'Tis the season!

 'Tis the season! #lettingjoyin

Next generation of bookworms!

Next generation of bookworms! Most days they get home from school and beeline for these chairs and the stack of library books. #lettingjoyin

Solo mini roadtrip!

Solo mini roadtrip! So much joy around this, but here are the top three reasons this small but big thing in my life is worth celebrating: 1. Me alone in the car with my best playlist is just about one of the most therapeutic things I can do for myself. What used to be a daily event for blowing off steam and connecting back with myself is currently a once in a blue moon occurence which I am just enjoying the heck out of! 2. It is a sunny day! I try not to complain about the tug-of-war between spring and winter, but yesterday's snow squalls were just plain brutal. 3. The reason for this mini roadtrip was.... giving my fingerprints for immigration! It has been a ridiculously long story of why I am still on an extended visitor's visa in Canada and now that my application for permanent residency is officially in the system and moving forward, I am breathing so much more freely! Hip-hip-hooray!!! #lettingjoyin And the bonus joy comes with gratitude toward Latvia for teaching me how to go ahead and just ask the question. I arrived for my appointment 30 minutes early (you can never be too careful with timing when navigating big city traffic). The paper explicitly said don't show up more than 10 minutes before your appointed time. There was a line of 50+ people out the door of where I needed to be. It is not lost on me that once upon a time I would've gotten into that line without asking questions. Once upon a time, I would've waited until 10 minutes before my appointed time as requested by the paper. But I went ahead and just asked the question and I was whisked right in so that my fingerprints were done and dusted fifteen minutes before my appointed time. Part of why the immigration process has been so frustrating for me is that while small pond Latvia taught me to just go ahead and ask, I haven't even had access to being able to ask the questions here in the big pond especially with everything being online and remote these days. It's a relief to know that even if I can't always find a way to ask the questions, when the opportunity does present itself, it still holds true that it sure never hurts just to ask.

New growth!

New growth! Today these lovelies settled into their new homes. In the bleakest of winter days, they were just branches stuck in water with a nebulous hope that they might not die. Check out those root systems now! The resilience of life is utterly inspiring. #lettingjoyin

Thank goodness for big brothers!

Thank goodness for big brothers! When mom and dad can't provide the right motivation, Austris often knows just how to jolly Dainis along. Weekly kindergarten reading homework complete! #lettingjoyin

Blacksmiths of our ripples

Buried right under our noses, the Latvian language gives a nod to the power and strength of our words. The word burt or ‘to conjure’ is the root of: burti (alphabetic letters), burtot (to spell) and burtnīca (notebook - or the literal translation as ‘place of conjuring’).  Maybe you’ve just noticed the simple connection of ‘conjuring’ in English as well - ‘spelling’ words.  Words are an articulation of our thoughts, and it seems our ancestors had a pretty good handle on the power of the thoughts and words we choose to release into the world.

The Latvian word for ‘a lot of’ is daudz. From this root word we get the words daudzināt and daudzināšana which is the act of mentioning and praising something openly/widely/freely/often. This is the acknowledgement that what we speak of openly/widely/freely/often matters. Furthermore, gathering together for any ancient ritual is called a daudzinājums - a time and space of coming together to praise something openly/widely/freely/often - because of course there is power in togetherness.  The leader of the daudzinājums chooses the theme, and typically there is space for anyone and everyone who would like to add their perspective on the theme to say their piece out loud.  

In this time when it isn’t hard to feel like the world is swiftly going to hell in a handbasket (I suspect every generation experiences this sentiment in their own way), I keep my head above water by contemplating what I can actually do to make a difference.  Inevitably, I come back to the same notion that the small ripples matter as much as the grand gestures, and it matters greatly that I pay attention to my small ripples.

Today I share a few different passages from my word doodles.  I’m not going to attempt to seamlessly link them up, but each feels like it connects to this sentiment of becoming skilled blacksmiths of our own ripples.  

…This particular dream delivered both a beautiful life lesson and a window into my next steps all rolled into one.  And it literally was a lesson.  Our pastor was delivering her weekly sermon, but instead of standing behind the pulpit, she was on the altar with a giant chalkboard beside her, holding an old school teachers’ pointing stick.  Ah ha, she wasn’t delivering a sermon, she was delivering a lesson.  It is not one I will ever forget.  There was a game of pool drawn up on the chalkboard, and the message was that you are the cue ball and all the people who will cross your path are the colored balls.  You cannot change them.  You cannot move their position.  All you can do is change your own perspective.  Move this way or that way with your cue stick to decide your next move and your impact on the situation.  Years later, I always had a color photo of the game of pool on my office wall alongside the quote ‘You are responsible for the energy you bring into this space.’  A beautiful image and message delivered in a dream, never to be forgotten…

***

…We are walking sieves, moving through life in a way that constantly filters our insides and outsides. As children we absorb all the implicit and explicit messages from our environments, and at some point, we slowly start to sift it all through our own souls.  If we’re honoring the richness of life and stay curious, this sifting continues well into adulthood.   …… Keep your eyes, ears and hearts peeled, because you never know when is going to be the day when the same world you’ve experienced over and over again is suddenly going to feel different because you’ll see it in a whole new light….  

***

….The older we become, the more control and the more responsibility we have over our own conditions, both on the outside and the inside. Though we’ll never have complete control on the outside because we haven’t been plopped down on earth to float along in isolated bubbles, we do have an obligation to become familiar with our best growing conditions and be proactive in creating them. We are the custodians of our own petri dishes.   …. And as Latvians say ‘neesi sēne!’ (‘don’t be a mushroom!’) meaning we haven’t been planted into an exact set of coordinates here on earth - move around and get out! Go! Do! See things!  I’ll take that further to say while you are out and about, seek out ways of looking at the same thing from different angles and then don’t be afraid to sift this through your soul and readjust your perspective. We aren’t mushrooms!

***

The real question for me was how to capture and maintain those moments of accomplishment - that is, not only to harvest the fruits of success, but to really understand what it is that made this fruit grow in the first place so I could duplicate such a harvest elsewhere.  We are in charge of monitoring our own outdoor and indoor conditions, and while we can regulate our outer conditions to an extent, our real power and also greatest responsibility in the stewardship of this one precious life we’ve been given is to understand the ins and outs of our indoor conditions and then to create an arena for systematically maintaining the best inside environment we can.  Taking ownership for cultivating our ripples.

***

My formula for optimal growth in inner conditions is my own toolkit for ‘tuning’ myself.  Much like musical instruments need tuning, so do I.  This is 100% my responsibility, and mine alone, and I will always have a greater impact on my inside conditions than I do on my outside.

***

I love my post-it notes - on mirrors, walls, closets, computers and in my daily planner - quotes and mantras that I choose to focus on, to re-tune myself over and over again.  Everywhere I look, I am diligently and strategically brainwashing myself.  In a world that’s constantly bombarding and sideswiping us with both desirable and undesirable messages, it feels important to become the boss of the messages that get the most airtime.  Brainwash yourself or let others do it for you…

***

Which leads to accountability.  Part of the power of a community is accountability.  It’s a herculean skill of discipline to keep yourself accountable, which is why we rely on each other for scaffolding.  A student who I was mentoring through a rough and bumpy patch of studies helped me see this simple but poignant truth in that way only high schoolers can so precisely and bluntly comment on the world.  We had reviewed all the tools and strategies she could put into place to keep herself accountable for staying on top of her work.  At one point she said to me with such brutal honesty, “I know what I have to do, Ms Diana, sometimes I just can’t make myself do it.” Ain’t that the truth for all of us. 

#lettingjoyin is both an accountability tool and a warm invitation to join the daudzināšana of joy!  For anyone and everyone who would like to add their perspective on joy or share their stories of joy - welcome!

Tangible growth!

Tangible growth! We rarely notice progress in ourselves but it sure is a celebratory moment when it happens! In 2020 I started a reading journal and today as I added my reflections on a novel I recently finished, I flipped back through to see what might catch my eye. This was part of my first entry about 'Women Who Run With Wolves' and this question was such a revolutionary concept for me at the time I gave it a half-page of airtime so that I would not forget. Today, I smiled broadly reading it, because it is neither a novel thought nor radical act to ask myself this question. Go me!

#lettingjoyin And today's answer is: Forest bathing!

A distinctly more difficult day

 Today was a distinctly more difficult day to think about joy. March 25th is a day of sorrow in Latvia (more about the important history of this date below) - one that hits particularly close to home this year. But there it was: my walk home with Dainis. He wanted to walk slowly this afternoon, so we were well behind the usual rowdy rush of children and had unhurried, delightful conversation all the way home. We had a hearty laugh about his story of gummibears in orange underwear, debated whether cucumbers are more tasty when thinly sliced or as thick wedges, and marvelled at how long and skinny our legs looked in the bumpers of parked cars. #lettingjoyin Even as I ask myself 'who am I to be posting about feeling joy when there is so much sorrow in the world?', the answer comes 'who am I not to?' There isn't a single day on this sweet earth that is all joy or all sorrow. Steadfastness in noticing and acknowledging our joy feels like an important way to keep ourselves healthy and strong, and goodness knows, each of us to be on our top game right now so we can keep putting our best foot forward out into the world.

On March 25, 1949 the Soviet-Russian regime, military and KGB, forcefully removed 42,000 innocent and peacefull Latvian men, women, and children from their homes in Latvia, giving them only a few minutes to gather the belongings they could carry in their hands, drove them to train stations and forced them on to cattle cars to face the horrific ride to concentration camps in Siberia where most would parish. Another 30,000 Lithuanians and 20,000 Estonians faced the the same fate on this day of mourning for all three countries. 70% of those deported were women and children. Please join me in remembering these innocent victims and praying for the Ukrainian people who today are facing this same terror.

New books!

 New books! Be still my heart.

I love that most of the books I've consumed in Canada have been from the library, but there is certainly something to be said for the incomparable joy that comes with receiving a package of books in the mail. #lettingjoyin

The ripples ripple back!

The ripples ripple back! A friend shared a song today for #lettingjoyin.

One of my mantras every now and again is to 'Be the elephant!' - a reminder to myself to go on and take up space unapologetically, so it put an extra smile on my face to see the elephant's cameo in the music video.

Tougher skin vs rose-colored glasses

Two years ago I started a google drive folder called Doodling with Words.  We'd taken a decision as a family to flip the script of our lives and move back to North America after fifteen years in Latvia.  There were lots of reasons for this decision and even as this sudden plot twist came with a deep sadness, we knew it was the next right step for our family.  

I make sense of my journey by doodling with words, so it's no surprise that there are currently 202 pages of thoughts pinned to paper (or more accurately - my computer screen) that have emerged through this transition.  Ask anyone who's known me right the way through: I am not the same person I was when I boarded that plane for Latvia.  I've felt an insistant nudge to noodle through the alchemy of this fifteen year slice of my life, and my writing has been instrumental in uncovering all the gems that life in Latvia gifted me.  

The doodles aren't neatly organized from arrival to departure rather they are tied to the intangible - senses and feelings - structured only by the frame that each collection of doodles is tied to the sentiments evoked by a song.  I attribute my openness for this unconventional mode of articulating my thoughts to my privilege in observing my eldest son's way of moving through life.  He's an avid reader but has never read a single book from start to finish.  Instead he hops around, leafing through the pages and reading passages that strike him as interesting.  By the time it's all said and done, he will have gotten through the book and have pieced together the events and main ideas through his own remarkable thought processes.  His brain's ADHD wiring has him zooming his attention in and out and all about at a remarkable pace, and this leads to an extraordinary non-linear approach to the way he creates meaning not only when reading but also through living.

Why am I sharing all of this?  Because it feels like the right time to begin letting some of my doodles out into the world.  The part of me that still prefers the linear worries that the bits and pieces shared won't always contain the complete context, but I've come to trust that the full story will unfold and piece itself together over time - for me and for all of us.

A huge theme for me has been learning to 'walk the tightrope' - that is holding the tension for two seemingly contradictory extremes simultaneously so that over time we become skilled at employing the right amount of each while navigating the paradox that is life.  

Following my thoughts about Joy Eyeballs, I now share how I first stepped onto the tightrope of 'tougher skin vs rose-colored glasses'... an excerpt from the collection of doodles I called 'Tougher Skin.' 

I arrived in Latvia on a roundtrip ticket, because it was cheaper than a one-way.

The arrival was strategic - the day before Valentine’s Day that year. Freshly divorced, I could think of no better way to spent the holiday than sitting and drinking a lot of wine together with one of my best friends. The first of many nights we did our part to boost sales in that small wine shop across the street.  It was a grand way to kick off the unexpected curve in my journey, boldly landing me on a new path halfway around the world.

With my friend at my side along with the many expats she introduced me to, all showing me the ropes, I felt well enough as I settled in. Although it was all new, I definitely didn’t feel lost.

It was a big moment when I got my own clunky Nokia phone with a local phone number. No voice mails here. Everyone uses sms messages. I was on a steep learning curve but loving it. It was a tremendously proud day when I ventured out to the post office on my own in order to buy a calling card. (Don’t ask about why the post office was the place to buy calling cards - to this very day you can also buy toilet paper, pantyhose and random household items, alongside postmarks and envelopes.) I hadn’t signed up for an international phone plan, and wanted to be able to call my family from my own phone every now and again. So the best option was a pre-paid international calling card. I navigated the organized chaos of lines at the post office. In truth there were no lines, and fifteen years ago there sure as heck was no system for taking a number to wait your turn, but nevertheless there was some distinctive pecking order for how one moved forward to get served. Somehow I flowed into one of the waves, worked my way to the front, securing my calling card. A true personal victory.

I made my way home, made myself some lunch and crawled onto my bed to work out how to access my pre-paid minutes. The timing was great, by the time I worked it out, I should be able to call back home at a respectable hour with the time change to let them know how well things were going. I pulled the calling card out of my bag, somewhat ceremoniously because when you’re in a new place doing new things, somehow the most mundane acts become a big deal. I flipped it over to peel back the packaging, and saw that it had been very craftily scotch taped back together again. Huh. That’s odd. I pulled out the calling card along with the sheet of directions and started reading. I punched buttons on my phone, then turned the card over to enter the pin number. That yucky unease that had been swirling through my body settled hard into my stomach. The black strip had already been scratched off, pin number revealed. A small flame of hope still flickered somewhere inside, screeching that humanity is good and just enter that pin number, it’ll be ok, you’ll see. But even as my trembling fingers managed to strike the proper numbers, I already heard the computerized voice confirming ‘You have ZERO minutes of calling time left.’ A few more rocks landed into the pile in my stomach when I realized they hadn’t even given me a receipt for the purchase. This had not been an oopsie. This was calculated.

Here’s the perspective that half of me was absolutely able to see even in that moment: I had lost only 10 Lats (approximately $15 USD). I would be able to sort out another avenue for calling home, both on that day and in the long term. Just because there are some crummy people out there doesn’t mean everyone is so. No big deal.

Here’s the half of me that went completely berserk and took over the situation: WTF?!!!! That purchase was made at a post office! That is a government institution! If I can’t trust this establishment, who the heck can I trust around here? Where have I landed, where is my beloved Latvia, all things and people good and wonderful? Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.... How in heaven’s name am I going to survive in this country?

As stubbornly as I’d been working to keep those puppies securely perched in place, my rose-colored glasses dropped away right then and there. And I cried, and cried, and cried. This came from a place far deeper, of course, than the calling card and the post office. Why, why, why must crappy things happen to good people? Why must husbands come out of closets? Why must entire countries and nationalities be crushed into submission by others? Why can’t we just get our happily ever afters?! We are just good people, trying to live our lives right.

My best friend came home some time later to find me still curled up on my bed, sobbing. The first words out of my mouth were, ‘Whatever I say or do, do not let me get on that return flight in two weeks.’ To this day I have no idea where I mustered up that kind of conviction. Must’ve been the forty year old me overstepping her bounds by letting her voice out, just for a moment, to keep me in place.

My friend sat with me. We talked. We hugged. The perspective slowly came back into balance. It was a calling card. I’d get another. And I’d keep going, one day at a time.

She gave me her phone. I talked to my parents. They listened well, as they always do. My dad, who’s always had this amazing knack of tackling everything with a level head and a very practical solution, said to me, ‘You’re just going to have to grow a tougher skin.’ What?! Where was my practical solution? Was he saying that maybe not everything can be fixed just like that? Did he just tell me, his little girl, that the thing to do now was grow tougher skin? Holy cow. This was certainly not Kansas anymore. As much as I felt I must be dreaming and would be waking up at any moment now, I knew I’d crossed some bridge and there was no going back. Not only *could* I grow a tougher skin, here in this strange uncharted territory, but I most assuredly WOULD do it. Permission had been granted, and the challenge had been accepted.

As though the universe knew I was ready to start stepping out but not quite alone yet, my mentor for this hurdle came in the form of a very particular character. A Tunisian, a flamboyant French teacher, friend and colleague to my best friend and soon enough to me as well. He’d spent a few years in Latvia already and was further down his journey of this love-hate relationship. This country is nothing if not the extremes. All gray lives in the skies through most of the winter months, but never in the happenings down on the ground. Life here truly is spectacular on one end of the spectrum or the other. While blogging I described this as: ‘Somehow days here always seem a little sunnier and a little rainier than elsewhere, but that leads to a lot of rainbows (literally and figuratively)!’ I still stand by it. You are madly in love with it or it has you bubbling with a passionate grumpiness, but lukewarm is so rare here and that kind of environment is ripe for growing. (Or withering, you choose.)

So I’d cried with my friend, I’d talked with my parents, and was feeling a bit more even-keeled, when in walks our friend with his slight frame and larger-than-life personality. When he heard the calling card story, he erupted. Like mine, his volcano had very little to do with the calling card, and everything to do with being fed up with good people paying the price for someone else’s crappiness. That’s it, he says! We are going to the post office tomorrow and demanding a new calling card for you!

And we did. And we were denied a new card because we had no receipt. And we demanded to speak to the manager. And there wasn’t anyone available to talk to us. The walk home was filled with commiseration and that was good enough. Sometimes you don’t need things fixed, so much as someone beside you who genuinely understands.

That night I installed Skype on my computer for speaking to my family. Fifteen years later, I still don’t have an international phone plan and sure haven’t even entertained the idea of anymore pre-paid calling cards. Sometimes growing thicker skin means you stand up for your peace and sanity by letting it go and figuring out another way. Resourcefulness. There is always, always another way.

Growing tougher skin was the hardest and best advice I could’ve received that day. More importantly, I decided even as I was going to work on growing my tougher skin, I wasn’t giving away my rose-colored glasses. I sensed I was only going to make it through life’s jungles with both.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

Morning yoga!

 Morning yoga! My yoga practice ebbs and flows. When I notice myself generally not feeling great, the subesquent observation is almost always that it's time to kick start my yoga practice again. A friend recently reminded me that it's ok to put down my mountains - I was only meant to climb them, not carry them. My grumpy squeezed-up muscles remind me every morning that I'm still carrying too much. Yoga helps me set it down, and my body thanks me every time I honor this request. Bonus joy in this morning's yoga, because the stars aligned as they do once in a blue moon giving me a peaceful and completely uninterrupted fifteen minutes of stretching while Austris and Dainis snuggled together and quietly chatted in bed. #lettingjoyin

Food rescue!

Food rescue! This gorgeous green head of broccoli would've been on its way to the dump if it weren't for the No More Starving Artists program. With membership in Ontario Musician's Cooperative, we have the opportunity to take home an overflowing box of free food approximately once a week thanks to a team of volunteers who coordinate donations of food being taken out of rotation from local grocery stores and cafes. With every box of food that comes into our home, I can't help think of one of my favorite awareness-raising projects with students called 'A Banana's Journey', tracking every step of a banana's growth and subsequent three-week journey from tree to table. The amount of resources - from human labor to the costs of time and energy associated with transport to the logistics of getting each piece of food on the shelf ready for a sale - is staggering. I am so grateful this food rescue program saves all of that from going to waste for at least one small fraction of food in our area. I am extremely grateful for the support this brings to our grocery budget! And I am also grateful that dinner will go over well tonight because for as picky as they may be with eating other things, my boys sure do love broccoli. #lettingjoyin

Joy Eyeballs

 #lettingjoyin is a space I intend to hold as a training ground for Joy Eyeballs.  

As an early childhood educator, I sometimes wonder which came first - the chicken or the egg?  Did my stubborn optimism and relentless inner sunshine draw me into a career nurturing the original pint-sized vessels of sunshine who walk this earth, or has spending so much time with them made me a student of their worldview and subsequent master of finding joy in all the little-but-big things crossing our paths daily?  I suppose it doesn’t much matter. I do know that when someone notices and comments on my simple, childlike and at times even naive view of the world, I don’t mind.  In fact, I take it as the ultimate compliment.    

I choose to cultivate my Joy Eyeballs.  

My high school graduation quote read: “Keep your face to the sunshine and you will not see the shadows.”  At that time, I could think of no greater accomplishment in life than to follow Helen Keller’s powerful example of staying unshakably sunny no matter what obstacles came my way.  Watch what you wish for.  Bold statements are going to lead to bold challenges to test your resolve.  

It hasn’t all been sunny, and I haven’t always succeeded in choosing to sit on the side of the bus that keeps my face to the sunshine.  Surprisingly, I’m glad for that regardless of what my adolescent self might have to say about it, because both sides of the bus have had their share of gems to teach me.  Life isn’t complete without the yin and the yang.  

In my story, I’ve come to recognize that the shadows fuel my stubborn optimism into action.  They offer the gifts of understanding and empathy which ignite overwhelming surges of motivation.  I pay attention to those sparks best in the darkness.  But I can’t let myself get stuck there, and I know that it’s the fruits which my Joy Eyeballs have gathered on the sunny side of the bus that keep me believing it is possible that my action might make a difference.

Right now there are enough shadows - both on the inside and on the outside - that I’m designating a season for mindfully and actively moving myself to the sunny side of the bus each day.  Spring is here!  Days are longer than nights, and there is no better time to take on the challenge of noticing, savoring, diving into and splashing around in the joy that is right under my nose.  Even if it is just for a few moments each day, the fruits gather and multiply.  

As I hold this space for honing Joy Eyeballs, know that there is a jaded part of me rolling her eyes at the sunny side of the bus. I know well enough that keeping your face to the sunshine will not eliminate the shadows and it sure doesn’t serve anyone to ignore the shadows altogether.  But I also know it also doesn’t serve anyone to hunker down in the darkness for too long, and we can each feel our own tipping points.  In all its hard frostiness, winter has given us its gift of quiet darkness, rest and time for rejuvenation.  And now…. Spring!  

On this first day of spring, I woke up with an earworm that I don’t mind sharing - Blue Rodeo’s ‘Rose-Colored Glasses’.  When my husband and I first met we were both going through some darkness.  His natural inclination was sitting on the shadow side of the bus, and he paid me a great compliment by declaring that this song was about me with my stubborn optimism and relentless inner sunshine.  I like it, I choose it and I think this childlike worldview is worth holding onto and returning to as long as possible.  Simple - yes; naive - I’m actually not so sure… Now that I’m deeper into my journey, I feel a nuanced difference between slipping on Rose-Colored Glasses and choosing to activate Joy Eyeballs.  The former is a space of sunshine sans shadows while the latter implies sunshine among shadows.  

So in my sunniest teacher voice, I invite you to activate your Joy Eyeballs and join me in the ultimate game of ‘I Spy’.  Take notice of anything and everything that brings joy and spend a few extra moments lingering while it lasts.

She sees the world through rose-coloured glasses

Painted skies and graceful romances

I see a world that's tired and scared

Of living on the edge too long

Where does she get off telling me

That love could save us all, save us all.

She takes my hand and leads me to nowhere town.

No matter where I stand it's always neutral ground,

And in the cool of the evening blue

I feel so tired and alone

Where does she get off telling me

That love could save us all, save us all.

And it's day after day

I keep hanging around can you tell me why

Night after night, yeah I know I should leave

But there's something in those eyes

That keeps me hanging on, I'm hypnotized

It breaks my heart and I don't know why

Tell me why, tell me why

She sees the world through rose-coloured glasses…

Robin family

Lielā diena klāt! Spring is here! Days are longer than nights - hooray! May we all feel the power of this through and through as we step into the season when light is greater than darkness.  Our robin family has returned. #lettingjoyin Kur braucat, sīki putni, vāģīšos sasēduši? Mēs brauksim tai zemē, kur būs silta vasariņa.

Wholeheartedly #lettingjoyin

Spring is almost, almost here! What’s been rumbling around in your heart this winter? I’ve been nurturing a hearty heap of seedlings, awaiting the softening of spring to sift out which of these lovelies has the courage and stamina to sprout up. What I do know as I wait (im)patiently is that the best growing happens with lightness and joy, so I’m designating this season to intentionally cultivate joy. I also know that even as the world constantly reminds us of all that is ‘wrong’ and all there is to fear, it is up each of us to notice all that is right and delve into life with love. Allowing ourselves to feel joy deeply on the inside and then rippling that back out is a radical act of love that the world needs desperately especially now. ‘Absurd times call for absurd amounts of love!’ So for the next 93 days I’m wholeheartedly #lettingjoyin and I invite anyone and everyone to join me!

And I'm not even going to wait for tomorrow. Mornings are at the 50/50 mark now between the days he gets up and beelines to mom for a morning snuggle versus the days he gets up and goes on his own way. He still fits into my lap so comfortably and I am sure as heck going to drop everything I'm doing and soak up each and every morning snuggle! #lettingjoyin