I love Danielle LaPorte although recently, I’ve found myself  avoiding her books and daily updates because she empowers me to be great, and lately, it’s been feeling ok to be not so “great” and just hide away. It’s been feeling ok to go with the flow, with what’s easy, with what’s comfortable, yet sometimes completely different than I’ve known. I’d been describing the feeling as stuck for a while. I’m in the ebb, I think. That might describe it best, at least every other weekend or so. If I close my eyes and block out all the voices, the ebb tricks me into feeling ok.

Its not all bad “the ebb” It’s allowed me to stop and feel the sunshine on my skin, to go to sleep (seriously lights out) before 9pm once in a while just because, to enjoy being home – for a few days at a time – in the big house, even if it’s a perfect beach day. To focus on new experiences, rather than force the same old. To heal more, to find my footing. To figure out how to make decisions with my high school athlete, and to lean on my people for help in navigating this new way of living with the girls. We all hate change, and school sports stifling our family time, is maddening. But alas, I’ve finally surrendered. It seems like I’m doing a good job, of making my way in this world, and I am.

But then, I catch a glimpse of some witty post, or truthbomb or worse – get on my mat, and there it is: undeniable, blaring. Why I am playing small? What am I waiting for? know I’m bigger, I know I’m more capable, I know I’m deserving of all good things, yet I choose sit back and wait.

The problem is we think we have time. For the tides to turn, for the wind to pick up. We wait for the perfect moment, for them to say it first, we wait to make changes, and to chase our wildest dreams. We wait when we know what is right, and worse when we know that it’s wrong. We see the other side, the better ways the bigger picture yet we wait. We know exactly what we want, yet we’re afraid to ask.

I create timelines in my head, deadlines of sorts, and then I slide them. I’m afraid to take the risks, to commit to something new, to put myself out there, to see and be seen. Ive been cautious in committing to what’s next, in fear, I believe of feeling overwhelmed by responsibility. I’m not sure if it’s the age of the girls, their sudden independence, the absence of their father or a mix of all three, but it makes for some tough decision making on my part for sure. I’ve been cautious in speaking my mind, in sharing my heart, in putting myself in the vulnerable situation that feels risky. We all do it. We’re all guilty. I’ve spent countless hours talking people into “do it now” and yet I can’t do it myself. Funny. Eventually, it affects my well being, I lose sleep, I question my place in the world and begin to feel that if I do not get it out I will burst.

This week after the blue moon I’ve been tying up loose ends, cleaning up messes, engaging in tough conversations, and uneasy visits to free some space in my heart. It’s unnerving, it’s messy and I’m sure it’s got a few heads spinning sideways. I’m forcing conversations, I’m firming my ground and taking a stand for what’s possible – once again.

As I sit on this beach, second guessing a few emails, I’m reminded of one of the greatest lessons Dean Cucinotta taught me. He used ask himself, and me, on a daily basis when he was sick:

How can we make this day even better?
How can we love each other more?
What can we let go of, overcome and forgive in order to make more space for the good stuff?
How can we capture a lifetime of living in five short years?
What more can we possibly squeeze in?
He’d say,” Stop wasting time, it’s never ever on our side.” And man oh man was he right.

More joy.
Move love.
More fun.
No more hiding.

Today, I can feel it rising. It’s like a groundswell out of nowhere and it’s a powerful thing. Im blessed beyond measure to have these lessons in my bones. That’s the thing about cellular memory, you can only trick your heart for so long, eventually living BIG wins.

Thank you Danile LaPorte for your newsfeed, for unknowingly showing up in my inbox just when I need you. Thank you for your bravery, and your insight and for the gentle nudge to remember who I am. For you, and many others, I am grateful.