The Road


“Once you realize that the road is the goal and that you are always on the road, not to reach the goal, but to enjoy its beauty and its wisdom, life ceases to be a task and becomes natural and simple, in itself an ecstasy.” ~ Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

The road  is the goal. You are always on the road. You are on the road not to reach the goal. You are on the road to enjoy its beauty and its wisdom. Seeing the road this way. Living the road this way. Life ceases to be a task/a chore. Life becomes natural, simple, and enjoyable.

Reframing our lives this way presents as easy and difficult. Could our goal be that straightforward? Could we see deeply with such clarity of thought and feeling? Would we judge less and experience more?

We would be a lot less harder on ourselves. We would measure less and compare less. We would notice more and appreciate more. We would focus more on our own journeys and journeying companions and less on where others may or may not be going. We would have less anxiety and more trust. As long as we are moving forward and appreciating the way/the path, we would be doing okay.

Simple and hard at the same time. It’s like a release. A big release of trying to control the outcomes and the steps – not only for ourselves, but often for those around us. And how has that been working for us? Not so great. This past pandemic year has left us often feeling guarded and depleted.

Is it possible to go backwards? No, but it IS always possible to move forward. No matter your age, no matter your stage in life, no matter where you got lost. Reframing the road as the goal and seeing the journey as both the means and the ends will change us. The road is telling us to trust the process.

Tell Your Story

A wise woman once told me, “When you tell your story, you give someone a gift.” I did not really understand what she meant at the time. How can my story be a gift to you? How can your story be a gift to me? Do they matter that much?

Yes, they do. Stories are gifts. Stories are bridges. Stories are our history and the history of those who came before us. Stories connect us. Stories teach understanding. Stories make us laugh and make us cry. They make us feel deeply. They pull us in to someone else’s life. And we start making the connections with ours.

Stories are all around us. They are the songs we listen to. They are the family histories told at gatherings. They are the friends reminding us of our shared adventures. They are the podcast that you listened to or the Ted Talk that you heard and cannot stop thinking about. They are our children’s retelling of their day and our grandparent’s retelling of their youth. They are in the memoir we just read and the wikipedia bio we just checked out. They are in the documentary we watched and can’t shake. They are in the whispered confidence of a dear friend.

Sharing our stories helps us to remember and also to move on. Stories make us feel less alone. They make us pause and think. They remind us of the past and give hope to the future. They give rise to sharing and give rise to growth.

My favorite stories? The underdog stories. So many variations, but the same message. It’s possible.


Empath School Teacher During Covid

Best time to be at school this year? When no one else is there. Never thought I’d say that. Never thought I’d feel that. Never thought it would be true either. But it is. When I go in on weekends or stay late when others are gone, I can breathe and focus.

It’s been a hard year for empath school teachers. Teaching during Covid with schools open. Everyone’s emotions running rampant and running high. My friend calls us “sitting ducks.” So much anxiety in the building. Fear too. Anger too. Sadness too. Discord too. People taking sides. Emotions in flux. Finding new work friends and allies. Losing old friends and colleagues. Social dynamics in disarray and dysfunction.

Yet, empaths feel it all. Piles onto our own anxiety. My chest hurts, my heart hurts by the end of the day. And I just have to get out of the building.

And I am usually not a complainer. I am not an “I’m an empath; woe is me.” I typically celebrate being an empath. But this year has been completely different. I don’t want to be the “woe is me,” but I find it’s time to acknowledge the heartache and to pause.To just say it’s been a rough year and a rough school year.

That’s why I took a hiatus. It’s been 7 months since my last post. The anxiety took a toll on my health. So I needed to pause, reflect, realign, work on getting healthy. Turn inward as empaths need to do. Because everyone’s heightened emotions day after day take a toll on us.

And now there are vaccines. And now we can get them. Relief is at hand. I can feel one huge sigh in the school building as we line up for our turns. We can breathe. We can hope for better days. We can be filled with gratitude rather than anxiety. But we will remember this year and the toll it has taken. And we can reach out with compassion for those teachers and students and families for whom the vaccine did not come soon enough. And there are too many.