It has been over a year since my last post, but not because of a lack of happenings. I must smile at the ironic foreshadowing of my last post about embracing uncertainty. In October, I experienced a job layoff. To anyone who has gone through a layoff, especially one handled without intention or care, I see you, and I am you. I send you my deepest love and empathy. It shook me and ignited fresh grief that mingled with and attached itself to remnants of old fear. 

In the time immediately following my layoff, I found myself in survival mode, a place that, unfortunately, as a trauma survivor, was quite familiar. For the uninitiated, survival mode is frenetic energy. It is an infinite output with very little sustaining input. It involves lots of doing and not enough feeling. 

What came next? I landed an excellent job that started shortly following my last day. My emotions were scattered, and I was exhausted, but I was present and grateful for the opportunity. The company and people were lovely, but I soon realized the job did not fit me well; I felt creatively unfulfilled. So when a new opportunity that involved more of the things I enjoy presented itself, I did something out of character and took it. However, after some time, my values felt like they had been stepped on. I desire work-life balance, a sustainable-to-me pace, and the ability to use PTO at will with generous notice. This was not happening, and my nervous system protested. 

Insomnia, increased anxiety, tear-filled lunch walks, panic attacks about insomnia, loss of appetite. I couldn’t ignore what my body told me; this situation was not for me. 

If there’s one thing the last year has taught me, it’s that healing takes time, and when your body speaks, it’s best to listen, even if it means taking a risk and disappointing others. I did, and even though it terrified me, I resigned. I must also acknowledge the privilege that enabled me to make this decision. It wasn’t easy, but it was doable, and I am incredibly fortunate I could take this step and still have shelter, food, support, and the necessary funds to get by. 

And folks, it was one of the best decisions of my life. Despite the uncertainty, I felt immediate relief, clarity, and comfort. My nervous system started to regulate, and my sleep and appetite began to return. I had started writing poetry before I resigned, and the words kept coming. I noticed when I started to shift into survival mode, and this time, I stopped. I set boundaries around job searching and even housework. I practiced restorative yoga almost every day, letting my emotional dam burst, and it was beautiful. Doing nothing, crying, and eating fresh, doughy churro were all integral parts of my healing. Healing is strange. It is non-linear, unpredictable, and glorious.

I am still healing and remain dedicated to caring for what Mary Oliver so charmingly refers to as the  “soft animal” of my soul. I will start a new job soon, and it feels like an energetic  “yes” in every molecule of my body. I made this decision with my heart and my head, and you know what? If it doesn’t work out, I’ve learned that I will be okay. I don’t know what this new beginning will bring; it is marvelous.

If you’ve made it to the end of this post, I’d like to share two final things.

1. The Angel Olsen album “Big Time” has kept me company over the last year, and the song “Chasing the Sun” is a healing balm. 

2.  I wrote this poem the day I resigned, and I hope it is the first of many I share. 

Resignation

Yesterday, I was gasping for breath between tears

You see, my body has been speaking, but I didn't listen to her whispered pleas  

so she took my appetite away

kept me awake 

aware 

of my tenderness and a longing to live softly, slowly, to trust creativity 

Today, I woke early to the smoke detector beeping, low-battery 

I breathed into my heart, my head, my feet

it was time 

to listen

and bet on me

My brain often craves order, or the more honest description, control. Can you relate? However, time-wisened Rebecca is learning that control doesn’t exist, and when I try to seek it, it often leaves me exhausted and disappointed. 

I still believe in the power of habit, preparation, and consistency, but I’m focusing on process and playfulness over outcomes. I’m working on being open to experience without trying to change a thing. 

• I’ve been drawing again and playing around with new digital art mediums. None of my work is polished, it’s experimental and delightful.

• I’m experimenting with going “off-brand” and trying stuff I might not ordinarily choose, like booking a ghost-related history tour, wearing crop tops, and eating giant frozen bananas in a foreign country (okay, that last one is probably reasonably “on-brand,” come to think of it). 

• Speaking of travel, I’ve booked more trips in 2023 than previous versions of me might have considered sensible. I have zero regrets thus far. 

• I’ve also been looking at my relationships with more honesty, compassion, and accountability. I no longer make excuses for how other people are or are not showing up in my life. 

• I’m prioritizing rest and fun. I’m deliberately un-busy. I have time to give to the people and experiences that fill me up. Share a dessert, start beginner adult ballet classes, frivolous fiction reads? Count me in! 

So here’s to embracing the sweet and soft and attempting to go with the flow, even if my first impulse is to ask, “what time is the flow happening?”

This might sound trite, but last year the word I chose for my new year was “magic.” I cringed and laughed when I read that word from a journal entry. What does the word even mean? 

However, the more I think about it, there has been magic this year. I’ve felt it in my morning yoga practice smiling as I wobble in crescent or weep in half to pigeon while Broken Social Scene serenades me. Neko Case sings, “nature isn't magic; it's just a mystery to us” maybe that’s it; my nature, human nature, nature-nature, magic to me. Over the last year, it felt like magic when I watched the sunrise from plane windows or chased ghost crabs with a group of grown-ass friends laughing under a full moon. It was there as I connected with people; over lattes, biscuits, burgers, and (usually) non-alcoholic drinks. Sometimes, the simple relief of a hot shower, that first sip of coffee, or hearing my dogs softly snoring felt magical. 

And some bits of 2022 felt less mystical. Undercurrents of change that might have been a mere blip on the radar for some felt like a hurricane for me. A baby hurricane, perhaps, but emotional branches were shaken nonetheless. And still, I sought support, ever-learning how to care for myself as I grew and accepted that it’s possible to simultaneously be soft and strong, ordinary and extraordinary. I’ve practiced placing a palm against my chest to feel my warm clavicle, breathing, and pausing to ask myself, “What do you need?” 

Maybe it’s not magic at all, but simply noticing. 

Inviting rather than demanding.

Movement. 

Rejection.

Curiosity. 

Grief. 

Play. 

I’m unsure if I’ll set and forget a word this year, but I feel drawn to creativity. Reacquainting myself with the tactile joy of hands-on color, the glide of Caran d’ache across a fresh page.

My favorite seasonal neighbor

I’ve grown to love the winter. Yes, the days are dark, dreary, and fecking freezing here in Upstate, NY. And yet, this season has so much to offer. For me, winter is an opportunity to reflect, rest, do less. It’s a kick in the arse to get creative about the ways I cultivate joy and care for my mental health. Every year it hits a little different, and this January, here’s what’s on my mind: 

• I’m reflecting on the highs and lows of my days and the past year. I’ve also asked my friends this question and found solace in the experience. 

• Proactively planning and giving myself every opportunity for pleasure and ease. Taking an extra fifteen minutes to snuggle my dogs or stay in savasana, embracing my Michelin tire-looking winter coat to keep toasty outdoors, and searching for interesting details within the grayscale landscape of January days (like the owl asleep in a tree). 

• Reconnecting with the repetitious habits that support my happiness like my AM yoga, journaling, and giving myself a firm bedtime. Watering my silly plants. 

• I am creating moments of connection with humans I adore, including relative strangers like my favorite Trader Joe’s employee or first-time students in my online yoga classes. 

• I am renegotiating the relationship I have with my phone. My NYTimes app and Reddit have become constant companions over the last year, and it’s relatively one-sided. I haven’t “quit” my most distracting apps, but I have set boundaries around how, why, and when I use them. Right now, I’m focusing on phone-free mornings and evenings. 

• Making small upgrades to my physical space; framing and displaying my favorite photo of Ballintoy harbour, hanging curtains, and upgrading indoor light sources. 

And lastly, a few simple things warming my heart; reading Poet Warrior by Joy Harjo and watching my senior dog prance through the snow in her winter sweater. What are your favorite things about Wintering?

I do my home yoga practice in my pajamas.

Without a bra

Before I brush my teeth

With an audience of sleepy dogs

It’s a freestyle flow with no agenda. 

It’s ripe with self assists, props, and vibey tunes. 

Savasana is at least 10 minutes long, sometimes 20.

It makes me so very happy.

Things to help make it a habit:

• Add it to an existing routine.
  My practice is an extension of my morning ritual of; sitting on the sofa, with coffee, candle, and dogs, doing absolutely nothing. I started waking earlier and tacked yoga to the end. 

• Experiment with timing.
  Pre-COVID 19, I loved to do yoga in a studio near the end of my workday. However, when it’s just me at home, I found less motivation when I was tired post-work. Then I tried the AM, and it’s working for me right now. 

• Make it fun.
  Grab a yummy beverage. Load up your favorite music; Low-fi hip hop, Megan Thee Stallion, Bob Dylan, you do you. 

• Let it be playful.
  Nobody is watching (except maybe your pets). You can do whatever you want. Not sure how to do a sun salutation on your own, forget a right or left side? No problem. Are you on your mat, breathing and moving? Congrats, you’ve got a brilliant yoga practice. 

• Just show up.
  I consider rolling out my mat and placing my body on it a victory. It doesn’t matter how long I go, how many poses I take, or at what intensity. When my feet hit the mat, I tell myself, “I’ve already won.” When I drop expectations and the bullshit notions of what a home practice should look like, the real magic begins. 

When I teach online, I wear actual yoga clothes.

My yoga audience.

What are the elements of your home yoga practice?

Vote, vote, vote! That’s it. That’s the post.

And here’s a playlist for you.

Like so many, I’ve been processing the news of Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s death. After melatonin induced, and still, troubled sleep, I woke late and started the day in my usual fashion; I snuggled my dogs and went downstairs for my morning sit. Quiet time with no plan, to sip my coffee, and contemplate by candlelight. And I thought about Ruth, a woman I’ve never met, who I am grieving, and the ways to honor her legacy. 

1. Feel.

   As children, we’re ideally given the environment and tools to identify and express our emotions. I’d say my toolbox was built half full, and the rest I’ve had to gather throughout my adult years. I have to catch myself when I repress my feelings and distract from my emotions(hello, doom-scrolling👋). Instead, I sit, talk out loud to my dogs, meditate, and cry. In the last 24 hours alone, I’ve felt; numb, heartbroken, defeated, terrified, and inspired. It hurts, but dammit, I’m here, and I’m moving through it. What tools do you have, which ones are you still acquiring, and how can you feel? To keep Ruth’s fight alive, it requires feeling so that we can continue to show up, exhausted at times, and whole, in all our messy, human glory. 

2. Persist.
   There’s no way around it; life has been heavy. For the last six months, I’ve struggled to write in my blog and even in my journal. I’ve done things I never anticipated, protesting in a pandemic with my mom, ordering merch to support the USPS, and examining my privilege’s depths. It’s not nearly enough, and yet; it’s progress that I intend to keep building upon. How can we channel Ruth’s strength to stay awake, and persist with passion? How can we care for ourselves and remain dedicated and determined to fight systemic racism, sexism, and injustice?

3. Express.
   Losing Ruth has reminded me of the uncomfortable truth of impermanence. That nothing lasts forever, and that our agency lies in the present moment. It’s a call to action to do the things we love while we can, to speak up, and take action around the issues important to us. How can we use our unique strengths to express ourselves, and spark change at this moment in time?

4. Vote.
   Like our lives, freedoms and democracy depend on it, because they do. Beyond the ballot, consider; how I am voting with my time, money, and energy? Are my choices aligned with my values, and if not, what needs to change? 

5. Lastly, dissent.
   Dissent by caring for yourself and your community amongst the chaos. Find pockets of joy within a sea of despair. After a good and a hearty cry this morning, I walked my dog Ella and enjoyed the September sunshine, stopped to snap a photo in some flowers, and then meandered to a yard sale where I bought antique bird art. We dissent by getting up each day, renewing our energy, and refusing to stop living with eyes wide open to the delight and the pain. Rebel by allowing your grief to transform you, and using those feelings, that energy as a bludgeon for change. Remember Ruth’s words:

"Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time."

Last month in Woodstock, NY

My little home office

On the other side: Gratitude, so much gratitude. 

• I am so incredibly grateful to be recovered, alive, and able to breathe. 

• I’m grateful to be employed and have access to healthcare, sick days, food, and shelter. I know that, sadly, this is a privilege and not the norm in this country. And it’s not okay. 

Light in dark times

• I am connecting from a distance. Phone calls, texts, video chats, and meme sending.

• Hearing and watching spring birds. I may be a bird lady now; it makes sense. 

• The power of dog snuggles. While sick, my little Ella refused to leave my side. And Gus offered some much needed comic relief with his long grumbles and resting beagle face.

• I am giving my emotions space to be. Some days are okay, and others are heavy.  

• Self-compassion. I haven’t had the strength to do yoga yet, and that has been taxing both physically and mentally. I’m letting go of expectation and understanding that these are weird times, and we’re all moving through it differently the best we can. My daily habits and rituals are fluid and can change one day to the next without judgment.

Hello, sweet friends. My how life has changed since the last time I sat down to write a post. I questioned even writing a blog, not truly knowing how to give words to the magnitude of what is happening all around us. The only place I can speak from is my experience, which is limited and ever-changing. So here’s an update and a few things that have been coming up for me. 

First off, I was sick for two weeks with *presumed* COVID-19

It started on March 19 with fatigue, dry eyes, and then the following day, a low fever. I called my primary care physician, and she advised I quarantine (luckily I had been doing so already). Still, I would not have access to testing, despite underlying asthma and having traveled out of the country to MX recently. The following three days were the worst of it: fever, dry cough, fatigue, pounding sinus headache, and nausea. When my temperature rose above 101, and I started experiencing slight shortness of breath, I called the weekend on-call nurse. She told me I could go to urgent care for further evaluation, but would not have access to a COVID test unless I needed to be admitted to the hospital. I decided to take Tylenol for my fever and wait it out. I was terrified, but I didn’t want to risk infecting others, or in the case that it was not COVID, risking infection. The Tylenol helped lower my fever, and I started to feel better. On Monday, I spoke to my doc again, and she told me I was at the point where most patients continue to get better, or it could get much worse. For the next week, I was about the same: weak, tired with an intermittent low fever, and I lost my sense of smell/taste. Eventually, the temperature wore off, and I was just exhausted, and out of it, my breathing returned to normal with the help of my rescue inhaler. Slowly my energy, focus, strength, and senses have started to return. I’m now three weeks out and feeling almost back to normal, and giving myself lots of extra rest.

Lastly, a few ways I’ve been passing the time. 

Watching Bon Appetit test kitchen video’s on YouTube. One of my favorites is the gourmet eats girl scout cookie re-creation. 

News, but with boundaries. Mostly reading reports from trusted sources, and setting my alarm, so I don’t get too carried away.

This article by Jessica Valenti, “Not Everyone Will Get Through This.”

When I feel like music, Bill Evans Trio, Live at the Village Vanguard is a standby that always lifts my mood. 

Ordering myself a “hooray, you’re still alive!” jewelry gift, from my favorite local (Peppermint) boutique.

Big Vortex Energy in Sedona last weekend 🏜

Slow the eff down. I’m a fast walker, talker, and thoughts and ideas strike at me like lightning. I love the feeling of getting shit done. And the message written on my heart is always: Rebecca, honey, slow down. This theme is not new, and I’ve gotten much better at respecting it. Slowing down is sometimes uncomfortable for me. It’s where my emotions surface, where I feel the feels, good and bad. It’s where I pay attention and soak up deep, productive rest. It’s the speed at which I most experience a deep connection with myself and others. When I slow down, I can embody the values that matter most to me. Perhaps this is why I love yoga, meditation, solitude, and even doing absolutely nothing so much. There are a time and place for hustle, and I’m falling in love with slow.

Make space for grief. The time directly following my dad’s death is hazy and difficult to remember. However, I recall, at one point, checking out a book on the “grieving process.” I felt so confused and desperate to be done with my grief, and I wondered, “what the hell stage am I in?” it felt like every single stage was raging inside me at once. And my soft, humbling truth on the matter is that grief has no end; it only transforms. Loss is human, there is no avoiding it, and I wish we talked about it more. Acknowledging and allowing space for my grief has been life-changing. Sometimes it looks like a snotty tear fest alone. Other days it’s connective, joyful remembrance. And while I talk here about losing a parent, other forms are just as potent; heartbreak, loss of friendship, even ideas I used to have about myself that are no longer true — all grief. As I get older, I want to remain friends with my emotions. I want to notice the quality and texture as we mature together.  

Mess up. I’ve botched yoga sequencing, communications, and cleaning up my coffee grounds from the sink. And that’s just this week. Practicing self-compassion and trading the word “failure” for “learning” help me move away from the false illusion and seduction of perfection. While I once chased this mythic beast, I now bask like a pig in mud with my imperfection. I’m stumbling my way through difficult conversations, stuff I don’t feel ready for, growth and my own messy emotions. It’s exhilarating, awkward and glorious. I’m not giving it up any time soon. 

Things I’m into right now:

Compiling this winter playlist

Slathering my face with coconut oil + Weleda Skin Food at night

The work of Sophie King

The best birthday I can remember was turning 11 in 1997. It was the year Titanic hit theaters, and I had a sleepover with my best friends (and yes, we went to see the movie for the however-many-eth time). I got my best gift in memory, leather horseback riding chaps from my dad. I loved them so much I slept with them over my pajamas on my birthday night. I guess I had ride or die friendships because nobody questioned this move. 

Skip to now: I’ve forgotten a few times that it’s my birthday week, and still, I’m welcoming it. How does 34 feel? I’ll let you know when I figure it out. For now, here are three themes on my heart before turning 34. 

January sky taken from my morning walk with the dogs.

While we’re officially into mid-January, the last months of 2019 were a lot for me. Many changes, emotions, and moments to be present in. Going through the process, I knew I needed a chance to feel and be in it before sharing. Today in my woolen socks with a sleeping dog next to me, I’m ready.

I changed jobs. I’d been working on campus for over nine years, so this was a big deal for me. In my last week of work, I noticed I was unconsciously avoiding my boss because if I saw her, I knew I’d fall apart. Not out of guilt or fear, but merely the sadness of not seeing her face as often, getting to crack jokes, or tap into her brilliance and support. Same with so many of my colleagues and work friends. When I ran into her, I did tear up, and you know what? It was great. It is possible to be both a professional and a teary human all at the same time. It is possible to hold grief, joy, and excitement together and let it simmer. 

I was teaching. My two weekly yoga classes and some additional practices as a substitute. I also taught my second semester of public speaking as an adjunct professor. I love that teaching holds me accountable and forces me to focus on one thing: being present. It’s my opinion that anyone can learn a script of yoga cues, or put together slide decks of information, the hardest and most transformative thing for me, is staying in the moment and connecting. It’s exhausting, uncertain, and sometimes uncomfortable. I’m not perfect at it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I traveled. I spent time in Grand Rapids, Brooklyn, Ann Arbor, and Skaneateles. There’s no way to capture each one of these trips, but the parts I remember most are the people. Some of these folks were family by blood, others by heart, or profession. All of them golden. I’m grateful for all of the moments we shared. Moments like: reunited bear hugs, rom coms on the couch, bagels and lox in Central Park West, hot yin yoga, shared veggie bowls in Dekalb Market Hall (okay, multiple meals here), wandering Trader Joe’s, cozy cafe lunches, family dinners and reflecting on it all from above the clouds in a plane.  

What’s happening now? I am:

+Recovering from cold and am grateful to feel my energy and health returning. 

+Enjoying the magic of growing into my new job and connecting with a team that I’ve already grown to adore. 

+Tracking and tackling some personal financial goals.

+Getting excited for my first trip to Sedona, AZ later this month (please send recommendations!).

+Steeping myself in questions about my schedule and what feels right for the next three months, in my routine, rituals, even number of social gatherings.

+Committing to blogging and allowing Honey & Thistle to transform as much as I am.

This summer has been filled with everything from canoe-in camping with dogs to presenting at a national conference in Philadelphia, and leading the h&t yoga + goals retreat in June! I have found that the more I stay open to experiences that light me up, the better I am able to greet the unexpected and stay present in the face of intensity and yes, fear. When I do the things I love, like teaching yoga, public speaking and sharing my story, I ALWAYS get some butterflies. I’ve long since learned that fear is just the tax I pay on doing what I love. My personal mantra has become “I don’t let fear get in my way”. It gets to hang out, but I keep on groovin all the same. Here are my notes to self for staying grounded in the face of 🦋’s:

Be gentle. I am 100% human and moments of anxiety, distraction and fear happen. When I find myself here, I don’t get angry or judgy I just gently bring my myself back with a reminder to feel & breathe.

Say yes to friends. When I spend time in connection to friends, I soak it up. I bask in their smiles, stories and eye contact. This process of showing up, and truly being present with the people in my life keeps me grounded and connected.

Gratitude. When I feel any kind of emotional spiral coming on, I just remind myself of all that I’m grateful for and what a privilege it is to share what I love and have a public voice, however tangential, eloquent or shaky it may be. 

It’s not a competition. I remind myself that I am in competition with nobody and all I am asked to do is to stay present, be my authentic self and keep showing up moment-by-moment. This doesn’t mean that everyone will like and accept me, and that’s okay too. As my amazing yoga mentor MaryBeth LaRue likes to say “it’s not my job to manage your perception of me”.

Mindful breaks. When things gear up and get uncomfortable, my lizard brain usually wants to escape. Instead of surrendering to every impulse, I mindfully schedule time to tune-out temporarily with things like an hour of reading a juicy novel or watching few episodes of BBC Fleabag. 

Physical practice: in times of stress, I both resist and crave my physical practice of yoga & mediation more than ever. These things are my oxygen mask in times of intensity and I make it a priority to get my butt to the mat or pillow on a regular basis. At my conference I woke up early each day to watch the sunrise, drink my coffee and then move my body into a few poses, ending with meditation. My practice was not advanced or pre-planned, I just followed my body where it wanted to go, even if that was a restorative pose on a giant pile of hotel pillows. 

Honey & Thistle Co. Yoga + Goals Retreat, June 2019

What I’m reading & listening to:

+Judith Lasater “Living Your Yoga: Finding the Spiritual in Everyday Life”

+This playlist I made on Spotify

+Amber Rae @heyamberrae on Instagram

+The Unf*ck your brain podcast

“Practice is the consistent willingness to open to life in all of its joy and pain”

— Judith Lasater

New season, new playlist! Here are a few favorites I’ve got on heavy rotation this Spring. I believe that music is powerful medicine, it helps me process, express and feel. I find it amazing how certain albums connect with different seasons of my life and have helped me move through everything from celebration to grief. Bob Dylan “Blood on the Tracks” got me through some heavy teen angst, and Neko Case helps me feel brave, badass and human. Days when I’m missing my dad, I can grab a vinyl record from the collection of over 500 albums he left me, and whether it’s Mozart or Armstrong, he’s forever there in the music we share. Here’s to the silly, sad and lovely moments made better by music.

A playlist featuring Akiine, Chromatics, Neko Case, and others

Join Honey & Thistle Co. in the gorgeous setting of Naples, NY for a day of gentle yoga, goal setting, and heart-filled connection. This small group retreat is designed to awaken your goals and get to the heart of what matters most in 2019! The retreat will be held inside a cozy cabin with open space for yoga and if the weather is nice, we will take our practice outside too! 

On this retreat, we will reconnect with our values, refocus our energy and begin planning a new way forward with goals and tactics that support your best, most badass self! With my background and experience in health coaching and yoga teaching, I’ll help you apply inspired action to your good intentions, moving you from wanting and wishing to a courageous new way of being.

On this retreat we will:

+Move our bodies through a gentle yoga flow & restorative practice

+Explore the connection between our goals, values, and desires

+Connect with each other & nature in a deliberately small group

+Examine what's working & what's not

+ Identify obstacles and how to work through them

+Build a powerful vision board for your future

+Ground with a growth mindset and mindful intentions

+Discover energy supporting habits and strategies

+Begin to transform the willingness to change into actual change

Sample Schedule--subject to slight modification

Saturday, June 8, 2019 9:30 a.m. - 3:30 p.m.

• Welcome greeting & introductions

• Light flow yoga (beginner friendly)

• Goals workshop + vision boarding

• Lunch

• Contemplation time: enjoy a short hike or reflective journaling!

• Restorative yoga and meditation

Light snacks, yoga props, and lunch provided. If you need a yoga mat or have any questions please email rebecca@honeyandthistle.com.

Spring is my favorite season. In my natural habitat, it means round robbins, budding greenery, muddy boots, and windswept hair. In my professional landscape of higher education, it signals multiple projects, deadlines, and the urgency to meet enrollment and development goals. Normally, I feel spread thin around this time of year, not fully able to stop and smell the daffodils. However, this year I’ve tried something different. I decided to come face to face with my own BS and give it up in an effort to give myself what I was truly craving.

What had to go:

+Thinking about work 24/7.

+Letting my self-care habits slide in the name of “stress” or “busy”.

+Excessive social media scrolling and/or Netflix binging .

+Social obligations that leave me feeling depleted.

+Processed carbohydrates + sugar and the energy roller coaster they leave behind.

+Long ass to-do lists (I gave myself a limit of 4 things on my daily list).

+Over planning (my inner Leslie Knope was distraught).

+Stress running.

+Attachment to specific outcomes.

What I let in:

+Starting each morning with my ritual couch sit, candlelight, coffee and dog snuggles.

+Setting a stopping point with my work each day, and letting it be enough.

+Built-in practices to help me stay present: studio yoga, meditation and friend time.

+Setting a 1-hour social media limit on my phone, and mostly respecting it (progress, not perfection).

+A new habit of asking myself “how is this making me feel?” while scrolling my most addictive app (Instagram) and choosing to shut it down when the answer is “shitty/drained”.

+Making time for inspiring friends & co-workers: our lunches, yoga dates, couch confessions and shared cups of tea gave me life. Thank you all 🙏

+Eating real food via the Whole 30 and feeling my energy soar (hello 🐯 blood!).

+Filling my to-do list with essentials only (mostly food, clothing, yoga and cozy related).

+Asking “how can I care for myself?" throughout the day and then following through.

+Choosing indulgences mindfully like allowing myself to watch the Amy Schumer Netflix special or a few episodes of Shrill cuddled on the couch with my dog Ella and a bowl of berries.

+Committing to “one day/task at a time” re: less planning to stay in the moment and not freak the eff out.

+Reserving time in the evening for rest. A cup of herbal tea spiked with CBD oil, reading fiction in bed, going to restorative yoga or again, my favorite thing: cuddling on the couch with my dogs and doing nothing.

What I got out of it:

Solid habits that love me back and a surge of rebel energy. In the face of stress, the act of slowing down and saying yes to myself despite all the other stuff I could have let consume me was so empowering. It turns out babying myself made me feel like a total badass.

Interested in learning more about habit creation? I’m teaching my “Sustain don’t drain: creating energy giving habits that stick” class at the Rochester Brainery on May, 16!

One of my favorite parts of being an adult is the ability to say no to shit I don’t want to do. As awesome and freeing as this adult superpower can be, it also feels emotional and hard at times. Because at least for me, getting over my fear of letting others down, layers of expectation, and getting over myself can be a real challenge. However, the more I flex this muscle, the more I am able to live from a place that feels authentic and right to me, rather than what is expected by others or my own internal critic.  

As I gear up for a new set of personal and professional challenges this spring I keep reminding and whispering to myself “you are capable of doing hard things”. Things like:

+Allowing space and time for solitude and quiet in my days (without judgment).

+Sleeping or meditating on things before making a decision.

+Asking myself: do I want this? ...really? And respecting the answer that comes up.

+Putting down my damn phone & respecting my boundaries with tech & social media.

+Resting and binging masterpiece theater with my dogs & tea when I feel myself getting sick.

+Sending professional emails, articles, and proposals to people I respect and admire.

+Inviting those I love into my schedule and my space. Giving them my full attention.

+Saying yes to foods that make me feel good for the long haul, not just 15 minutes of chocolatey bliss.  

+Acknowledging when something feels hard, or when I’m afraid...then digging deeper to figure out the emotions behind it.

Feeling the emotions and then moving on like a Jedi master, because yes, I am capable of doing hard things and so are you. It might not get easier, but we get stronger and a little bit wiser each time we consciously choose.

January is a month I have always had a love/hate relationship with. I love the still, quiet introspection of winter and struggle with feelings of cabin fever as the days grow colder. The theme that I keep coming back to this month is the importance of staying awake and learning how to power down without tuning-out. How to stay with myself when the urge to hibernate kicks into full gear. It’s knowing the difference between scrolling my phone mindlessly and pausing to check-in with myself to determine what I really need to feel rested and whole?

The answer to that question changes moment to moment, this month it looks like this:

+Sitting with myself in meditation even when my mind and body are resisting.

+Building in extra time for dog snuggles and moments of pause, especially in the morning.

+Connecting with the outdoors in new ways: gazing out a window at the snow falling, or taking time to appreciate the sunset as I walk from my office to my car (where I took this picture).

+Thinking about what I do and don’t want in the year/week ahead and writing it down, without judgement.

+Choosing to chat and spend time with people who feel like sunshine.

+Daydreaming and planning future adventures. Mine include: summer camping and a trip to CA.

+Balancing body movement with body rest and understanding my need for both.

+Breaking my social media & device twitch (currently with the help of the book “Bored and Brilliant” by Manoush Zomorodi who is a muse and queen 🙌.

+Embracing the “do not disturb” setting as a vacation from my phone, or when that doesn’t work, literally stuffing it into my desk drawer until I’m ready to consciously engage again.

+Feeling into gnarly emotions and questions without the need for immediate answers or solutions.

+Reminding myself that I am a grown ass woman who can navigate her own way to happiness, without expectation or the need to please others.

What are you feeling into this time of the year?

xo,

Rebecca

This picture doesn’t look like much, but it captures one of my favorite moments of 2018: sitting with my long time friend, Janine in a meadow by silver lake and feeling totally content. It’s not a great photo and it fails to show the chain link fence around the reservoir or capture just how much joy I felt in that moment. Magical, significant and playful are the words that come to mind when I think about that trip. It’s amazing how certain places, people and events just feel important, even if I can’t explain or understand exactly why. I’m letting go of needing to figure it out or assign meaning. Instead I’m learning to savor the sundrenched reality of laughter and stretching out over a park bench with my best friend.

xo,

Rebecca

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