News from Jules | 12.21.20 | You’re Invited to Let Go

one lesson about integrity every week

As the bell jingled and I stepped into the empty restaurant last week, I wasn’t entirely certain that it was open for business. Since moving, I’ve been trying new spots around my new North Portland neighborhood for my Thursday Thai Takeout.  

Eventually, the owner appeared. He passed the pad thai with chicken, no peanuts, no spice, through the small opening of the plexiglass divider, along with my bill, and then retreated back two giant steps. 

As I reached for a clean pen to sign the bill, his question caught me off guard. 

I stopped and looked up, straight into his soft eyes above the black mask. Sure enough, my ears had heard his tone correctly: compassion.

“How are you holding up?”

It was like he could see inside me: how my heart was struggling with its own battles, even as my fortune afforded me a safe haven to weather the struggles. 

I could sense his own struggles to sustain this business, to provide for his family, to persist. 

“I’m doing the best I can.” 

He nodded in agreement, hearing my tone correctly: honesty. 

These are the raw, real moments born of this raw, real year. Some moments of much needed socializing even leading to relationships in unlikely places.

I started Thursday Thai Takeout in late March to celebrate nearly making it to the end of each intense week. Week after week I found myself calling the same Thai place down the street as I wrapped up the workday on Thursdays: pad thai with chicken, no peanuts, no spice for J-u-l-e-s please. When I was on my “sabbatical” and backpacking this summer I missed a couple of weeks in a row. Walking in the following Thursday, the woman ran from behind the counter as if to hug me, saying how worried she was whether I was okay. Later in the fall, she showed me photos of her first hiking trip inspired by my backpacking stories.

Thursday Thai Takeout is not a commitment forever.  It is a tradition for right now. A way to cope. 

Each adjustment, every necessary new habit, is growth. Shaping the ability to adapt. To persist.

Just like the natural cycle of the world around us. Today, continuing into a new season—winter for some, summer for others—and possibly into a new era

Winter Solstice especially invites us to review our growth, our adaptations: count our blessings and let go of everything that no longer serves—dreams, habits, beliefs, qualities—thus, creating space for what is needed on the path ahead.

Instead of fixating on illusions dressed up as hope, fantasies dressed up as faith, choose to move forward in reality, with compassion and honesty. 

The invitation is not only for the day but for the next three months. A whole season of shedding while resting, renewing, restoring—preparing for the next cycle of growth and continuous adaptation.

According to John O’Donohue’s blessing For the Interim Time:

“The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.”

So, how are you holding up?

What no longer serves you?

What needs a rest, a pause, or even an ending?

What can you give away to the dark nights as we make our way back to the light?

May you leave space for compassion and honesty this week. 

Love,
Jules


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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 | 09.28.20 | You Keep Going

one lesson about integrity every week

Teachers come into our lives in all forms. Sometimes they guide us through a series of insights, sometimes it’s a just-in-time encounter. That right person at that right time for that lesson. If we’re paying attention, we’ll always find the guidance we need. 

Over 15 years of practice and too many moves, I’ve collected favorite yoga teachers all over Portland. I stay in touch with many of them on Instagram — liking, tagging, sharing inspiration. I recently sent an article about how Fall is So Yin: Embracing Autumn Energy to one of my favorite yin yoga teachers in a direct message. Inspired, we set the intention to actually meet up in person around the Fall Equinox and learn what the harvest might have in store.

If the rains came, if the smoke cleared, if the fates aligned. 

Apparently the fates were very aligned. 

When we met up at the beach in Hood River, we were excited to be outside and together. Chatting about our week so far, we realized that the day before (on the actual Equinox) we both did the very same hike — within 30 minutes of each other! 

Clearly we were meant to be in the same place at the same time.

Giggling about the synchronicity and the muck between our toes, we launched the rental Stand-Up Paddleboards into the murky waters of the Columbia River, then both awkwardly stood up and started to paddle. This was her second time, my sixth.

Having paddled on the Columbia before, I felt confident and quickly sliced the oar through the still water. I chatted for several minutes uninterrupted. No response. Odd.

I looked back and saw her way behind, swerving from side to side. I stopped to wait. Finally she caught up. I wondered out loud, “Which end of your board is in the front?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied with a laugh. 

Sure enough, we realized that the fin (the rudder) was in front. She was essentially going in circles. No wonder it was so hard and she wasn’t getting very far!!

I learned this was the way life had felt all year for her (and certainly so many others). A storyline I knew well, most recently from 2018, with many lessons learned about making one’s way through really tough questions:

If you’re following the calling, why don’t things work out?

How do you feed your body and feed your soul? 

When do you give up?

You don’t give up. You keep going. 

The goofy SUP mistake reinforced a lesson she had already learned: Listening to the call and faithfully following is important. But, it needs to be aligned to its purpose. 

This is the way we keep moving, straight forward. 

This was the first and the last time I would see her this year — I learned she was moving back home to Pennsylvania to regroup. To keep going. 

Maybe one day we will practice together again. Until then we are on the journey together, in spirit and on Instagram.

May you show up as both the teacher and the student 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 | 10.15.2018 | Go Ahead and Pick the Low Hanging Fruit

one lesson about integrity every week

Now, I can see how September’s fullness was only the transition, the ripening as we move into a new season.

I traveled for work and family trips, worked several gigs and kicked off a new consulting project, as well as moved from the cottage to a house.

But, instead of leveling off, everything is picking up. 

After all of that extra efforting, how could there be more?

Especially as important things, like my writing practice and blogging, fell by the wayside (as I thought it might, but hoped it wouldn’t).

How will I get back to my norm?

I wonder as I sit down at my desk after weeks away from my own rhythm.

Funnily, I notice the tree outside of my second story office window in the new house is changing—not only expressing autumn, but also all seasons in a sense. 

Some branches are already bare, a preview of winter.

Some branches are full of green leaves, holdouts from the summer foliage.

Though most are in transition making their way from green to red. Eventually to brown and on the ground.

Just so, life feels full and ripe.

As if we are not only harvesting the abundance of this one new season, but of them all.

And in a way, we are.

A tree can not bear fruit without seeds.

A seed can not sprout without compost.

We are harvesting the before, the start, the middle, the right now.

Maybe that’s why life feels so ripe?

So ripe it must be plucked. Right now.

We must “Carpe diem.” 

For me, that has been opportunities showing up almost daily that are an instant, yes! 

Free tickets to lectures, getting introduced to new colleagues, impromptu paid facilitation gigs, invitations to meditation classes, teaching a live version of the Sabbath course.

At moments it has felt like too much goodness. And then, I remember that there are seasons we sow and seasons we reap. It’s all part of a greater cycle

This is the season for seizing. 

Because just like fruit, just like flowers, just like everything, there is too ripe.

The moment does pass.

Especially if we get stuck in overwhelm, focusing on the everything, instead of what’s at hand.

A wise person (probably a Buddhist) once said:

While many things may be at hand, see only the task that is.

What task is at hand for you?

What is hanging right there before you?

The low hanging fruit, literally.

Go ahead. Pick the low hanging fruit. All of it. 

And what does not come to be, what you aren’t able to pluck—to harvest—in time, let that pass with just as much zeal.

This is where we find balance. 

Remembering this is a time of abundance—both in opportunity and distraction.

The one is almost placed into your hand. The other requires effort to reach.

You’ll know which is which.

May you savor the juicy possibilities that present themselves this week. 

Love,
Jules


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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.