Joy Letters
I am a recovering perfectionist, productivity chaser, and people pleaser, coaching midlife women to disrupt old thought patterns, let go of behaviors that keep them stuck, and make their joy an everyday priority.
🦩 tiny rebellions at sunrise 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, An old boyfriend of mine used to say, “Viel hilft viel.” (A lot helps a lot.) He was a baseball player, so he usually referred to batting practice, Bengay, or celebrating wins. I was reminded of “viel hilft viel” the other day, when my Bamboo Bodies teacher talked to the class about swinging our arms in the early morning sun. “Science is trying to find out how much nature exposure we need to get the positive effects,” she said, “I wonder how little of it already makes a...
🦩 ponderosa interrupt 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, Quickly, AirPods in place, I made my way up the trail. I had convinced myself that for 30 minutes, the wildflowers mattered more than my to-do list. Alas, they weren’t even blooming here, compared to the south-facing ones closer to town. My soul was a bit disappointed, but my inner manager was pleased. We might make it even quicker if there’s no awe. I approached the giant Ponderosa that’s always inviting me to stop, and this time, I could not resist. Even my inner manager...
🦩 making time for the weird things 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, I don’t have time to journal this morning. No time to greet the trees, either.* No time to meditate, do Qi Gong, or call my sister. My brain tries to convince me that those statements are true every single morning. And sometimes my brain succeeds. A few almost-empty Daily Pages serve as evidence. And sometimes, my brain is even correct. Sometimes I do not have time to do everything I like in the morning. Most mornings, though, my brain is lying. Not consciously, perhaps. It...
🦩 wet grass, bare feet 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, I ripped open the back door, threw off my socks, and walked into the wet grass. It took three slow laps around the backyard, and a few deep breaths* before my nervous system finally settled enough for me to sit down and ask: Why did an app just send me into a spiral of existential despair swirled with anger? Why was I yelling at my device with tears rising from my belly through my chest and throat? I used to dismiss these moments as hysterical over-reactions,** and have...
🦩 the river sent this back 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, My internal timer went off after five minutes. I didn’t have to set it. It’s always 5-7 minutes into sitting outside when my body gets antsy and wants to move. Scratch that. My brain gets antsy and wants to move. Wants a purpose, something to do. I noticed the thought intrusion (rude!) settled back in, and - now that the expected interruption was over - I opened the envelope I had tucked into my pocket before I left my house. The envelope had been sitting on my desk for a...
🦩 joy walking 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, I was walking in the sand along a Baja California beach when my phone vibrated in my pocket with a message from a Montana forest, “The buttercups are out. Crazy!” This was in January. Crazy early, indeed. And a pang to my heart: I would miss the buttercups. We had prepared ourselves to miss snow and cold and skiing and the high season at our bird feeder buffet. I had never considered, though, missing the early signs of spring. We were planning to be back by early March,...
🦩 joy for joy 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, This morning, I brought my cup half full of now-cold coffee to my desk. I had one intention: push through. Do the damn thing. My brain was foggy from a sleepless night. Allergies and the shadows of a recently full moon had stolen rest and replaced it with a variety of thoughts that flourish on such nightly circumstances. The damn thing was the editing and scheduling of the joy letter celebrating my one-year social media sobriety birthday. The one I had solicited questions...
🦩 comfort-ist confessions 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, I am not a minimalist when it comes to packing. More of a comfort-ist. Which is why river floating suits me much better than backpacking — the river carries whatever you end up choosing to bring.* A finely tuned assortment of warming layers. Fabrics and cuts with designated purposes. Equally, shoes. For boating. Hiking. Swimming. Concrete-jungleing.** Ailments, past and present, demand extras: The proven pillow. The silicone cupping cups. The neck-stretching thing. And...
🦩 choosing pelicans 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, I don’t want to. ––But you have to. But I don’t want to. ––Well, you can’t always get what you want. But I really don’t want to. ––But your readers are looking forward to your letter. But I don’t WANT to. Time in Mexico is running out. The weather is amazing. I’ve already lost so many days to being sick. We’re going hiking tomorrow. To the beach on Saturday. ––Well, then write it TODAY. But I want to watch the pelicans while I still can! I don't know how I am supposed to...
🦩 wink of yellow 🦩
Guten Tag, Reader, The sidewalks of La Paz are full of cracks, holes, drops, steps, twists, and turns. They keep you on your toes. Until they throw you off them. If you want to look around, you have to stop. So that’s what I did when a wink of yellow caught my eye against all the concrete. While the rest of my group walked ahead, I crouched down, greeting, meeting, this concrete-defiant purslane. Aliveness that defies restriction is always worth a pause to me. I am always open to receiving a...
I am a recovering perfectionist, productivity chaser, and people pleaser, coaching midlife women to disrupt old thought patterns, let go of behaviors that keep them stuck, and make their joy an everyday priority.