by Lori Deschene

Before I found this Flickr image, I had never read this Irish blessing before. What a beautiful idea!

I remember in college, I spent a semester abroad in the Netherlands. My school owned a castle there—a full-on castle with a moat and towers and everything. The school gave us all three-day weekends, and two full weeks off so we could maximize our Eurail passes.

I didn’t bring as much money as other students did—I actually put a lot on my credit card and then worked extra to pay it off when I returned home—so I spent quite a few weekends almost alone in that castle.

It was an absolutely gorgeous space, and I enjoyed reflecting in solitude (and exploring the village), but the memories I cherished the most involved new friends crammed into tiny hostel rooms.

And it wasn’t just the adventure of being in a foreign country that made this so enticing. It was equally exciting to hang out in milk-crate decorated dorm rooms and apartments the following semester. When you’re with good people, it doesn’t matter where you are as long as you’re all together.

Now that I live in Los Angeles, I see no shortage of amazing houses far grander than my apartment. I walk by them frequently, and sometimes I admire them for their architecture and opulence. But the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen will always be my grandmother’s.

She has a small apartment in the housing projects where she hosted holiday gatherings for years before recently getting sick. Crammed with way too many Italian people all talking on top of each other, decorated with homemade afghans and one too many pictures of awkwardly posed grandchildren, it always feels warm and full of love.

That’s what makes a house of home. It’s not designer décor. It’s not the perfect furniture. It’s not the sprawling living room, backyard, or deck. It’s the sometimes messy, always cozy sense of comfort and welcome. It’s where one more person is always received with a friendly, boisterous, “Heeeeey!” in unison (or maybe that’s just us Italians).

There’s nothing wrong with having nice things, and living in a spacious, comfortable house.

But in the end, it’s not our stuff that we value. What really matters is how much space we create in our hearts—and how comfortable we are opening them to let other people in.

Photo by CarbonNYC

by Lori Deschene

“The journey is the reward.” ~Chinese Proverb

So much of our language about the things we enjoy in life revolves around getting ahead.

We wonder where our relationships are going. We plan to move forward in our careers. We talk about maintaining momentum with new projects.

None of these things are necessarily bad. We naturally crave growth to feel a sense of purpose and progress.

But sometimes we put so much energy into pushing and striving that we miss out on the joy of being where we are.

When we visualize ourselves taking a pause to fully absorb and appreciate our surroundings, it’s often after we’ve arrived. It’s when we’ve climbed the mountain and can finally stand proudly on its peak. It’s when we’ve made the commitment, secured the deal, or finished working on something we love.

From a purely mathematic standpoint, it’s clear we will have far fewer opportunities to enjoy arriving than we will have to enjoy the journey.

The question then becomes: Are we willing to relish in the many uncertain moments when we’re not sure yet where our efforts are leading?

I suspect it boils down to belief and intention.

If we believe we need to create massive change in order to experience joy, we will inevitably feel a sense of restlessness. This moment will feel like something we need to endure to get ahead—something painfully inadequate compared to where we’d rather be.

If we believe that every part of the process can be beautiful and joyful, we will feel a sense of calmness and peace. This moment will feel like something we need to savor while it lasts—something unique and worth celebrating, regardless of where it takes us.

We’re always going to want to spread our wings and fly. We crave freedom, adventure, and possibility, and we don’t want to feel stuck, bored, or limited.

Perhaps happiness is recognizing that we are never stuck. Even if we don’t recognize it, we are always growing and evolving, and the world we know is always changing.

There will never be another opportunity to seize the possibilities of this moment. We can limit ourselves by failing to recognize this, and in doing so, let life pass us by. Or we can realize the greatest adventure is always the one we’re in right now.

Photo by scion_cho

by Lori Deschene

“Whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Have you ever exacerbated difficult feelings by responding to them with resistance?

Although I made peace with my recent burglary shortly after it happened, I started feeling down and anxious at the end of last week. In retrospect, I think there was a connection between that and the painkillers my doctor prescribed when my surgical site started hurting again.

But I suspect I was also feeling the residual effects of everything that’s happened over these past two months. At the time, I didn’t fully understand my feelings. I just knew I wanted them to pass, especially since I was due to get my boyfriend at the airport.

I felt guilty for greeting him under a dark cloud of sadness, frustrated for not feeling as upbeat as I had earlier in the week, and confused because none of it made sense to me.

There were tears, and self-analysis, and self-judgment, until Saturday morning.

I planned to work at a coffee shop I love to create a more positive state of mind. But when I got there, I couldn’t find a parking spot—despite driving around for 20 minutes.

After that, I drove to the activity center in my apartment community where I knew I’d see some friendly faces, only to find my computer wouldn’t connect to the internet. While I repeatedly tried different approaches to fix the issue, I found myself feeling frustrated.

I screamed internally, “Come on! I just want to get online!”

Then I stopped, took a deep breath, and asked myself, “Is it possible I’m not getting what I want, but I’m getting what I need?”

I’d been trying to analyze, overpower, and outrun my feelings when what I really needed to do was stop—stop trying to understand and fix them, and instead accept and surrender to them.

That might sound like a defeatist choice, since surrendering implies giving it. But I’ve found it’s a lot like those Chinese finger traps: you can’t get out by fighting. The only way to get un-stuck is to relax and release.

It generally works the same with feelings. When we fight them, we give them more power.

It might not always seem like it in the moment, when we’re wading in something uncomfortable and potentially overwhelming, but no feeling lasts forever. Everything fades if we’re willing to let it.

By mid-day Saturday, I felt a lot better. I suspect it was because I stopped feeding into the story of my sadness and instead chose to lean into it.

As ironic as it may seem, sometimes the best way to let go of something difficult is to first choose to embrace it.

Photo by ototadana

by Lori Deschene

“Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

The other day, while I was getting cash from an ATM, I smiled at an adorable toddler standing with her father at the machine next to me.

She had this huge grin on her face, and she actually waved at me from two feet away, so I couldn’t help but smile in return.

Just then, she pulled on her father’s leg and giggled the words, “Why does everyone like me?”

He responded, “Because you’re a beautiful little girl!”

It was a simple, heartwarming moment, because I could tell from her bashful yet proud expression that she internalized and believed this, as I wish all children could.

I wondered if strangers frequently smiled at her because of her cheery cherubic face, leading her to conclude that everyone likes her.

And I hoped she’d hold onto that simple conclusion forever, so she’d never doubt her inner light, and as a consequence, shine it often.

For many kids, confidence and joy come so easily. They have an innocence about them—a sense of possibility and wonder. They don’t dwell on what happened yesterday. They don’t obsess over what’s coming tomorrow and worry that they can’t handle it.

And they haven’t yet learned to question themselves, not like we do as adults.

I wonder what it would look like to recapture that self-belief and joy. Kids make it look so simple.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we could feel that same sense of self-assurance and presence if we stopped burying ourselves under the layers of everything that’s happened, and chose instead to simply be in the moment.

Maybe we could believe in ourselves more fully if we also looked for signs to confirm our worth and beauty; if we chose to recognize people smiling at us, believing in us, confiding in us, depending on us.

Maybe we just need to step in where our parents may or may not have left off, and remind us ourselves as often as possible that we are beautiful—and the best way to show it is to smile.

Photo by antwerpenR

by Lori Deschene

“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” ~Winston Churchill

As someone whose profession requires me to spend a great deal of time alone, I’m always trying to strike a balance between solitude and connection; so yesterday I decided to write from this courtyard outside the activity center in my apartment community.

I ended up sitting next to two men who I overheard discussing something that sounded personal.

I didn’t stay for long, at the risk of being intrusive, but I quickly realized one of the men was coaching the other to be more confident when meeting new people.

He told him to close his eyes and call to mind positive things that made him feel self-assured, happy, and peaceful. Then he asked him to open his eyes and introduce himself, while mentally reinforcing that he wants something for the other person, not from him.

This simple suggestion hit me as quite profound. It begged the question: What’s the difference between approaching someone as if there’s something you need to get and approaching someone as if there’s something you want to give?

If we want something from people, we come to them from a place of lack, unbalance, and maybe even neediness.

If we want something for people, we come to them from a place of wholeness, presence, and maybe even love.

And it’s not just about self-confidence or altruism. It’s also about taking responsibility for creating positive energy around us, which inevitably multiples.

When we give good thoughts, good vibes, and a smile, we generally get it back.

Though I had moved to sit further away from the men, I could still overhear their conversation—and I eventually realized one was actually coaching the other to be a successful salesman.

Turns out he would want something from the people he would meet.

Still, I was grateful this message came to me, because I found it inspiring, and I knew upon hearing it that I wanted to give it to you.

Inevitably we are going to want things from other people. Hopefully we’ll be able to be honest about that and simply ask for what we need.

But when we don’t, perhaps we can share a little light by approaching each other with the intention of giving something good.

We all have so much to give. We just need to consciously choose to access and share it.

Photo by ganesha.isis

by Lori Deschene

“What we must decide is how we are valuable rather than how valuable we are.” ~ Edgar Z. Friedenberg

Just now I saw an ad on the right-hand side of my Facebook page promoting a webcast about purpose. The message reads, “Are you meant for greater things?”

This immediately caught my eye because it essentially appeals to our deep-seated need for significance.

We all want to feel that we’re important—that our lives matter—and that often comes down to feeling that we’re doing something special.

When I was younger, I wrapped my identity around singing and acting, and I hoped I’d one day perform in movies or on Broadway.

I remember one day in my high school chorus class, we were singing “On My Own” from Les Miserables. This was a song I frequently sang at auditions, and it felt like it was mine.

There was one note that I always held for a prolonged time—so I held it, even though the entire class had stopped singing.

From the piano, the teacher yelled, “This is not a solo!” I realized then that I’d refused to blend. In a very obvious way, I’d reinforced that I needed to stand out from the crowd. I needed to be the star more than I wanted to perform.

Initially, I felt ashamed of this instinct, but over time I’ve learned that wanting to feel special and valued is not inherently bad.

What’s detrimental is not being aware of that desire, and then making choices that don’t fully align with our values and priorities in the pursuit of external validation.

The alternative is to ask ourselves: What is genuinely important to me? What do I enjoy doing for the sake of it? What’s the difference I’d like to make, whether people know I make it or not?

We inevitably feel like our lives matter when we do something about the things that matter to us.

In this way, we become part of something greater than ourselves, instead of focusing all our energy on doing something greater.

I have realized I am special and important—just like everyone else.

We all want to feel worthy. But maybe we don’t need to stand out from the crowd to do it. Maybe the greatest feeling of worth is knowing we’re all connected, and we all have the capacity to do something worthwhile for ourselves and the greater good.

Photo by raichovak

by Lori Deschene

“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Somewhere right now, someone out there feels exactly like you do.

Someone is thinking that things could be better and wondering if they’ll ever arrive. Someone is remembering how things were before and wondering if they’ll ever let go. Someone is missing someone they love and wondering why they had to know loss. Someone is radiating with hope and joy and wondering if it will last.

Somewhere right now, someone is struggling in much the same way as you.

Someone is out of work and cash and wondering what might be next. Someone is waiting for an important call and wondering if it’s best not to know. Someone is walking away from no good and wondering if they can go on.  Someone is walking toward something new and wondering if they should turn back.

Somewhere right now, someone is transforming in much the same way as you.

Someone is stretching into a new role and wondering if it feels right. Someone is reaching for a new goal and wondering who they can become. Someone is trying their hardest to create change and wondering if they’re making strides. Someone is getting ready to take a leap and wondering if they’ll feel more alive.

Despite all our differences, we all deal with the same things, in different times and different ways.

We’re all striving and struggling, learning and growing, and sometimes it can feel like we should be somewhere else–smarter, wiser, further along, or closer to having an answer.

But right now in the middle, in the messiness and uncertainty, this is where we all live.

No one has it all figured out—and maybe that’s the point. When we’re finished, we’re finished. Is that really a choice we’d make?

Somewhere right now, someone is deciding it’s okay to be right where they are.

Take a deep breath, look around, and let that person be you.

Photo by robocdh

by Lori Deschene

“Happiness depends upon ourselves.” ~Aristotle

Yesterday I wrote at Starbucks for the first time since my surgery, after my doctor cleared me to walk.

I felt an immense sense of relief to be outside my home, where I didn’t feel quite so isolated. And I was grateful for every nuance of that day—the fresh air, the feeling of life going around me, and the sense that somehow, I was part of it.

But the walk wasn’t easy. I get winded pretty quickly right now, and I simply don’t have a lot of energy.

I don’t yet feel like myself, mentally or physically—I’m occasionally lethargic, often distracted, and sometimes a little weak.

So yesterday I wondered how I might be able to see this feeling as a gift. What would it look like to embrace my current state instead of bemoaning it?

I decided that every time I needed to take a break—whether it was walking, or writing, or doing anything else—I’d notice and appreciate something beautiful around me.

And I’d vocalize it as often as possible.

While writing this tiny post, I complimented one woman on her colorful shirt, and told another man how lucky we were to get seats, since it was crowded yesterday.

I essentially created a joyful game out of something that could otherwise be frustrating. I may need to do everything more slowly by necessity; but I’m also consciously choosing to benefit from that need.

I admit this might be more challenging to apply to certain situations. It’s not always easy when you’re in pain or feeling despondent to find something good in it.

But maybe that’s something we can explore when we’re not feeling like our best selves: What would it look like to leverage what is to somehow better ourselves?

That might mean focusing on the little things that make a dark day brighter. It might be appreciating that we have people to lean on. Or it could be as simple as feeling grateful because this moment will eventually pass.

There will be times when we feel things that we likely would not choose. But we can always choose to do something good—in spite of our feelings, and maybe even because of them.

Photo by Nomadic Lass

by Lori Deschene

“The human spirit is stronger than anything that could happen to it.” ~C. C. Scott

During these past couple of weeks, while I’ve been recovering from my surgery, I’ve been watching a show called I Shouldn’t Be Alive, which has an entire season on Netflix.

Each episode chronicles the experiences of a person or people who came close to death in an adventure gone wrong.

One episode features two teenage boys who survived in a tiny boat, without food or water, for several days lost at sea. Another tells the story of an endurance athlete who survived two freezing nights in a canyon near Moab, Utah after falling 60 feet and shattering her pelvis.

The title itself pulled me in—this idea of somehow cheating death. But it’s not just the physical survival that’s so compelling; it’s also the emotional and mental fortitude that helped each of these people stay alive, despite knowing their odds of rescue.

Though in each case, they were obviously fortunate to be saved, many lived far longer than one might expect their bodies could endure—and it was often because they found a compelling reason to hold on.

They thought about the people they loved, and all the life they’d yet to live, and in doing so found a strong motivation to push through their pain and keep going.

Through sheer will, raw instincts, and determination, these people overcame seemingly insurmountable obstacles, and in doing so, created their own miracles.

Most of us will never need to combat starvation, subfreezing temperatures, or killer sharks, but we’ll each have our own battles. Many will push us, stretch us, and compel us to question just how much we can take.

We may find ourselves feeling hopeless or resigned, and we may wonder if there will ever be a light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s when we need to realize the brightest light is within us.

We are the ones who can save us. We are our own rescue mission.

We may not have all the answers. And we may need help and support along the way. But ultimately, when we’re feeling stuck, we’re the ones that need to hold on, push through, and make our way to the other side.

We’ll inevitably face challenges in life. The best defense is believing that we are strong, we will survive, and we will be better for it.

Photo by soham_pablo

by Lori Deschene

“Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance.” ~Unknown

Yesterday I felt frustrated.

The night before, I’d overheard my boyfriend telling a friend he’d thought I’d be in less pain at that point, a week after my surgery. Suddenly I felt disappointed in myself—that I should be healing more quickly, or somehow doing more.

Of course I know he didn’t intend for me to feel that way, especially since it was a conversation that didn’t involve me, but I created that meaning in my head, probably because I’d also expected that I’d feel better sooner.

I had a bad headache yesterday, and I was somewhat dehydrated, so I ended doing very little beyond listening to a healing meditation, watching TV, and sleeping—translation: I crossed nothing off my to-do list. And it’s getting pretty long.

So I started mining my situation for lessons, and here’s what I remembered:

We are more than we produce. Even if we feel we have a lot to do, sometimes doing nothing is the healthiest choice of all.

We owe it to ourselves to be patient with ourselves. Even if we feel we should be doing more, we’re doing the best we can.

We deserve to be kind to ourselves. Even if we accomplish great things in life, they won’t provide us with satisfaction if we don’t already have our own love and compassion.

We need to remember we have time. Even if we’re using this moment to recharge, we can trust that things will get done—when we’re in a better place to do them.

We have a choice to make in this moment. Even if we feel frustrated, or scared, or confused, we can choose to make peace with the present instead of fighting and resisting it.

We might not feel productive, or engaged, or purposeful, or connected. But this moment is a chance be present in our experience and embrace the lessons and possibilities of the here and now.

We can only grow from right where we stand, but first we have to accept it.

Photo by Wonderlane