Resolutions and rubber bands.

"The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. It's our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows" Brene Brown

2016 stole more from me that I intended it to--in little ways at first, and then all at once. It was a year of loss, a year of struggle, and a year of troubled chaos. I was in crisis for most of it, sometimes as a result of circumstances, and sometimes, as a result of me.

Every year has the potential to bring us down. I can think of a handful of ways I almost let life destroy me this year. I stumbled through it, stricken and blinded by the confusion, desperately seeking a way out. At times, I didn't think I would make it. I learned that when I am hit hard, I don't hit back. I crumble. I start to disappear, and I get sucked under. 

Have you ever felt your brain slipping away from you? It's an unsettling experience, drifting farther and farther from your own soul. You try to grasp hold of anything, everything. But your hands just miss the strands of wholeness that would ground you to yourself, and you watch in horror as it all floats away. 

You turn up empty handed, when you were trying to hold on to so much. 

What I am finding is that life, yours and everyone else's, is like a rubber band. You are stretched and stretched and stretched, and as you expand you're just trying to hold everything in. But the thing about elastic is that once it's stretched, it never goes back to it's original shape, and you are bound to lose some things in the process.

You think you are going to snap, being stretched like that. And you think all the important things are going to fall out, fall away forever and ever, and never come back. So you keep shoving more things in, trying to fill the space but also trying to hold yourself together. 

And this is life:

Stretching and filling.

Fearing and falling. 

The thing about rubber bands is that if you stretch them too far, they pop.

And if you don't fill them enough, everything falls out.

So you have to find a balance, and you have to be wise about it. 

This year, I let way too many things in that filled space in an unhealthy manner.

Stress. Worry. Chaos.

Fear.

And I let too many things drop out that would have kept me together.

Love. Hope. Joy.

Grace. 

My rubber band teetered between popping an collapsing,

and I was not better for it.

Because I was not careful enough about what I let in.

So.

In the spirit of the new year, I am not going to make new years resolutions in the traditional sense.

I'm not going to decide what I'm going to do.

I'm going to decide what I'm not going to do.

Because this year, I made a mess out what was already messy.

I made everything more confusing, more stressful, more toxic. 

I want to let go of the things that drove me into darkness. 

You see, I didn't have much control this year over the things that happened to me, and sometimes they felt like a cruel, cosmic joke. But. I did have control over how I reacted to them, how I chose to acknowledge and clean up the mess, how I decided to move forward.

Over what I decided to add and what I decided to take away.

I don't want to walk into a storm and stir the waters.

I want to calm the sea. 

I want peace. 

I want my rubber band to expand in great expectation, and to hold what's good and right and pure.

Because once my rubber band is stretched, I get to choose what to let go of, and what to keep. 

I get to decide what I'm going to let push me, 

and what gets pushed out.

So.

Rubber band your life. Let yourself  be stretched and pulled and pushed towards growth.

But don't fill the space with what doesn't need to be there.

And when you are ready, get rid of what's heavy.

What may cause you to pop.

Because when there's enough space for more, it might as well be what's going to fill you up.

What's going to light you up, from the inside out.

What's going to make you whole. 

Stretch, grow.

Let things fall out. 

And then do it all again.

Except, this time, differently.

This time, with unwavering peace.

We already know you can make it. 

So this year, make it good.

sunshine and social commodity.

This week, Chris Martin from Coldplay visited the Bowery Mission. In case you don't know, the Bowery is a shelter as well as a transformational program for men and women to move out of homelessness. There's so much I could write about what happened, but truly my favorite part was just the simple humanity of it all.

The Bowery Mission is the great equalizer of life.

I have the honor of working with all sorts of people, from all walks of life. Believe it or not, there is not a type for those experiencing homelessness. It can affect anybody, at any time. And when someone like Chris Martin walks through the door, this doesn't shift. People remain who they are, where they are.

But there's an exchange that takes place when people gather in this manner, a collaboration of spirits that cannot be labeled by fame or power. There is no helper and helped, there is no us and them.

It's just love, given and received without a price.

The only expectation is that you bring yourself, as you are.

You see, when Chris came, he brought with him everything he was, in as simple a way as possible. But because of who he was, with his music and his words and his connection to the world, he brought many people joy.

And the people in the community, those experiencing homelessness, they brought everything they were, in as simple a way as possible. They brought their history and their hard earned wisdom, their faith and their hope.

And they brought Chris Martin joy.

They each had social commodity that they could sell but they chose to lend it instead.

In a world where people are trying to get ahead and money rules the market, we forget that some of the most influential moments in life happen because someone decided to lend out their social commodity.

Someone decided to share the gift of connection, and it didn't matter if that person was more or less, what mattered is that they became equal.

Equal in compassion, equal in friendship.

Equal in joy.

I think sometimes we become fearful of connection, either because we feel we have nothing to give or because we don't want to spend everything we have. We don't want to lose our commodity, we don't want to come up broke.

But the truth is that the more you spend the more you receive. This is the oldest wisdom in the book. It doesn't matter how much money you have, or how many people you know--if you are alone, you are broke.

And if you hoard your social commodity, it will turn up tarnished and rusty and diminished in its beauty.

Our lives are richer when we share what we have, whatever it is. It's hard and it can be uncomfortable and it may even be out of our usual routine.

But when we do, it can change everything.

It can take people coming from an experience of homelessness and place them next to one of the most influential and well-known musicians in the world.

And it can take one of the most influential and well-known musicians in the world and put them right in the middle of a shelter.

And this moment, it doesn't matter if you are from the hills or the valleys, we are all on level plane.

The same sun shining out of our souls.

And this is what it means to be alive.

This is what brings us meaning and purpose and....

Joy.

Our worlds get a little brighter.

And a little bigger.

And our hearts do the same.

So.

In this new year, if you have a chance to spread your social commodity only a bit farther...

Just do it.

You won't regret it.

And I think you'll find that the more you give the more you can receive.

Add a little more value to the world.

We need your sunshine yet.

suffering and common denominators.

Life is mostly pain, and what you decide to do with it. There are some other things mixed in too, love...sometimes hope. But mostly, we suffer. It's the great common denominator of life.

Suffering.

You may not experience it as strongly or intensely as the next person, but it's there. I don't know what form your pain takes or how exactly it impacts you, it's different for everyone. Pain is personal like that. I remember my first supervisor telling me that you can't measure people's pain, that it can't be quantified because what's painful for you may not be as painful for him or her or them. But it's theirs nonetheless, and it weighs just as heavily as yours, even if you don't understand it.

Someone recently asked me why there is suffering in the world. The question was really a round about statement, laced with bitterness and a sense of "what's the point". And truly, this is a question for the ages. We have all sat, numb and listless, staring into the vast, emptiness of sorrow wondering how in the hell we ended up here. Wondering, if life was really worth it after all.

After all the let downs.

After all the injustice.

After all the sickness.

After all the death.

Is it still worthwhile?

Still possible to maintain?

Still meaningful? 

Can we endure the suffering and reach for hope, no matter how excruciating it may be?

I think this is the question.

For some people, their heartbreak will always be there.

There are some wounds this side of heaven that will never be whole.

But there is also infinite joy.

Not necessarily happiness, because we all know happiness is fleeting. But a deep sense of pride, an experience of unbridled joy that comes in the form of emotion, gift wrapped in moments that can never be taken away. This is the gold of life, sacred and priceless and nonexchangeable.

And if you think about it, our days are sort of like an equation. Things get added and things get taken away, and we are just trying to make it to a hundred percent. But what if a perfect score was not the goal? What if it didn't matter what the answer was, as long as it wasn't zero?

Here's the truth.

Life will make subtractions, big and small and anywhere in-between. And that's OK. Suffering is a part of life. I'm not sure that there is an answer for why suffering is that would satisfy my weary heart and erase the aftermath of pure, unfiltered pain. Pain may not have an answer, but it does ask a question:

What are you going to do about it?

Because the only thing to really do is to keep adding more to your life.

More joy, more hope, more love, more laughter. So that when subtractions come knocking on our door, our reserve is ready and in place and able to keep us afloat. It is far too easy to let our numbers slip into the negatives, to close ourselves off to the sweet, stickiness of life.

We are so afraid.

Afraid to add on more, because what if.

Let me tell you, that what if is never going to go away. Life will always be scary, messy, vulnerable in every possible way.

But we cannot give up.

We cannot let darkness win!!!

Numbers are INFINITE.

They can go on forever and ever, as long as we keep adding more to our equation.

Which means that even if you enter into the negatives, it's OK because there's always a way to go up from there. Keep holding on--it takes as long as it takes and will come to you when you're ready.

But the only real way to lose is if we stop living all together.

If we stop feeling.

Tempting though it may be, it is not the answer.

So, can you manage the pain?

Can you bear it enough to push your way through it?

Some days it will be easier than others.

It's not a contest.

And remember, it's personal.

But you can do it.

You can get through this.

It may be more painful than you could ever imagine.

And you may be burdened beyond recognition.

But your purpose is infinite. 

And your suffering matters.

So let it matter for good.

Let it change you, grow you into a person that appreciates more, settles for less.

Just don't let it harden you.

C.S. Lewis once said, "The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

Don't create your own personal hell. 

That's the devil's job.

Don't beat him to it.

Let your pain have purpose.

Stop trying so hard to avoid it.

Go through it.

You aren't alone.

Pain is the common denominator.

And you don't have to solve for x!

Because the answer is yours, and yours alone.

But not yours alone to carry.

So go on.

Head towards infinity. 

I pray that hope will meet you there.

And that one day, you can add it on to someone else's equation. 

magic and privileged spaces.

I like to observe people. Many refer to this activity as people watching, but for me it's deeper than that. I think what I like most about seeing people interact (or not interact) is the effect that one person can have on so many. I'm always struck by those individuals who seem to light up a room, who can make everyone around them feel special in one way or another--who know how to engage in an almost magical way. I say magic because honestly it can look like a spell is being cast on the crowd. Whatever this person is made of is unique and specific to him or her, but almost always people remember the way that person made them feel.

What I like most about connectors (that's what I call them) is that they don't have to be loud or gregarious or quintessentially cool. The thing that draws others to them is that they are completely themselves. People aren't always used to that I don't think--this ability to let social norms go and just be comfortable despite how those around you are conforming. It's particularly hard to do when an environment is toxic or not conducive to growth. To stand up and stand out when so much is trying to tear you down is no easy feat, but I've seen people do it so beautifully.

I think that sometimes we believe we don't have the ability to enact change unless we are in a position of power, but this is simply not true. One of my absolute favorite people in the world is an employee of the Greyhound bus services. Every time I head home, he is checking the tickets and luggage of the typical, weary New York  traveler. We are not a always pleasant bunch, worn and rugged from the constant bustle of the city and tending towards a healthy dose of cynicism. But this guy--he is relentlessly positive. He is not particularly noticeable at first, there's nothing necessarily striking in his features. He is quiet, very humble in his presentation and incredibly polite. But here's the thing--he notices everyone. I mean this guy takes the time out to talk to every single passenger, even if it's just for a moment, even if it's just a simple hello. He genuinely cares about the people he is encountering and the people can feel it. For me, he has become the comfort in going home, sending me off with a warm smile and caring hand. He doesn't know my name and I don't know his, but I can honestly say I have been changed by knowing him.

When you get to experience this type of person in this type of place, it is a little oasis in the difficult terrain that is everyday life. I call these people and these places privileged spaces. In counseling we refer to the relationship between the client and therapist as privileged and confidential, meaning that the client is coming into a space in which she can feel completely free to be herself--no judgment, no fear of condemnation, and no relational danger. The space is safe, and because of this, the client has room to heal.

I think that when people have the ability to make other people feel safe and warm and welcome, they are creating an every day privileged space. For just a moment they are letting others know that it's OK to come as they are, it's OK to be where they're at. They are changing the nature of the environment completely, changing the terrain.

Here's the thing--connection is a team sport, but it's made up of many players, and we've all seen how one player can change the game. In the smallest way, in the tiniest moment, the game can be won.

I want to be a game changer.

I want to be a connector.

I want my life to reflect the sacred ground of the privileged spaces.

Because life can be cruel and rocky and full of pitfalls.

And we are not alone.

We have people around us, whether we like it or not.

We hold the magic.

So, are you using it?

Are you sharing it?

Are you taking the time to reflect the good inside of you despite what terrain you are in?

I'm trying, person by person.

It doesn't take much.

Be thoughtful.

Be purposeful.

And most importantly, be yourself.

Look for the privileged spaces.

Thank those who have gone before you,

and then live it out yourself.

free to create, creating freely.

There are days I wish I didn't exist. Don't get me wrong, I place a high value on life and consider it to be an extraordinary gift. And yet, this knowledge does not take away from the fact that we are often asked to bear things that we simply cannot, so much so that we sometimes reconsider living. Call it depression or call it suppression--either way, we shove the feelings down and grimly wade our way through the muddy waters of another day.

I think for me, I've always experienced things so strongly, so acutely. I can't bear to feel the sting of loneliness or insecurity. I hate to see the vulnerability of others. It's not that I lack compassion. I just can't manage to sustain eye contact with the hurting places, the deep spaces that are dark and full of fear.

I worry if I go there, I won't be able to come back out.

Recently, I was asked what type of box I would place my fears in--what it would look like, feel like. How I would secure it and make sure those fears couldn't get out, how I would ensure my own safety. I realized my box would be clear. I would want to know at all times where exactly my fears were lurking. But the more I thought about how I would lock that box up, the more I came to the conclusion that it was not the fears I was afraid of.

It was myself.

That I couldn't trust myself.

Couldn't keep myself safe.

That I would maybe even let the fears get out and get to me.

Or that perhaps, I was the scariest thing in the room.

That my clear, safe box was actually a mirror.

And that my fears were simply a reflection of my worst self--

that I was afraid of my darkness.

my shadow.

You see, it is not the things outside of me that scare me most--it's what's inside, what's at the core. That I won't be able to stand up and stand out, that I won't be able to stay. That I will live in cowardice and crawl into the corners of my soul, wrapping myself in the trappings of insignificance so that I cannot be found to be a fraud.

So you see,

I am also afraid of my light.

I am afraid that I can't keep it going.

I am afraid that when all is said and done, the furious beating of my fragile heart will cease to exist all together.

It is a terrifying thing to live with the thought that you may not have lived at all.

So what do we do, when what we fear most is our own self destruction?

Because the only person that can stop us is ourselves--

And we are our own Achilles heels.

We know which pieces of us are tender and prone to bleeding.

We know our dark.

But we also know our light.

So what if we fought back with not who we see in the mirror, but who we have the potential to be?

What if we believed that we were strong and capable, though flawed and fragile?

What if we believed we could be afraid and still be strong?

What if we believed that it was OK to face our fears and fail?

Because the failure did not indicate a battle lost,

but a battle fought?

Before the war is won?

What if all of our little battles were leading up to something great, and the losses were just minor in the grand scheme of the overall victory?

Is it possible that we aren't really losing at all?

But that we are gaining just a little more light in the fight?

That even though the outcome was not what we hoped for that we still won something that can never be diminished? 

Here's what I'm learning: when we are free to create we create freely.

Our fear of ourselves tarnishes our gifts.

It makes us doubt ourselves and place ourselves inside of a box.

A box that beckons to us with seductive words of false security, a box that kills our dreams and leaves us safe but dead inside.

SO, who's stifling your soul these days?

Well?

Is it you?

Are you the one responsible?

Have you let fear win over creativity?

If so, it's time to GET OUTTA THAT BOX.

And go forth in battle--

for the war has yet to be won.

surprises and gifts.

I think one of the most beautiful things about our day to day existence is that we never quite know what is going to happen from one moment to the next. Most people fight this sense of chaos, the pull of uncertainty and change. We want control, we want to be masters of predictability.

But so often, the power that comes with choosing leads us down the wrong path.

And then, when we are least expecting it, heaven gives us something sweet and surprising, full of goodness and almost always unexpected truth. Something we never would have asked for or looked for or even acknowledged by ourselves. Something that is so needed, deep down in our soul, something that strikes us to the core and rattles us into new life.

I'm learning to embrace these unprecedented moments.

I have spent such a long time thinking about what it is that I desire/want/expect, when all along the pieces of my life puzzle have been put together in ways I never imagined, but always needed.

When I signed up to be a mental health counselor, working with homeless men from NYC was not exactly in the cards for me. I  could not imagine a more unlikely, unusual job for a 25 year old female from Virginia. And yet, here I am, two years later--convinced that I was exactly where I was supposed to be and incredibly grateful for what it grew in me in the process.

You see, working with these men taught me things I could never have learned otherwise--it taught me strength and community and how to stay when all I wanted to do is leave. It taught me the importance of standing up for what is right and that I always, always have a voice. It gave me more gifts than I could ever possibly count and than I ever could have expected and I sit here today in both awe and humility that I got to be a part of something so sacred.

Surprises can be like that sometimes--sacred and full of mysterious authenticity. I wonder at how a situation can be so wholly healing by complete and utter accident, but then I remember that it is often not I who made the plans to begin with, though I surely did try.

And thank God for that.

So, what surprises have landed on your doorstep? I'm here to tell you to take them. Embrace them, because they could be your greatest gifts. When you see something pure and good and totally undeserving, take it because that is a gift for you, and we don't know when it will come around again.

And when something happens to you, hard and tragic and potentially soul crushing, remember: there may be a surprise in that too. This does not take away the sting, the blurry tear-filled eyes and the aching heart. But there's always a gift to be given, and a gift to be received. Don't let your sorrow take you too far from the path of hopefulness--pain is a cumbersome package but you never know what you'll find inside unless you look.

Be surprised, take the gift, and hold on tight. Tuck the moment safely away as a keepsake, something to remember and something to push you forward when you have forgotten how to get to where you are going.

And if you don't know where you are going, good.

The right gift usually finds its owner.

And the surprise is always worth the suspense.

After all, when was the last time you heard someone say they hated their surprise party?

Because I am of the opinion that if we look hard enough and learn to accept what comes our way, life can be just that--

a surprise party waiting to happen.

More: A public service announcement.

Do you ever wonder if you aren't living up to your full potential?

Or, if you're like me, do you ever wonder if you even have potential?

I have found that most of my life I have spent making myself smaller.

That I was so busy just trying to survive, that I forgot to live.

To breathe.

To be myself.

And not the supporting character self.

The LEAD.

The can-do, kick-ass, strong as hell hero.

I have spent my days apologizing and second guessing and politely denying that I may have some magic inside of me.

I see this very often with the men I work with.

They come into my office, unsure and avoiding eye contact, because they too have believed an untruth about themselves.

But let me tell you, when they discover who they are,  I mean who they really ARE, it's like light exploding in a room.

It's like nothing can stop them from outshining all the stars in the galaxy.

It's like witnessing a miracle, a brand new spark in the dark dark universe that shines and shines and says I'M HERE.

I want more for myself.

I want more for them.

I  want more for you.

Can you imagine what it would be like if we all believed that we had something spectacular to offer? If we lived like the world deserved us, like we knew that our lives held meaning and purpose and impact that no one else could offer?

Can I tell you that THAT is the truth we need to believe?

I  remember when I was young, I had an intense fear of "faking it".

Or, in other words, of being found out I was a fraud.

But did you know, that the most successful people are not the ones who necessarily have talent, but the ones who BELIEVE they have talent?

They ones who say yes and speak up more and recognize their own inner gifts?

Many of you know I work with men recovering from homelessness. And I have to tell you, that there is no special "catch all" to describe how a person comes to find themselves in this particular position. We have people of all shapes and sizes and of every talent. People who were wealthy and people who were poor and people with degrees and  people who can't read.

And they are all a little shook up by their situation.

They are all second guessing a bit their worth at this time in life.

But the ones who move forward?

Those are the ones who have told themselves over and over, "I can do this."

They have internalized the belief that they have something to offer, they have gotten back up and looked around and said "I am HERE and you need to know it!"

They have remained humble, remained open to help and have accepted it as it has come to them.

But they have not let their circumstances determine their worth, they have not let it darken the hope on the horizon.

They have looked around the room, held up their head, and said, "I deserve to be here".

And they do.

And so do you.

Do you know this?

Do you show this?

Do you let it guide your decisions and your steps and the way you see yourself and the opportunities in front of you?

If not, you need to reassess what exactly it is you are believing.

You need to check and see if the fraud you are so afraid of committing is actually the fraud itself--

that you aren't worthy.

aren't good enough.

aren't able.

How discontenting would it be to come to the end of your life and feel you did not use your gifts?

Your talents?

To realize you were acting all along, but it was the wrong role?

Be more.

Do not do us a disservice.

We need your light.

The public will thank you.