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A song I’m loving:
I’ve been asking myself, again, how do I keep going? Sometimes, the question is about how to stick with something new or hard; other times, it’s about how to stay rooted to what matters amid the chaos and crumbling all around. Even asking the question How do I keep going? helps me realize I have the answers already — that many of us do — and sharing our answers feels like a gift when so many are living the question right now. So, here are some of my current answers.
How do I keep going?
Let change be a marker of possibility instead of something to be afraid of. Let change be the vehicle for getting closer to your truest self, to the kind of world you want to see, to all that has been asking to be released from your grip. Trust change can be a tool of alchemy, a doorway to more truth, more love, more presence.
How do I keep going?
Be honest with yourself about what you are feeling. Let that honesty turn into willingness to face, feel, and lovingly hold what you find. Let that holding turn into relief. Let that relief widen your ability to be honest with yourself about what you are feeling. Pay attention to what shifts when you choose to face yourself with an open heart.
How do I keep going?
Practice generosity. Think less about yourself and more about what you have to offer. Think less about what people will think of what you offer, and more about what people will receive by you choosing to offer it. Think less about your own personal doubts and more about what a gift it is to move beyond your often-narrow ideas of your work and into the ways it truly nourishes people, when you just get out of your own way. Generosity is a value to lean on when you aren’t sure what to do; it always gives in both directions.
How do I keep going?
Turn toward the spiral — toward all the stuff that comes back around again, in need of new attention, a new vision, new tending, new healing, new nourishment, new lessons. Something old or “already moved through” returning again isn’t a sign of failure or moving backward; it’s a sign of deepening, of going further in, of regeneration. What returns has something to receive and something to teach when you allow it to.
How do I keep going?
Stop trying to keep it all together. You are not glue, or stone. You do not need to remain solid at all times. You can drop some, let some fall, let yourself come apart. You can pour out what you thought you needed to keep contained. You can stretch what is tightened and expand what is scrunched. You do not need to keep it all together. You are not meant to keep it all together.
How do I keep going?
Show up to the yoga class even when you feel tired, even when you don’t want to, even when you wonder if you’ll be able to make it through the hour and fifteen minutes without collapsing. When the teacher says, “feel the community holding it all alongside you” and your eyes water, let yourself savor that unaloneness. Let it seep into the corners of you in need of it most. Notice the way you allowed yourself to be nourished, simply by choosing to show up.
How do I keep going?
Linger in the sweetness of your family: the way you dance in the living room, the way you perform your little rituals and jump in the leaves in the backyard and point out beauty everywhere you go. Linger in their excitement when you make your “famous soup”, their encouragement of you, their I love you’s, your daughter’s obsession with books, your husband’s obsession with birds, the care you’re weaving in your home. Linger in the way it all starts at home; watch it ripple outward when you let it.
How do I keep going?
Ask for help. Do less alone. Embrace the vulnerability of letting others see you in your wobbly places. Undo the patterns of feeling more comfortable doing things on your own. Let the relief of receiving help permeate the places that still feel rigid when you allow that receiving. Let the tenderness of it be a reminder of its importance. Notice how you’re already doing it.
How do I keep going?
Notice how most of the people asking “what else can I do?” are the ones already doing so much. Keep more taps on how you are already being who you want to be in this world and less on where you wish you were different. Let your capacity be enough, and give yourself permission to live within it instead of always striving to work your way beyond it. Trust it will ebb and flow with the seasons, with life. You are fluid, ever-changing. Let yourself be where you are.
How do I keep going?
Keep buying flowers. Keep making your little altars. Keep looking to the moon. Keep letting breath be a buoy. Keep collapsing into the arms of others; keep being someone others can collapse into. Keep making art. Keep asking questions. Keep going to bed by 9:30pm. Keep moving your body. Keep filling your water bottle. Keep getting gas before the tank is low. Keep making nourishing food, even when it’s boring. Keep shifting what you believe. Keep shedding. Keep embracing what is coming undone. Keep allowing what wants to be given new life within and around you.
How do I keep going?
Notice when your agitation and frustration arises and give yourself permission to let it rise out like steam instead of stewing in it. Shake your arms and feel the sensations slide down your arms, out your fingertips, into the air. Voice your frustration and feel the way letting some of it out automatically decreases the bite of it. Don’t try to contain it or hold it in; let it move, be more like river than stone, morph into something more by doing the loving work of meeting it honestly.
How do I keep going?
When it all feels like too much, ask yourself, “do I need to zoom in or zoom out?” Do I need to focus more on what I’m needing in this moment, or more on what’s happening outside of me? Is it resourcing to tend to myself in this moment or would it be helpful to reach out? Let zooming in and zooming out be a dance you can practice, a titration you can embody.
How do I keep going?
When you notice yourself laughing, see if you can unstifle your laughter a little more… let it widen and expand a little more… let it become louder and less controlled and more ridiculous-sounding. Let your laughter free. Let the freeing of it widen you.
How do I keep going?
Look around and amplify the kindness. Amplify the acts of service, the small offers of help, the outreached hands. Pay attention to the ways people are inherently good. Let the compassion you witness spread wide enough inside to become comfort when you witness its opposite. Know it is always happening, right alongside the hard stuff.
How do I keep going?
Let your softness be a golden resource instead of something you think you need to harden.
How do I keep going?
See yourself in the sunrise — a fresh opportunity to try again. See yourself in the sunset — a renewed nudge to rest, surrender, set it all down for now.
How do I keep going?
Imperfectly. Honestly. Tenderly. With love. With willingness to keep trying. With support. With a steady hand on what matters to you. With ample room for mistakes and missteps. With your own warmth. With a hug from a friend. With your daughter’s bright eyes. With the remembrance that this will all end someday, so how do I want to be? How do I want to see? What do I want to stay close to? And can I let it all be practice, something I can return to when I stray? It’s always here to welcome me again. It’s always here to welcome all of us again.
Thank you, as always, for being here.
△ The emergency is the atmosphere — my favorite read this week
△ The wonderful Amelia Hruby has a beautifully powerful new book out now called Your Attention is Sacred Except on Social Media. Amelia’s work has been so supportive to me over the last few years as I’ve explored and shifted my relationship with social media, being online, and sharing publicly. As I still grapple with my role on social media and how to navigate the impacts it has on me and on our collective, Amelia’s work is a true gift and this new book is an invaluable resource and guide.
△ My incredible friend Zabie in conversation with Dr. Thema
△ Nicole Chung’s stunning new piece on adoption
△ Make my healing a party everyone is invited to
△ A gem of a conversation with the Jane Goodall
△ The feeling of moving my body alongside others
With care,
Lisa
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