I explored a new level of strength in Calgary. For my body, a new realm of accuracy and stamina. For my soul, a new depth of exploration and resilience. And for my intellect, a new level of mastery in my craft. It was awesome and inspiring.

Just prior to my return home, I had a Vision of what was possible for me. Cue tinkling fairy bells, rainbows and pots of gold. I had a new experiential understanding of my capacity for more ease. More flow. More ripples spreading outward. And I knew what I needed to do to get There. I knew the steps that I needed to take to propel me forward.

Coordinates for destination entered?
Coordinates for Ultimate Ease entered.
All systems check?
Check.
And proceed to launch.

Or not.

In the week following my return home, I slowly noticed that my long standing daily routine of support had shapeshifted into something quite different. Instead of leaning in and enjoying the moment of pause of my early morning therapeutic yoga practice or meditation, or the 10:00 a.m. chai, or the plethora of other mini bites of support that have been a part of my world for some time now… instead of leaning into all of that goodness, the supports had morphed into another list of “to do’s.”

The morning practice had become another thing to check off the list. The chai had become a slug it down because I knew I needed the calories to keep me going until lunch. The carefully selected mid-afternoon activity of nidra or do nothing had become “What do I need to do to get myself through to dinner time?”

But I knew something was up. What was Present was a blur to what I was going to do next to get closer to ULTIMATE EASE (Go back and read that sentence again with a booming echo, please.)
In short, I was watching myself miss out on the Moment.

Oops.

I had totally lost the journey and was laser focused on my destination.

As my wise sister has observed, “Our kids are as they are born. Our job as parents is to help them learn to use their powers for good and not evil.”

Amen. This holds true for my own personal walk as well.

My God given gifts of intensity and efficient execution had snuck in as the engine of this freight train called Rachel.

I was trying to use an old tool to get to a new destination. And it wasn’t working.

In recognizing the cruise control in my daily routine, I know it is time to shift things up. Like the etch-a-sketches of my childhood, it needs a shake and a reset. And to do that, I must first let go of some of the structure that I have built – structure that used to serve me in a big way – that has now instead become a crutch and a check list.

This morning, moments after journaling, I was making our bed when I found the lovely little smiley face sticker seen in the image above. It smiled up at me. And I returned the smile.

“Okay, I get it. Lighten up on yourself. You’re making this harder than it is, dear Rachel.”

This softening was followed by a brilliant insight from an incredible client this morning as she reflected upon her practice:

“If I don’t pause long enough, I might be missing untapped potential.”

Thud. That landed and I received it. I didn’t volley it back. I didn’t have a build on it response. Just silence in her brilliance.

That untapped potential is a wellspring. Mine. Your’s. All of our’s. And it is in the Pause.

Notice when your practice, your exercise, your food, or whatever else scaffolding your day is simply a box to check. And when it is the Pause. The place to play. To explore. To expand.

I fear letting go of what I’ve known in terms of my daily support rituals and playing into a deeper layer of listening and responding to the moment, but I fear even more what untapped potential I will miss out on if I do not.

What can we do together if we lean into the Pause as an opportunity to softly feel, listen and respond? It has me giddy to consider. Shivering in legs, quick in my heart and pulsing in my chest. This is my intensity of focus at its best. Gazing into the depth of infinite space to move better, to feel better and to be better. May we step lightly together on this journey.

Be well,
Rachel