News from Jules | 01.11.21 | Find Discomfort and Reassurance

one lesson about integrity every week

In the darkness of the dawn, the wind sideswiping my apartment building might as well have been a pack of howling wolves, the hum of the refrigerator was like a jet taking off, the diiinnnngggggg as if the hallway elevator was actually inside my apartment. 

With all that noise, how could I hear my own breath—none the less my own being?

As the thankfully noiseless digital minutes ticked by, I slowly settled into my body and turned my attention inward.

I knew this was the point of meditation—to feel, sense, hear every part of this miraculous system we live in. Something that had alluded this busy body for most of a lifetime! 

This is my ninth year of practicing Joshi’s Holistic Detox at the beginning of the new year. The first year I was preparing for an early 30th birthday trip to Mexico with college friends that February. Knowing that we’d be poolside all week, I was primarily concerned with getting slim. It worked amazingly well. And, as a yoga practitioner, I was also intrigued by the indigenous roots of Joshi’s Ayurvedic approach from India, going way beyond just diet, including organic/local food sources and products, hydration, sleep, fitness, and meditation. Every year since I’ve added learning another element to the detox.

This year is meditation: Fifteen minutes, every day. First thing after I wake up. Wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a cushion on the ground, criss-cross-apple-sauce.

During a Hatha yoga class recently, the teacher told us to sit crosslegged “the wrong way.” 

“You know how you’re sitting now and it feels just right? Well, switch it.”

During class, I tried to tuck my right leg in with my left leg in front and I was amazed. I couldn’t do it. Okay, I sort of did it. But, it felt like trying to walk on my hands. Completely unfamiliar, awkward and unstable. Had I really been sitting one way for my entire life?

After class, I asked the teacher how I could learn to sit the other way. Her sweetly empathetic reply? “You’re just going to have to sit in the discomfort.” 

Every day last week I practiced. Wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a cushion on the ground, criss-cross-apple-sauce. Finding a new “right” way. 

I sat in the discomfort. And found reassurance.

Each day it felt a tiny bit more right.

Not just having my right leg tucked in, but meditation in general. I am learning so much from this detox already. One week down, two more to go. 

Slightly more flexible, slightly more familiar, slightly more ease, slightly more attention available to attune with the sweet, silent nothingness at my core. Not even to hear the sweet nothings that come from that place, but just to let myself know I’m listening. 

I’m here. 

I’m open. 

I’m infinitely adaptable. 

And so are you.

May you sit in the discomfort a little bit longer this week. 

Love,
Jules

P.S. Thank you for the additional survey submissions. The responses affirm the same trends. One reader repeated what others’ said, “I could have checked all the reasons I read your newsletter…each time there is something different I gain or enjoy. Thanks for keeping it going.” Y’all are welcome!


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News from Jules | 01.04.21 | Begin Again

one lesson about integrity every week

As we turn the corner into a new year, I’m taking a break from my storytelling format this week to check-in and orient to the bigger picture. If we learned anything from last year, it was about transparency and the power of confirming consent. 

As some will recall, when I heeded the call to build Everyday Integrity, I sent weekly newsletters and blogged throughout 2018. When I landed a contract “day job” I stopped writing. During that 20-month break, I missed writing. And, it felt like I missed an opportunity—to share the journey as I continued to learn and fail and live into integrity, everyday.

So, it was an immediate “of course,” when that contract was up in July, 2020, and my inner voice whispered, “Send TinyLetters” (if you missed any, past issues are available here). I recommitted to blogging and sending these weekly updates for two reasons:

  1. As a way to process life and share what I was discovering (as I set out to find my way back to my calling for the umpteenth time).
  2. To be accountable to myself and to others (you!)

Back in October, 2020, I sent a survey to see how I was doing. Starting a full-time job as a Learning & Development Manager at a local software startup, I considered whether to keep writing. Did it matter? There were 13 respondents who reassured me it did.

While that’s only 10% of overall readership, it was plenty for me. Most people don’t do surveys anyhow, though 40-50% of folks do open this very week (That amazing gift keeps me going alone!). 

Because 85% (12 of 13) respondents prefer “a moral to the story,” I continue to experiment with how to weave lessons learned into my updates. I’m still exploring how to make lessons more universal and share more personally. I was surprised that 77% (10 of 13) said that when they read this “changes all the time,” so I’m no longer worried about my send time (especially since it’s just the next thing in the inbox” for so many). 

Unsurprisingly, 62% (8 of 13) were primarily “curious what I’m up to.” This sense of connection is at the heart of why I write. And makes me wonder about reaching a broader audience than my personal network.

  • One reader said, “the fact I can hear you in every word is the best thing about it.”
  • Another said, “it makes me feel more connected to you.” Me too!! 
  • Yet another said, “Thank you for sharing the journey. It’s a link to another perspective.”
  • And one reader wanted to mention, “I also read because I am inspired by many of your practices.”

I am inspired to share even more about my practices—both personal growth and spiritual development—as well as the journey this year. I’m not exactly sure what that will look or sound like yet. Just like I’m not sure how the journey will play out. This is why the journey is an adventure, huh?

For now, I’m doing my annual detox for the next six to eight weeks to help me gain clarity as I plan and dream my way into the next cycle of growth—as I pursue summiting Mt. Hood, sustainable living and starting a family.

There will be plenty more about all that as I figure it out! ​So, if you’re still along for the ride, stick around while I keep experimenting. Or heck, share with a friend.

If your inbox is too full already, by all means, unsubscribe to start the new year fresh (click the link at the bottom next to my email address). 

May you begin again, fresh and new, each time this week.

Love,
Jules

P.S. Always all ears for more feedback! Take the survey here—it’s still open, it’s anonymous and it only took folks a minute or two!

P.S.S. This week’s Subject is inspired by January in my new 2021 desk calendar (check out the video here) made by Tiny & Snail, a sister-artist duo in the Midwest. The calendar was proactively preordered by one of my best friends and not for general sale, though there are tons of adorable cards. All of which are wildly inspiring to me!


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News from Jules | 12.28.2020 | This is the Next Level

one lesson about integrity every week

Yes, we are on the cusp of a new year—2021—yet none of our crises will disappear when the clock strikes 12:01 a.m. on New Year’s Day. And none of them are actually related to 2020 either, but confining uncontrollable events to a timeframe is an easier way to manage stress and history. Or so it seems. 

Just like denial seems easier. And ignoring seems easier. 

Until it’s not. 

Until we’re in a precarious position: deep in a crisis without even knowing it.  

The defining moment of this year for me was one of the most subtle wake-up calls I’ve experienced. 

I walked outside after my lunch and sat down on the cement porch dangling my bare feet off the edge. It was cold, uncomfortable, but it kept me alert. I took in the eery stillness of the neighborhood. As if it was just another weekday. 

It was unusually quiet outside. No cars racing toward the busy intersection a block and a half down the street. No walkers briskly passing by deep in conversation. No wind through the still bare trees. Spring had barely sprung and everyone barely knew what had just begun. During those first few weeks of Shelter-in-Place, people were at home waiting. Waiting for it to pass, as if it were just a storm.

A brief “unprecedented” interruption of what we thought was normal life. Instead of an inevitable crisis at worst, a disruptive catalyst at best. 

As I sat there, my questions and thoughts began to organize themselves in the quiet nothingness, just like when I hike in the forest or walk along the beach. After a weekend of internet research, I digested the information I had gathered from the news and attempted to make sense of it. 

Only a few weeks into the pandemic and it was clear: The world was in a crisis. Surprisingly, we had been for months. Meanwhile, we went about our lives business-as-usual. 

  • The virus was actually reported in December. 
  • I went on a retreat at a house with 25 women during the last weekend of February. Oregon’s first COVID-19 case was reported on February 28.
  • Oregon’s State of Emergency was declared on March 8. I went to work with thousands of people until March 13.
  • The economists said a recession was unlikely and not to worry until “people stopped getting haircuts.” Well, the barbershops had already closed. 

Yet, as I looked around the neighborhood, everything looked the same as before. The grass continued growing, the clouds coasted overhead, a bird chirped from afar—the world seemed okay. But, I knew it wasn’t. I knew the threat was real, I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t feel it—no cortisol, no fear. 

This is when the epiphany hit: How was this invisible viral threat any different than the climate crisis we have been complacently living amidst my entire life, an entire century?

It wasn’t.

Insert systemic racism, wealth inequality, the current presidency. The world seemed okay. But it wasn’t. 

The evidence was clear. Even if I didn’t personally see it, feel it, in my world.  

Did I have the courage to pay attention and act accordingly?

I lost my naivete that day. But, I didn’t lose my faith. 

If anything, this epiphany helped orient me for the rest of the year. I stayed grounded in reality, in responsibility, in service, in sacrifice. I was activated by the truth beyond what I could see and beyond what directly touched my life. To trust what is unseen, but known. To put the greater good first. To contribute, not to extract.

We can transcend this idea of a static normal and live in harmony with dynamic nature. I know we can. 

This is the next level. Ironically, growing my personal threshold for vulnerability over the last few years allowed me to feel compassion for everyone else. 

This constant, collective vulnerability—not just some of us, all of us—is the opening. 

To more experience, deeper wisdom and better judgment.

To change spurred by truth. 

To adaptability. 

To being humble.

To being human. 

May you carry the truth forward this week. 

Love,
Jules


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News from Jules | 10.26.20 | The Work is Done

one lesson about integrity every week

I nestled into my soft blue and gray wool Pendelton blanket and settled into one of the french wing chairs now looking west. I slowly sipped my echinacea tea and savored how simple life had become. 

That blanket was a gift from my “New Life” blessing in May, 2017. A celebration hosted by my spiritual communities to recognize a big transition—completion of a decade-long season of transformative growth and the beginning of a new season of life, a new life altogether.

No one knew what this meant, the least of all me. But it needed to be blessed—sprinkled with luck, favor and protection, come what may. 

What would this new life bring? A second chance at living the first life. 

The seeds were planted that spring of 2017 and after several cycles of growth, the trees are now coming into maturity, bountifully bearing the fruit of this new life. Ripening since my final job interviews on the Fall Equinox. So much, all at once, and yet almost effortless. Nothing like before. 

Starting with Back-to-School here in the U.S., then the cascade of Holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, I used to associate the fall with the hustle, long hours, strain.

A time of becoming exhausted and drained, sometimes burdened, often burned out. Completely lopsided, out of balance. Just the way things were. Too much to do in the waning daylight. 

“Harvesting is the most labor-intensive activity of the growing season,” according to Wikipedia. Yup. Sounded about right.  Thus, the actual harvest seemed a fitting metaphor for life at this time of year. 

But I had it all wrong. 

Reading further, Wikipedia states “the completion of harvesting marks the end of the growing season, or the growing cycle for a particular crop.” 

The work is actually already done. We did it. Or we didn’t. Harvest is the fruits of the labor. Not the actual labor. 

The planting, nurturing, nourishing, pruning. Creation, growth—that’s where the real work is. 

Now I see harvest is a time of transition from creating into receiving. We are just gathering, collecting, picking. Aligning with what is. And, accepting what comes. 

Just so, the pile of boxes and furniture sat in my new studio apartment for days on end. Finally, bit by bit, the main room was empty. Just the white ten-foot walls and the dark gray, fake wood floors.

How would this space take shape? For starters, with its best feature. I placed a chair in the exact spot that looked west toward the setting sun and settled in. 

I slowly sipped my tea and savored how simple, easy, effortless life had become. 

May you accept what comes to bear this week. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 10.19.2020 | Embrace Uncertainty

one lesson about integrity every week

I squeezed around the pile of boxes and curled up in Butterscotch, my trusty leather armchair companion since 2016. I could barely see the setting sun above the pile of boxes stuffed into my new studio apartment. As the darkness descended, it hit me. 

I had no idea how this space would work. Where to put Butterscotch, my bed, a dining table, all my bookcases, my extensive art collection. None the less my three desks. (Yes, three…in addition to the studio’s built-in desk!)

No vision whatsoever. 

It was incredibly disorienting. How does one find a way when the vision is unclear?

It’s about sensing, not thinking. 

Back in college, I took a semester off and moved home for the spring and the summer. While I was very uninterested in doing chores, my interest was piqued when my Mom suggested we organize the attic together. Making meaningful order of chaos sounded delightful. We quickly butted heads. She wanted to move a few tupperware around, try it out, then move them and try out another spot, whereas I immediately understood the flow of what needed to go where. I saw the vision perfectly. One and done. Logically, it didn’t make sense to do it any other way. 

Logically, it didn’t.

That didn’t mean it was the only way. Or the right way. It was just my way. And, unfortunately, this way had been accurate enough times in my life that it became the only, right way most of the time. 

Before moving into the new studio last week, I looked at the virtual, 3D tour countless times. I daydreamed several different configurations. Yet, as I sat there in Butterscotch’s warm embrace in the actual space, I didn’t see it. I didn’t know.And then, I humbly realized: How could I?

I didn’t know anything about the space yet. How light came in the large, west-facing windows throughout the day. What displayed on camera during Zoom calls for my new job. Even how the kitchen cupboards opened, clanging into walls that initially seemed ideal for artwork. 

All I needed to do: Pay attention. Notice the light, the temperature, the sounds, the flow of my days. Notice discomfort. Notice inconvenience. 

These were the “problems” to solve, the solutions to find. These were the needs to be met. The walls, the furniture, the stuff would guide me, tell me where it all needed to go. Not where I wanted it to go. 

It’s about sensing, not thinking. Thinking gets in the way of the balancing act and the process of discovering what’s true.

This is discernment. 
It’s slower. It takes longer. It’s uncomfortable—being in the space in between, the shades of grey, the ambiguity. It’s full of failure—experimenting to test how things work, or don’t work, too many times. And there isn’t one answer. No wonder it doesn’t initially feel “right.” Yet, this is how we access truth. 

Luckily, the more we attune, the easier it gets.  

May you find a cozy place to sit in the uncertainty this week. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 10.12.20 | Owning What You Want: Part 2

one lesson about integrity every week

The next turning point came in late August, right before my birthday, when I spent a sunny day on the porch and finished getting out of my own way. ​

It was the first time I had the house to myself and was actually in Portland all summer. My headspace was as clear as the cloudless blue sky. As I savored my bright yellow over-easy eggs and lemon water, I started to feel the curiosity brewing. I had submitted another job application the day before and the headhunter was quite optimistic. I wasn’t sure yet if it was right for me, but I was intrigued.

I knew I wanted to level up, to reach more of my potential. I knew what called to me and what was achievable right now. Even though I couldn’t perfectly imagine my next job, my home, my partner, my kids etc. it didn’t matter. In fact those expectations narrowed the vision instead of staying open-minded. 

I started to wonder how it could all work. “Hmmm, if I make this much income from that full-time job, then what kind of housing can I afford?” 

The more questions I asked, the more answers I found, the more notes I took, the more clarity I gained. 

How come? Reality is reassuring, even when it’s hard. That’s because it’s realI wasn’t problem solving, I was solution finding. I was in the zone. 

The wants started pouring out. I sat on that hard plastic chair in the sun for hours. 

I wanted:

  • ​work/life balance,
  • to work remotely,
  • to earn my market potential,
  • to live alone, 
  • to be in a more diverse neighborhood,
  • a light-filled space,
  • to have access to the outdoors.

The checklist went on and on. It wasn’t a recipe, simply ingredients. I didn’t care what it made, so long as it tasted delicious. 

Immediately, I got clearer on what is a yes and what is a no, what is a dealbreaker or dealmaker, what is a “must have” versus “nice to have,” what is realistic and what is a stretch. 

It wasn’t greedy. It wasn’t selfish. That’s because the wants came from a place of need. From knowing myself and how I thrive. How I can best offer what the world needs most from me. And be open to receive the opportunities presented. 

The momentum was building even though I felt stuck

Over the last several weeks, I kept saying yes to anything that was a step in this direction, whether or not it “looked” like what I was expecting, until I said “heck yes!” to a job and a new home that matched almost everything I wanted (and a bit more!). It all came together just like that in a 24-hour period about a week ago. That is, after a summer-long journey of finding my way and finally owning my wants.  

Life is leveling up, indeed:

  • Today, I moved into a new studio with a cute little built-in writing desk at the Arlo Apartments off Interstate Ave. in North Portland,
  • This week, I start a new job working remotely as the Learning & Development Manager for LegitScript, a growing software as a service startup in the Pearl district.

Keeping this newsletter going while working full-time and continuing to train for summiting Mt. Hood next year as well as finding my partner-in-crime will provide plenty of inspiration for sharing my learnings about balance and maintaining integrity—a state of wholeness—everyday. 

So don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere! In fact, I could use your help*.

May getting grounded in reality actually give you wings this week.

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 10.05.20 | Owning What You Want: Part 1

one lesson about integrity every week

She asked it in the kind of way that sounded both like an accusation and an invitation.

But, what do you WANT?

As if the sentence actually only needed to be one word to cut through my elusive bullsh*t. That one word that I’ve disliked for so long. It always sounded so greedy. So selfish. So entitled. So privileged.

wanted to recoil into myself. Freeze my face like Zoom lost internet connection and drop off the call. Or preach about how it’s not about “wanting” things vs. receiving things. Being motivating by what the world needs and what we can offer, instead of our personal agenda.

But, I respected this strong woman way too much to not listen. And so I tried to respond as earnestly, lovingly and bluntly as this question was posed.

I stuttered out bits and pieces of this life goal and that personal passion.

It was not an answer. And it wasn’t helpful.

A clear, succinct description that she could act on. That the universe could act on. Most importantly, that I could act on. 

This question haunted me all summer long — every mile I hiked, every river I crossed, every view I saw — as I lived my way to an answer.

At first the answer seemed easy. Everything I already knew: family, kids, nature, writing, teaching, retreating and ultimately, what I was put on earth to do in this lifetime — to make spirituality accessible to all.  

This was what I wanted. These wants actually felt more like needs. And unfulfilled, they felt like longings. 

Because I felt called to them. Magnetically pulled in an irresistible way. A way that wouldn’t quit, hadn’t quit for a decade. Really for my whole life. 

For weeks after remembering all this, the question still haunted me. While warm and fuzzy, this was not a clear, succinct description that I could act on. Because I couldn’t perfectly imagine my next job, my home, my partner, my kids etc. I thought I couldn’t get started. 

But, I had started. Wholeheartedly saying yes to the vision. Saying yes to anything that was a step in that direction, whether or not it “looked” like what I was expecting. And saying no to negativity, distractions and excuses. 

And, the universe could definitely act on this

Next week, Part 2: The next turning point came in late August, right before my birthday, when I spent a sunny day on the porch and finished getting out of my own way. 

May you have the courage to say no to all negativity, distractions and excuses this week. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 09.28.20 | You Keep Going

one lesson about integrity every week

Teachers come into our lives in all forms. Sometimes they guide us through a series of insights, sometimes it’s a just-in-time encounter. That right person at that right time for that lesson. If we’re paying attention, we’ll always find the guidance we need. 

Over 15 years of practice and too many moves, I’ve collected favorite yoga teachers all over Portland. I stay in touch with many of them on Instagram — liking, tagging, sharing inspiration. I recently sent an article about how Fall is So Yin: Embracing Autumn Energy to one of my favorite yin yoga teachers in a direct message. Inspired, we set the intention to actually meet up in person around the Fall Equinox and learn what the harvest might have in store.

If the rains came, if the smoke cleared, if the fates aligned. 

Apparently the fates were very aligned. 

When we met up at the beach in Hood River, we were excited to be outside and together. Chatting about our week so far, we realized that the day before (on the actual Equinox) we both did the very same hike — within 30 minutes of each other! 

Clearly we were meant to be in the same place at the same time.

Giggling about the synchronicity and the muck between our toes, we launched the rental Stand-Up Paddleboards into the murky waters of the Columbia River, then both awkwardly stood up and started to paddle. This was her second time, my sixth.

Having paddled on the Columbia before, I felt confident and quickly sliced the oar through the still water. I chatted for several minutes uninterrupted. No response. Odd.

I looked back and saw her way behind, swerving from side to side. I stopped to wait. Finally she caught up. I wondered out loud, “Which end of your board is in the front?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied with a laugh. 

Sure enough, we realized that the fin (the rudder) was in front. She was essentially going in circles. No wonder it was so hard and she wasn’t getting very far!!

I learned this was the way life had felt all year for her (and certainly so many others). A storyline I knew well, most recently from 2018, with many lessons learned about making one’s way through really tough questions:

If you’re following the calling, why don’t things work out?

How do you feed your body and feed your soul? 

When do you give up?

You don’t give up. You keep going. 

The goofy SUP mistake reinforced a lesson she had already learned: Listening to the call and faithfully following is important. But, it needs to be aligned to its purpose. 

This is the way we keep moving, straight forward. 

This was the first and the last time I would see her this year — I learned she was moving back home to Pennsylvania to regroup. To keep going. 

Maybe one day we will practice together again. Until then we are on the journey together, in spirit and on Instagram.

May you show up as both the teacher and the student this week.

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 09.21.20 | Now is the Time

one lesson about integrity every week

There won’t be an obvious shift when it happens. At least not one that we are attuned to.

Not like the rapid descent of light into darkness, casting a shadow across the whole country, that many of us saw during the total solar eclipse in 2018. 

And yet there will be a balancing of the light and darkness during the Fall Equinox (Sept. 22 where I live). There will be 12 hours of day, 12 hours of night. This moment marks the half-way point of the “natural year.” It’s a very powerful time. 

But, we’re only half-way there? It’s the mucky middle. How is that powerful? 

Because it is ripe with opportunity. 

The end has not yet come to fruition. If we stop for just a moment. If we focus and pay close attention, we know what’s working so far. And what isn’t. There is plenty of time to make adjustments. 

In a way, it’s only the beginning. Considering the first half as experiments with best laid plans, then we actually know what we’re working with now. Detaching from the idea and aligning with the reality. Seeing things the way they really are. What’s actually realistic. 

Here’s what I noticed this spring and summer: the more that I aligned to the truth of “what is,” the less I struggled.The trade-offs were less painful, the rewards were more enjoyable. 

Life was simply easier. 

Life is simple. 

And I thrive in simplicity. Not in the complex, complicated, and optimized tendencies I’ve had toward everything, more and better.

Now is the time for change.  

As we enter this new season — the second half of this cycle around the sun — What are you harvesting? What have you learned? Knowing what you know now, what will you do differently?

May you allow your true nature to show up this week. 

Love,
Jules


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News from Jules | 09.07.20 | Are We There Yet?

one lesson about integrity every week

I debated about writing to you since it’s a holiday. Though it is a potentially significant week in the journey.  So, it’ll keep it brief. 

No, we are not there yet. I am not there yet.

But, we are making progress.  

When I reframed my own unemployment as a Sabbatical, I gained a reason to Carpe Diem, instead of just being in limbo. It was not to create meaning, but infuse purpose. Writing is where I weave meaning into the process. These are the ways I cope, or deal effectively with something difficult.

I saw the vision, I set the goals and then off I went:

  • studying a career development book,
  • tackling my personal finance projects,  
  • training aggressively toward my Timberline Trail trek around Mt. Hood, accomplished a couple weeks ago. 

So, with many of these goals complete, I was surprised last week. I felt sad and a bit disoriented that I was not going back to work yet. Apparently, in claiming the Sabbatical mindset, I also subconsciously attached a timeframe of seven weeks: July 19 through Labor Day. I forgot that life is actually open-ended right now. 

Tired of the persistence, of the optimism, of the journey itself. Ready for something better. 

Just like a kid in the middle seat on a long road trip, I wondered out loud: Are we there yet?

Sound familiar? With COVID-19, with the Presidential Election, with systemic racism, with climate change. These are the biggies right now, but the list goes on for the whole and for each of us personally. 

Unfortunately, I have no truths to tell about when we will be there. Or when I will be there

I do know we are here and not there. We are making progress. We can get there. 

And we need more snacks. 

May you find simple ways to keep going this week. 

Love,
Jules


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