I love when synchronicities occur in my life. I take them as signs for things I really need to pay attention to.

This happens often for me through information via reading books or articles, listening to interviews or podcasts and conversing with friends or other wise people who I was meant to cross paths with at that exact moment.

My latest synchronicity is the word “boundaries.” And by magic of the Universe, this blog will likely be a synchronicity for someone reading it (so cool!).

I am still digging into this topic for myself and will write more later, but I want to share an interview that a friend passed along to me between Marie Forleo and Terri Cole, psychotherapist and author of Boundary Boss. I am grateful for this conversation that gave me some eureka moments and lessons I can apply to my relationships, work and being a mom.

Happy synchronicities and boundary setting!

In order to bowl a strike, the focus should not be on knocking all ten pins down. Instead, it is about form, movement and precision leading to hitting a particular point of the cluster of ten.

Receiving this message today in a conversation, I am realizing that I am misplacing my focus and need to return to myself and how I approach the bowl and not so much on all the pins I need to knock down.

(Note: I am not a bowling expert. This is not official bowling advice)

Asking for what I want is hard to do. I think that I must have possessed the skill at one point because I witness three little bodies asking me for what they want ALL.DAY.LONG and then subsequently getting mad and upset if they don’t get what they want.

This is one of my biggest triggers as a mother. I see their asking and anger as signs of unearned entitlement and unjustified righteousness.

Growing up, I had very little and that was that. I don’t know if I ever asked for what I wanted because there was never a lot of money. I remember wanting to go on a trip to Europe with my friends in high school but I didn’t even think to ask my mom – partially because I knew (assumed) she was going to say no and partially because I didn’t feel like it was right for me to ask for so much money all for myself.

And I know that this is something that I absorbed back in the womb. When my mother was pregnant with me, she was afraid to ask for even an extra egg to eat not only because of limited resources but because of power dynamics within the family.

And so here I am, trying to re-learn this skill, re-tracing my steps back to a time when my gait was half skip/half walk and my sense of righteousness and entitlement were strong because asking for what I want is indeed a right.

The ability to “see the gray” is the superpower humanity needs to break through the very black-and-white (aka binary) thinking of our world right now. The binary is very obvious in politics but also apparent everywhere else if we look for it. This includes how we approach motherhood and the systems of and anything touched by white supremacy and patriarchy.

Being able to see the gray also requires for us to be able to sit in the gray. One ability that goes hand in hand to cultivate comfort in the in-between is the ability to translate.

The first type of translation that comes to mind is the ability to translate between languages. Phrases, sentence structures, and figures of speech are not a one-to-one translation. Instead, they require the mind to mold and reshape the thought in one language to another in order for it to make sense. That ability to take one language and move words around and reshape them so they are understandable in another is very much work that our brain does in that gray space.

But translation is not limited to languages. Translation also occurs when we try to communicate between forms and bring thoughts to life in other mediums like movement, painting or writing. Art requires for us to feel into the thoughts and emotions and re-form them into expressions through our body/brush/pen. That ability challenges and stretches us to think about things differently.

Where else do you see translation happening?

Thirty-seven years later, I’m still not sure what to make of my birthday.

As a mother, I know the grand significance of this day when my own mother straddled life and death and summoned love and strength to bring forth my life into this world.

Thirty-seven years later, sometimes I still feel like I’m in that limbo state, unsure if I have come to life just yet.

And yet here I am. Life is undeniable. Maybe it is because life is in the journey and the journey is in itself a limbo state?

Thirty-seven years later, I wish to recognize that limbo state while also moving towards emerging. I wish to become more alive this next year. To become more me. To follow my curiosities and inspirations. To fully embody my potential. To find much joy in simple things. To laugh. To be present with my kids. To develop friendships. To learn from people I respect. To support others on this path. To heal my inner child. To practice yoga.

Thirty-seven years later, I know I am nothing without the people in my life.

I most celebrate those who have touched and shaped me not only this past year but the thirty-six before. I celebrate those old friends, those who I have met in the last year, those who have supported me, those who I no longer can physically touch, those who bring me moments of joy, and especially for the person who brought me into this world.

Thirty-seven years later, all I know is love.

The journey of self-awareness is akin to being in a bottle and trying to read what the label says.
It is impossible to do when you’re in the bottle – just as it is impossible to figure out who you are when you are in your own head.

Get out of your head. Find external sources of feedback. Have conversations. Do something that inspires you.

With how our media, social networks and communities are structured these days, it is very easy to create our own safe bubble. It’s nice in the bubble. People we like are in the bubble. Those are people like us. They validate what we think and say and do. We talk about the the same things, and we are along the same spectrum of values. We also avoid conflict in the bubble. The bubble protects us.

The challenge with the bubble is that, essentially, we create an echo chamber for ourselves.

To me, “bubble” and “echo chamber” feel very different to the body while meaning the same thing. While a bubble feels fun and safe, echo chamber feels confining, overwhelming and repetitive.

A bubble may not be as safe as we think it is. Staying in the bubble may actually mean that we close ourselves off from different views, do less critical thinking and think less about living/working/being together. Staying in the bubble is being comfortable with being separate.

What the world needs is for us to get out of our bubbles.

A friend shared with me that there is no exact moment of sunset. It sort of blew my mind.

All those pictures I love to look at of the beautiful mix of reds, oranges, purples, and pinks in the sky above oceans or meadows are all the moments leading up to the sunset.

How often are we striving for our version of a sunset and missing the beauty of all the moments leading up to it? And perhaps the journey for that sunset is never about the sunset at all?

The danger of the overthinker is that there is no end. You can think and think into oblivion. You can act out infinite scenarios. You can analyze from all the view points. You can examine from the lens of every great overthinker who came before you.

The best tool an overthinker can arm themselves with is to know when to stop. But what does that tool look like? What is the thing that alerts us to say – “Hey, no more!”?

To find that out, we’ve got to go back to what we are thinking about and why? And then to ask ourselves – “Has the objective of the thinking been achieved?” Have we found the answer? Have we confirmed our original thought? Did we find a new, contrasting thought that we have examined enough and are okay with?

Let’s not spend our days mindlessly overthinking the infinite layers of this onion.

Today is the last day of a four day weekend. Every weekend should last four days so that there is enough time to fill the days with a mix of doing, resting and planning.
For me, it is the resting that falls by the wayside. Resting is difficult for my mind and body but sometimes our bodies give clear signs to rest. Our bodies give us signs for all sorts of things. We just have to learn how it communicates and listen.