Today I am nursing a cold, packing for an overseas trip and prepping our house to be lived in by someone else while we’re gone. This week is full and I know I need to continue to rest so I’m healthy by the time we leave. To keep the overwhelm at bay, I’m busy repeating some of my fave mantras: Breathe, Trust and There is enough time.

Because I know how serious I can get when under stress and how un-fun that is (especially for Ada, who is playful and light under almost all circumstances), I’m adding another mantra in, courtesy of my friend Liz Lamoreux, to help me stay present: Yes, to this moment.

Yes to having two extra kids here this morning before we head to camp.

Yes to this achy chest and the need for more rest than I had planned.

Yes to the packing and the planning and the figuring out what food to take so there will be something for Ada and I to eat on the long flights.

Yes to last night’s dishes still piled in the sink.

Yes to putting on music that I’d sing to if it didn’t hurt.

Yes to the full calendar and to finding the spaces in between.

Yes to my apprehension about sleeping sitting up and yes to staying right here, right now and trusting it will be okay.

Yes to gray skies, hot tea and extra Vitamin C.

Yes to finding the simple joys in the midst of it all.

What are you saying yes to today?

This week let’s let go of knowing and open our minds and hearts to curiosity. Play along with me and see which wonderings speak to you. You’ll know by the little zing you feel as you read, or the sinking feeling, or the hit of fear, or the way your head begins to nod and your heart begins to pound.

I wonder what would happen if…

…I chose to trust him (or her) even though I’m not 100% sure it’s safe. (Do this because you know you’re strong enough to handle whatever happens).

…I dropped the story that makes me feel afraid (or sad, or victimized, or alone) just for a moment.

…I allowed myself to really feel that hunger (or pain or joy) instead of skating over the top of it or pretending it’s not there.

…I looked at the things I don’t like about myself with compassion instead of with judgment, even if it’s just for today.

…I gave without expectation of receiving in return (and I mean really, honestly, no expectations, no keeping score).

…I committed to being totally honest with myself (and those around me) for a day, or a week or a lifetime. (Note: this requires discernment and kindness and is not an excuse to be cruel).

…I picked up a pen or a camera, a paintbrush or a hammer and did that thing I’ve been thinking about forever (even if I do it horribly at first).

…I looked for the good in everyone today, especially those people who get under my skin. And if I can’t see the good, I wonder if I can find (or imagine) the story they are living that helps me understand why they are the way they are.

…I trusted that I am enough, I am loved and everything really is going to be okay.

Will you wonder with me this week? I hope so. If you do, please come back and tell me about it. I’d love to know where your wonderings take you.

I’ve spent a lot of my life coping with fear. Some of it has traceable psychological underpinnings. Much of it doesn’t. When I learned that the primary emotion in my elemental makeup is fear*, I was able to let go of the judgment I hold around those unexplained feelings. (It’s not like we’re friends now, fear and I, but I no longer beat myself up about it).

I stopped watching crime shows, reading mystery novels and seeing any movie that features violence against women and children. I’ve limited my news intake. All of that helps. But I don’t live in a bubble and the world’s horror stories seep in.

I’ve written before about the way fear was one of my major symptoms of grief after Ben’s stillbirth. Fear that my daughter would die or fear that I would and she’d be left motherless. I think these are common fears for parents, especially parents who have lost a child, and the intensity has waned over the (almost) four years since his death.

There are billions of people for whom the world is not a safe place, whether they live in a gang-infested city, in the midst of a genocidal war or with an abusive spouse or parent. But for those of us who do live in relative safety, fear can still be too present a companion.

When fear strikes and there isn’t any immediate physical danger it’s because we are telling ourselves stories about a possible future. We build what-if scenarios in our imaginations that provoke real physical responses. In a culture that thrives on fear we’re not taught how to deal with it well, how to come back to the present moment, to our breath and our five senses, to what’s really happening.

I am safe. I am loved.

These words connect me to the present moment and to the big, bright beauty of the universe. They remind me of my belief that the universe has my back and I’m here to shine, not cower. They allow me to lay my fearful story to rest at the feet of Trust and stand firmly in the belief that even though challenges lie ahead (as they always do) in this moment I am truly alright. These words connect me to all that I’ve lived. They remind me of my inner strength and the hands that have stood me up when that strength threatened to fail.

I am safe. I am loved.

So are you.

And if you find yourself in a situation where you truly are not safe, then my deepest wish is that you believe in your own strength and the hands that will help hold you when you need them most, so that one day these words will feel true for you, I am safe. I am loved.

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* This is based on the ancient system of Chinese “astrology” called the 9 Star Ki. It’s a fascinating way of understanding personality and will be part of a future program I’m cooking up. If you’d like to know more about the 9 Star Ki, shoot me an email via the contact form or let me know in the comments what you’re curious about.

Lately I find myself falling into the arms of trust more and more often. It is one of the major themes of my life and a word I repeat to myself daily. The more I allow myself to be supported, buoyed by the word and the belief behind it, the more deeply I can breathe.

When I remember to trust, my body unclenches.
When I remember to trust, my patience increases.
When I remember to trust, my heart opens wider, able to see the good and the beauty of this world more easily.

As I walk into my week this is the word knocking at the door of my consciousness, demanding to be heard. Trust life. Trust yourself. Trust the magic and wildness of it all.

I invite you to journey with me into the heart of trust this week. If you have questions to ask, stories to share or simply wish for a virtual hand to hold, I’m here, walking beside you.

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P.S. If you’re looking to deepen your capacity to trust, the art and words of my amazing friend Kristin Noelle have been created to do just that. Her Healing Waves in particular are a beautiful and deceptively simple way to deepen this trust practice. The next wave, I Choose (Authentic) Joy begins June 10th. The other waves, Softening, Centering, Opening and Blessings are available to begin at any time. Click here to visit her soul nourishing site.