There are no rules

Celebrating one year of Practicing Presence!

Sep 27, 2023

I took a walk today and wandered around underneath the gray sky that marks autumn in Portland. I cupped my hands around the rain-soaked leaves of a tree and touched the water to my cheeks. A small rebirth on a Monday afternoon.

I’ve been feeling the vastness of the physical space between myself and my dearest friends who mostly all live far away.

It is no small miracle, and not one that I take for granted, that we can connect so deeply from such distances.

But I want to hold your hand. I want to walk beside you over the rainbow of fallen leafs. I want to light candles and sip tea and sit in silence together. I want to take you to dinner, to whisper our secret longings and the good and the hard of what’s in our hearts and on our minds. I want to go out dancing with you, to laugh and sing and spin in circles of joy together.

I close my eyes and imagine all of this. Oh, how I love you so.

Today marks one year of Practicing Presence.

The first of these love letters was sent to 38 sweet humans. I was astonished by this number. Today there are 87 of us, which is by most standards quite a humble number, but I picture each of your faces, many of whom I know intimately, and I am viscerally aware of the preciousness of this community and my gratitude wells up to infinity.

To be here writing to you after a whole year, in and out of consistency, brings yet another wave of astonishment. To have returned even when I felt I’d failed by not showing up while the weeks continued to float by and the love letters remained blank.

There has always been a certain kind of magic, a sparkly inspiration, that I feel each time I return to this place, and I think that’s largely why I’m here yet again, 365 days and 23 love letters later.

If there is one thing that I’ve learned through this process it’s that:
There are no rules but the ones I set for myself and I get to change them whenever I want to. Also, I define success and when I need a new definition I get to rewrite that too.

I am so grateful for this virtual home for the musings that unfold within me. It is such a gift to have a place to lay them out, to allow them to be seen, and to let them go.

Thank you for being here and for practicing presence together!

May this next year be filled with heartfelt connection, expansive peace, courageous vulnerability, and boundless joy.

To celebrate this passing of time I thought it would be sweet to offer free coaching sessions to anyone who’s interested!

Sign up here before October 1st with the code PRESENCE.

A few kind words from a client after a recent coaching session:
“I realize that ever since meeting you I have laughed a little more and smiled often on reflection of our coaching sessions.”

It is such a pleasure to support you in reconnecting with your joy and laughter.

This recent newsletter from
Marlee Grace
and the permission granted in the reminder that “…there are no rules to writing newsletters. You can just type and type and type and hit send.” ALWAYS expanding my view of what’s possible in nearly every realm of life. What a gift of a human.
Walking into my favorite season wrapped up in wool sweaters, dawning my trusty boots, and feeling the inspiring winds of change.
In awe after the recent coaching sessions I’ve had the pleasure of holding space in. Just floored by how radiant y’all are and what’s possible when we give ourselves the time and space to connect with ourselves.
Sometimes wondering if I repeat myself too often. Do the words I use and the ways they come together lose their potency in the repetition? Or do they land more deeply with each continuation? Choosing to believe the latter. This is at least true for me and maybe that’s enough.
A blessing and a prayer, written by
Dina Marie Varellas
. Dina is offering a Grief Writing Group for women, which I know will be powerful for those who attend having had the opportunity to participate in one of her groups in the past.
“Where did the first human come from?” Omi’s current three-year-old-contemplation. To which I have no good answer. To which he expresses much frustration. To which I have much empathy.