Category: Balance

The Power of Silence: In Conversation, In Contemplation, In Being

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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I sometimes think that when I get sick, it’s because I’ve forgotten to listen. I’ve forgotten to listen internally, to my body. I’ve let it get too noisy and not gotten still enough to hear what’s going on. After a cold sets in, I realize that the chatter in my brain has gotten to excessively noisy levels, and my “push” meter is much higher than my “pull back, rest up a bit,” meter. Inside of all of this is a desire for silence: to quiet the noisy chatter, to steady the mind, to harness the body, to pause and take stock of what’s happening.

Sleep is a period of silence for us each day. With friends, the beauty inside of a conversation is in the stillness of the pauses. Silence is a period of reflection and contemplation. It is a place for depth.

And so today, in the thickness of my morning slumber, I begged for silence, and stumbled across this beautiful poem by Gunilla Norris (found via the On Being column by Parker Palmer). As Palmer so eloquently captures, “I find it compelling because it names the importance of both personal and shared silence.” I agree.

Within each of us there is a silence
—a silence as vast as a universe.
We are afraid of it…and we long for it.

When we experience that silence, we remember
who we are: creatures of the stars, created
from the cooling of this planet, created
from dust and gas, created
from the elements, created
from time and space…created
from silence.

In our present culture,
silence is something like an endangered species…
an endangered fundamental.

The experience of silence is now so rare
that we must cultivate it and treasure it.
This is especially true for shared silence.

Sharing silence is, in fact, a political act.
When we can stand aside from the usual and
perceive the fundamental, change begins to happen.
Our lives align with deeper values
and the lives of others are touched and influenced.

Silence brings us back to basics, to our senses,
to our selves. It locates us. Without that return
we can go so far away from our true natures
that we end up, quite literally, beside ourselves.

We live blindly and act thoughtlessly.
We endanger the delicate balance which sustains
our lives, our communities, and our planet.

Each of us can make a difference.
Politicians and visionaries will not return us
to the sacredness of life.

That will be done by ordinary men and women
who together or alone can say,
“Remember to breathe, remember to feel,
remember to care,
let us do this for our children and ourselves
and our children’s children.
Let us practice for life’s sake.”

I look to the space in between the words to define the words. I long for shared community gatherings that embrace not just conversation, but connection — and stillness — as modes of being. I cherish the lulls in between songs when sitting outside by a campfire in a circle as the night grows darker. I want to plan more periods of stillness and reflection amidst an organization’s crazy quest for more meetings. Silence gives us enough space to hear what’s actually happening, and act — not react — accordingly.

A little rest can add a lot of happy.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Are you tired?

There’s something I’ve been reminded of lately—

Happiness doesn’t come from doing nothing; too much of nothing often feels more depressing.

But in the midst of the busy, happiness can come from a little bit of rest.

A change to your schedule.

A two-hour reprieve with a babysitter.

A Friday night in.

An hour-long lunch break where you sit in the sunshine.

A 20-minute cup of tea at your favorite tea shop on your way home, before you dive back into the working world.

Getting your nails done or having someone rub your back for a few minutes.

Getting the project that you’re working on done.

Staying in to listen to your heart’s pulls. Skipping the ten events that make you say meh just to stay home and do that weird thing that makes you say YES.

A little bit can go a long way.

Sometimes it’s writing “no, thanks” to an email that makes all the difference.

Sometimes it’s shutting down your computer 30 minutes early, or taking yourself for a walk.

Sometimes it’s doodling, taking a few photographs, or making something new for dinner just because you feel like it.

Whatever it is, today’s happiness isn’t necessarily an epic journey. Sometimes it’s a gentle conquest. Sometimes it’s as easy as a shift in your mindset.

Sometimes just a few minutes makes all the difference.

The upside of being busy

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Being busy – being full, having a lot to do, filling your calendar to the brim — can be overwhelming, tiring, exhausting. Sometimes we’re busy for busy’s sake. And answering “busy” to how have you been is, well, annoying.

But sometimes there’s an upside to being busy.

When you’ve got a handful of projects to work on, you don’t have as much time to worry about whether or not they’ll work out — you’re busy making something new instead and learning from the results.

When you’re focused on learning new material, you don’t have time to worry about what people think of you, what you should do next, or how to spend your time.

You’re too busy doing.

Emails don’t stick or sting too much because you don’t have the time to think about it for another second.

There’s a reason people say “if you want something done, ask a busy person.” Busy people get things done.

Up to a point, busy can actually be helpful.

Maybe the answer isn’t thinking more, but doing more. Maybe getting a little busy will help you out of your next rut.

When You Fall Down, Break Your Routine, or Stop: Notes on Re-Starting

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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The rhythm breaks. The routine falters.

You write, so diligently, and then a week slips by.

Getting back into the structure of things — writing — is even more challenging when traveling, moving, changing.

I can make a million excuses; writing and making time for writing is and always seems so hard.

It’s easier when I’m already making. When I’m on the train that’s already moving, it can be easier to keep going. And then I slip. My eyes wander up and left, I slip outside for a drink, I stop in the sunshine, I caress the thought of taking a break, and—

—Days go by. The procrastination wears down, like water through a crevice, building its rut and smoothing the sides into familiar curves with its constant trickle.

The weight of the days adds up, as though each day has its own weight, compounding over time.

Dread hangs over until the shadow of not doing spooks me in the morning, haunts me inside of the bags underneath my eyes. The sheer weight of not doing makes me so tired and that fear and dread build up, and I even start to doubt; I believe that I’m too tired; that tomorrow will be an easier, better day, that writing will somehow become more magical and effortless if I just wait.

The truth is, the one that I learn only by doing, is sometimes one sentence and one foot in front of the other, a shuffle-step, a trip, even — Sometimes sentences are written underfoot, scribbling out while running — the truth really is, that if I only just start, if I sigh and press open that sheet, tricking myself into making something so tiny I can’t help but just inch it out; when I make a small piece and massage it a bit, play out a word, dedicate a paragraph to the morning and a few more notes to the day;

The truth is, the hardest part is starting.

The gaping mountainous space that is not having started, with the weight of all the days piled up on top of each other like the exploding laundry piles of a pair of triplets, that space—that space is the one that can be popped like a balloon, a whistle of air sadly escaping out as a small sigh, only, only, only if you dare to jump, to pop the weight of the invisible balloon, to recognize that starting is always as hard as it’s ever been, and the hardest thing you do, will be to start.

Starting my pages is like an exercise in watching my crazy brain dart and monkey around — all the things I must do! Lists and busy-work become important, tasks and to-do’s building up alongside corners of pages, papers stacked several sheets high across the expansive desk space that is, for all purposes, meant for writing. I must make a new batch of tea! And i’ll try a green juice! Perhaps the internet will have the answers! I will Facebook like everything in sight because ALL OF THESE LIKE HAVE MEANING! I am connecting! I am powerful! I am!

And the answer is, after three hours of puttering, anxiety building in my stomach like a lining of acid swelling across my belly, I get so mad and frustrated that I shout, I MUST go for a run, I will RUN, then, then, you will SEE.

And a small piece of my mind thinks to me, you can’t afford to run, so, well, just write a couple of sentences before you go, and then of course, you will go for a run, and of course, that will help.

And then I sit at the desk, legs twisted to the left, shoes half-on, one sock on the floor, and finally open the document — my intent to start writing as soon as I get back, and then the document that is still blank bursts open on my screen, white terribleness blasting me with my procrastination; I stare at the pages that are empty, and with one hand on my shoe, I scribble and scratch out the thesis and the questions I’m going to be answering when I get back. I’m not writing, see, I’m running.

Lists and notes come out, and then my foot rotates and slides under my chair, and I’m jumbling in it, sports bra and keyboard, pouring, pouring, — well, I’ll just talk about this one thing, I start to say, but that story in the paragraph builds into a third, or a fourth, and I look up and the clock has spun around a few times far too quickly, and the sun’s down already, and I’m still in my underwear from taking off my pants to go for a run, but in between pants off and shorts on, I sat down to type, and the typing exploded, a story wielding it’s way on the page, long words and excessive ramblings wrapping around neatly in the shiny way that digital files do, and I’m hungry.

I’m hungry.

The sun’s down again. It’s dark.

On the days when I have to begin again, on the days when it’s been far too many days in between, and I haven’t written in too long, I know that the most important thing is just the dump of words.

The writing will not be good — it rarely is on the first time, and especially not on the first day back, but the second or third day after greasing the word wheel with an onslaught of words, it gets smoother and easier in a way that’s unexpected.

It’s like the first day is a rinse of my brain with a writer’s neti-pot, the morning pages and the first thousand words a clearing of the clutter, a draining and sweeping of the cobwebs in my brain. Snot-clearing pages, I describe them to my writing classes. Just get the snot out, blow your nose, suspend judgment and don’t look inside too closely at those boogers!

It’s like the pile of words that drains out is mucus that stuck up my brain, and those morning pages are blowing my brain’s nose. The next day, when the morning pages have been written a second time, I can sit down and my mind is much more connected to the page, to the words at hand.

Starting is hard.

Come back in, however you can.

“You can have everything you want.” But also: “You will never be enough.” Two cultural themes that need to be reconfigured.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Eagle and strength, mural, Brooklyn

You can have everything you want, and you will never be enough.

Ouch.

I keep running my head in into two cultural mindsets that I think have negative consequences in American culture (this is not necessarily true everywhere. The French, for example, don’t necessarily subscribe to the American parenting ideal of praising a kid for everything they do). But within this culture, there are a couple of paradigms that run fluidly through our consciousness and are worth paying attention to.These ideas pervade our mental space, our advertising space, our urgency, and our need for more–perhaps even our inability to say no. And I just think they are terribly wrong–and bad for us.

The first paradigm: “you can have anything you want.”

The idea that you can do whatever you want, become whoever you want, and have everything you want is an ambition and idea taught to Millennials and Generation Y from the moment they’re given matching sets of toddling shoes and oodles of fresh diapers and socks.

This idea that you can do, be or have anything you want. Do you agree? Is this true? Can you really be anything you want? Can you have everything?

But Sarah, you might gasp–don’t tell me that I won’t get what I want! That’s a terrible idea! How could you say such a thing?

It’s complicated. You can try and place your energy in however many spaces you can get your hands on. But for many people, they won’t reach their dreams. Their jobs won’t fulfill their passions. They’ll be taken on other journeys or life trajectories that are entirely different than what might be expected.

Regardless of the outcome on this debate–perhaps yes, you can have whatever you want–the corollary is what’s interesting to me right now. If you truly can have whatever you want (or so the cultural teaching goes), then it follows that we don’t have to make decisions because we can have it all, and we don’t have to learn how to say no, because it’s easier to say yes to things.

The consequence of the assumption that you can have everything you want is that you may be disappointed. Often.

Learning how to say no, how to decide, how to choose, and how to get to your own heart center is critical. Interestingly, if you really examine this assumption–I’m not sure that many people actually want to have everything. Happiness isn’t about things and ownership and millions of dollar bills. Wealth is about freedom and having enough or just exactly what you want. Regardless of the outcome of this debate, one consequence of this assumption is that we don’t get taught how to decide. How to say no.

Is the flip side of being taught you can have everything you want failing to teach us how to make decisions? Does this make prioritization and deciding impossible?

The second: “You will never be enough.”

Oof. Ouch, that doesn’t feel good either, does it?

Yet look for it. There seems to be a cultural construction or ideal that you will never be enough. This idea pervades–you will never have enough, and you will never be enough. This culture of scarcity–of not having enough–means that we’re always seeking something to fill us up or fill the void. Hence, we shop like crazy.

Brene Brown identifies this culture of scarcity in several common phrases that we say every single day. When you wake up in the morning, the first thought many people have is:

“I didn’t get enough sleep.”

Not enough. (Why?) Then, we start the work day:

“I don’t have enough time.”

Again, not enough. (Why?) And at the end of the day:

“I didn’t get enough done.”

And again, not enough. (Why?)

We see this from the way we talk about money (“I don’t have enough money”)–and in fact, that’s not a conversation we’re having because we’re too timid to even begin talking about money and scarcity–to our sleep, our time, our lives, and our work.

Why these cultural constructs fail us.

These two cultural constructions–a culture of scarcity (“you are not enough, you don’t have enough,”) and a culture of achievement (“you can be anything you want, you can have everything you want,”)–are they beneficial? How do they serve us, and how do they deceive us?

And worse, does the combination of these two cultural thoughts make us all slightly neurotic? (I can be anything! But shit! I’ll never be enough! But I can have everything! But shit! I’ll never be enough!)

What would a different mindset look like?

Out of curiosity, what if we had a different mantra? What would the opposite construct look like? Perhaps:

You are enough.

You already have everything you need.

There is nothing in this world that you need to own or acquire to make your life better.

You are enough.

This here, this is enough.

Hmmm…

When is the right time to make change? The changing of seasons is the perfect time to re-fresh and re-invest.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Image by Graydon Foulger, Impressionist Oil Painter.

Oh, these times of transition…

Fall is a beautiful time for change and transition. The weather cools with winds that whisper at a coming winter, the hint of a chilly air brushing across my shoulder tops and threading cool breezes against my skin. I huddle in my jacket, tugging it closer and shaking out my fingertips. I notice that the mornings are getting slower and the days are getting shorter. This weekend marked the official beginning of Autumn, closing down with a startling clamp on the last of summer.

The cooling season and drier air makes me long for hibernation; I stay in bed, pillow atop head, and say a muffled NO into the bedding, my aspirations for morning workouts disappearing alongside the droopy sun. I want to lie for longer, hide from the world, and treasure the warmth and depth of my hidden blankets. My mood shifts; I crave hearty foods and thick soups; I am slower to start in the morning and my mind dips more frequently into the melancholy of lower light. Every psychological trigger begins to fire a reminder for me–from the Halloween candy dotting the grocery aisles to the orange hues of colored leaves to the warm smell of turkey cranberry sandwiches with brie. I grasp the fleeting remainder of warm days with bike rides and lunches on the water before it cools too much to enjoy.

Yesterday was the Fall equinox, a time marking the transition of seasons and temperatures into a new time. For those on the northern hemisphere, we’re closing our long summer days filled with light and energy, and rolling into a season of darker days, hibernation, a few extra hours of slumber, and a craving for rich, starchy foods, harvest vegetables, salts, and soups. For those on the southern hemisphere, blinking in the spring light after a long winter, you’re also awakening to change and transition, one of a different sort.

The equinox is a time to revisit your intentions, to shift, and to re-align yourself for the coming winter. A friend wrote beautifully about what the equinox brings to our life:

“The equinox is a time to revisit your intentions as well as to be in gratitude for your harvest–whatever it may be. Acknowledge all that you have at this time and focus on the abundance of the harvest rather than any lack. The equinox is also a time to think about cleaning, pruning, and making any changes that you are inspired to make as a way to make more space for what you want. It is a time for expansion, freedom and commitment. Take some time to ritualize change. Honor the change of season and use the energy of the fall equinox support the release of any burden you may have been carrying for someone else. Put it down once and for all.” (M.M. via The Power Path)

It made me thankful for the energy, change, and growth processes I’ve put into place this year. Leaving my job, moving across the country, selling my car, and setting up my own client roster–these were not simple projects. In retrospect, I bow in gratitude to the year’s work, and I’m thankful for the times I took risks.

What have you harvested this year? What can you acknowledge that has gone well, or shifted significantly? What are you growing? Are you still setting foundations in place for great harvests next year, and next spring?

What can you let go of, or refocus your energy on? What rituals can you take towards change?

More than just writing… a workshop and a journey.

This Fall, 20 students joined me in the Writer’s Workshop, a 4-week course designed to discover your writer’s voice, teach essential writing skills, unlock your inner creative, and grow as a writer within a small-group community. Their inspiration and enthusiasm has been breathtaking.

Each person came to the course with a mind and heart open towards learning, towards improving, and wanting to grow in an area that’s critical for success: communication. Writing allows us to clarify who we are, what we want, and share our ideas. Beyond writing, however, the four-week course is a journey into creativity, into storytelling, into memories and dreams, and into mind-mapping.

It’s a commitment to yourself that you want to get better. It’s a ritual of change. It’s a recognition and a dedication towards growth.

Learning is one of my favorite things. It’s an incredible gift to pour new knowledge and ideas into your brain, synthesize them, mull over them, contemplate, and then create your own works. The best bloggers and creatives I know are all incredibly smart and phenomenally hardworking–likely far more than what is publicly visible, in fact–and they take the time an energy to invest in themselves, to create day in and day out, and to hustle when they need to.

For writers in our writing workshop, here’s what a few of them had to say about why they joined the journey:

“I love to write but have challenges finding the time and space with a demanding full-time (non-writer) job. I’m hoping this class provides both inspiration and structure to help me build writing into my daily life going forward.”

“I thought that getting back into writing regularly might help me find a voice that hasn’t been as vocal lately.”

“I want to hone my most crisp and compelling writing voice and develop a regular writing practice.”

“I’ve always wanted to engage in personal/creative writing but never did much of it. I’m looking forward to using the experience from this course as a catalyst to begin a daily practice of writing, mostly for myself.”

“I have a blog on my website, but I haven’t been too consistent with it. The goal for me is to be more consistent, disciplined, and always have a plethora of new ideas to write about.”

As someone who is hungry for knowledge, I love diving into new projects, courses, and ideas. It’s a joy to teach people who feel the same way. These talented professionals from around the world are brilliant peers and colleagues–and yet they are taking the time to join the workshop, often alongside day jobs, families, side hustles, and other endeavors–each of them coming together to invest in their dreams and take the steps towards improving their lives and businesses.

You don’t have to have it “figure it out” to partake on the journey.

Why do people join in new adventures? Sign up for new classes? What do they want to improve?

I find the most common denominator of people who make change successfully in their lives is that they start before they feel ready–they dive in before it seems right. And it’s true in my own life: I long delayed signing up for Yoga Teacher Training because I thought I had to be better before I could start (some idea in my mind told me that I needed to be “a great yogi” before I could indulge in deeper learning). And then I realized that I was putting up the same barrier: I didn’t need to wait for the perfect time to improve myself and learn something new. So I signed up to take my first deeper dive into Yoga Teacher Training. You don’t have to wait to get better. You can begin your journey exactly where you are.

It’s been an incredible year of change for me, and the year isn’t over yet. As I transition from traditional employment to building my own practice and business, developing my own patterns, and investing in my own journey, I have quite a bit to discover as I grow.

Getting better starts now.

What are you letting go of this Fall? What are you starting? How are you editing your journey and building your life?

With strength during all times of transition,

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Morning and Evening Meditations and Reflections: Two Books I Love Opening, Any Time, Any Page

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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What are you filling your mind with? What are you musing upon, reflecting on, what things are you considering today?

Sometimes when I get wrapped up in the throes of launching a new project, or just simply taking on too many projects, I don’t quite find I have enough time to sit leisurely and read an entire book. (This is something that I’d love to change, of course–but all in good time).

Lately I’ve started the habit of keeping two books by my bed that I love and opening them up to a random page to read as meditations before bed. No matter how busy the day, or how late I work, I don’t want to go to bed dreaming of work emails and screens and just re-playing the scenes of the day. And rather than beat myself up for not having time to read an entire book, I like to find books that are easy to just read a page or two of; something that will help me get into a sleep mindset.

There’s also importance in being careful what you “feed” yourself before bed, or what you put into your brain. I’ve noticed on the nights I stay up late watching trashy reality television, sometimes these characters will permeate my dreams, and I find myself ruminating obsessively in my dreams over details on the latest bachelorette episode (and I can’t stand to think that I spent my night considering this)–so I’m opting for a new strategy. Instead, I’ve started feeding myself these two favorites–just a page at a time:

A Return To Love, by Marianne Williamson

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate; our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure…”

“Achievement doesn’t come from what we do, but from who we are. Our worldly power results from our personal power. Our career is an extension of our personality.”

“The universe will always support our integrity.”

“Having money means we have more money with which to employ other people and heal the world.”

Reflections on the Art of Living, A Joseph Campbell Companion

Selected and Edited by Diane K. Osbon

“The privilege of a lifetime is being you who are. The goal of the hero trip down to the jewel point is to find those levels in the psyche that open, open, open and finally open to the mystery of your Self being Buddha consciousness or the Christ. That’s the journey.”

“Fear of your power is what commits you to the lower system.”

“Ritual introduces you to the meaning of what’s going on.”

What do you read to put in your mind? Or rather, what are you currently filling your mind with? I love books for reflection, contemplation, ritual, and meditation–so if you have a recommendation, let me know!

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Start where you are.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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Where are you?

Just a few weeks ago: I’m sitting on the floor of an empty studio, barefoot, with not a piece of furniture in it. Boxes line the hallways and two giant moving trucks are parked out in the street. Every so often our dogs bark, whining about being pent up in the back. I’m helping my Dad move two states away, and the entire house has been up-ended. We’re sleeping on the carpet floor for two nights without beds. I have a radio interview scheduled and I’ve hidden in the bathroom to talk from my laptop to make this happen because their are painters next door.

Right now, we’re in limbo.

I ask if we can not use Skype video–as video is probably not the best medium at the moment, although I’m happy to talk — and right at the beginning, our interview accidentally goes to video. I laugh, and I tell my story: “Well, you caught me! I’m sitting on a floor right now, chatting at you while all the furniture is being taken out of my house … mind if we switch to audio only? Otherwise you’ll have me sitting on a floor in my yoga pants!” 

Right now, right here.

Let’s stop imagining the pretend perfect circumstances that might have maybe led to the possibility of your wildest dreams, and get real about the fact they haven’t happened yet. You are here. You are what you are.

Start where you are. Right here. Right now.

This is where the magic happens.

When you’re tired, worn out, flabbergasted, stressed out. You get up, you park yourself in the corner of the room, you duct-tape fabric ver the window to stop the glare, you polish your lips and you record that video interview anyways, even if you think the whole world behind you is falling apart. Do it in style. Make it happen.

Often all the things that aren’t right aren’t really problems–they are just crutches. “Well, I’ll do it once I have furniture in my house again. I’ll do it when I’m not so tired. I’ll do it when I’m feeling better. I’ll do it …”

Nope, sorry. This is it. Today.

I know very few stories of people who got set up in ideal circumstances and then made the magic happen. Rather, it’s about making the magic happen in any circumstance. (That’s true magic, right there).

Because if you can’t make it happen NOW… when will you?

Start where you are.

sarah signature

Just One

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

What would just one of something look like?

Not a diversity of items, but a simplicity of things. A specificity, a selection, and a deliberate choice between several?

Not three workout programs, but just one workout program.
Not seven yoga mats or towels, but just one.
Not eight new dresses or blouses, but just one. Your favorite one.
Not two sets of bedding, but just one.
Not four new books, but just one.
Not three bedrooms, but just one bedroom.
Not two cars, but just one car.
Instead of two sets of tablewear, just one set.
Instead of eight dreams, just one dream to work on.

Sometimes I get caught in the trap of needing more. I have a brown pair of boots, but now I need a black one. I have a black pair, but now I need a tan one. And I need a pair of rain boots. Four pairs of boots? Do I need four pairs of boots?

What would just one look like?

[Or none at all?]