A collection of short reflections from the middle of the journey—the raw, meaningful moments that don’t always make it into a full blog post but often live at the heart of one.
I chose the lotus because it doesn’t bloom in spite of the mud—it blooms because of it. Sometimes we are gathering nourishment. Sometimes we are unfolding into bloom. Each stage has its own beauty, and all are part of the same journey.
8/2/26 – It was seven years ago today that my mom passed away. I always find it interesting how dates like these can still feel so heavy. I guess it speaks to the love we carry for those we’ve lost. Lately, with everything I’ve been going through, I would give anything to sit down with her and talk. My mom had a gift for listening. I knew that if I needed her, she would stop everything just to be with me. One of the hardest parts of this season is feeling like I’m carrying it alone. I believe in a loving Heavenly Father, and that brings me comfort. But it isn’t the same as having someone simply sit beside you and listen without needing to fix anything. I will always be grateful that my mom gave me that gift.
7/27/26 – I haven’t had much energy to write lately. I’m still dealing with a lot of physical pain that is wearing me down, and the emotional pain has felt just as heavy. I’ve noticed myself turning to old ways of coping that ultimately create more suffering. So now, I am returning to the practice of staying present with whatever arises. I did that the other night. I simply cried as I felt the pain of a belief that took root long ago—that something is fundamentally wrong with me. It made me feel profoundly alone. Yet there was power in allowing myself to feel the pain and stay present with it. I was surprised by how naturally one moment flowed into the next. Yes, it was painful. And there was also compassion, understanding, and moments of relief. Then came action steps toward self care. So for now, that is my practice: to stay with whatever arises and then take even one small step that is aligned with my true nature. It isn’t easy by any means, but it creates far less suffering than continually trying to escape it.
7/4/26 – I’m in recovery mode, dealing with pain and fatigue. Well, I learned how difficult rest can be when my nervous system is on high alert. This morning, I noticed a black blob on my leg. I wasn’t wearing my contacts, so I freaked out assuming it was a spider. The remainder of the day has involved continually scanning my room for the potential threat while also trying to meet my body’s need for a few naps. I’m beginning to understand how much my nervous system influences whether I actually feel rested. The threat may have never existed. My nervous system doesn’t seem to care. It’s checking corners, bracing, convinced that my own room is no longer safe.
7/1/26 – I create a lot of suffering for myself through avoidance. One of my common patterns is that when I have something to do that feels like it will take too much effort, I choose not to do it in that moment. But before I realize it, a week has passed—or several weeks, or even months. Now that task has just become a big monster lurking underneath the bed. I know it’s there but I’m too afraid to look because I’ve let it go for too long. If I look, I risk consequences. But not looking just leaves me stressing about it continually. As the monsters accumulate underneath the bed, I become paralyzed at the thought of doing anything at all. And that paralysis only feeds the fear. It’s an insane cycle that you’d think I’d avoid by now, but nope … I repeat it over and over and over.
6/26/26 – I found myself resisting taking the stronger pain medication. I wanted to ration it, worried there wouldn’t be enough. It felt taboo to call in a few days saying I was out as I worried they’d question my motives. I thought about how the doctor had twice given examples of people not needing the stronger pain medication. I know it wasn’t his intention but it made it seem like I would be weak for taking it. Again, relating the experience to life, I thought how easy it is to fall into beliefs that asking for help equates to weakness. How often I choose suffering because I believe asking for help will burden someone else, or because I think I should be strong enough to handle it on my own. It makes me quite sad knowing I am probably not the only one who suffers alone.
6/25/26 – I am struggling to sleep due to pain from a medical procedure. What’s even more challenging is another chronic condition that is amplifying and spreading the pain making everything feel worse. This experience feels a bit like life itself. Sometimes life is painful and often different challenges collide. It’s difficult at times to believe healing will come, especially when some pain feels chronic like grief or shame to name a few. And yet pain is often part of healing. So, the thought I had today was to be courageous, curious, and take one moment at a time … and use “pain meds” when needed. 😉
6/21/26: Today’s walk looked different from yesterday. I woke up feeling disoriented from a bad dream. The trees didn’t feel as pretty, the rocks felt ordinary, and a bush painfully poked my finger. I felt annoyed by the mechanical sounds disrupting the songs of the birds and my new shoes weren’t feeling as comfortable. Not to mention the sass in my walk was replaced with clompiness. I decided to look underneath and noticed the grief that comes with Father’s Day. The reminder of the loss of my dad over 30 years ago. But more painful is not being able to celebrate the father of children I so longed to have but didn’t. Today my walk was still a sanctuary. It provided space to acknowledge and feel what was here, and it was no less sacred than any other day.
6/20/26 – My morning walks have become my sanctuary. I’m exhausted when I wake up and yet I still choose to go. Today I decided to try and be more present. I noticed my feet as they contacted the ground, the little dance step I did when startled by a spider, the physical pain that comes with each step. I felt the breeze on my skin and heard the leaves rustle. I smelled the smoke lingering in the air from a distant fire, and noticed the beauty of the trees, the flowers, and even the rocks. I also noticed that when I’m feeling content and present, I add a bit of sass to my walk. It made me laugh. I noticed the myriad of thoughts that would pull me away or the quick assessments when passing others. Are they safe, do I look down or up, do I smile, say hello, or nothing at all. But with each distraction came the gentle whisper to stay present with it all.
6/19/26 – I don’t quite feel like myself lately. I notice myself being overly direct in some conversations, with some passive aggressiveness creeping into others. I know I’m feeling anxious about an upcoming medical procedure that causes some acute pain and fatigue afterward. I’ve been told that the typical recovery period could potentially double due to another condition I have that amplifies pain and everything else. So the anxiety is understandable. However, I also just feel a deep frustration with life right now that I can’t quite put into words, at least not yet. I admit it’s difficult to stay connected to my true self when bombarded with so many difficult emotions while also feeling exhausted. Maybe these are the important times to choose authenticity … by removing the mask of “I’m fine” and continuing to practice being with what’s here.
6/16/26 – I’m struggling starting the simplest of tasks, including at work, and find myself needing to figure out how to fix it. But this morning I read an excerpt from Master Mingtong Gu’s book, Coming Home to Embodied Awakening, and wondered if I don’t fully give credit to how much my body’s physical ailments, pain, and exhaustion affect my everyday life. I’m used to just pushing through it or pretending it’s not a problem. But the more I’ve done practices like effortless awareness, Internal Family Systems, reconnecting with my body, etc., the more present I have become. Now I am in this new territory of being unable to ignore what’s here while not quite knowing how to live with it … and there’s a lot of grief, anger, and shame. Which those emotions are probably what I’m trying to avoid now. I’m not sure people understand what it’s like to live with chronic pain and exhaustion unless they’ve dealt with it themselves. It can feel incredibly heavy most days.
6/12/26 – I feel a constant need to binge on food versus sitting with discomfort. Having plans change that were out of my control, I retreated to a spot along the creek and put my feet in the water. I felt like I could finally breathe. But like all moments, they don’t last forever and other people disrupted my peace. As I walked back, I noticed a house with a beautiful patio by the creek and instant envy set in. That was followed by thoughts of shame and feeling inadequate. I got into my car and cried. Upon returning home, I discovered a large bug had hitched a ride in my hair from the creek. I’d like to say I had the courage not to freak out … nope! I began going through the spastic dance of trying to make sure nothing else had joined the party. It was interesting to look back and notice the roller coaster ride of emotions today. Much like the flow of water, we can choose to allow the emotions to flow or hold onto them and create more suffering. Today I struggled against the flow.
