Personal Growth Archives - Page 5 of 8

October 26, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 10.26.20 | The Work is Done

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

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!

October 19, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 10.19.2020 | Embrace Uncertainty

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

October 12, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 10.12.20 | Owning What You Want: 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.

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 real. I 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

October 6, 2020February 12, 2022

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

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.

I 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

September 29, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 09.28.20 | You Keep Going

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

September 21, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 09.21.20 | Now is the Time

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

September 14, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 09.14.20 | Say Yes to Your Choices*

As wildfires swept through Oregon and our neighbors, Washington and California, during the past week, pain and grief are being expressed through blame.

Pointing fingers, especially at Mother Nature, at the wind, at the flames, at the trees, even at the underbrush.

Pointing fingers everywhere except here.

Last month while at the Oregon Coast, I spent a whole day meditating on responsibility. Since this word is often dripping with shame, blame, judgement and guilt, I prefer to think of in the words of my former spiritual director: responsibility is the ability to respond.

That day, as the blood started dripping down my heel and the pain registered, my first thought was: Darn volcanic rock! My second thought was: Gah, these flimsy sandals!

I hobbled a few more steps, still focused on exploring the secret entrance to Neptune Beach. But then, I remembered my mission for the day:

“Spend today believing you are totally responsible for everything that has happened in your life so far. Just for today you can’t blame anyone for anything.”

This was my daily assignment from 48 Days to the Work You Love by Dan Miller and was actually why I was wearing those flimsy, red leather Salt Water Sandals.

I have a defining memory from my childhood that includes different red sandals, which I took off during family therapy and refused to put back on. The therapist told my parents to leave my shoes behind. I was five-years-old already, but I still knew how to throw a tantrum and hold a grudge. A few years ago, I reflected on why this memory was so vivid.

I recognized how I felt wronged, mistreated, ultimately hurt. I also understood how much I contributed to the situation and intensified my own pain. So, I bought new red Salt Water Sandals for myself. Now, instead of “putting my big girl pants on,” I put on my little girl shoes when I need a reminder to take ownership over my life.

Old habits die hard. This is why we keep practicing.

Now more than ever, we all need to take responsibility for our choices. We are hurting ourselves. We are intensifying the suffering. No one and nothing is doing this to us.

That doesn’t mean we need to be perfect. We simply need to own our choices. And fix them, when needed.

This is the ability to respond.

When I blamed the cut on the rock and then on my shoes, it came from that same place of feeling wronged, of being hurt — by something else. As soon as I snapped out of that denial and back to reality I immediately felt better. Yes, I chose to wear those shoes. And I chose to scramble on those jagged rocks.

So, I stopped and sat down. I opened my backpack and I used my First Aid Kit to bandage the wound. The responsibility wasn’t a burden. It was empowering!

And the sooner I acknowledged reality, the quicker it was resolved.

I continued exploring for the rest of the day with peace of mind — believing I was totally responsible for everything that happened in my life.

May you say Yes to your choices* this week.

Love,
Jules

*This is a favorite phrase and mantra from Dance Church, a fun and inclusive approach to dancing together at home (via livestream with option to donate) that I’m doing every Wednesday during Quarantine!

September 7, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 09.07.20 | Are We There Yet?

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

September 1, 2020February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 08.31.20 | This Wild Ambition

I have a vague memory of a mouthful of thick, chalky dust. But, I was 4, just about to turn 5, that summer of 1987. So, the photos are much clearer than the memories.

After a week camping in the woods, I hiked 6 whole miles beside my Mom down from a lake in the Wallowa mountain range. My first hiking personal record. Of course, with those little legs, it probably took six hours, or more! And then in the home stretch, my tired legs tripped on a root. I face planted on the trail. In the photo, I am covered in dust from head to toe. No smile. Just a hardcore hiker’s stare.

As soon as I could hold my head up, I was in my parents’ pack and outside — rain or shine, hot or cold.

Growing up in the outdoors, I knew it wasn’t easy, it took work to be out there. Bugs, cuts, splinters, sunburns, fatigue, rain — a lot of it sucked. And then there were breathtaking rewards like lakes, wildflowers, mountains, fresh air, space. All together, it added up to adventure. Or so I thought. But, I was missing the point.

It wasn’t just about the adventure, the thrill and the challenge of outdoor recreation. I was being actively raised to have a relationship with nature. What I now see as one of the greatest gifts a parent can give, besides life, safety and love.

And in this relationship with nature a connection to my own spirit, and thus my own sense of spirituality.

Just as my parents had grown theirs after they uprooted from Boston and transplanted to Oregon in 1972. Immediately falling in love with Mt. Hood and everything at the next level, they spent the next six years before kids seeking their highest potential — physically, mentally and spiritually.

They may have felt the same awe as I do now:

Being dwarfed by giant Sequoias and Redwoods in old growth forests.
Seeing Mt. Rainier peaking out from the clouds in the distance.
Sitting beside the lapping waves, always ebbing and flowing as they touch the rocky shore.
Watching hermit crabs tickle an anemone while crawling around a tide pool.

This profound thought has echoed with me for weeks: Nature just knows. It just is. It just exists. None of it has an “identity.”

None of it is studying career and life discernment workbooks, wondering how to live out its calling. This “enlightened” human thing some of us do. It makes this thing we hold so sacred, our individual identity, seem well, mundane.

Yes, every part of nature has beauty, purpose, meaning of each its own, though its significance is not in simply being, but in contributing to the greater whole.

Today is my birthday. A day some cultures see as an opportunity for a fresh sense of identity. More than a marker of years, it represents a self-identified mastery of being. Just so, a few years ago I started using my favorite nickname, Jules, all the time.

Personal, loving, connected. It felt more “me” than Julie ever did.

I’ve spent my life seeking personal significance through my own self-expression. Ironically, as I’ve settled into being Jules “full-time,” I’ve released some of the need for a distinctive identity.

Today I am humbled by the bigger quest: Becoming one with all — mind, body and spirit aligned within. And without. Not just relating to nature, but being as an equal and raising our children to live this way from the start.

This is where my heart is at as I enter a new year: with wild ambitions of living more deeply in harmony with nature, with all others, and with my own nature. And intuiting how to make these truths more accessible to all.

May you feel peace this week by treating every day as a fresh start.

Love,
Jules

August 20, 2018February 12, 2022

News from Jules | 08.20.2018 | What If It’s Been Wrong All Along?

Most of the time there isn’t a right or a wrong.

There’s a spectrum.

This makes life tricky to say the least.

And so, we do the best we can.

Over and over again. Often until we have unconscious habits.

Things we don’t stop to question—until something happens and/or somebody says something.

Because sometimes there is a right and a wrong way. And sometimes it’s been wrong all along.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Wait, what?”

This is what my Physical Therapist told me last month as I ran on the treadmill for the first time several weeks after my bike accident.

Apparently, I was driving my heels into the ground, a much harder impact for my legs, my hips, my back, instead of kicking off my toes.

Well, no wonder running has always been so difficult!

Of course, every body’s different. But, there are natural and unnatural ways for our bodies to move. And, apparently modern shoes encourage unnatural ways of moving.

Thus, there is a right and a wrong way to run.

Running this new, right way made a night and day difference. It was so much smoother and easier.

I had no idea how much harder I was making it on myself than it needed to be, than it should be.

Instead of questioning the process, I blamed it on myself.

I had sensed something was off, but I told myself it was because, “I didn’t have a runner’s body.”

Pushing through recurring injuries and rehab over the last 15 years, finding the triumph of accomplishment just slightly more rewarding than the struggle it took to compete—I just kept going.

No questions asked.

Discomfort had become my norm.

Constantly ignored, my body had long ago given up on offering warning signs and settled for compensating—its attempt at finding equilibrium—and surviving, which I mistook as thriving.

I ran a total of 12 miles in a relay race a couple weeks ago. Because of my injured knee, I ran intervals: 4 minutes running, 1 minute walking. During each 4-minute segment, I refocused on running the right way with each step, even as I grew tired.

Even injured, I marveled at how much I enjoyed running now that I knew how to do it right.

Sometimes there is a right and a wrong way. And sometimes it’s been wrong all along.

It started off wrong and we let it stay wrong.

Settling for the wrong way holds us back from being whole.

We know how to be whole, how to be in our natural state.

Our bodies tell us how all the time. Are you listening?

All it takes is pausing to listen, asking for help and then receiving it.

The whole cannot be whole without all of you.

May you have the courage to listen and follow your body’s guidance this week.

Love,
Jules

Tag: Personal Growth

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