Month: July 2018

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The Practice of Becoming Whole Again

the practice of becoming whole again cracked bowl

I found a bowl in the cupboard the other day as I was transitioning my home altar from spring to summer for the Summer Solstice.

The bowl was still in 3 pieces from when I dropped it months ago.

I love this bowl. It’s one of my favorite seafoamy colors. It’s the perfect size for holding keys or change or offerings (as it is in my new altar). And it was my Mom’s.

I’m not sure why I haven’t tried to put it back together before.

Perhaps I thought it was too broken, so was saving it for a craft project?

I stocked up on super glue recently and I’ve been gleefully glueing everything back together—my trail running shoes, my faith stone—why not this bowl?

I glued two pieces together. Then the third wouldn’t fit!

Argh.

Turns out, it would have fit perfectly if I had glued all three pieces together at the same time.

Tricky but doable.

I jammed it in there the best I could. It’ll still work as an offerings bowl etc. but there’s a big jagged edge. Like a crooked scar.

Too Broken to Be Whole

When I was 20 years old and my Mom died unexpectedly, it was my heart that broke into pieces. Similarly, I set it on a shelf because I didn’t know how to deal with it.

I sort of put my heart back together, but it took me years to put the last piece in—to fully grieve, to forgive and to be whole again.

No right or wrong, just is.

And no coulda-woulda-shouldas, though I often sensed the now lesson learned that “glueing” all the pieces back together at once—as hard as that is—would create more immediate wholeness.

Tricky but doable, indeed.

After I glued the bowl back together, I shared this lesson learned on Facebook and some folks reminded me that: “In Japan they add ‘gold’ to the cracks, to highlight that the cracks are part of its history.”

Kintsugi (金継ぎ, “golden joinery”), also known as Kintsukuroi (金繕い, “golden repair”), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique.

Becoming whole again with beautiful golden cracks.

Healing the deepest hurts

This is what it felt like happened to my heart last week when my family spread my mother’s ashes in a place that was special to us and to her—a nearby mountain she had climbed 15 times by the time she was 28 years old and started having the three of us kids.

Losing her was a sudden and deep wound. And the recovery was long and deep.

So many years later, my eyes and heart sobbed as deeply as the day her spirit left us.

As the ashes lingered on my finger tips then caught the wind in a tiny poof, I could feel the solid mountain beneath my feet.

Deep breaths. Still moments. A blessing shared out loud sealing a universal ritual in a sacred place.

“May perpetual light shine upon
the ashes of all who rest here.

May the lives they lived
unfold further in spirit.

May all their past travails
find ease in the kindness of clay.

May the remembering earth
mind every memory they brought.

May the rains from the heavens
Fall gently upon them.

May the wildflowers and grasses
Whisper their wishes into light.

May we reverence the sense of presence
in the stillness of this silent mountain.”1

The crack was painted with gold.

I was able to easily flow from this moment into the next—sharing snacks and champagne on a picnic table with the grandkids—recovered to a seemingly normal state.

This is what we patiently seek.

Really Seeing Ourselves

What all is healing in you?

Is it getting the space and attention it needs at the stage that it’s at?

We are all healing.

We all have cracks that can be painted gold.

They don’t make us stronger, but they can give us strength.

The world needs you to repair what is divided.

Healing is a process of becoming whole again.

We think of it as slow or fast, but it’s actually timeless.

Sometimes healing takes years before we reach integrity again—for us to be unimpaired, undivided.

Start The Process

Since becoming injured in a bike accident in several weeks ago I’ve been acutely aware of the stages of healing wounds:

  1. Shock Stage: Triage
  2. Immobility Stage: Protection
  3. Growth Stage: Rebuilding
  4. Mobility Stage: Recovery

That’s my own words, not the terms medical professionals use, based on how I’ve experienced them whether it’s been my body or spirit that’s been healing.

With this recent wound, I’ve watched in awe my body doing what it naturally knows how to do. My job: to stay out of the way. 

“The healing process is remarkable and complex, and it is also susceptible to interruption due to local and systemic factors…When the right healing environment is established, the body works in wondrous ways to heal and [revitalize itself].” Online Source

Now that the scabs are gone, skin grown back, bruises faded and I’m walking and running again it appears that I’m all better.

But, I’m not.

There is still pain with certain movements, fatigue from too much use and instability in my balance.

More patience, more healing.

That’s why the recovery stage is such a surprisingly difficult stage in healing. The process of returning to a normal state.

But what is a normal state?

When everything is so healed that there are no cracks, no weakness? As if it never happened?

I don’t think so.

Perhaps the normal state is when our renewed strength is challenged, yet remains stable.

This does not mean we are unbreakable. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But we are whole again.

Whole with beautiful golden cracks.

The empowering and discouraging truth

Whole doesn’t mean finished. How could it be?

There is no finished state of life.

Not for nature, not for humans.

While my knee is on the mend, I am just now moving into protection mode as the shock wears off about the financial reality and compounded debt I’ve discovered as I’ve been doing my 2017 bookkeeping and preparing taxes for the extension deadline.

We are constantly in flux between healing one thing or another.

This can be discouraging or empowering. You choose. 

It’s key to not get stuck in any stage, especially shock, like the broken pieces of bowl I left sitting on the shelf for months.

Give each stage it’s time to be, then move on.

Stuck is different than immobility. Immobility has purpose.

For instance, my knee swelled up immediately to protect itself and stabilize. Then I stopped moving for a few days to give the knee time to adjust and start rebuilding once it settled down. The swelling needed to recede in order to actually heal, so that I could move again.

Stuck is uncomfortable because you feel “broken.”

You’re not. You’re just not making progress toward wholeness.

Once you start, the healing accumulates. And so does the resilience.

You come back easier, sooner, faster.

You don’t get stuck in a stage.

You glide through the healing process with energy to spare, focusing on recovery. Recovering wholly and soulfully.

So that even amidst the continuous and constant healing process of living, you feel glued together—not broken.

1 Blessing adapted from original by John O’Donohue from To Bless the Space Between Us, a beautiful compilation of blessings to consecrate life’s transitions and heartfelt moments

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News from Jules | 07.23.2018 | How Do We Heal Well?

one lesson about integrity every week

Last week my family spread my Mother’s ashes in a place that was special to us and her, a nearby mountain she had climbed 15 times by the time she was 28 years old and started having the three of us kids.

Losing her 15 years ago was a sudden and deep wound. And the recovery was long and deep.

Last Wednesday, my eyes and heart sobbed as deeply as the day her spirit left us.

As the ashes lingered on my finger tips then caught the wind in a tiny poof, I could feel the solid mountain beneath my feet.

Deep breaths. Still moments. 

A beautiful blessing by John O’Donohue shared out loud sealing a universal ritual in a sacred place.

“May perpetual light shine upon 
the ashes of all who rest here.”

I was able to easily flow from this moment into the next—sharing snacks and champagne on a picnic table with her grandkids—recovered to a normal state.

This is what we patiently seek.

Healing is a process of becoming whole again. 

We think of it as slow or fast, but it’s actually timeless.

Sometimes healing takes years before we reach integrity again—for us to be unimpaired, undivided.

Over the past several weeks since my bike accident, I’ve been in awe watching my body do what it naturally knows how to do: heal itself. My job: to stay out of the way. 

How do we heal well?

I’ve been acutely aware of the stages of healing and inspired to write a blog post about how we can move through the stages of healing more gracefully and easily.

“The healing process is remarkable and complex, and it is also susceptible to interruption due to local and systemic factors…When the right healing environment is established, the body works in wondrous ways to heal and [revitalize itself],” say the medical professionals.

Now that the scabs are gone, skin grown back, bruises faded and I’m walking and running again it appears that I’m all better.

But, I’m not.

There is still pain with certain movements, fatigue from too much use and instability in my balance.

More patience, more healing.

That’s why the recovery stage is such a surprisingly difficult stage in healing. The process of returning to a normal state.

But what is a normal state?

When everything is so healed that there are no cracks, no weakness? As if it never happened?

I don’t think so.

Perhaps the normal state is when our renewed strength is challenged, yet remains stable.

This does not mean we are unbreakable. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But we are whole again.

What all is healing in you?

Is it getting the space and attention it needs at the stage that it’s at?

So that even amidst the continuous and constant healing process of living, you feel glued together—not broken.

May this week continue to heal all that is recovering in you.

Love,
Jules

I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 
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News from Jules | 07.16.2018 | I Have a Gift for You.

one lesson about integrity every week

Receiving is one of the deepest forms of presence.

This is the real gift.

Not what is received.

But the stillness of that moment beholding that what is given is exactly what is needed.

This takes an open heart and open hands.

And a little bit of sneakiness on the part of the universe, I think.

This happened to me today. Maybe it’s happening to you right now!

It’s becoming a familiar feeling. A gentle sense of delight that feels like washing your hands in perfectly warm water.

It’s been happening to me a lot lately.

More than usual?

Well, that’s a bit of a trick question, isn’t it?

One of my big takeaways from reading To Sell is Human by Daniel Pink earlier this year was:

We are always making offers. Not because we’re in constant exchange (though we are) and not because we’re transacting (what we commonly think of as “selling”) which we might be. Exchange comes with the expectation of receipt, whereas offering is part of relating: showing up in the world and seeing others, feeling connected, thus offering something you have that they need.

Offerings are constant, they’re happening all the time. A hello, a text message asking “What’s up?,” space to change lanes in heavy traffic, the last chipful of guacamole, a door being opened, undivided attention, getting treated to ice cream, an invitation to hang out, words of wisdom, or a hand-me-down dress.

That’s what happened to me today.

When I stopped by to help out with a couple things at my friends’ house, there was a note and a dress on the counter.

“Oh wow, I was just thinking this weekend how I needed more than one casual summer dress,” I beamed to myself.  

Since starting my Buy Nothing experiment in 2016 (initially a year, now going on three) I have been given many clothes.

All offered—no expectation of anything in return—though some still with expectations attached. Mostly about unburdening themselves. And usually stuff I hadn’t needed either.

Other times, like today, the offer is exactly what I need and thus delightfully received.

This is the presence.

The offer comes from a place of presence, some sensing, some whispering to make the offer.

And then the presence to receive.

But, offering can become a compulsive habit of giving, an irresistible urge, and thus an unconscious act.

These offerings are constant, they’re happening all the time.

Giving, giving, giving. These are the ones with strings attached. 

All different kinds of strings were behind my own constant giving in the past. From the sense of comfort found in leading and thus controlling to the joy of being seen for my thoughtfulness.

Leading and being thoughtful come naturally to me. That’s a gift. 

If they are used to serve, not to be served.

And, they are only part of the equation.

Following and receiving attention are the balance. Those do not come as naturally to me.

My community and especially my “pit crew” have offered so much recently. Opportunities to follow their lead.

Even before my knee injury several weeks ago, I sensed the shift this year. A season of following and receiving, of opening and connecting more deeply, embracing wholeness.

Necessary learning journeys, I’m certain. Far from comfortable.

The universe constantly offers disruption that keeps us alert and so far this summer season has been especially “helpful.” Things keep changing. Each day new information shows up. Lots of new beginnings.

So yes, I believe I have been receiving more than usual lately. And it usually feels great!

Summer is a season of connection. A time to speak from the heart.

​Say what you mean, mean what you say.

And a time to receive what ever it is you most need right now. The things you can name and say out loud and the things others are seeing and offering.

May your heart and hands lay wide open this week.

Love,
Jules

I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 
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News from Jules | 07.09.2018 | Finding the One

one lesson about integrity every week

It takes a village to raise a child, they say.

Well, I say: it takes a race track to sustain an adult.

There’s nothing like a big change or injury recovery to remind us.

We are the only one in the driver’s seat of our own life—our race car. But, to stay on the track and in the race, we need support.

I know, I know. Not that life is about winning or losing, that’s not the point of the metaphor.

The point is the support:

  • The pit crew that quickly changes the tires, tightens bolts, cleans mirrors
  • The sponsors who contribute and show their support
  • The fans who show up and cheer along

Over the last month of limited mobility as my knee has been healing from the bike accident, there has been so much of this support.

So much more of this support, I should say.

We always need a pit crew, sponsors, fans. Not just when big things happen, but in our day-to-day when little things are broken or healing.

These people are often in flux, relative to the circumstances of our life—a reason, a season, a lifetime—and and to our needs at that time—emotional, physical, spiritual, all of the above and/or more.

As such, sometimes they’re on a project right now or sometimes they’re a best friend in a cycle of closeness.

My longest standing, closest friendship is going on 22 years. Most of which we’ve lived in different countries. There have been months without communication. Right now, we text every few days.

It’s not actually about the years or depth, but there is always a meaningful connection with these people.

That’s why they’re your pit crew, your sponsors, your fans, not just some person in the stands, some acquaintance in your life.

Bottomline, all of this support doesn’t fall on “the one.” There is no “the one.” 

That’s the advice I was given during graduate school about finding a professional mentor and about finding a husband, actually. Same goes for a best friend. So stop looking.

“You can’t meet all your needs through one person,” she said.

Not only because one person can’t shoulder this burden, but because they can’t be good at everything, nor available all the time.

It’s been very clear to me these last few weeks that I could not have depended on one person to do everything I needed. And if I had, that one “relationship bank account” as Stephen Covey described, would have been way overdrawn.

Especially if that one person was myself. 

Instead, I look to my pit crew. And my sponsors. And my fans. 

But, especially my pit crew. Because they have the capacity, the skills, the attention to offer right now. To be in the thick of it with me. Not just cheering me along, but rotating the tires and getting me back out there on the track.

Who’s in your pit crew right now? Who’s crew are you in?

As an aggregate, I believe this is how we can “find” the one, how we stay whole, how we stay true to the only “one”: our soul, our self. This is a whole life.

May your wheels be greased and your road smooth this week.

Love,
Jules

I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 
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News from Jules | 07.02.2018 | Are We Living What Matters Most?

one lesson about integrity every week

There will be no parades, no Statue of Liberty crowns, no plastic flags, no strawberry, whip cream and blueberry decorated pound cakes for me this Wednesday.

My resistance?

No, actually just lack of plans and still limited on mobility.

Besides, that is not what this day—this declaration of independence—is actually about.

With everything going on, one could easily justify going “on strike” this Fourth of July.

And by “everything going on,” I mean this sense of one-thing-after-another-can’t-catch-a-break inertia.

This is what I’m hearing from folks in my life.

And, so much of what I’ve been feeling personally for the last few weeks.

But, wait. The other day, I stopped and wondered:Is it really one thing after another?

  • Or am I just looking for the things to add to this list now?
  • This list of how my life, my reality and the world is unraveling?
  • Maybe things are unraveling and/or maybe we’re choosing to focus on the parts that are falling apart.

Brene Brown reframed the midlife crisis as a “midlife unraveling” in her recent blog post:

The truth is that the midlife unraveling is a series of painful nudges strung together by low-grade anxiety and depression, quiet desperation, and an insidious loss of control.

Ugh. That sounds awful.

And honest.

And useful.

Why? Sounds like an opportunity to me.

To assess what is. And of that: what matters most?

And then the hard question: Are we actually living what matters most?

Because this is our legacy.

And this is what the next generation (heck, everyone, but especially kids) is taking in.

Not what we say, what we do.

Show, don’t tell, we’re told as writers.

So, what is this showy, plasticy, red-white-and-blue day about? Especially if this place we claim as our home is having a “midlife unraveling”?

It’s about living what matters most.

Not just “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” No, that’s the “tell.”

Independence, self-sufficiency, innovation, self-expression, transformation, adventure, and faith.

These are the values this country was founded from.

This is what we’re celebrating.

And all of the people who lived these self-evident values into colonies, into a country, into a society.

I believe that what matters most we often take for granted.

It’s good to have a nudge to pause and name what we know.

This Wednesday is a great time as you’re mesmerized by fireworks overhead or those cool, zinger bees that buzz around the ground, to reflect on these deepest values so that we may live them more intentionally.

Live them into the possibilities that always lie within.

May your week sparkle with meaning.

Love,
Jules

I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 
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