Touchpoints throughout every week, sometimes days, now contain regular conversations on grief. My own, friends, clients, and strangers in passing. There is so much to grieve. The world has become more painful and traumatic. Loss is more present than ever. And, also, the world has always been traumatic for some. Many of us just didn’t or couldn’t see it or it was easier to turn away.

Grief is something to turn towards, not away from. We show our humanity and the potential to do things differently in how we build a relationship with our grief.

The pathway to purpose is an intentional process of self-discovery, reconnection, and alignment with your values.

In the Rust Out workshop earlier this month, we explored values, mind-body connection, and a practical pathway to living in alignment as you reshape your core purpose.

I led participants in a somatic exercise of Curling and Unfurling, symbolizing both metaphorically and symbolically contraction and expansion.

What keeps you from feeling more “Hell Yes” moments and choosing embodied action steps to support those?

I want you to have more ‘yes’ in your life! And saying ‘yes’ may sound counter to my normal message of ‘no’ is a boundary and the path out of overing. But hear me out.

The ‘yes’ I’m talking about comes with being intentional about what brings you joy and nudges you towards value-aligned living and working.

Underneath burnout, rust out, grief, blocked creativity, and resistance to change is betrayal.

Clinically, betrayal is “the sense of being harmed by the intentional actions or omissions of a trusted person.”

Even in that brief definition, betrayal feels heavy. Let’s break it down:

Here’s a common response I hear from clients on why they hold themselves back:

“Saying no and having boundaries feels selfish. I don’t want to be seen as a selfish person.”

You may hold such negative connotations to the concept of yourself being ‘selfish’ even if you applaud others for prioritizing themselves. Or you may resent them for it. That frustration likely has roots in your own desire to prioritize yourself.

I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions and mostly have moved away from goal setting in the traditional sense. Since my birthday is right before the new year, it always feels more like setting intentions for my next trip around the Sun.

Over my break, I reflected on the last year-ish. Always a qualitative researcher at heart, I coded my previous journals for themes and insights. Sure enough, my potential for growth and my hijacking patterns were both beautifully glaring at me, directing my attention to what is needed this year.

While there’s a part of me that enjoys this time of year - I increasingly love wintering and lights - there’s also a part of me that feels the shoulds and gets overwhelmed.

The shoulds disconnect us from our bodies. And then they build up into regrets and grief.

The impact of living disconnected from your body likely shows up as feelings of…

Since November hit, I’ve wanted to jump ahead to January to get away from all of the buzz of November and December.

Some of the buzz feels nice - like downtown trees all lit up with lights, more baking to both warm up the kitchen and our stomachs, and candles and fires. Nature shows us this season is for slow down, rest, a turn inward, and connection with loved ones. I imagine myself reading a book tucked under warm fluffy covers with hot tea. 

But so much of the buzz feels icky and stressful.

“I’m a talking head, fully disconnected from my body. So I don’t know what I feel.”

That quote came from my own mouth when I started yoga teacher training, which I enrolled in 6 or so years ago, in part to learn how to listen to my body. I had a lifetime of learning to ignore my own body. I’ve had to learn how to shift from the overthinking that guided my decision-making to aligned embodied choices.

As I say to my clients, it’s a shift from “what do you need to do?” to “how do you want to feel?"

Making the changes in your life - whether it’s the career part or the personal part - requires a recognition that the inner work involves both the brain and the body, and the understanding that complex issues cannot be solely resolved through intellectual means.

Who are you?

Because you know at your core, you’re bigger and more alive than you are now.

This is the most important question you’ll answer. Trust me.

It is so common to experience an oscillation between love for your current career and a desire for a radically different life.

Last month, I was at the Gardens on Spring Creek, feeling drawn to the seeds bursting out of all the plants and trees as they made their way into autumn mode. I was struck by how nature was full of promises and future possibilities.

Each seed felt like gratitude even though the plant or flower had died (at least as we humans understand it). Yet the life-death-life cycle promises new growth out of that death. We may grieve the loss of that flower and also be grateful to those seeds and their promise of a new spring.

A few years before I quit academia, I wrote a “dear John” letter to the Higher Ed community to help me process letting go, even though I knew then I wasn’t quite ready. I could feel the need for radical, right-aligned change looming after my burnout and stress injuries.

There was a letter version that was angry and blaming. Then, there was a version filled with gratitude. I needed to write both versions.