Cultivating Safety & Sanity

I spent a long weekend in the Seattle area; we packed just the right amount into four days: a trip to Bainbridge Island, a day on Lake Washington (I couldn’t remember the last time I swam in wild water; the benefits are pretty great), looking out over the water from The Great Wheel, wandering the streets with coffee, and reading my new favorite book. We talked about what inspires us, what it means to be alive during this time, how we can extend love to even wider circles, the wisdom of pausing to notice, the importance of continuing to create, and the value of asking for forgiveness.

One of my mentors, Margaret Wheatley, speaks about creating islands of safety and sanity. Focusing on this has become a spiritual practice for me over the last few years. From tending to the land I live on, to working with clients, from being a community member, to trying each day again to love the people closest to me — I wonder what would cultivate more safety, more stability, more sanity. And the answer I keep coming back to is presence — slow, consistent presence. Most of the pain I cause, most of my sharp words, most of my inability to rest in the contentment of life, comes from a lack of slow presence.

My hope for us right now is this: May we slow down, may we notice where we are and who’s around us, may we courageously feel whatever wants to be felt — all the grief and all the joy — and may we remember how to be creatures, sharing this Earth with a host of other beings.

This summer, I hope you go on some walks in the woods, swim in some lakes, and kiss the human and more-than-human beings in your life. I hope you put down your phone and pick up a book, I hope you take a nap under a tree, and I hope you sense the sweetness of your own heart, existing right now, in this time and this space. Your life is miraculous.