Remember what they are, and let them guide your next right thing.

Be impeccable with your word

When life gets full, our communication can get sloppy. We leave interactions feeling misaligned, and others left confused or hurt. Presence matters.

You are responsible for your own energy

You get to decide how your moments… and your holidays… will unfold.

Slow down

Truly… just do it. Even one breath counts.

See your body as a bank

Each event is either a credit or a debit. What restores you… and how can you add more credits along the way?

Find a grounding spot

Maybe the kitchen sink looking at your favorite things, or a quiet moment in the shower. Make a habit of going there when you feel knocked off balance.

Know what you need and give it to yourself

If a morning walk is your thing, now is not the time to stop. Even in the busyness, we need to practice the things that ground us.

Before you click away, take one slow breath. Notice your shoulders. Notice your feet on the floor. Let your system register a moment of pause.

This is how we build our 2.0 selves… one small, compassionate pause at a time.

That’s it from me until the new year as I step into a few weeks of family time. Thank you for being with me on this path of accepting life as it is… and choosing ease whenever it finds us.

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You can catch the video here

Our conversation stayed with me after we wrapped up… but I promised to keep it short.

Continuing my efforts to show up as my 2.0 self, it is clear that slowing down is essential to the goal. I know that pumping the brakes is a challenge on a typical day… and during the holiday season it can feel like trying to pull back a train with dental floss. Yet I’m trying… and I hope I’m inspiring you to join me. Slowing down allows for awareness, observation, our values and longer coffee moments.

In our chat Dr Kinney shared her analogy of our bodies as a bank account. Everything we do either pulls or deposits from the account. Everything has a cost even if its enjoyable… a night out… a holiday gathering… the moments we look forward to. They still have a price.

Which means we need to make sure we have enough deposited to pay for it. Enough energy in the bank. We can deposit before or after… but at some point we have to settle up. If we don’t, we eventually drop into debt.

Withdrawals Happen Even For The Good Stuff

Today was a perfect example of this for me.

I look forward to an annual boxwood wreath-making event. I love the tradition and the time with old and new friends. We work together… borrowing cutters… placing boxwood… adding ribbon… adjusting and chatting the whole time. Afterward we all sit for lunch with sap-filled, slightly sore fingers and talk about dogs, holidays, kids, and work.

I loved every bit of it… and when I got in my car and closed the door, the quiet hit me for the first time in hours. I knew immediately that I was spent. As much as I had looked forward to it—and genuinely loved it—it still had a cost, and it left me depleted.

I had to refill my bank account. No music… just quiet on the drive to my next meeting. And then it was feet up and a twenty-minute rest. That’s what I needed… and it gave me the energy to continue with my day. No guilt, no excuses. It just is.

Deposits Are How We Stay Steady

How do you deposit?

My micro deposits are a few slow breaths… a hand on my heart… a moment outside. It is any choice that protects the account instead of draining it.

Erin takes baths, schedules downtime in her calendar, and gives herself one Saturday a month in her PJs in bed. Her micro deposits happen in the small in-between moments… like when she washes her hands between patients

I schedule too… SHED… walks in the woods… listening for when I am depleted and refilling… breath work… my morning energy practice and cup of coffee that feel like a big, warm deposit.

Different practices, same intention… tending to the account before it runs dry and slowing down. Every deposit we make slows us down a bit.

Values We Share

It only made sense that from there we moved into values… the compass beneath all our choices. I have been asking each guest about their core values. Erin shared trust and faith… curiosity… connection. Mine right now are curiosity… openness… silence.

And I keep smiling because curiosity is three for three. Every guest so far has named it.

Start 2026 With More Ease

Ease isn’t something we stumble into… it’s something we practice.

On January 9th, I am opening an intimate group of four people who want to practice and improve their mental fitness… to move from feeling controlled by their thoughts to living from a deeper place of peace and ease.

We will create habits of small daily practices that shift you out of the mental noise and into a quieter and steadier place inside yourself. Simple tools you can use in real time.

If you are curious and want to learn more, email me to find out if it is a good fit: sara@corckrancoaching.com

Stay Connected

You can find Dr Erin Kinney on Instagram or on her website. Her book The Cortisol Cure is coming out in the fall of 2026… so keep an eye out for that.

And thank you for all of your support in last week’s conversation with Hearon Dickson. You can find him on Instagram.

Next week I am chatting with Hillary Phelps… join us on Instagram on Wednesday the 10th at noon.

A Few Questions We Exchanged

Erin’s Questions for Sara

What is a small everyday ritual that makes you feel like yourself again?

For me, the little resets happen with my breath… a pause… a hand on my chest… a moment of grounding. The bigger resets come when I get outside… a walk in the woods or a windows-down, sing-along moment with an old song.

During the holidays, what helps you move from surface-level interactions into real connection?

Honestly, I ask questions that go a bit deeper. I try not to be too coachy… but I am clearly being coachy. It is the only way I know to get past the “How are the kids… are you ready for the holidays…” kind of chatter.

A few of my go-tos…
• What is the best thing you have watched or read lately
• Have you picked up any random hobbies recently
• What song or album have you had on repeat

Where do you feel most alive… in routine or in the unexpected… and why

Definitely in routine. My body softens there… it knows what is coming and can finally let down. Routine feels like a place I can spread out a bit. I love my familiar habits… the little rhythms that tell my nervous system it is safe… that nothing needs to be braced for.

Sara’s Questions for Erin

What advice do you wish you could follow more consistently?

The advice I wish I could follow more consistently is simply to drink enough water. It sounds so basic, but I really struggle with it, especially in the winter. It is something I am always working on, gently reminding myself to hydrate even when it is the last thing on my mind.

What is one non-negotiable in your daily routine?

One non-negotiable in my day is intentional rest. Whether it is a quick 10-minute “toes-up” reset, a mini meditation, or a few peaceful minutes spent working on my puzzle, I need that dedicated pause. Taking time to recharge helps me show up fully for all the things I love to do.

What does creating ease look like for you in real time, not in theory, but in practice?

Creating ease for me looks like tuning in and checking in with myself throughout the day. I ask my body and my mind, What do I need? What would feel good right now? That “feeling good” question has been a game changer because it helps me choose the option that truly supports me, not just the one I think I should choose. When I honor those small moments of alignment, ease becomes something I actively create, not just something I hope for.

the stories that hold us back.

What is the story you are telling yourself about how the holiday will go?

What are the stories about the people you will be with? Are they holding you back from seeing how they have changed?

Hearon uses loving kindness for himself and others to build compassion and love and patience. Here is a meditation from him sharing that.

Right speech- From the book The Four Agreements one of them is to be impecible with your word. Only say what you mean. This keeps you saying things out of habit or just because. How can you be more impeccable with your words?

How can we have more grace for our growth and regression? Sometime we are 24 hours from enlightenment other days we are 12. Just take it one day at a time.

Values Mining- You can do it for yourself here.

Our values:
• Hearon: kindness, love, curiosity
• Sara: curiosity, silence, openness

Hearon’s Answers Sara’s Answers

What is your best habit?
Hearon: When I wake up I meditate for fifteen minutes. This is usually after I have done the dog stuff… take her out, feed her. Then I set a timer for fifteen minutes and sit in silence. I usually do this before I have coffee. I do not open anything on my phone until after I have done this.

Sara: I start my morning with practices that get me into my body so I can feel a baseline for the day. Breathing… energy work… stillness. When I do it in the morning I find I am more likely to return to it during the day when I get knocked off balance.

If you could wave a wand and give everyone one new awareness, what would it be?
Hearon: The benefit of silence. I encourage people to use those small waiting moments in the day… the five or ten minutes before you leave the house… the pause in a waiting room… and simply sit in the silence. It is a great time to meditate, count your breaths or do a body scan. It is also a reminder to do something other than look at the phone.

Sara: That honoring yourself and taking action on it is more than worth the time it takes. It helps me be less reactive, more productive, more creative and more connected to myself.

When you think of being at ease, what comes to mind?
Hearon: Being in the present moment. Not thinking about the past or worrying about the future.

Sara: A relaxed body and a quiet mind. My body knows it does not need to produce… rest is productive.

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