Tag: reflection

A 4-Step Guided Framework for Journaling and Gaining Immediate Clarity

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

How I used Think Clearly’s Clarity Cards to inspire wisdom and peace at the end of my pregnancy. I wrote this out when I was eight months pregnant, and it helped tremendously.

Writing things down helps me understand things better.

As a nine-month pregnant lady living on stitched-together patches of sleep, planning for new motherhood, and wrapping up my many projects in startup land, finding time to write (and write coherently) is becoming an increasing struggle.

Suffice it to say, my book writing has gone a little bit haywire.

Instead, I journal as often as I could, whenever I can.

Sometimes it’s at 3 AM in the morning if the baby kicks me awake (or gives me one of those yelp-inducing punches to the bladder), sometimes it’s late at night to get me to go to sleep, and more often than not, it comes out in scribble notes in my iPhone while on the way in and out of the city on Manhattan’s clunky old C-train.

Pregnancy is both never-ending, and over so suddenly, so I want to write about it and capture it while I can.

(And if you’re only having one or two kids, you’re only pregnant for so long: and then you’re not. Maybe ever again.)

I want to understand it. I want to catalog it. I want to explain it, tell the stories of pregnancy.

Yet understanding pregnancy and being pregnant are so monumental. What does it mean? How does it feel? Who am I, and how is that changing?

So I used the Clarity Cards to spend 12 minutes journaling about pregnancy, and surprised myself with how quickly I charted out thoughtful ideas, insights, and clear perspectives on being pregnant.

A guided framework for journaling and gaining clarity

The deck of cards was surprisingly simple to use.

It walks you through four steps.

For each step, you take 2–3 minutes to write down as much as you can. You can go longer if you’d like, or keep it short and simple. The first step is the simplest, and by getting your pen onto paper quickly, it makes the process easier. Much like Julia Cameron writes about in The Artist’s Way, just getting pen on paper and making a list can be an extraordinary way to dive into your mind.

Here’s how I did it:

Prep: Grab some pages to write on.

I have a Moleskine I love using, and so I cleared fresh sheets and got out a teal blue pen to write with, because that sounded like fun. Make sure you’re not distracted (I prefer a Moleskine or loose paper on a desk without any other items on it — no computer, phone, or other distractions. Yes, take off your Apple Watch!). Have a timer ready.

Next: Choose a topic or area of focus.

Choose a topic or a subject. I suppose you could just let something tumble out, or try to define a problem. For my sake, and as the example in this essay, I chose “Pregnancy” as the topic, because I was struggling to understand it, and these prompts helped me unpack it.

I then stacked the four sets of cards out face-down in front of me in four piles, and started a timer.

Step 1: The Facts

The first set of prompts is related to “the facts.” I pulled my first card, and it simply said, “What are the facts?”

I began by making a simple list.

I am pregnant. I have swollen and sore feet. I am doing Mathias’ Clarity Cards. I’m in the 9th month. I weight X pounds… (and more, but I won’t tell you all the details right now).

I pulled another card and continued listing. The prompts said things like “What is going on?” and “What is happening?”

My observations: It was easy to begin with a simple list of what the facts are. Even just the act of writing “I am pregnant” somehow makes it seem more real. I know, of course, that I’ve got a watermelon belly and I’m waddling around the city peeing at every coffee shop I can find, but still — it helps to list out all of the pieces of this puzzle, no matter how obvious.

The act of list-making can be profoundly useful as an instrument for getting inside of your own mind and beginning the process of journaling. Never underestimate the power of making lists.

Step 2: Feelings

The second set of prompts asks you to write down how you feel about the situation. Prompts included questions like “What gives you energy?” and “What are you sad about?” and other guided questions to help you understand how you feel about the situation.

Again, I spent a quick 2–3 minutes on the next clean page in my Moleskine journal to jot down as much as I could. I spent about a minute per card and wrote whatever came to mind first.

Observations: It was wonderful to parse out facts versus feelings. It’s one thing to be pregnant (fact), and it’s a completely separate thing to have a set of feelings about it (excited! happy! scared! kind of in shock!). My list included things like “I feel like a beached whale,” and “My stomach is really tender in the center,” and “I feel much more vulnerable and in need of protection than my normal, ambitious, athletic self.” It went from physical feelings to deeper emotional layers, like “I feel like my identity is transforming,” and “there are parts of me that are changing so quickly, it’s hard to get used to.”

It can be difficult to separate out feelings and facts, and this was an easy way to do it. In addition, the act of taking time to focus just on feelings let a lot of them tumble out. If you’re not used to talking about your feelings, having a guided set of cards prompt you through it can help you find awareness.

Step 3: Insights

The third set of questions asks you to probe a bit further. What are you learning, deducing, and understanding? How are you interpreting these facts and feelings? What insights have you gained? This step takes you from observation to analysis.

I stumbled a bit here, because the first question was “What insights have you gained?” and I felt myself think dismissively, “Um, none.”

So I began this third step the way the whole process began, which was: simply.

My first insight? “Drinking a lot of water helps the headaches go away.”

From there, it became easier to write out insights, and because I was writing quickly, it was almost startling how fast I dug into deeper insights. Once I started, it was like they were ready to come tumbling out of me. “Rest yourself as often as you recharge your iPhone, if not more,” and “It’s your own learning process and your own journey, unique to you,” and “Take time to reconcile external readings and advice with your own internal wisdom,” all made it onto my list of insights about the experience of pregnancy.

Yes, this.

Gosh I felt smarter just writing it down. Nodding my head. It was like the wisdom was there all along, but I hadn’t had a clear way of seeing it.

Intuitively, I know that each of these things are true, but the act of writing them down made them stronger, more powerful. They reminded me how important they are. They clarified, for me, what insights I have at my fingertips, if I’m willing to sit for a few minutes and record, reflect, and listen.

Step 4: Actions

The fourth and final section is about creating a set of actions that you’re going to take. What can you do with what you’ve observed, noticed, and felt? What steps can you take next?

At first, I was confounded. What “actions” do I take with “pregnancy”? There was a list I could draw up quickly, like “pack your hospital bag, set up an email auto-reply, stock your freezer with food,” but those seemed like just another list of tasks and errands. I could make a to-do list in my sleep; how could I apply this more broadly to a reflective session focused on the holistic concept of “pregnancy” and everything that it entailed?

Then the ideas that came forward seemed both obvious and silly. I wrote them down:

Decisions to be made:
— It’s okay for the baby to come.
— We are ready.
— This will be great.
— We can handle this.

What am I going to do?
— Give birth.
— Become a mom.
— Work hard during labor and delivery!
— Rest fully and recover well.

What is the next step?
— Rest. Allow. Enjoy. Be.

And Exhale.

The power of putting words to paper continues to astound me. Twelve minutes of writing and journaling later, and there’s a renewed sense of calm about the transition that’s coming up ahead of us.

Recognizing that then, at the end of my pregnancy, I was getting ready to meet my little boy and bring him into the world — this makes me tear up. And it’s okay. The next things to do are to be here, in the moment. And to decide: decide that it’s okay, that we’re ready, and that it’s time. And to rest, allowing the process to unfold. I have a bit of work ahead of me as I achieve the physical feat of pushing a new human out into the big world ahead, and I think it’s going to be great. I can’t wait.

What Questions Are You Asking? (Three Questions For Reconnection)

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

We are the questions we ask.

We are the way we inquire, curiously, about the world we work in.

As I was going through what was (for me), a difficult pregnancy, I looked to my partner and asked, time and time again:

“How do I make it through this?” 

It’s hard to believe now, but there were moments when I didn’t know whether it was worth it. I can go back and tell myself clearly now that yes, it’s absolutely worth it.

But then? Then, it was so hard.

How could I connect what I was doing in my body, what I was feeling, to what was coming ahead of me? 

And in his own frustration, he asked me,

“Well is there anything that you ARE excited about?” 

I realized that some of the worry, the stress, and the negativity — it was consuming me. It was becoming always. Everywhere.

We paused.

And began a simple ritual. A pattern of questions, each night, to help guide our minds towards the positive reflection, even amidst the challenges of near-constant vomiting.

#1: What was the best part of your day?

We whispered the questions to each other at night, just before drifting off into dreamland.

I’d have my pillows piled high under my knees and thighs, a body pillow wrapped around me to prop me up.

What are the moments that went right? What were the good pieces and the good bits?

And we’d look. We’d look hard, we’d look slowly, we’d find, we’d savor, we’d discover. Amidst the pain of it all, we’d find something. A sliver, a thread, a joy. 

#2: What are you grateful for?

We’d make a list of things that we were grateful for. 

I’m grateful that my body is working. I’m grateful that this is all working. I’m grateful that you’re here, even if I’m vomiting, and we get to clean up this mess together. I’m grateful I have a job.

Hope lifted upwards, wrapping me in its hug.

#3 What are you looking forward to about this?

In this case, “this” was the future arrival of our baby boy. Each night, we’d mention something we were looking forward to. Something in our hopes and dreams about this baby we were making.

This baby that was taking my energy, my body, my shape, my memory, my sleep. 

I’m looking forward to hearing him cry for the first time.

I’m looking forward to taking him on bike rides.

I can’t wait to hold his hand and feel his tiny fingers and toes.

I’m looking forward to discovering how he sees the world.

Through these questions of reflection, we’d connect.

We’d connect over our journey into becoming new parents. He would tell me about what he was scared of, what he was hopeful for, what he was imagining in the future.

We’d whisper it together in bed, holding hands, passing out like rockstar adults in the wee hours at 7 PM or 8 PM, on a lucky day.

Three questions to reflect

In the most challenging of times, try these on for size:

  • What was the best part of your day?
  • What are you grateful for?
  • What are you looking forward to {about X}? 

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Want to hear more about the journey of being pregnant while working at a startup? I’m writing a new book and opening a new project to talk about growing businesses, growing babies, and being a mama in the working world. Find out more at www.startuppregnant.com.

How Do You Feel Before, During, and After?

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Today I want to share with you about a way to connect inwardly, with yourself. 

But first, a quick story.

I work with coaches. A lot of coaches. I’ve worked with college coaches, swim coaches, book coaches, life coaches… you name it, I like doing it. 

One of my most recent coaches has worked with me on deep, sticky, messy problems, and he consistently challenges me to level up in terms of how I grow. And how I even think about growth in the first place.

Suffice it to say, before our sessions, I start to get really anxious.

I don’t want to meet with him today.

I get a little panicky. I get frustrated. I yell (sometimes). 

“Maybe I’ll just quit coaching,” I tell my husband in a panic. brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

He laughs at me. Kindly, though. Because I do this every single time.

Right before our sessions together, I start to get frustrated and nervous. I don’t always want to dig into the stuff that needs work.brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

And then we meet. And we dissect, analyze, and talk through the puzzles that are presenting themselves in my life at the moment. Sometimes I cry.brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

And afterwards? brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

Afterwards feels amazing. brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

Afterwards I am so grateful, and so thankful. brings a lot of stuff up for me about how I learn, grow 

We unpack the stories, the narratives, the ideas, the messiness of mind, and we think about how it all layers together. And there’s relief, and freedom, and … joy. Joy in being human, in being alive, in being messy, in being like a playful little kid, experimenting, growing, and trying things out.

And my husband, he reminds me to remember that how I feel before is not the same as how I feel during, which is not the same as how I feel after.

When you’re feeling sticky or icky, or if you’re in a moment of decision-making, consider all of the layers of the feelings.

  • How do you feel before?
  • How do you feel during? 
  • How do you feel afterwards?

What you feel matters. It’s important to notice all of the feelings, not just some of them.

 

Slowing down to connect across the world: two sisters, reconnecting. {Guest reflections by Easkey and Beckey-Finn Britton}

Posted on by Sarah K Peck
Easkey Tree Hugging
 

You immediately inspired me to have a ‘slow morning’ – get my body moving with some gentle, nourishing stretches and movements (from Dad’s routine!), make French press coffee and sit on the deck in the morning sun thinking nothing at all. Spying some wild blueberries on a nearby bush and foraging for my breakfast… Hope you get in the sea. I walked barefoot today, too.

– Easkey, October 2014

I was grateful my big sister, Easkey, decided she wanted to do this with me out of all the people in her world. For the first time in a long while I saw things for what they were, an amazing chance to connect with a sister whose path in life zigzags all over the world, exploring every nook and cranny, while mine follows the river, always flowing forward, always at home within itself. It was a chance that could not be missed. – Beckey-Finn, October 2014

Quiet whispers of intuition: seedlings, writings, and an idea.

It was hushed and quiet during the late Fall of 2013 in brownstone Brooklyn; the outside world was damp and leaf-strewn. I curled up at my writing desk inside my new apartment, warm yellow lights casting into the early darkness each afternoon as I carved out a new routine in a brand-new city. That night, I scribbled down a few ideas for a series I wanted to create.

Grace… and openness, I sketched. Movement and being. Presence. Gratitude. I jotted down some notes, catching ideas into my moleskine. Practices that move your body, open your mind, encourage you to reflect, connect, nourish. A series of letters, or emails. Something to connect us. Something deeper than just writing. And I love writing.

But could I do that by email?

And would anyone want it?

Quiet whispers of intuition don’t come stomping and shouting into my life.

They come briefly, a light wind, a stretch here and there, an idea that pops into mind while I’m journaling. It’s as though my adult self turns around in my chair to see a five-year old’s whimsy and curious eyes, asking me to come and play. If I shut it out, it runs away.

Our intuition doesn’t shout at us until we’ve really misbehaved.

Luckily, I listened.

I scratched and scrawled, wrote and edited, and made a new adventure — a two-week guided journey, a series of stories delivered from me to you, virtually, in this magical process that the internet lets us have.

Into my journals went the story of what I was making. Out onto the screen came an email. I pressed publish, that tantalizing blue button that still scares me, and went to sleep.

That week, people responded to my whisper. In fact, it was the highest course enrollment I’d ever had, and for a program I still didn’t quite understand.

We all took a breath and jumped in.

This was the Fall of 2013.

ISW_HEADER_Gratitude and Grace

Grace and Gratitude: A Journey Inwards

It’s been a year since I launched the first series, and in the space in between, thousands of emails have been quietly delivered to inboxes around the world with prompts to pause, stretch, listen, and weed out space in your life and mind. I follow the journeys and the progress through email letters, instagram photos, and I even get to form new friendships with lovely souls who join in and understand what I’m trying to do.

Over the course of the last twelve months, I’ve heard beautiful stories from hundreds of people around the world. “Thank you,” they share with me. “This is exactly what I needed.” One woman wrote in to tell me that on the last day of the course, she conceived — after several years of infertility.

In the journey, I ask people to soften to their inner heart, to listen to their spirit whispers, and to find happiness in the life they have all around them. Sometimes, we just need a new frame with which to see.

And today, two sisters (and friends of mine) shared with me the journey they took together, last Fall, on their own Grace and Gratitude journey. I’ve opened up my blog to them as a guest series and a window into the power of gratitude. They’ve inspired me so much, and I hope their stories inspire you as well.

Meet Beckey-Finn and Easkey Britton: Two sisters who decided to share a journey together to experience gratitude, open to grace, and reconnect to each other. They’ve both written their stories — here’s what can happen when you open your heart.

Easkey and Beckey

Two sisters. One journey, one moment at a time.
Part 1: By Easkey Britton

Dear Beckey-Finn: I don’t want or need anyone to tell me it will be alright (because I know it will) but I feel shit and want to be ok with that for a little while… until it passes. I realise it is so much easier to have gratitude when we feel happy and so much easier to have self-pity/loathing when we feel down. I look forward to looking inward with a fresh start tomorrow (I thought today would be my fresh start but it didn’t happen) with gratitude for all that I am. For now I’m Easkey – tired, sore and a little sad. Already feel better having shared this with you!
— Easkey, March 2014-11-04

It’s been a year of grace and gratitude, a journey shared with my little sister, Beckey-Finn.

I live a nomadic lifestyle that takes me far from home throughout the year, and it sometimes makes sustaining and nurturing a meaningful connection with those I love most challenging, especially family.

We know they aren’t going to abandon us, we will remain sisters for life and yet it is too easy to take that bond for granted. I didn’t want us to drift apart, I wanted to find a way to share with her those parts of my life that only a sister could understand, even if we couldn’t be together all the time and instead of feeling there would never be enough time to catch up on all the important things we were facing and going through in life.

Sarah’s Grace and Gratitude course offered the perfect opportunity for us to reconnect and by sharing the journey, make it stronger for both of us. Ideally we ‘d do this in person, create a lovely space, wrap up together on a sofa, candles lit, other times it is by Skype or email writing our thoughts – giving and receiving. It is a practice that has strengthened our bond beyond imagining. With my restless, nomadic existence and her home-grown life, instead of drifting further apart we are closer than ever. It hasn’t always been a smooth ride but we hold each other accountable, finding the yin to our yang.

My Grace and Gratitude practice has been an expansive heart opening process. A kind of release brought about through powerful, and sometimes painful, letting go.

“Weeding out the weeds” – the practice of letting go of what no longer serves me – has left space to cultivate a practice of simple, creative habits and a safe space for those monthly check-ins with my sister.

It has allowed me to slowly begin to live with greater honesty that comes from truly listening to ourselves, each other and the world around us.

There have been many times I’ve felt on the edge of being broken but instead of pushing harder or becoming consumed by the need to control the outcome, our Grace and Gratitude practice has reminded me the power of process: the process of being kind to myself and giving myself permission to feel however I feel and be ok with that, to just sit with it and breathe a while. 

Sometimes my Grace and Gratitude practice is more subtle and less explicit.

Grace is more subtle, but equally powerful — if not more so. I understand it as a dynamic dance.

It’s about getting grounded, presence, conscious mindfulness, an exercise in Be Here Now… my mantra became ‘make space for grace’ by weeding, de-cluttering, clearing, literally and figuratively.

Space to let go, grow and for creativity to flourish.

One of the practices asks you, “what will you do to listen to your heart?” It became okay to stop doing what I’ve always done if it no longer served me, no longer lit me up deep inside. I discovered I didn’t have to stop to be still but could find my stillness in movement, or as Nithya Shanti so beautifully described it, “be steady in movement and discern flow in stillness.”

My Grace & Gratitude practice has taught me how to be kinder to myself and to give thanks for my gifts – where I’ve come from and all that I’ve already don’t. Before I rush to the next big thing, my Grace & Gratitude sessions with my sister remind me to reflect, to look at where I want to go. And to know that I am already enough.

Easkey Power Pose

Some of my favourite G&G practices:

My ‘G&G power pose’: being grounded is very important to me because I’m so often full of ideas, facing forward, restless and constantly moving, living an unpredictable lifestyle.

Being in nature or connected to my environment is hugely important for me and makes me come alive. Gratitude has taught me the importance of making time for play and wonder.

So I like to be in the elements and feel the world around me through all my senses. I drink in the horizon, close my eyes and feel how the wind brushes my cheeks or the sun gently kisses the back of my neck. To feel the solidness of the earth beneath my feet, or better yet to go barefoot and dip my feet in the sea or wriggle my toes in the grass and stretch my fingertips skywards like a universal embrace. It teaches you how to live wholeheartedly in each moment.

My gratitude prayer: Before I go to sleep I name the one thing I’m most grateful for that day, the one thing that surprised me, and the one thing that touched my heart.

When we started last year we both reflected on what grace and gratitude meant for us:

It’s important to share gratitude. Grace is that feeling you get when you’re in sync with something. My grace is being able to take life, not necessarily in my stride, but with a clear mind and desire to be in that moment. It’s opening up to the universe and allowing it to shower you in whatever it has to offer and give.What surprised me is how many things I’m grateful for that I didn’t even acknowledge or think about or realise!

— Beckey-Finn, December 2013

I think vulnerability and humility are the sister and brother of grace and gratitude. Grace is not turning a blind eye to what we have the power to change. Grace is acceptance, surrender and letting go… it’s knowing when to say no thank you so you can say yes tomorrow…grace is being open to change, to the unknown, embracing uncertainty, honouring our humility and vulnerability. Openness. Space. Standing tall. Moving from the core but with fluidity. Smiling.

— Easkey, December 2013

Going forward, I want to keep working on practicing ‘creative habits’, to explore and learn more about mindfulness (or blue-mind-fulness, how to incorporate my experiences and insights from the sea and surf to better understand myself and others) and to listen better to myself and others. 

I’m a water dancer and a wave maker.

A seeker and explorer.

Freedom and passion are the code I live by.

Grace and gratitude are my compass.

I’m so happy for your transformation, guidance and opportunity to share with you Beckey-Finn.

Love and gratitude,
Your big sister
Easkey

A sister-sister journey of grace and gratitude
Part 2: Beckey-Finn

It all started with a bit of a random email from my big sis asking if I wanted to take part in the Grace and Gratitude course. My initial thoughts were a lot of ‘ehhhhhh… huh?! Sounds a bit weird!’

But it was right at this moment that my Grace and Gratitude journey really started. I was graceful in opening myself up to the experience instead of shying away. I was grateful my big sister, Easkey, decided she wanted to do this with me out of all the people in her world.

For the first time in a long while I saw things for what they were, an amazing chance to connect with a sister whose path in life zigzags all over the world exploring every nook and cranny while mine follows the river, always flowing forward, always at home within itself.

It was a chance that could not be missed. 

My Grace & Gratitude practice has been a journey to the expanse of the ocean. It has opened me to moving with the rapids, twists and turns of my path while still maintaining the laid back flow of who I am (the trick is to dive in deep where it’s calmest).

For me, it is a journey that happens beneath the surface of who I am, beneath the day to day of my life, something that has become a part of me.

Being a journey it has been easy, tough and everything in between for both of us but meeting each other in whatever way we can on the first Sunday of every month gives us the space to really reflect on the month gone and the month to come. This is important to me, as I am a very reflective person but now have less time in my life for it. So, I always know that I will have that space at least once a month with someone I can trust absolutely and completely with my heart and soul. 

What is most incredible about our monthly Grace & Gratitude practice is that we are forever finding what we need in these moments within each other. I have learnt to live more dynamically, dancing with grace, accepting the opportunities that present themselves even if they take up my time, which is second nature to Easkey. And she has learnt to stop, breathe in gratitude during the pauses that present themselves in her busy life instead of filling them which is very me. I realise more and more we bring out the best in each other and have become a great support for each other where there never seemed to be enough time and space to do so before.

You immediately inspired me to have a ‘slow morning’ – get my body moving with some gentle, nourishing stretches and movements (from Dad’s routine!), make French press coffee and sit on the deck in the morning sun thinking nothing at all. Spying some wild blueberries on a nearby bush and foraging for my breakfast… Hope you get in the sea. I walked barefoot today too. — Easkey, October 2014

By continuing to practice Grace & Gratitude we have realise that there are these themes in our lives that we struggle with. For me it is time and for my big sister it is space. By having grace and gratitude practices, and creating this time and space for each other, we have learnt to harmonise better with these themes. Working with them instead of fighting them.

Life Pie

Some of my favourite G&G practices:

Creative/body moments: I take little moments out of my workday to doodle on my doodle wall or to do some stretches on my yoga mat (usually with my cat, Fin, joining in). Taking that moment to be graceful in a little bit of play and give some gratitude to my body.

100 happy days: This was a challenge I decided to do when I first started my business in January this year, taking a picture of something that made me happy or grateful that day. It has made me far more aware of all the small things I am grateful for in my day to day that got overlooked before Grace & Gratitude. I spot these things all the time now.

It is so important for me to continue to have this in my life. Every month it grows and I want to incorporate more active practices which Easkey is very good at such as the life pie and soul collaging.

Big sis, every practice and every chance we get to reflect makes me more and more grateful to have you as my sister! 

Big hugs,
Lil sis
Beckey-Finn

Beckey-Finn Britton is a filmmaker and longboarder from the North West coast of Ireland. She hails from the Britton surfing family in Donegal where life evolves around the sea. She works as a Creative digital Media Consultant at her own business, Bexter Productions, and has recently started working with coastal environmental organisation, Clean Coasts, as their digital media and community engagement officer.

Easkey Britton is an internationally renowned professional surfer, artist, scientist and explorer from Ireland, with a PhD in Environment and Society. Her parents taught her to surf when she was four years old and her life has revolved around surfing ever since. She is co-founder of the non-profit Waves of Freedom which uses the power of surfing as a creative medium for social change.

Why quitting is perfectly okay.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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It’s always the same story for me: I start a project, a class, an idea, or a story. I eagerly rush in, align my pencils, lay out my notebooks, and make delirious plans in my calendar. That first day, ideas and dreams pour out of me.

Then four days pass. I waver, tired. My calendar seems oppressive. The new habit loses its stickiness against the watery pulse of time and circumstance.

I lose another day, a week, and slip behind.

Last Spring, I started Hannah Marcotti’s beautiful Spirits of Joy and did ten days of paper crafting, collage making, glue bending. The drawing ignited in me a new set of doodles; the ripped paper and tacky glue nudged the sleepy muse inside of me.

And I ran from the class to my journals, getting lost inside of my own writing project. The crafts lay quietly on my desk for the next three weeks.

I used to beat myself up for not finishing things. Like the fits that “Crazy Eyes” has in Orange is the New Black, I’d cringe and mentally beat myself up each time I found another project laying around the house, paused or half-done.

It was a pattern so familiar, I started to observe it.

What was happening? Why was I quitting?

Life happened.

Things got hard, they got rough: deadlines built up. Real work pulled me in. The need to take a run and take care of my body surfaced. The competing pulls of attention and focus and deadlines wrapped me in their compelling arms.

But something else was happening, too. Ten days of paper-crafting with a beautiful spirit course led me to building an entirely new online program of my own.

Skimming the lessons in a business-building mastermind opened up a new way of creating sales pages. Reading half of a book propelled me into my next project.

And then it hit me: what if I was getting exactly what I needed?

What if I was getting exactly what I needed? These courses and events served as inspiration for my soul, and my soul nudged me when it was time to begin working.

Like a creative coach blowing the whistle, she stood on the sidelines while I soaked in knowledge until they stepped in and said, “Okay, Sarah, go make that thing. You heard the whisper. Now make.”

What if my ego was the only part of me that really cared about finishing?

You don’t have to do everything to get something out of it.

Twelve half-finished books is still reading six full books. (Many books are inflated lengths anyways and should be shorter). Some things are meant to be finished. And some things don’t need to be finished.

You don’t have to finish your meal. (In fact, not finishing might be better for you). Or your art project. Or the class you signed up for after you get exactly what you need out of it.

We think we know what we need in advance.

The more I plan in advance and then later watch my life take shape completely differently than my plans, the more I realize that planning ahead can be a flimsy wish at best.

It gets our foot in the door. We often underestimate how much time things take, or assume we know all the steps we’ll take before we get started.

You can pause. You can wait. You can enjoy the space.

You can quit.

You are allowed to leave things half-finished and undone. You can walk away.

Writers who join my programs always fall down. This is life, it happens: we get sick, we get tired, we have late nights. Instead of beating yourself up, I remind them to build in “life” days.

Want to blog? Make a plan to do it weekly, with a free pass to skip one week a month for when life gets a bit frenetic.

No one said you have to get 100% done and be perfect to enjoy the fruits of your progress. In fact, if you write two essays, that’s more than zero.

Somewhere in the quest for perfect, we forget to acknowledge that something is better than nothing.

An apple is better than no apple. A walk is better than sitting. Sometimes, some days, I say to myself, just walk around the block. Just write a little story. Just make a couple of lists.

And here’s the secret grace: when you let go, you make space to return.

When I feel the pull again, I get that half-finished notebook of Hannah’s off my shelf. I collect magazines and glue, snippets and scraps, words and graphite. I work into the late evening, wine by my side, lost in messy piles.

My book, a 30-day project, might take me 180 days. I may never finish. What I need is not a 30-day check mark of completion, but the grace to return to crafting whenever my soul calls for it.

And what if, instead of a routine, you let yourself come back in?

I always hear new writers tell me stories about giving up after failing to stick to a routine (the same is true for people beginning a new exercise routine).

But what if, instead of betting yourself against a routine, failing, and then quitting — instead you took a breath on the off days and let yourself come back in?

Like writing morning pages to warm up for writing, the little movements are what bring us back in to our greater works. The biggest dreams are sometimes the hardest to start.

It’s hard to feel progress in the tiniest of moments, but it’s not about the goal. We can’t fathom the experience in its entirety. The peak is a representation of the work, a moment.

By letting go of the deadline, the need for perfection, my ego’s need to complete everything I’ve started, I allow myself the space to come back in.

Because it’s always about making.

Come back in.

Come back in. Whenever you want.

Finding the little bliss(es): this is it.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Where is happiness? Where do you find it?

The $7 coffee pot we bought the day we moved in together–because we knew that functioning properly as a team might require adequate dosages of caffeine in our morning routines.

Stretching my toes against the curb while waiting for the light to change.

High-fiving the blinking walk sign’s red hand, just because I want to jump up and smack something.

The strange satisfaction from deconstructing cardboard boxes and stacking them neatly in the recycling pile—and the way the open-faced scissors run against the tape and snap—split!—open the box.

Running my hands under hot water with basil-lemon fragrance, and then doing it again just because I enjoy the feeling and the scent. Cooking food in a pot and stirring it, without doing anything else. No phone, no thoughts, just delighting in the tomatoes. Watching the skin of the tomatoes shrink, shrivel and curl under the heat, and the center seeds ooze out into a sauce.

Sunlight streaming in through a window and running over like a cat (what? run? I mean strolling deliberately without a care in the world) towards the sunny spot, closing my eyes for a few moments. Yes, a catnap…

The sun shifts. Back to work.

Squeaky chairs and creaky old apartment doors and fixing the whines with magical cans of WD-40 (that stuff is amazing).

This is it, isn’t it? These are the little blisses.

These are the moments that are worth it. These are the parts and pieces. [tweetable hashtag=”#happiness @sarahkpeck”]Happiness isn’t a victory, a destination, or an achievement.[/tweetable] It’s not something I’ve won or owned; I’m not sure it’s something I can ever capture. But when I start to look around for it, it shows up in the smallest ways, in the minutiae of moments, in the collection of pieces I often forget.

Life isn’t felt in summation or as some frozen awkward final pose. It isn’t a grade, it isn’t a race, and it isn’t something you can buy. Life is a series of moments, and is experienced as that—a series of simple moments. Change is hard not because ideas are hard to have, but because mastering the little moments is tremendously challenging. It’s inside of the little moments that lies all of our life.

[tweetable hashtag=”#happiness #life #philosophy @sarahpeck]Life is a series of simple moments, one after the other.[/tweetable] Life is about finding the bliss in the moment right now.

Things like…

Licking envelopes closed and sealing them, addressing piles of cards and notes to send to faraway friends across the world. Writing positive postcards and telling your friends that you love them.

Calling people randomly because scheduling all of your phone calls becomes slightly neurotic. Catching up … just because.

Tape, and all of its goodness. Tape tape tape. The sound of tape as you say it. TAPE.

A do-it-yourself at-home sauna treatment after you’ve had a cold for a few days: sinking your head into a bucket of steam and eucalyptus oil and praying to the sinus gods to let you get better quickly.

A classroom full of some of the most intelligent, talented students you’ve ever met who all let you take a short break and even send you get-well messages when, like this week, you run headfirst into a cold and don’t know how to slow down.

Flying across the country to see my Grandpa and have him meet my man. Watching the two of them talk, and hearing stories of growing up hungry and skinny during the Depression. Him saving 10 cents and skipping lunch so he could spend that money on new chemicals for his chemistry set. Watching this smarty-pants have his eyes get wider as he looks at my mom and mock-whispers to her, “These here are some smart ones, aren’t they?” about the work that we’re doing in the world.

People who write back to my newsletters and posts, taking the time to share a part of their world (and their wonders and struggles) with me.

A seat opening up on the subway so you can sit down and sink into your book.

Dandelion Wine, by Ray Bradbury, and his reminder to feel the aliveness of being alive. ALIVE.

The kindness of strangers. Old people who still joke about love and sex. The beauty of medium-sized. New friends on Twitter. Honest conversations. Handwritten words on the internet. Hitting publish. Audacity and courage.

A small glass of wine on a Friday night, resting up. A glassy of bubbly lemon water with fresh ginger.

The little blisses.

What are your little blisses? What are the moments that make you pause, lift the corners of your mouth a bit, or crack up in a smile?

The Celebration Jar: An Alternative to Meaningless Gift-Giving

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I splurged and went shopping recently. Like, real shopping–whatever “real” means. (Isn’t the act of spending a day inside of a privately-owned mall slightly strange?)

I did things I hadn’t done in years. Wandered through big-box stores, large crowds, jingly Santa Clauses, screaming children, and wafting Cinnabon flavorings fuming into the crowded halls to make parents miserable. (I lasted about two hours– the smell and the onslaught of horrible stimulation gave me a headache within a few hours).

And I bought stuff. It was kind of delicious, scrumptious, and wonderful.

Warm winter jacket for New York? Check. It’s down, its fluffy, it’s got zippers, it’s got pockets, and it keeps me warm every day in this snowy season. Neon running outfit? Check. Running in the snow. Yes, yes, yes.  

While I’m not one for huge purchases or shopping–I’d rather scrounge in Goodwill for some third-hand shirts I can mend up and call my own– sometimes it’s nice to buy a thing or two.

But when is the right time to buy, and when is the right time to remember that you already have everything you need?   

1. For me, minimalism isn’t about restriction or restraint. It’s about freedom and joy.

It’s about not drowning in stuff—and knowing what you need. It’s about remembering that shopping isn’t the answer to your sadness, and that gifts don’t replace love.

One of my favorite quotes of all time reminds me of what I strive for:

Twitter-Bird Social_Media_Icons_CtrlAltDesign_V2-19“The antidote to consumerism isn’t minimalism–it’s art.”

So as you’re winding through your December journey into the advertising-laden world of spending and celebrating, consider how you’re spending and what you really intend behind your season of gifts. Is it made with love? Is it sent with love? And, if it’s coming into your house, is it ART?–is it something you will cherish, love, and adore? Then yes.

But it’s not even about gifts or things. One of my favorite ways to celebrate the holidays–beyond the delicious new coat that I got–is to remember what I already have that I love.

And, as a gift from me to you, here are ways I love thrifting–and putting a twist on–the season of gifts:

2. The celebration jar: wrapping up all your celebrations.

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We’ve been talking a lot about presents in my house, mostly because I’ve got so much stuff and I don’t need more of it–I need less of it. But I adore celebrating the seasons and celebrating each other. I also love gifting.

So we pulled out a jar–a vase. We wrapped a bow on it. I ripped up some old paper bags and we started scrawling things we’re happy for and grateful for. Each item gets its own note.

We fill up the jar for two weeks. We’ll open it on Christmas. (You can do this Christmas week, if you’d like, or pick a day to fill the jar and pick a day to empty the jar.

On our Christmas day, we’ll unwrap things we love–things like:

I love that you make the bed every morning.
My new warm jacket keeps me warm and toasty during New York winters.
Being able to see my family.
Morning snuggles on weekend days (and some weekdays, too!).
Knowing my neighbors.
A reading nook to read early in the mornings. 

What are you grateful for?

What can you celebrate this holiday–that you already own?

3. Things you can do and ways you can love–beyond traditional gifts: 

  • A card of all the things you love about someone.
  • A hand-written letter or gratitude card.
  • Date night and a home-cooked meal (also great for friends!).
  • Sauna night or gym night–pick a friday, go to the gym, soak in the baths, have conversations.
  • Movie night. Even cheesy or terrible movies.
  • Coupons or gift certificates for services, even of your own doing. (I used to give my mom coupon books for cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming the house all the time).
  • Books (see my list, below).
  • A reservation for a night away in a cabin for New Year’s.
  • A celebration ceremony with a gratitude jar.
  • A date for visioning, journaling, and planning during the new year.
  • A massage or a back rub for friends that are working hard.
  • A buddy yoga class–head there with your friend.
  • Donating food to those in need.
  • Spending time or volunteering at a homeless shelter
  • Volunteer for youth. (I’m donating time to my yoga studio’s Lineage Project–a volunteer project that serves incarcerated youth in New York City.

4. But gifting is fun! (You bet it is!) That’s why I also made a short list of alternative gifts for the loves on your list.

Gift-giving can also be wonderful. Want some great ideas for gifts? Here are my favorite ideas of things to get–if you’re a thing-getter. Perhaps an investment in your self, your soul, your brain, your body, or your well-being is the best way to go. Some ideas to fuel your inspiration:

  • The Desire Map by Danielle LaPorte: Start with the book ($22) and a workbook if you’re the kind of person who hates writing in books ($12). Grab a day planner if you’re feeling like you want to re-invent 2014. Write all. over. it. Dedicate January to revealing your feelings and starting the year with a bang.
  • The January Joy-Up with Hannah Marcotti ($29). A magic-making mastermind with daily collage and journal prompts. It’s $29. I’m already signed up and I’ve ordered a set of extra-large moleskines precisely for the act of visioning in January. I’m stacking up books, glue, and scissors (and a cutting mat!) so I can dream, dream, dream. I want to dream of speeches, books, essays, weird multi-media projects, business dreams, life dreams, and all of the other beautiful things we can manifest in our lives. Because thinking makes it possible.
  • The Joy Up Equation with Molly Mahar of Stratejoy ($149). This woman is gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. So many women I know are. I am grateful to the internet for connecting me to them. With her, you’ll listen to your soul, journal for a month, discover more of who you are, figure out what brings you joy. (Pick one of the above and get INTO it already! Your life is waiting!)
  • The Writer’s Workshop: The January Edition. (My course, of course!) Our third cycle starts January 13th. A four-week course with our own private community, video lessons, weekly writing assignments, and heaping doses of honesty and inspiration. The course is $400 if you register before December 28th–$500 for regular registration. Take a class as your holiday gift. (PSST: Watch for a wicked sale coming out Friday, December 20th.)
  • The Content Strategy Course: A new course I’m teaching this February 17th–how to develop content and storylines for thought-leaders. Jam-packed with marketing wizardry, communication templates, and ways to get your voice heard. It’s also $400 as early-bird registration ($500 regular). (OH: And I’m announcing some CRAZY discounts Friday for the rest of 2013 if you’ve been itching to take courses with me. Pay attention.)
  • The Holstee Reclaim Frame ($44) and Art Subscription or Mindful Living Calendar — a new card each month that you slide into the frame, pulling out the previous one as a reminder to send a note to someone. (A great way to practice gratitude!).
  • Inquiry Cards ($25). A new form of meditation–in the form of questions for you to ponder and consider. Great for spiritual healers, coaches, visionaries, or anyone with an inkling to look… inwards.
  • YOUR version of freedom–whatever that means to you. Maybe it means nothing, maybe it means something, maybe it means savings. It’s your money. You choose. Do what’s right for you. These are just ideas.

A note of love, too: spend money consciously. Choose wisely. Whenever I purchase something, I also plan for the amount of time I’m committing to doing the project. Sometimes I know I don’t have enough time, but I sign up anyways because I want the taste of a few days. Other times I’m gunning for financial freedom and bigger goals, so it’s “nope, not this time.”

Do what’s best for you.

The point isn’t about just having to give something (or get something). It’s about giving with love, nurturing yourself, and remembering the spirit of the holidays.

Choose wisely, spend lovingly.

5. And…I’ll probably never be minimalist about books:

You caught me. I love books so much. (This is my current Amazon Book Wish List, and yes, you can totally buy me a book — I’d be honored).

I’ve read several books this year and last year that have been absolutely phenomenal, and I’m working on a master list that you can reference. Right now, I’ll whittle it down to my favorites, a sneak peak:

Philosophy and Spirituality:

  • When Things Fall Apart
  • The Untethered Soul
  • The Gifts of Imperfection
  • The Four Desires

Business:

  • Jab Jab Jab Jab Right Hook
  • The Small Business LifeCycle
  • Body of Work
  • Leaders Eat Last
  • The Sketchnote Handbook
  • The Year Without Pants
  • Growth Hacker Marketing
  • 99U: Maximize Your Potential

Fiction (or Narrative Non-Fiction):

  • Cuckoo’s Calling
  • The Fault in Our Stars
  • The Glass Castle
  • Behind the Beautiful Forevers
  • The Longest Way Home
  • Bend, Not Break
  • Ender’s Game

See more of my book list here: Sarah’s big beautiful book list of joy.

5. Even though I’m fairly minimalist when it comes to some things–I still love everything about gifting, celebration, and surprises of kindness.

So, par for the course: free book giveaways for the holidays!

I love giving things away. Actually, I love giving YOU things. There’s surprise and delight in gifting and telling people that you have a present for them.

Here’s what I have this month to give away to three of YOU:

  • The Sketchnote Handbook, by Mike Rohde (print version).
  • The Untethered Soul, by Michael Singer (kindle version).
  • The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg (kindle version).

What should you do to win one of these books?

Leave a note in the comments–and do it by December 28th, midnight, EST. Tell me what you’re grateful for this holiday season. Surprise me.

With big holiday love,

sarah signature

 

 

 

 

The masks we wear–how we hide who we are.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

We all wear masks from time to time: in our words, our habits, and our practices. We have an arsenal of crutches and shortcuts that slowly but surely hide who we are. They are things that prop us up and help us hide. We hide from our feelings and our desires. We hide from who we might become.

We drink coffee as a mask for how tired we are, or to replace what is really a lack of motivation for a certain project we’re involved in.

It masks how tired you are of caring for a newborn infant, or how miserable your boss’s cutting remarks make you.

The alcohol that you drink at night masks the fear and the stress feel from not having control during your day. Perhaps it helps to cover up the loneliness of your cubicle or help you get  through another night.

We project false smiles of protection to hide our fears, to be desirable. We wear high heels and new clothes and carry certain bags and advertisements to show a sense of self, a projection, an idea. We use extroversion to be well liked. We chase busy to mask our fear of not leaving an impact.

We cover a lot of things up. Scars we carry, stories we hold, work we’re afraid of doing.

Our selves, deep inside.

It’s not always bad to have a mask…

It’s not terrible to have masks, but they can’t be our only way of dealing with the world. If we spend the entire time warding off the world and hiding from ourselves, we’ll miss the best parts. By hiding from the world, we hide ourselves, and we lose a piece of our souls.

Many of us have lost touch with ourselves, our souls, with the tender, tired, scared part of itself.

Here’s the catch…

Releasing a mask requires feeling. It requires having a real, honest, scary, less-than-desirable feeling. Letting go of your mask means you might need to say,

By golly, I’m tired.

And no, I don’t want to do this.

Or, I’m scared. I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared of doing a bad job. I’m worried that I won’t be liked. I’m worried that I might try and I won’t be good at it.

Letting the barrier down requires Guts. Honesty. Softness.

Looking at the impulse before we rush to snatch a cover, and breathing in recognition:

Your feelings are clues.

These feelings inside? They aren’t enemies. They are clues. Feelings are way points in an uncertain world, direction markers that guide us back into the brilliance of ourselves, if we’ll allow it. The trouble is it can be uncomfortable and downright painful. Feelings you haven’t had in years might surface to remind you of areas of internal work you still have to do.

And your masks were protection, once.

The masks aren’t all bad. Sometimes pulling down the mask and showing your face requires gentleness and slowness. Your mask might have served you at some point. A therapist in my yoga training reminded me that these coping mechanisms shouldn’t always be disarmed quickly. Children of abuse who learned how to harden and deaden their senses built masks in order to survive those times. These mechanisms and masks were useful–they helped you survive. They got you here. They protected. Unlocking them too quickly without new ways of being can also be damaging.

But at some point, perhaps you might notice you’re still wearing one.

What masks are you wearing?

What masks do you carry?

What do you hide?

Can you lower it for a bit?

With love,

sarah signature

 

 

Looking for a place of love and kindness? Join our upcoming Grace & Gratitude micro-workshop, a two-week journey to cultivate grace and gratitude in your life. Two weeks of daily stories and exercises designed to bring light, love, and joy into your life–one photograph, project, and quote at a time. Sign up here (or give as a gift this holiday). We begin December 1. 

The Bali journey: in photographs.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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I’m a little bit at a loss for words.

I’m back from Bali, landing back in the USA after a flight pulled me 13 hours backwards in time, depositing me into the winter hemisphere. While I was gone, our city decorated the streets of Brooklyn with holiday lights, and folks have pulled out their hats and gloves to stay warm.

And my mind is still on Bali time…

I’m back, but slowly–back onto the internet, back after nearly three weeks of detoxification; back having had time to rest, back after a long, winding, deep period of inner emotional and spiritual work. For ten days I left the world of coffee, wine, alcohol, sugar, meat, dairy, cooked food, work, the internet, and technology (exceptions: phone as camera and kindle book, and of course the things that are technology from other generations). Before I left, I had started building a course called “Gratitude and Grace,” a two week micro-workshop that begins December 1st. It’s clear now more than ever that this is an important and beautiful project, and I’m excited to be putting the details on it this coming week (as well as writing more, much more, about Bali). There will be many stories, and many adventures to follow. There will be an invitation to join me on the Gratitude and Grace journey.

In the winter I wake up, early to rise, early to greet the sun. Hello, world. 

And today, as I ease back into writing, to talking, and to the working world, I’ll start with photographs of the Bali journey. The photographs make it glossy, shiny, sweet and surreal, but they capture a glimpse. The real trip was raw, messy, emotional, deep, dark, and light. I’ll go inside of it in good time, and the reverberations are already present within every moment, every cell, every day.

I’ll carry this inside, outside, through the heightened awareness of how interconnected we all are. You and me, we’ve got the strum beat of the universe inside of us; we’re connected by the threaded pulses of our heartbeats. Everything I do touches you, and you me. The ocean breathes and sighs, swallows and crashes; it too, dances to the vibrations. Here we go…

With gratitude and thankfulness swelled up in my heart,

sarah signature

 

 

Arrival into Ubud:

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The skinny streets:

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My shared home for the retreat:

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Running through rice fields in the morning:

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Rice paddies:

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Another stunning morning sunrise with volcanoes in the distance:

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Every day, the rice fields changed–some cut down, some flooded, some grew–it was the same, but new:

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The infamous Bali dogs:

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Traveling up to Gunung Kawi temple, viewing the rice paddies:

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The jungle abounds:

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Gunung Kawi Temple:

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Water purification, bliss in the heat (and soul):

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Several of the lovely people who joined in this journey:

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Yoga, every day, often in the rice fields:

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More yoga, balanced between two (wet!) rice fields.

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The North coast (Tejakula)–the last two days there I spent quietly by the sea:

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Let yourself dance, let your voice speak. Sing, from the soul. Start with a whisper. Feel the sound of your breath and the touch of your body. You’re here, you’re supposed to be here. 

The trip was incredible. I’m so thankful. More soon.

The power of breath: why breathing happens before anything else.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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It’s not always easy to breathe.

Breathing—the intake of oxygen and the exhalation of carbon dioxide—is life’s essential force. It’s the first step our physical bodies take towards making all other actions possible, including thinking.

In swimming, the rhythm of breathing is essential: you only have a few opportunities to catch a breath; it’s about timing your intake with your arms, kicks, and rotation. Without air, you can’t work the water.

Breath happens before anything.

Out in the open water, in the waves of the ocean, with the salt water sprays and the swells that take over, sometimes I turn my face upwards and a wave slams me in the face. I close my mouth, pass by that opportunity, hold the air in my lungs, and try again on the next cycle. Sometimes it takes a few turns before I get to suck in some oxygen.

My relationship with breathing has always been tenuous: when I was eleven, I was diagnosed with asthma. I learned my lungs were restricting my airways—and it would jump on me like a sudden cold, onset in minutes, causing breathing to be painful.

I would hide my inhalers, because I didn’t want something that gave me a crutch or a reason that I couldn’t be as good as anyone else. I learned how to push my back open against a floor, to rub my lungs to clear them, and how to hold my breath to stop my body from panicking.

I also learned how to hold my breath for a really long time. Getting into the pool every day gave me an intimate familiarity with the ways my lungs worked.

Swimming actually taught me how to breathe again.

Today, three years later, I’ve become an open water swimmer, chasing longer distances with each ocean adventure I find. I will routinely be late to work or leave for long lunch hours just to spend those hours in the ocean, my friend, the place where my soul is restored.

I need to touch the water, to splash, and to feel the curve of a wave beneath my hands. I’ll grab a board, and float out to sea, heart and head against the board, listening and feeling the rhythm beneath my body. My breathing will inadvertently sync up with the ocean swells, and the anxiety of my digital, corporate life gets left ashore. I’ll get up early, earlier than the sun, wander down to the ocean, and get into the water just to tune my body back into the rhythm of the earth.

But I had to learn how.

Your breath: check in with yourself:

First, right now, as you’re sitting at the computer or staring at your screen to read this post: what does your breath pattern look like? Do you notice it? Are you breathing? Some people stop breathing while they are reading, and they raise their shoulders and hold tension in their bodies while at the computer. (A telltale sign is if you let out periodic sighs. Listen to others if you’re in a room, or set an audio-recorder on yourself for an hour. You’ll forget about it and can then listen to the breath sounds play back. It’s fascinating.)

Next, find a space to lie on the floor. Take a deep breath. Take ten slow breaths, with your eyes closed. Push the air all the way in and out of your lungs. Where are the bottoms of your lungs? Where are the tops of them? Can you fill the space entirely?

Practice changing the cadence of your breathing. Take 10 very quick micro-breaths. Feel your rib cage move in and out. Feel your heart race, your pulse jump, feel the reaction.

Breathe again, slowly.

Your breath is the foundation on top of which every other activity takes place. You can train it, just like you can train everything else. Change your body rhythms by controlling your breath.

Breathe.

sarah signature

I originally wrote this post for Julien Smith’s Homework series during the epic campaign to swim naked from Alcatraz to San Francisco. Breathe is powerful, so I’m reposting as part of this November series while I’m away in Bali.