News from Jules | 10.26.20 | The Work is Done

one lesson about integrity every week

I nestled into my soft blue and gray wool Pendelton blanket and settled into one of the french wing chairs now looking west. I slowly sipped my echinacea tea and savored how simple life had become. 

That blanket was a gift from my “New Life” blessing in May, 2017. A celebration hosted by my spiritual communities to recognize a big transition—completion of a decade-long season of transformative growth and the beginning of a new season of life, a new life altogether.

No one knew what this meant, the least of all me. But it needed to be blessed—sprinkled with luck, favor and protection, come what may. 

What would this new life bring? A second chance at living the first life. 

The seeds were planted that spring of 2017 and after several cycles of growth, the trees are now coming into maturity, bountifully bearing the fruit of this new life. Ripening since my final job interviews on the Fall Equinox. So much, all at once, and yet almost effortless. Nothing like before. 

Starting with Back-to-School here in the U.S., then the cascade of Holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, I used to associate the fall with the hustle, long hours, strain.

A time of becoming exhausted and drained, sometimes burdened, often burned out. Completely lopsided, out of balance. Just the way things were. Too much to do in the waning daylight. 

“Harvesting is the most labor-intensive activity of the growing season,” according to Wikipedia. Yup. Sounded about right.  Thus, the actual harvest seemed a fitting metaphor for life at this time of year. 

But I had it all wrong. 

Reading further, Wikipedia states “the completion of harvesting marks the end of the growing season, or the growing cycle for a particular crop.” 

The work is actually already done. We did it. Or we didn’t. Harvest is the fruits of the labor. Not the actual labor. 

The planting, nurturing, nourishing, pruning. Creation, growth—that’s where the real work is. 

Now I see harvest is a time of transition from creating into receiving. We are just gathering, collecting, picking. Aligning with what is. And, accepting what comes. 

Just so, the pile of boxes and furniture sat in my new studio apartment for days on end. Finally, bit by bit, the main room was empty. Just the white ten-foot walls and the dark gray, fake wood floors.

How would this space take shape? For starters, with its best feature. I placed a chair in the exact spot that looked west toward the setting sun and settled in. 

I slowly sipped my tea and savored how simple, easy, effortless life had become. 

May you accept what comes to bear this week. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 10.19.2020 | Embrace Uncertainty

one lesson about integrity every week

I squeezed around the pile of boxes and curled up in Butterscotch, my trusty leather armchair companion since 2016. I could barely see the setting sun above the pile of boxes stuffed into my new studio apartment. As the darkness descended, it hit me. 

I had no idea how this space would work. Where to put Butterscotch, my bed, a dining table, all my bookcases, my extensive art collection. None the less my three desks. (Yes, three…in addition to the studio’s built-in desk!)

No vision whatsoever. 

It was incredibly disorienting. How does one find a way when the vision is unclear?

It’s about sensing, not thinking. 

Back in college, I took a semester off and moved home for the spring and the summer. While I was very uninterested in doing chores, my interest was piqued when my Mom suggested we organize the attic together. Making meaningful order of chaos sounded delightful. We quickly butted heads. She wanted to move a few tupperware around, try it out, then move them and try out another spot, whereas I immediately understood the flow of what needed to go where. I saw the vision perfectly. One and done. Logically, it didn’t make sense to do it any other way. 

Logically, it didn’t.

That didn’t mean it was the only way. Or the right way. It was just my way. And, unfortunately, this way had been accurate enough times in my life that it became the only, right way most of the time. 

Before moving into the new studio last week, I looked at the virtual, 3D tour countless times. I daydreamed several different configurations. Yet, as I sat there in Butterscotch’s warm embrace in the actual space, I didn’t see it. I didn’t know.And then, I humbly realized: How could I?

I didn’t know anything about the space yet. How light came in the large, west-facing windows throughout the day. What displayed on camera during Zoom calls for my new job. Even how the kitchen cupboards opened, clanging into walls that initially seemed ideal for artwork. 

All I needed to do: Pay attention. Notice the light, the temperature, the sounds, the flow of my days. Notice discomfort. Notice inconvenience. 

These were the “problems” to solve, the solutions to find. These were the needs to be met. The walls, the furniture, the stuff would guide me, tell me where it all needed to go. Not where I wanted it to go. 

It’s about sensing, not thinking. Thinking gets in the way of the balancing act and the process of discovering what’s true.

This is discernment. 
It’s slower. It takes longer. It’s uncomfortable—being in the space in between, the shades of grey, the ambiguity. It’s full of failure—experimenting to test how things work, or don’t work, too many times. And there isn’t one answer. No wonder it doesn’t initially feel “right.” Yet, this is how we access truth. 

Luckily, the more we attune, the easier it gets.  

May you find a cozy place to sit in the uncertainty this week. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 09.21.20 | Now is the Time

one lesson about integrity every week

There won’t be an obvious shift when it happens. At least not one that we are attuned to.

Not like the rapid descent of light into darkness, casting a shadow across the whole country, that many of us saw during the total solar eclipse in 2018. 

And yet there will be a balancing of the light and darkness during the Fall Equinox (Sept. 22 where I live). There will be 12 hours of day, 12 hours of night. This moment marks the half-way point of the “natural year.” It’s a very powerful time. 

But, we’re only half-way there? It’s the mucky middle. How is that powerful? 

Because it is ripe with opportunity. 

The end has not yet come to fruition. If we stop for just a moment. If we focus and pay close attention, we know what’s working so far. And what isn’t. There is plenty of time to make adjustments. 

In a way, it’s only the beginning. Considering the first half as experiments with best laid plans, then we actually know what we’re working with now. Detaching from the idea and aligning with the reality. Seeing things the way they really are. What’s actually realistic. 

Here’s what I noticed this spring and summer: the more that I aligned to the truth of “what is,” the less I struggled.The trade-offs were less painful, the rewards were more enjoyable. 

Life was simply easier. 

Life is simple. 

And I thrive in simplicity. Not in the complex, complicated, and optimized tendencies I’ve had toward everything, more and better.

Now is the time for change.  

As we enter this new season — the second half of this cycle around the sun — What are you harvesting? What have you learned? Knowing what you know now, what will you do differently?

May you allow your true nature to show up this week. 

Love,
Jules


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News from Jules | 08.24.20 | Don’t Underestimate Yourself

one lesson about integrity every week

Sometimes there is a thin line between complete certainty and debilitating doubt. Last week that line was a slippery, wet log as wide as my hiking boot across raging rapids. 

We were about 20 miles into the 45-mile Timberline Trail trek around Mt. Hood. We had already completed many of the 30 or so water crossings. Yet again, I poked my trekking pole into the water to gauge the depth, took a deep breath and repeated a mantra that is a running joke with my friend so made me giggle:

You got this, girl. 

It was only a few steps. It lasted maybe 15 seconds.  

But I paused in the middle of the log because I sensed doubt in my tired body and the risky situation. Uh oh. And I simultaneously felt my center of gravity intuitively brace with certainty in my abilities. 

That inner place where movements emanate from, hence “being centered,” so said my yoga teachers. I think my exact thought that moment was, “Oh yeah this is the balance that I’ve been practicing in yoga class.”

Two more steps forward and I skipped off the log onto the other side with relief, and even a little glee. 

Every part of me had been training for moments like this. I was thoroughly prepared. Not just physically. Mentally, and especially spiritually. I could trust my vulnerability and my strength.

My doubt switched to confidence as I drew from everything I had been taking for granted. 

I started training to summit Mt. Hood in September 2019. Each week I practiced yoga, ran and danced to get fit and agile. But as soon as COVID-19 hit Oregon in March, my mountaineering school was canceled. #HoodorBust, I kept training. Every Saturday during quarantine I loaded up my backpack with dumbbells and hiked a trail with as much elevation as I could find in the city. In May, I knew it wasn’t going to happen in 2020. Like so many others have this year, I pivoted my goals. I loved doing the Timberline Trail in 2017. So, instead of summiting Mt. Hood, I would climb around it. 

And, it was a huge success! Of course, there were mishaps and challenges, blessings and adaptations. That’s all part of the adventure.  

We ended up covering 15 miles, 18.5 miles (a hiking personal record for me) and then 11 miles — finishing a full day ahead of schedule!  

I’m nursing two blisters and still slow on stairs, but otherwise I feel awesome. 

Yet, I spent the days before we departed worried whether I could do the trek at all due to my aching right leg and the rainy forecast. I had a stomach ache and a headache the day before. Where did this doubt come from?

I was intimidated. I was uncertain. And I forgot. 

Not only about how experienced and strong I am, but a backpacking truth: all resources are precious.

One is always careful with water, with food, with fuel, not wasting a bit. Just so, dwelling in doubt is like leaving a camp stove on when the water is already boiled. One is sacrificing energy — not only from one’s future needs, but one’s highest potential. 

Makes me wonder what other potential I’ve squandered — or left untapped and untested. Where else am I underestimating myself? 

May you find stability this week by completely believing in yourself. 

Love, 
Jules


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News from Jules | 08.17.20 | Finding Peace of Mind

one lesson about integrity every week

As soon as the trail disappeared, I had that sinking feeling in my stomach. Distracted by my lurking hunger and the lowering sun, I trudged ahead even though none of it seemed right. But, those women said they stayed here the night before. And hadn’t I backpacked here years ago? Just get down to the lake. It’s too late to turn back now. 

Was this my gut talking? Or my ego? 

I tried unsuccessfully to stay present and clear-headed as I crunched through the burnt debris and charcoaled trees down to the lake below. It only got more eery once I reached the barren lake and pitched my tent. Besides the tadpoles, it was just me and the wind. Until I heard a branch crack, then huff-huff-huffing seemingly right outside my tent. 

This was when my confusion about the whole trip turned to terror. Sometime before dawn the fear gave way to the exhaustion and I awoke with the cold Gerber knife still clutched in my fist. I’m still convinced there was a mountain lion on the prowl that night.

Whether a big cat was there or it was just my wild imagination, I came away from that backpacking trip with crystal clarity. 

This was not the point. 

I come to the outdoors for peace of mind, not for more stress. 

As I set out last week on my own again, I set myself up for success differently and I was rewarded. When I rolled over and looked out the mesh roof of my tent (without flynet!) in the middle of the first night, I saw a shooting star! I woke up the next morning, after 12 hours of sleep, feeling refreshed and delighted to explore the Oregon coastal trails accessible from the campground. 

What was different this time? Besides everything?

I focused on maintaining balance. 

Matching my needs to the reality at hand. Keeping choices simple. Choosing the easiest option. Making slight adjustments. Staying unattached. But, knowing the objective. And staying true to it. 

Balance seems to be part of a continual state of flow, of being — living at its richest. And it’s not only achievable when one’s retreating, for instance from the distractions of the city to the simplicity of the woods. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of escape. It’s resisting the denial that you’re right and the world is wrong.

Instead there’s an attuning with reality — with things exactly as they are — that makes you feel connected to it all. Even when it’s unpleasant. 

Not mountain lion unpleasant. More like when my first month of income from Oregon unemployment checks matched my actual expenses in June within $10. Literally a balanced budget. Living lean isn’t exactly fun, but this alignment was delightful. 

Or like this week’s forecast of rain right in the middle of the four-day, 40-mile Timberline Trail trek that friends and I have been training for all summer long. 

Your head stays clear and your heart is unburdened. Not just peace of mind. Peace of heart. 

Life goes on, easefully. 

May you relish in saying yes to what you know, not just to what you want, this week. 

Love,
Jules


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News from Jules | 08.10.20 | Your Mission(s) in Life

one lesson about integrity every week

Then, what exactly is the point of life?

The answer was so plain and simple, I remember stopping in my barefoot tracks and smiling as I turned to look out at the sea through the wind whipping my bangs and ponytail. 

Our purpose is to live in harmony with nature. 

Really? That’s it? I might have even said out loud. Then, what am I so distressed about?

The first time I truly posed that question to the universe was on a personal retreat to the Oregon coast after I was laid off from my “dream job.” I had just turned 28 years old. I had completed graduate school a year before, for exactly this type of job, based on the talents and skills I had thoroughly evaluated, and thus invested in. I thought I was following my calling and I felt like I had completely failed.

The HR person was right. There was a “lack of fit” — not just at that company, but in my life. My greatest failure back then was misalignment. 

Since then, I’ve studied many books about finding your calling (here’s a list of my favorites) to figure it out. And, boy was I wrong.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the mind-blowing idea that Richard Nelson Bolles humbly tucked into the Epilogue of his classic job-hunting book, What Color is Your Parachute?Here he describes our three missions in life in great detail. Wait, there’s not just one?!

He instructed readers to translate his Christian thought forms into their own. So, in my words, our three missions in life are: 

  1. Live in harmony with nature, 
  2. Live in harmony with other humans,
  3. Live in harmony with our own nature.

Most of us, myself included, easily spend most of life doing it backwards: self first, then others, then nature (which is synonymous with “something greater” or “God” for me). I mean, it just sounds backwards, doesn’t it?

Greater, others, self.

Completing these missions—in that order—takes a lifetime of effort. Not just during one Sabbatical. 

Easier said than done, for sure. 

As I head back out on the trails in a few days, I’ll be attuning even more to the world around me to find my connection to everything that feeds my compassion for others and fuels my soul. Alignment starts from the center. 

May you embrace the greater, others and yourself this week. 

Love,
Jules

P.S. Listen to “A Missional Life: Your Calling” podcast episode for Suzy Silk’s reassuring pep talk about how far you’ve already come. 


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The Unseen Wheel

unseen wheel

While the days march by in a line across our calendar, they are actually cycling through the seasons.

The unseen wheel is always turning while we grind away on the day to day.

This is so easy to forget.

And such a relief to remember.

Reality Bites

I got home last night after visiting a friend for a long weekend.

I had already done my usual Sunday chores and then some, including stopping at my post office box, before I left so the reentry was quite smooth with few steps.

I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, then unpacked, heated up some dinner and opened up the pile of mail.

At the bottom of the stack was a reality check.

I wish that meant it was a check with earnings for recent time spent living in the present, going with the flow, seeing things as they truly are, instead of how I want them to be.

Nope. It was the opposite.

It was one of my business credit card statements.

The long list of purchases had been necessary investments over the last year of getting my new business off the ground. Or seemed necessary in order to manifest the business.

Perhaps that was just the way I wanted things to be because I believe so much in it?

This was not actually the reality check.

It was the total amount of the credit card statement.

Reality Check

Given the pangs in my gut each time I used the card recently, I knew it was getting up there.

Expenses out without much income in is discouraging. And when you’re starting something new discouragement doesn’t help. At all.

And so, I had been focused on making progress, moving forward, being into each day one at a time without getting bogged down in the details.

What I hadn’t been paying attention to was how up there.

And it had crossed my imaginary tipping point of what seemed safe and doable. Now, it was at the level that seemed risky and scary.

That made my whole gut clench like a fist and yet also hollow out. Like a black hole imploding into itself.

I could instantly feel the hole, perhaps a hole that had been slowly growing over the last year, but that denial had been filling?

I did not feel whole.

Like gusts of cold breeze through an open window, many emotions passed through me as I sank down into my 45-year-old armchair.

  • Hurt by this consequence of past decisions that seemed right at the time,
  • Mourning for past successes not just breaking even, but saving ahead,
  • Anger at well-intentioned but broken systems,
  • Overwhelmed by the task of repairing the imbalance,
  • Scared by the possibility of not closing the hole.

And yet, I knew there was nothing I could do in that moment.

I could eat my dinner and watch a DVD from the library. And make some tea.

When the electric kettle whistled, I went over to the window sill where it’s plugged in. Something outside caught my eye. Something white.

With freezing temperatures across the state, I had driven home that day in rain, sleet and snow. But, arriving home the streets were bare.

Several hours later, in the dark as I was watching a movie and sitting with my feelings and this reality check, snow had quietly begun falling outside.

I looked closer, surprised.

Yes, the yard was in fact dusted with the powdered sugar snow.

Just as the credit card statement had snapped me into the moment, the snow snapped me into the bigger picture.

Reality Check

Of the seasons, the unseen wheel constantly turning. Always in motion.

Of which, gives us our days, weeks, months.

Of a system constantly harmonizing to realign with what’s showing up.

Of which, I am a small part.

And in which I am whole.

And when I consider the whole — of my life, of the natural world, of a mysterious force — I can once again find trust.

That things will work out, somehow.

And perspective. That things work themselves out over time and space, sometimes lots.

And peace.

And so, I find my way back to the natural rhythm as I continue to focus on making progress, moving forward, being into each day one at a time.

Without getting bogged down as I grind away on the day-to-day.