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Have you ever found yourself in a place that you didn’t quite recognize?  I’m not talking about a physical location.  I’m talking about a state of mind.  I’m talking about waking up and realizing that something feels not-quite-right.  Feeling sad, depressed, or on the edge and ready to fall.  And, quite frankly, not caring if you do.

For me, November of 2016 was the end of a slow downward spiral that I was beginning to think would never end.  Every day seeming lower than the day before.  Each day I silently hoped that the next day would bring relief and yet it did not.  Of course, I didn’t share this with anyone.  How could I? I didn’t understand it myself.   So, I just kept it inside.  But, of course, I smiled on the outside. 

Until Thanksgiving Day, when I felt I couldn’t wear a fake smile any longer.  It was just too exhausting to try.

A few months prior to this, I had called my old therapist and told her how I had been feeling.  Toward the end of our conversation, she asked if I had ever considered taking medication for depression.  I could almost see those stark and startling words hanging in the air.  Unsettling words. Words that I did not want to hear.  For me, medication was not an option.  I lied and said that I would think about it and then hung up the phone.  I felt more depressed than ever.  I knew there had to be a reason for the way I was feeling.  I didn’t believe that medication was going to make the reason go away.  What I wanted were answers.  I wanted to know the cause of my depression and I wanted a plan to make things better.  Let me also say that I am certain that medication can be very helpful for people in many different instances.  It just wasn’t the path I wanted to take.  Not if I could help it.

Not knowing how to stop the perpetual flow of sadness, I began to wonder what was going to happen to me next.  I felt that I couldn’t continue on my current path.  I didn’t want to continue at all.  Anywhere.  Anytime.  I wanted to give up.  On everything.  I knew that I was really in trouble when the thought occurred to me that if something drastic were to happen to me, not of my own accord, it wouldn’t be so bad. It might actually be a relief.  That state of mind is exactly where I found myself on Thanksgiving Day 2016.

Fortunately, my sister had come to visit on that particular holiday and I told her how utterly hopeless I felt.  She asked me if I had tried meditating yet. She had been meditating for a while and had even given me some different meditations to try in the past but I had never really given it a chance.  It sounded too hokey, too weird, too out-there, just plain silly, like a waste of time, and it probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I mean really, who does that? How in the world could something like that be helpful? 

However, at this point, I felt like I was out of options.  I was ready to give anything a try.  I had already hit rock bottom and I had no place to go but up.

This was also about the same time that my office had moved to downtown Atlanta.  Another thing adding to my sullen state.  I was riding the bus every day.  A forever journey each morning and each afternoon.  I dreaded the ride.  I hated the commute.  I disliked giving up my ability to come and go as I pleased.  I was not a happy camper.  But, definitely a camper with a lot of extra time on my hands.  At a minimum of two hours a day, oftentimes longer, it was the perfect opportunity to meditate.

So, I started meditating.  There’s an app for that you know?  Actually, there are lots of apps for that.  Each morning and each afternoon I boarded my bus and got situated.  I got out my headphones and I listened.  I listened to everything.  Literally everything.  Good and bad.  If it was bad, I moved on.  If it was good, I tagged it and listened to it again.  And again.  And again.  I sat on that bus and listened in early morning hours while it was still dark, while it rained, while the traffic crawled.  I listened in the afternoon while the sun beat through the window, while the bus broke down and while we waited in the heat.  I listened while people got on and off the bus, through good weather and bad weather, day in and day out. 

After some time, to my surprise, I started to smile a little.  When I listened to something that touched my heart, I started to feel a little more like me again.  I started to connect to myself.  Cliché as it sounds, I found myself.  Right there on the #490 bus headed south to Atlanta.  I found out who I was.  And I found out who I wasn’t.  Who I did and did not want to be.  My likes and dislikes.  And several surprises along the way. 

I started making conscious decisions about how I viewed myself and how I viewed others.  Slowly, very slowly, these small changes started to occur.  I dropped out of social media and anything that took my focus away from improving myself.  I listened only to podcasts.  First radical and motivational.  Then spiritual and more knowledge-based.  I was searching for inspiration, peace, and identity. I listened to Tony Robbins, Oprah Winfrey, Martin Luther King, Brene Brown, Wayne Dwyer, and countless others.  Some good, some not so good but anything and everything I could get my hands on.  Nothing was out of reach and I couldn’t get enough information.

Eventually, I started to figure out which voice in this crowded field of meditation and podcasting resonated with me.  Who made sense to me and inspired me.  What made me feel better. And then I found more of that person or that genre and kept on listening. I regularly forwarded these posts and podcasts to my family and friends.

It’s a process. And I am still spending those spare hours listening and learning.  Taking notes.  Praying.  Seeking.  It’s been an incredible change in my life and the change is still taking place.  I feel so much better.  So. Much. Better.  It’s almost like a miracle.  No, wait a minute, it is a miracle.   I feel like I am on the edge again but this time on the edge of something incredible.  Something spectacular.  I feel as if I jumped off the edge now, I would fly.  It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?  Of course, it is.  Sometimes it’s still hard for me to believe.  And, yet, I do.

There is so much more to say about this journey, so many twists and turns.  So many things I have learned and I am only getting started.  I never imagined or would ever think this would have been possible.  I am so incredibly thankful that I started this process.  And I keep learning new things every day.  Now I look forward to tomorrow just to see what is going to happen next. 

I share this story because I think it is shared by countless others.  I share it because I have to.  And, I believe after all this searching it’s time to be authentic.  If I can walk this path, you can too.  Start small.  Meditate.  Find what resonates with you.  Trust your intuition.  There is not one path but many.

I’m not here to tell you that this journey is easy because it’s often hard. But anything worthwhile is going to be hard.  I won’t tell you that it will happen overnight because it will take time.  But time is going to pass either way.    I will tell you that it is a journey worth taking.  It is life-changing.  And, once you start the process, you will be amazed at how it will fill you with faith, hope, and love. Love for life and love for others. But most of all, love for yourself. And once you find love for yourself you will also find that is where the real journey begins.

When my husband and I first started dating, I noticed something unusual about his home.  It was very nice and well kept, but it was entirely khaki.  It had khaki walls.  It had khaki carpet.  It had a lovely khaki couch with a khaki chair and matching khaki pillows.  Khaki curtains adorned the windows. 

He also had a dog.  You might have guessed; it was a khaki Cocker Spaniel. 

Despite this man’s odd fascination with all things khaki, I married him.  And, soon, I became the queen of the khaki castle.  As queen, my first proclamation was that we needed to add some color.  My choice?  Mauve.  A pale purple color that sits between violet and pink in the color wheel.

My husband, Mr. Khaki, said that he had never heard of mauve, much less a color wheel.  He was less than enthusiastic about the idea, but he agreed to let me paint.

When painting day arrived, I clamored my way up the ladder.  About halfway through the process, I lost my footing.  I grabbed for the ladder with both hands and watched as my can of paint plummeted toward the carpet!  It hit with an audible thud and sort of thick belching sound as it tipped onto its side and started bleeding mauve paint on our sea of khaki carpet.  The carpet eagerly sucked up the paint so that it soon resembled a crime scene. I quickly descended the ladder and made it to the bottom just as the khaki dog appeared.

The dog took a quick interest in the paint.  In no time at all, mauve dog prints dotted the khaki carpet in every direction.  I chased the dog through the living room several times in a sort of twisted version of mauve-keep-away!  After several passes, he stopped cold in his tracks as my husband, who had stepped away momentarily, returned.

“Oh my goodness, what happened dear?!”  he said.  Or, something along those lines.  (I will leave it up to you, the reader, to imagine more colorful language may have been used that day.) 

We spent the next several hours alternately scrubbing the dog and the carpet, neither of which seemed to be returning to their original color.  Eventually, we got to the point where you could stand across the room, at dusk, squint real hard with one eye open, and the carpet kind-of looked okay.  Thankfully the khaki couch was large enough to cover most of my mauve mistake. 

I will admit that I have made more than my fair share of do-it-yourself mistakes over the years. And, my husband has endured almost all the colors in the color wheel along the way.  But we have definitely improved our DIY skills since our early days.  Except for one thing. You can always tell what color we’re currently painting by looking at our dog. 

If a movie or book doesn’t end the way that I want it to.  I change it.  I have been doing this for as long as I can remember.  And, I certainly never saw any harm in it.  My husband, however, insists that this can’t be done. 

His arguments against it are plausible.  He will tout that contrast is needed to make a good movie.  Or, he will say that “life just doesn’t work that way”.  On an intellectual level, I agree with him.  Life doesn’t always go the way we want it to.  The good guys don’t always win, and endings can be less than optimistic. But I believe that movies and books are made for entertainment so I may choose the ending that pleases me. In my world, Goose never dies in Top Gun and the Titanic never sinks.  Let’s just say that I prefer happy endings.

Last night, however, I finished reading a novel that had no end.  The main character was faced with a question that she did not answer.  The reader is left not knowing what she decided to do.  After being totally immersed in this story, I was angered to find out that there was no conclusion.  I felt slighted by the author.  Duped.

This morning, however, I had a different view.  I have been rewriting endings to movies and books my entire life.  I am somewhat of a pro at it so why not write the ending to this story as well?  In fact, the author did me a favor.  I am free to choose whatever ending I deem fitting.  It’s rather perfect when you think about it.

Our lives are similar this way in that each one of us is the author of our own story.  We write our own script. We choose the characters that make contributions to our story.  And, if the script is not going as planned, then it’s time to adjust it.  Rewrite it, if necessary, so that when you get to the end of your story, you’re happy with it.   

I have been told that I see the world through rose-colored glasses.  If you’re not familiar with the saying, it means to see a situation in very good terms, often better than it is.  I can’t deny that isn’t true.  I can’t deny that I change outcomes to make them better, more pleasant.  I can’t deny that I always look for the good and even the best in people.  I can’t deny that rose-colored glasses are my favorite color to wear. 

I think everyone should have a pair of these magical glasses that give us a glimpse of our altruistic potential.  Our ability to create better situations.  To live with authenticity and integrity at our center.  To be the force of good in the world.  And, to focus on the things that bring us joy in every circumstance. 

Because when we begin to view the world with optimism and hope, we can’t help but live our lives that way. And, when we can do that, happy endings are inevitable.

When I was in grade school, I couldn’t see very well.  I remember that everything looked a little fuzzy to me.  When I got my first pair of glasses, however, my whole world changed.  Literally.

Stepping outside the doctor’s office with my new glasses, I was amazed at what I could see.  The trees that had always looked like large green masses had suddenly transformed into wonderful, beautiful works of art with thousands of individual green leaves.  Each stoic, faceless building came to life as every detail, right down to the textured bricks, became clear.   And, instead of a solid sea of green lawn, I noticed every single blade of grass.

If you’ve never had to wear glasses, you may not know what I’m talking about.  But to me, the difference was astounding.  Everything that had once been unclear had now come into focus.  It was startling.  It was amazing.  It felt like I was seeing everything for the first time.

When I think about my big dreams now, they can seem like those trees from the days before I got my glasses.   Big masses without definition, large and undefined.  When I am faced with trying to figure out where to start, I find myself pushing things to the side to deal with another day.  The problem is that the longer I wait to start the larger the obstacles seem to grow.  It begins to feel like too much effort and I just give up.

When we become overwhelmed by the obstacles in achieving our dreams, or the dreams just seem too large to navigate, we must break them down into smaller, more manageable pieces.  We need to put our glasses on and focus on the individual steps to achieving our goals.  By focusing on just one step at a time, the path becomes much clearer.

Remember, just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.  There is always a path to where you want to go.  My blurry vision wouldn’t allow me to see the leaves on the trees and yet they were there.  We must have proper vision in order to see things clearly.

We need vision and a plan for achieving our dreams.  Vision to see the smaller pieces and the path ahead and a plan to move us forward.

Recently, I heard Henry Winkler in an interview.  He said, “In order to achieve your dreams, you just start walking toward what you want.  And then, never, ever, ever stop walking.”  The very simplicity of his statement struck me.  I try to remember it when I have over-thought and over-complicated my situation.     

I think Henry was right, maybe what we need to do is fixate on what we desire and just walk toward it.  Take just one step each day.   And, then another.  Then celebrate that step because it is one step closer than the day before.  Let’s remind ourselves that it doesn’t matter how many steps it takes to get there.   If we just keep walking, eventually we will arrive.   

“Dreams come in a size too big so that we may grow into them.”  Josie Bissett

It was a beautiful spring day.  The sun was shining, and the birds were singing.  My date showed up with a lovely homemade lunch.   Sandwiches, chips to nibble, sweet, crunchy apples and ice-cold drinks.  It was the perfect day for a picnic in the park.  We found an open table nearby where he neatly spread out the bounty he had prepared.  I was impressed. 

Then, I bit into my sandwich.  It was egg salad.  With onions.  The only thing I hate more than egg salad is egg salad with onions.  I looked dubiously at the sandwich but then looked up at my new love and smiled sweetly.  I knew how hard he had worked to impress me and I didn’t want to offend him so I figured the best thing to do was be polite and eat the food he had prepared.  I began chewing as quickly as I could, trying hard not to let the food stay in my mouth any longer than necessary.  “Do you like egg salad?” said the love of my life.  I smiled warmly, “Oh, yes, of course, I do.  It’s one of my favorites!” I replied, possibly with a little too much enthusiasm.  I contemplated my next bite, trying to assess if I might be able to forgo chewing and just swallow.  Egg salad is soft enough, right?  This was a mistake.  A large gob of the salad lodged in my throat.  I grabbed my drink and guzzled it as politely as I could.  A shiver ran down my spine.  “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked with a look of concern.  “Oh, yes,” I said with a wave of my hand, love-struck eyes beginning to water now, “I guess I’m just so hungry and this egg salad is so good.”  I gave him my most winning smile.  He bought it.

Somehow, I managed to feign my love of egg salad and make it through the lunch.  A very small price to pay, I thought to myself.  He was happy and I was happy to know, at least, that I would never have to eat egg salad again.

A few years later, however, we were married, and I came home one Saturday afternoon to find that lunch was made.  My dear, sweet husband prepared sandwiches with crispy potato chips and sweet sliced apples.  “I have lunch ready for us.” He said proudly when I walked in the door.  “You are so sweet!” I said following him into the dining room.  I sat down.  I looked dubiously at the sandwich.  “What did you make?” I inquired.  “Egg salad.” He said with a broad smile.  “Your favorite.”

“Since when is it my favorite?”  I said with a frown.

“Since the day we went on a picnic and you gobbled it up as quickly as you could.” 

The memory of that day flooded back to me.  The wonderful date in the park.  The singing birds.  And, the sandwich.  The awful egg salad that I ate with a smile. I had completely forgotten about my culinary deception that day.

“I hate to break this to you honey, but I hate egg salad,” I said not meeting his eyes.  “I only ate it to be polite.”

We have been married for 28 years now and this story resurfaces often.  Most especially, each time my husband makes egg salad.  So, be wary when feigning love for something that you do not truly enjoy.  You are likely to hear about it for years to come. 

In May of 2019, I held my breath and clicked the little button marked “Activate” in the upper right-hand corner of my new web site.  I was exhilarated.  I was nauseated.  I wanted to tell the whole world about it.  And, at the same time, I wanted to click the “Deactivate” button and just wait a little while longer.  Wait until I had all the answers.  Wait until everything was perfect.   

There’s simply a dreadful feeling that surfaces when doing something so vulnerable.  When we are overwhelmed by the “what if’s” that weigh us down.  Wondering to ourselves, “What if no one likes it?  What if I fail?”  On the flip side, there’s also something wildly fantastic and freeing when doing something that you love.  Something that requires part of your heart and soul to complete. 

So, maybe all of this sounds a little dramatic, but I had spent months prior to that day gathering my courage.   Slogging through the internet researching websites, domains and hordes of other things that I really didn’t understand.  I worried about the details.  I worried about being good enough. I worried about how long it was going to take to do everything that needed to be done.

Fast forward, one year later.   I am still here creating and posting on my website.  I wish I could tell you that I have conquered all my fears in the last 365 days.  That some evenings I don’t stare bleary-eyed at a blank monitor screen with no clue what to write.  That I am never tired and that I don’t worry about what people will think. 

The thing is, I have wanted to be a writer my whole life, but I must still push myself every day to achieve that goal. Because even though I love it, sometimes it’s just plain hard.  And even though I can’t always see where I’m headed, I must keep advancing, because going back is no longer an option. And, most of all, because the thought of not writing is always way worse than pushing myself to finish what I have started.

I think that at some point in our lives, we all must click the “Activate” button on the thing we dream about.  We can spend a lifetime researching, calculating and weighing the “what if’s”.  Waiting for perfection or all the right answers, neither of which, is likely to appear.

My sister, a very talented artist, is working toward launching a website as well.  And, I know that she has wrestled with some of the same fears that I did, “What if no one likes it?  What if I fail?”  After we talked, however, we both agreed that worse than any of those fears would be the big looming question, “What if I never tried?” 

Unchecked, these “what if” questions run like a never-ending loop in our thought process.  They suspend us in time and keep us from moving forward.   And, if you haven’t noticed, they’re almost always fear-based.  We never say to ourselves, “What if I am wildly successful at this venture?”     

Earl Nightingale said “Don’t let the fear of the time it will take to accomplish something stand in the way of your doing it. The time will pass anyway; we might just as well put that passing time to the best possible use.”

Earl was right.  2019 slipped into 2020 and it would have done so whether I started my website or not.  So, let’s use the time that is passing right now to find the courage we need to face our fears and jump into the arena. Let’s find something that we love, something that inspires us and pushes us to be our best.  Even if we don’t have all the answers.  Even if it’s not perfect. It’s time to press “Activate”.  

There is a short stretch of path near my home that meanders through a stand of lanky pines hemmed in by newly budding dogwoods.  An ornate lamppost stands sentinel there spreading soft pools of yellow light in the early morning.  Stepping into the glow, I am reminded of the first book that captured my heart and soul.

And, I was forever changed by it.  

 “This is the land of Narnia,’ said the Faun, ‘where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea.”

― C.S. Lewis, “The Chronicles of Narnia”

I have read a multitude of books since my childhood introduction to the land of Narnia, but this one book was the jumping-off point into a lifetime of reading and writing that has stuck with me even through today.

Looking back, I realize that this was a pivotal moment in my life.  It was the moment that I knew I wanted to be a writer.   We all have pivotal moments in our lives although we may not recognize them as such when they occur.  They offer us a split second of clarity at a precise moment in time.    Some of them are tragic, some are beautiful, some are grand.  And, some are as simple as reading a book.

These moments, be they big or small, provide us with new viewpoints. New insights.  And, quite possibly, define our future.

One could argue that we are going through a momentous pivotal moment right now.   This uncertain time has certainly changed my life and my perspective.  At times, it has brought chaos.  But it has also brought clarity and insight.  It has offered me time to reflect and discern what is truly valuable.

Some days from now, probably more than I care to think about, we will return to our previous way of life.  We will all, once again, be too busy, too tired, and too stressed out.  We will look back at this time and wish that we had done something more with it.  Something more meaningful.  Something more valuable.   

So, let’s just assume that this is, in fact, a pivotal moment in our lives.  Let’s not waste it.  Let’s approach it with a spirit of self-discovery and ask ourselves what lessons or purpose might be waiting for us.

What are you longing to do that you haven’t done yet?  What pivotal moments in your life have you overlooked or forgotten? What did they tell you about yourself?  What messages might you have missed?

Decide what it is that calls to you, what you love, and then take just one step toward it.  And then, take one more.  And then, just keep walking in the direction of your dream and don’t ever, ever stop.  Finally, eventually, one day, you will get there.  And when you turn around and look back down the long path you have traveled, you will be amazed at how far you have come. 

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different …”

― C.S. Lewis, “The Chronicles of Narnia”

Our neighborhood added an exciting new amenity this week.  I was surprised when I saw it as it wasn’t mentioned in any of our typical neighborhood communications.

It is a path, roughly one-mile long, that loops through our subdivision called “Inspiration Trail”.  The “trail markers” are comprised of inspirational messages neatly spelled out on the sidewalk in brightly colored chalk. 

As it turns out, Inspiration Trail was created by a couple of young girls who live in the area.  Amy and Mairin, if I read the chalk byline correctly.  And, I will admit that I was truly inspired by the messages that they left.  Phrases such as, “You are the light”, “Don’t give up” and “Have faith” are just a few of the sentiments scrawled out in large yellow, blue and pink letters often accompanied by a smiling face or shining sun.

I remember, as a child growing up in the ’70s, wanting to save the whales, stop pollution, and prevent forest fires.  These were just a few of the issues being raised at the time.  As a child, I couldn’t understand why we didn’t just do what we needed to do to solve the problems.  It seemed simple enough to me.

Children naturally want to help.  They don’t see problems without solutions, and nothing is unattainable.  And even though, as adults, we know that nothing is ever that easy, we could certainly take a cue from kids who only see answers in times of uncertainty.

Currently, many of us are under “stay at home” orders that may cause us to feel isolated from our friends and families.  Considering this, one of the best things we can do right now is to offer inspiration to each other.  Encouraging words of hope are a lifeline when we feel secluded and cut-off from society. 

Dr. Orison Swett Marden, an American inspirational author, said, “There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something tomorrow.”

Mairin and Amy put it a little simpler, they said, “Never lose hope, good things will come soon.” 

No matter how it’s said, however, I think they all are on the trail of something truly inspirational.

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It seems as if I have been waiting for my entire life.  I waited to be older.  I waited to be able to drive.  I waited for school to end.  I waited to find a job.  I even waited for my kids to be old enough to take care of themselves. 

And now I am waiting until I can leave my house again.  I am waiting to see my friends and co-workers.  I am waiting to go back to my life as it was before the quarantine.

No one likes to wait.  Waiting is not easy.

But as I look back at the things that I have spent my time waiting for or wishing away, I can now see the things I should have appreciated at the time.  Like the ease of being younger, of being in school without the responsibilities that currently weigh us down.  The sometimes messy, sometimes crazy, but always amazing times spent chasing kids and dogs through the house. 

We live in an instantaneous world.  Things happen at a rapid pace and yet they do not seem to happen quickly enough for us.

When I was a kid, I used to love to get on the merry-go-round at the park.  My dad would grab the bars and spin it while I held tightly onto the center pole and yelled “Go faster! Go faster!”   Clinging for dear life to that pole I knew that if I let go or if my hands slipped, I would be tossed from the merry-go-round and tumble off into the grass.  Still, it never seemed to go fast enough for me.

That is kind of how I feel right now.  Except that this time, I have been flung from the merry-go-round at a high rate of speed, tossed to the ground and immediately stopped.  Feeling slightly dizzy from the ride, I’m trying to get my bearings but I’m also eager to feel my feet on solid ground again.

Sometimes life gets going so fast that we don’t realize it until we stop.  Or, are forced to stop.  And, just maybe, we are presented with an amazing chance like the one we have right now. A chance to appreciate what we have today.  To appreciate the lack of a commute and more time outdoors.  To appreciate a meal shared with a family that has more than enough time to spend.  To appreciate a meaningful conversation with someone. 

To appreciate, literally, a chance of a lifetime.

To see this suspension of time that we have been given as a gift and to distill these moments into something more than waiting for good news or bad news.  To know that this postponement of time has a limit and soon the merry-go-round will be in full swing again. 

There is no better time than now to feel your feet on solid ground and appreciate the gifts you have been given.  So, what are you waiting for?