Hi Friends-
I hope you're continuing to surf the waves of change with as much grit and grace as you can manage — or just deciding to inflate your life preserver and take a break, as needed.
This morning I decided to fully embrace uncertainty. Or let's be real — to try to fully embrace it.
It's taken at least a year and change of resistance, but I am beginning to see that there is just no escaping this liminal state I'm in.
(And, dare I say, that we're in? ð)
So I am going to surrender to the transformational goo of being betwixt, and begin to create new offerings from that place.
Offerings that honor the chrysalis, the threshold, the liminal, the gestational, the uncertain, the unknowing, the undoing!
And all of the possibility just waiting to be unlocked within those spaces.
I'm excited to share more soon — stay tuned. : )
Sending love,
Jocelyn
In Praise of Dog Wisdom
—
Wherein I talk about catastrophizing, daydreaming, and what dogs can teach us about mindfulness.
I've written about how teachers are everywhere before, but dogs carry a special kind of wisdom. They are such clear mirrors, such simple, earnest teachers.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my friend's dog, Fred. Like all dogs, Fred wants to be a good boy, but he's experienced some serious trauma in his life so he's a bit wary of certain situations. One of them is when strangers come over to the house.
Because Fred would get stressed out when people came over to the house, my friend got him some schooling with a local dog trainer. Among other things, this trainer taught Fred the command "place," which is for when he is supposed to go to his bed and stay there.
In the past, when I went over to my friend's house, Fred had to be cooped up but now he can run free.
In the new paradigm, there's a little "place dance" that happens upon my arrival. Fred comes out and sniffs me, my friend says "place" and points to his bed. Then he goes to his bed for a brief moment before he slinks away again to investigate me in more detail, she says "place" and he returns to his bed again. This scenario plays out a few times until Fred finally decides to relax into his "place."
A few months ago, after hanging out with my friend and Fred, I awoke in the middle of the night with some anxiety. This is not an unusual occurrence: I often awake in the middle of the night, my mind poised to lure me into gaming out worst case scenarios. I call it the "4ams."
But, on this night, I thought of Fred. And as I went to the bathroom: I kept saying to my brain: place... place…. place... place. And then I went back to my bed, and I was able to fall quickly back to sleep. The 4ams safely avoided.
Today, on my morning walk through the woods, the U2 song "With or Without You" was stuck in my head, and the lyrics "and you give, and you give, and you give yourself away" were playing on loop. I wondered: Why are these specific lyrics stuck in my head?
And I thought about Fred and coming back to my "place."
This time I wasn't giving myself over to worst case scenarios, I was lost in a kind of low-key conversational daydreaming as I texted with someone. My mind ginning up things I might say, how that might go, what that might mean. My Gemini brain loves nothing more than to imagine, rehearse, replay, embellish a conversation. To dance with words is a great intoxicant.
But it was also taking me elsewhere. I was not being present with the woods, with the land, with the rain, with my actual dog, Pablo, who, like the small deerlike being that he is, was nibbling gently on the first new shoots of green sprouting by the river.
And as I gave myself away to these mental meanderings, I thought… place.
And I reeled my mind back in, and I reeled those energetic threads back in, so that I could be where I was — with my dog, in the woods, on my morning walk, thinking about what I wanted to write today.
Allowing myself to fully be present with, and expanding into, this sacred morning ritual of walking in the woods before I sit down to write. To be in my place.
Sometimes my mind wants the best for me, and it slowly shimmies away from its place and off into some silly, gobsmacked, rainbow-unicorn imaginings.
And sometimes my mind wants the worst for me, and it slowly slinks away from its place and off into some seriously fear-inducing, paralyzing, catastrophic imaginings.
But whether it's a fanciful daydream or a fearful imagining, the bottom line is: I'm going somewhere else.
On one end of the spectrum, I drift into anxiety and worst-case scenarios. On the other end, I drift into the intoxication of what could be, of potential.
In the middle: Place.
Presence.
Imperfection.
Allowing.
Detaching.
Expanding.
Relaxing.
Relief.
Acceptance.
Okay-ness.
An offering.
Of myself.
Back to myself.
Right here.
Right now.
Why do I ever go anywhere else?
LINK ABOUT IT
A great interview with Lady Gaga on bringing the whole you. (And don't miss this epic SNL performance.)
So many beautiful quotes in these prompts: 60+ exercises designed to kickstart your writing.
Yuval Noah Harari on: How do we share the planet with this new super-intelligence?
The physics of rainbows, which are actually full circles not arcs.
Forget dark apocalyptic visions and embrace ominous positivity!
This says it all: A list of words the Trump administration is banning.
Lesson 1 of "On Tyranny": Do not obey in advance.
(Find all 20 lessons with commentary from Timothy Snyder here.)
Underwater photography vibes: Fluo spiny squat lobster?!
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SHOUT-OUTS:
The artwork is from: Tom Leighton, who is based in Falmouth, United Kingdom.
Link ideas from: remind me to love, Kottke, The Audacity, and Dense Discovery.
You can support me & my work by: Sharing this newsletter with someone, or taking my course, RESET.
Website: jkg.co
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