On Brambles and Self-Compassion

Meandering toward

The forbidden

Inner landscape

I pause

For a moment

Ensnared by

A thicket of brambles

I did not anticipate

Tangled in a false narrative

Of my own design

I feel the prick

And begin to bleed

My body responds

“Run away and hide”

Instead

I say

Gently

“Stay - and do not be afraid”

Now in repose

I remember

My knowing

Slowly, I begin to

Weave my way out

Of this tangle

I co-created

Undoing the damage

One braid of self-compassion

At a time

A Giant Leap of Faith

No one ever said launching a brand new business would be easy. But I am ready to help heart-centered entrepreneurs like you develop an authentic voice for your business and attract your ideal clients.

In July 2019, my husband, 8 year old son, 5 year old daughter and I went camping at Butano State Park in San Mateo County, CA. Joined by our dear family friends and their two daughters, it was a magical trip. Everything fell into place without effort, and there were moments when time seemed to stand still. In the midst of those towering redwoods, we felt cradled by the wise, grounded presence of those ancient trees.

For the better part of three days, all four adults sat around the campfire from morning to night. Meanwhile, the kids logged banana slug sightings in their nature journal between discoveries of forts hidden amidst the lush fern groves and flashlight games in the dark. Several times we turned our attention west toward the cool, salty breeze of the Pacific Ocean, contemplating a day trip to the nearby beach. But each time, we were guided back to the warmth of the burning logs. With good friends, delicious food and honest conversation in abundant supply, we had no reason to leave. Instead, we were instinctively drawn toward the introspective energy we had co-created with our natural environment.

At the time, I was in a leadership position with a stable, well known nonprofit organization. I had supportive coworkers, decent pay, a generous vacation package, and a mission I believed in to fuel my day to day work. From the outside, it seemed like a perfect fit. But the day we arrived at the Redwoods I felt agitated, depleted and disconnected. As much as I hated to admit it, the key ingredients that propelled me forward in my daily routine were adrenaline and a strong sense of duty.

I realized on some level that I was out of alignment, but felt I could not afford the luxury of slowing down long enough for an honest inquiry. For the past several months, my husband David had seen me unraveling and encouraged me to consider re-evaluating my path. Determined to keep up with the fast-paced life I had created for myself, I met my husband’s loving attempts at support with scorn and resolved to plunge ahead despite myself.

But in the redwoods, something shifted. There were moments when the breeze softened me and I heard the gentle entreaty to reconsider my choices. I heard the message but intuitively knew it was not yet time for shifting. I had a job to do, and the cycle of learning in my role was not yet complete. One night under the stars I announced to my friends and the fire with conviction, “March 2020.” I knew with absolute certainty that my transition would begin then. Beyond clarity around this time frame, I had no idea what was in store for me.

MARCH 2020

Fast forward to Sunday, March 15, 2020. I was on a flight from Mumbai, India to San Francisco International airport, returning from an unforgettable 10-day visit to see my sister, a music specialist at the American School of Bombay. While still in India, I had received a cryptic text message from my boss asking me to call her as soon as I was back in the U.S. because some things had “shifted”. I had also learned that Sacramento schools would be shutting down until further notice due to COVID 19.

My husband breathed a sigh of relief when I touched down at SFO, and I was catapulted into the chaos of a deadly virus that would leave people around the globe housebound for the next 15 months. My concerned father and stepmom made an initial run on local grocery stores that resulted in a pantry full of instant brown rice, giant tubs of creamy peanut butter, frozen pulled pork and popcorn (that to this day remain in my pantry as a reminder of the early confusion and fear associated with COVID 19), after which we tried to settle into the new “normal”. With jet lag and the stress of figuring out what to do with my now housebound children looming large, I juggled multiple Zoom calls focused on pivoting to meet the new business objectives of my employer and my own confusion about what in the world was going on. The discontent that had simmered beneath the surface in the Redwoods was now rising to the surface and I could no longer pretend everything was OK.

At the end of one work meeting in late March, I recall being overcome by a bewildered sense of, “What are we doing here, anyway?” The chaos precipitated by COVID 19 was the label for my discontent, but I knew my doubts were rooted in a current that ran much deeper.

Thanks to a generous COVID family leave program, I took three months off work to be with my kids from April-July. During this time I began to discover parts of myself that had been buried beneath 20+ years of striving and social conditioning. I returned to playing the piano in earnest for the first time since my children were very young and took up pleasure reading, in the process re-discovering my passion for immigrant rights and the poetry of Pablo Neruda. Next came the revival of my love affair with folk guitar, then a spontaneous outpouring of poetry written in the wake of George Floyd's death and the Black Lives Matter demonstrations, and later an obsession with playing the djembe drum first in my bedroom and later in a virtual drum circles. With so much awakening inside me, the prospect of returning to work in July 2020 felt impossible.

As I stayed with a process of inquiry into the source of my bliss, my fondest memories from a 23+year nonprofit career came flooding back and the contours of a life beyond my current nonprofit leadership role began to take shape. I remembered WRITING

• Web copy for a community-based organization working to mitigate the impacts of gang activity on youth

• A regular blog for an organization supporting after-school music and gang prevention programming

• My international development master’s thesis on genetically modified soybeans and corn in Latin America and my professor encouraging me to submit it for publication

• Donor appeals to raise money for environmental organizations to combat global warming

• Press releases for university student recitals and nonprofit fundraisers

• Proposals for large, multi-year international public health grants that would restore eyesight to thousands of elderly people in Asia

• Proposals to create new programming requiring C-Suite and Board approval to implement

If writing truly is my bliss, I reasoned, then why not place writing at the center of a job description that I create for myself?

So when a freelance writing course ad popped up on my Facebook feed and I enrolled, something clicked. Suddenly a more purposeful path, illuminated by joyful memories of writing dating all the way back to my childhood, took shape before me. This clarity gave me the courage I needed to take a giant leap of faith. After many sleepless nights, in July 2020 I chose not to return to my full-time job with benefits.

WRITING FOR ALL SEASONS

From developing the About section of a website for an entrepreneur launching a new heart-centered business to creating an eBook to educate new audiences about an overall business approach, something quite literally comes alive in me when I write. Ideas crystallize and I see the relationship between the big picture and supporting arguments lock into place. And nothing gives me more satisfaction than breaking down a series of complex ideas and arguments into palatable pieces then seeing it “click” for a colleague or reader. The way I like to put it is that I am blissfully entangled in a lifelong love affair with words, and that nothing brings me greater joy than sharing this love with others.

But aside from all this, I do this work for a very simple reason: because words matter.

Although in the Redwoods I did not specifically envision myself as a freelance writer, and although COVID 19 has forever changed the world, leaving untold deaths and grief in its wake, I am personally grateful for the wake-up call it delivered to awaken me to this new professional version of myself. With so many heart-centered entrepreneurs like you doing life-altering, soul-changing work, I am eager to dive into this new chapter with the energy, focus and drive to help make your dreams come true. Why not let me write the words so you can change the world?