Author: Lori Deschene

“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Somewhere right now, someone out there feels exactly like you do.

Someone is thinking that things could be better and wondering if they’ll ever arrive. Someone is remembering how things were before and wondering if they’ll ever let go. Someone is missing someone they love and wondering why they had to know loss. Someone is radiating with hope and joy and wondering if it will last.

Somewhere right now, someone is struggling in much the same way as you.

Someone is out of work and cash and wondering what might be next. Someone is waiting for an important call and wondering if it’s best not to know. Someone is walking away from no good and wondering if they can go on.  Someone is walking toward something new and wondering if they should turn back.

Somewhere right now, someone is transforming in much the same way as you.

Someone is stretching into a new role and wondering if it feels right. Someone is reaching for a new goal and wondering who they can become. Someone is trying their hardest to create change and wondering if they’re making strides. Someone is getting ready to take a leap and wondering if they’ll feel more alive.

Despite all our differences, we all deal with the same things, in different times and different ways.

We’re all striving and struggling, learning and growing, and sometimes it can feel like we should be somewhere else–smarter, wiser, further along, or closer to having an answer.

But right now in the middle, in the messiness and uncertainty, this is where we all live.

No one has it all figured out—and maybe that’s the point. When we’re finished, we’re finished. Is that really a choice we’d make?

Somewhere right now, someone is deciding it’s okay to be right where they are.

Take a deep breath, look around, and let that person be you.

Photo by robocdh

“Happiness depends upon ourselves.” ~Aristotle

Yesterday I wrote at Starbucks for the first time since my surgery, after my doctor cleared me to walk.

I felt an immense sense of relief to be outside my home, where I didn’t feel quite so isolated. And I was grateful for every nuance of that day—the fresh air, the feeling of life going around me, and the sense that somehow, I was part of it.

But the walk wasn’t easy. I get winded pretty quickly right now, and I simply don’t have a lot of energy.

I don’t yet feel like myself, mentally or physically—I’m occasionally lethargic, often distracted, and sometimes a little weak.

So yesterday I wondered how I might be able to see this feeling as a gift. What would it look like to embrace my current state instead of bemoaning it?

I decided that every time I needed to take a break—whether it was walking, or writing, or doing anything else—I’d notice and appreciate something beautiful around me.

And I’d vocalize it as often as possible.

While writing this tiny post, I complimented one woman on her colorful shirt, and told another man how lucky we were to get seats, since it was crowded yesterday.

I essentially created a joyful game out of something that could otherwise be frustrating. I may need to do everything more slowly by necessity; but I’m also consciously choosing to benefit from that need.

I admit this might be more challenging to apply to certain situations. It’s not always easy when you’re in pain or feeling despondent to find something good in it.

But maybe that’s something we can explore when we’re not feeling like our best selves: What would it look like to leverage what is to somehow better ourselves?

That might mean focusing on the little things that make a dark day brighter. It might be appreciating that we have people to lean on. Or it could be as simple as feeling grateful because this moment will eventually pass.

There will be times when we feel things that we likely would not choose. But we can always choose to do something good—in spite of our feelings, and maybe even because of them.

Photo by Nomadic Lass

“The human spirit is stronger than anything that could happen to it.” ~C. C. Scott

During these past couple of weeks, while I’ve been recovering from my surgery, I’ve been watching a show called I Shouldn’t Be Alive, which has an entire season on Netflix.

Each episode chronicles the experiences of a person or people who came close to death in an adventure gone wrong.

One episode features two teenage boys who survived in a tiny boat, without food or water, for several days lost at sea. Another tells the story of an endurance athlete who survived two freezing nights in a canyon near Moab, Utah after falling 60 feet and shattering her pelvis.

The title itself pulled me in—this idea of somehow cheating death. But it’s not just the physical survival that’s so compelling; it’s also the emotional and mental fortitude that helped each of these people stay alive, despite knowing their odds of rescue.

Though in each case, they were obviously fortunate to be saved, many lived far longer than one might expect their bodies could endure—and it was often because they found a compelling reason to hold on.

They thought about the people they loved, and all the life they’d yet to live, and in doing so found a strong motivation to push through their pain and keep going.

Through sheer will, raw instincts, and determination, these people overcame seemingly insurmountable obstacles, and in doing so, created their own miracles.

Most of us will never need to combat starvation, subfreezing temperatures, or killer sharks, but we’ll each have our own battles. Many will push us, stretch us, and compel us to question just how much we can take.

We may find ourselves feeling hopeless or resigned, and we may wonder if there will ever be a light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s when we need to realize the brightest light is within us.

We are the ones who can save us. We are our own rescue mission.

We may not have all the answers. And we may need help and support along the way. But ultimately, when we’re feeling stuck, we’re the ones that need to hold on, push through, and make our way to the other side.

We’ll inevitably face challenges in life. The best defense is believing that we are strong, we will survive, and we will be better for it.

Photo by soham_pablo

“Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance.” ~Unknown

Yesterday I felt frustrated.

The night before, I’d overheard my boyfriend telling a friend he’d thought I’d be in less pain at that point, a week after my surgery. Suddenly I felt disappointed in myself—that I should be healing more quickly, or somehow doing more.

Of course I know he didn’t intend for me to feel that way, especially since it was a conversation that didn’t involve me, but I created that meaning in my head, probably because I’d also expected that I’d feel better sooner.

I had a bad headache yesterday, and I was somewhat dehydrated, so I ended doing very little beyond listening to a healing meditation, watching TV, and sleeping—translation: I crossed nothing off my to-do list. And it’s getting pretty long.

So I started mining my situation for lessons, and here’s what I remembered:

We are more than we produce. Even if we feel we have a lot to do, sometimes doing nothing is the healthiest choice of all.

We owe it to ourselves to be patient with ourselves. Even if we feel we should be doing more, we’re doing the best we can.

We deserve to be kind to ourselves. Even if we accomplish great things in life, they won’t provide us with satisfaction if we don’t already have our own love and compassion.

We need to remember we have time. Even if we’re using this moment to recharge, we can trust that things will get done—when we’re in a better place to do them.

We have a choice to make in this moment. Even if we feel frustrated, or scared, or confused, we can choose to make peace with the present instead of fighting and resisting it.

We might not feel productive, or engaged, or purposeful, or connected. But this moment is a chance to be present in our experience and embrace the lessons and possibilities of the here and now.

We can only grow from right where we stand, but first we have to accept it.

Photo by Wonderlane

“In chaos, there is fertility.” ~Anais Nin

I am someone who strives to maintain some sense of control amid chaos. One way I do that is by obsessively organizing my space.

For example, there can only be four pairs of shoes left by the downstairs door, in a place where exactly four fit—and they need to be lined up neatly to look like tiny foot soldiers, standing at attention.

During my third day recovering from surgery last week, while I lowered myself in a squat to pick up a fifth pair that didn’t belong, my mother reminded me how I can be obsessively neat and suggested I let things go.

At first this seemed as impossible as asking me to walk backwards on my hands. Letting things be felt completely unnatural.

Then something happened. The other day I looked down at my coffee table, with Starburst wrappers, magazines, and take-out containers scattered across the surface, and suddenly I felt relaxed.

My space felt far more lived in; and I felt far more comfortable when I consciously chose not to be distracted by the imperfections. Instead of being things that didn’t belong, they were things that belonged for now.

It wasn’t about consenting to be a messier person; it was about learning to relax into the messiness for a while, and knowing eventually, when the time was right, it would be clean.

Isn’t that how it so often works in life? We need to get messy in our creative processes before eventually sculpting something polished. We need to get messy in exploring problems in relationships or at work to eventually find solutions.

And we need to feel comfortable in that messiness, or else we’ll be tempted to try to control the chaos—the contain it, simplify it, or maybe even run from it.

But the chaos is often where we make our greatest discoveries. It’s where we really come alive, if we’re willing to lean into it.

This week I’m doing far less than usual, but I suspect on some levels, I’m actually doing more. I’m learning to relax, focus, and create without needing a rigid control over everything around me.

Life is chaos. Our job isn’t to create perfect order. It’s to explore, create, expand, and evolve within the inevitable disorder.

Photo by h.koppdelaney

“The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction, not a destination.” ~Carl Rogers

Have you ever felt a sense of internal conflict about enjoying the present moment while also working toward your dreams?

This is something I revisit over and over, because I know life happens now, and in order to fully live it, I need to accept what’s in front of me and experience it with complete awareness.

Yet I also want to expand, spread my wings, and see just how far I can soar.

A big part of that is visualizing what the future might look like—and then making and following a plan to get there.

This is where it gets tricky: what’s the difference between planning for tomorrow and living for it? What’s the difference between attaching to a possibility in a way that causes us pain, and believing in a possibility in a way that causes us joy?

Obviously, we can’t be happy and present if we’re focused on attracting something bigger and better, and worrying at each step of the process.

Yet we need to feel we’re on a purpose-driven path, growing a little every day—and the best way to measure growth is to set a specific goal and work toward it.

Maybe the key to enjoying the present while enabling the future is to know we’re creating something different without reinforcing to ourselves that it’s also something better.

Obviously, some goals will involve major improvements, like finding a more suitable living situation or finding work that better allows us to take care of ourselves.

But once we’ve secured enough to take care of our needs, and we’re working toward our various wants, perhaps it would serve us well to continually remind ourselves that today doesn’t have to pale in comparison to our potential tomorrow.

Tomorrow might bring a world of exciting new possibilities, but today, wherever we stand on our journey, can be an adventure in itself.

Today we have abundant opportunities to utilize our strengths and passions, do things we enjoy, and connect with people we love—even if we’re simultaneously crossing things off our to-do lists.

We need to have a sense of direction in life, but we can choose not to create stress around arriving. Today is a worthy part of our adventure.  If we’re following our purpose, right now, we’re living the dream.

Photo by h.koppdelaney

“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.” ~Emily Kimbrough

I just finished my second family visit for the year, and I have three more planned.

For years after I first moved away a decade ago, I only came home around the holidays.

I’d caused and dealt with so much drama that it felt easiest to hide with my pain and shame where I couldn’t hurt people or be hurt by them. I felt safest seeing my family in small doses, because there would be less time for me to mess things up—and fewer opportunities for them to reject me.

During one of my trips last year, I noticed that things felt different. Since I was visiting more frequently, it no longer felt like we were all on our best behavior for each other.

There was some friction, and minor annoyances, and even some major frustrations—all things I’d completely avoided for years.

At first I thought this was a sign I shouldn’t have been opening myself up. Everything felt predictably cordial when I visited infrequently, contained my true feelings, and engaged with people on a mostly superficial level.

Then I realized I was grateful for the change.

The intermittent tension, occasional irritations, and general sense of vulnerability were all signs that I was actually relating to people, not merely sharing space with them.

It may seem crazy to suggest conflict can be a good thing, but I’ve learned that even healthy, loving relationships inevitably involve a little friction.

If we’re showing our true selves, stumbling and learning a little every day, and spending time with other people who are doing the same, we will inevitably clash every now and then.

We will disagree. We will get irritated. We will feel disappointed. And we may do or say things we later come to regret. So long as we’re not in abusive relationships, none of these things have to indicate there’s something wrong.

Every time we don’t see eye to eye, we have a chance to practice expressing ourselves without judging each other. Every time we get on each other’s nerves, we have a chance to practice calming ourselves instead of blaming each other.

Real relationships are messy, and it can feel instinctive to resist that—but what a mistake that would be. It’s only when we stop learning together that we start to grow apart.

Photo by KittyKaht

“Would you rather be right or free?” ~Byron Katie

Several months back, I saw a live taping of Oprah’s Life Class, which she hosted with Iyanla Vanzant, author of Peace from Broken Pieces and other self-help books.

At one point during the episode, Iyanla discussed an exchange she’d had the week prior with a viewer who’d Skyped in. The young woman had called her family crazy, referencing Iyanla’s oft-quoted advice, “If you see crazy coming, cross the street.”

But in this instance, Iyanla had scolded the woman for disrespecting her parents, regardless of how dysfunctional they may have been, because, according to Iyanla, that woman’s “soul chose them before she was even born.”

Although I’d felt inspired up until then, I remember this moment creating a deep disconnect for me, because I don’t share that spiritual belief. And I think respect has to be earned—even by a parent.

Suddenly, instead of focusing on the many helpful insights that emerged throughout the night, I found myself clinging to my disagreement. Even though it served no useful purpose, I kept mentally rehashing all the reasons I felt Iyanla was wrong.

Right then it occurred to me that I was doing wrong to myself. I was shutting myself down from the present moment because I felt justified in being righteous.

So I stopped and asked myself, “What might the lesson be here?” After all, I was part of a life class.

I realized it was this: If we label someone’s belief as wrong and cling to that, we limit our ability to learn, from them and the moment.

I’ve read and grown through some of Iyanla’s books, and even if we have different understandings of spirituality, I know her intention is to help people. That’s why most of us share our beliefs: we think they will provide others with the same comfort they bring to us.

Obviously, we shouldn’t turn our heads if someone is causing harm. But we can choose not to cause ourselves harm by speaking our minds when it’s appropriate, and otherwise letting it go. Oftentimes, what we really want isn’t to be right; it’s to feel a sense of peace. We can give that to ourselves.

Of course, that’s just what I believe: that the best way to provide ourselves with comfort is to recognize when to let go.

Photo by Vincent van der Pas

“Renew yourself. Release that attachment. Today is a new day!” ~Steve Mariboli

While preparing today’s reader-submitted post about Spring-cleaning, I started to think about my collection of old journals, which I wrote from age twelve through twenty-one.

Many of these are depressing. They paint a picture of a sad, lost little girl who struggled with self-esteem and chose a number of self-destructive habits to cope with overwhelming pain.

On many occasions, I’ve considered burning these to symbolize transformation, but a part of me always resists.

On some level, I see these as badges of honor. They’re reminders of who I used to be and how much I’ve overcome and grown.

But I wonder sometimes if it would serve me better to acknowledge my current strength without needing to compare it to former weakness.

For years, whenever I met someone new, I told them my whole life story, as if to say, “When you judge me, as I know you will, keep in mind how far I’ve come!”

Perhaps I keep these journals because on some level, I say the same thing to myself.

That stack of old books on my shelf may seem insignificant—and it may seem unnecessary to analyze why I’ve chosen to keep them—but I believe the things we hold onto speak volumes about where we may be subconsciously stuck.

And the attachments we form can give us insight into how we can set ourselves free—if, that is, we’re willing to peel back the layers of our motivations.

Sometimes we hold onto things simply because we want to appreciate, enjoy, or honor those memories. But other times, they tether us to the past and serve as physical representations of the limiting stories we tell ourselves.

It’s not the stuff that carries an emotional charge; it’s the meaning we give it.

It’s not holding onto stuff that weighs us down; it’s how we think about it.

That box of old letters from an ex can be a trove of happy memories, or it can be a reminder of what you fear you may never have again. The difference is literally all in our heads.

I haven’t committed to getting rid of those journals, but I have started exploring my purpose in keeping them to ensure it empowers me instead of limiting me.

What stuff and stories are you holding onto—and why?

Photo by AlicePopkorn

“There is a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz 

The other day I received a comment on an old blog post that started with, “You’re full of crap,” and ended with, “I don’t know, and idiots like you don’t help us figure it out.”

Shortly after, I received an email from a new blogger who recently contributed to the site. She mentioned she’d received her first harsh comment, and she wanted to know if this is normal, and how she should deal with it.

I told her she will likely engage in far more constructive, uplifting conversations than negative, hurtful ones.

But this kind of thing is to be expected when you write about emotionally charged topics, especially since we often search for self-help articles when we’re looking for answers—or we’re looking to forget the answer we already know: that pain is unavoidable, and sometimes we simply need to go through it.

With this in mind, I responded privately to my reader, “I get the impression you’re really hurting right now. Is there some way I can help?”

Right then I thought about all the times I lashed out at people when I was suffering in the past. And I thought about how justified I felt in hurting others, especially when they’d hurt me first, or failed to really help.

These are not things I am proud to admit, and they’re not things I’d recommend or condone. We all have a responsibility to learn healthy ways to cope.

But I suspect if we’re honest with ourselves, most of us can identify moments when we acted thoughtlessly, from a place of sorrow or anger.

Most of us have felt pain burning like a hot coal in our hands and felt desperate to unload it, somehow, somewhere.

I don’t appreciate being called an idiot, and I know I don’t deserve it, just like none of us deserve misdirected rage from a family member, coworker, or stranger.

We have a right to set boundaries and communicate when something is not okay. But the world is a better place when we choose to do that from a place of love and compassion instead of righteousness and judgment.

We all act thoughtlessly at times. Most often we don’t mean to hurt each other. We just don’t recognize or remember how to stop hurting ourselves.

Photo by Yim Hafiz

“Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don’t unravel.” ~Unknown

The other night I flew home to Massachusetts, after visiting just a couple months back to spend time with my sick grandmother.

Since she was released from the hospital in February, she’s been staying with my parents, which means I’ll have plenty of opportunities to simply be with her during this trip—not for lunch or a specific activity, but simply to share space.

Though I enjoy seeing her because I love her, I also appreciate how being in her company reminds me of what matters in life.

As I write this, she’s sitting in a reclining chair in the living room, exuding a calming sense of ease. She’s long-widowed and slowly recovering from her recent virus. But she’s well-loved, frequently visited by children and grandchildren who respect and admire her, and despite the challenges of aging, she seems content and at peace.

This is the image I’ve decided to carry with me through my days, whether I’m 30 feet, 300 blocks, or 3,000 miles from that chair: my 82-year old grandmother, who likely no longer remembers petty worries from when she was my age. Who simply appreciates this moment, her health, and time with the people she loves.

So often in life we lose perspective, and get bogged down by all the little challenges that can seem huge and overwhelming when we’re knee-deep in them.

We hold onto gripes that we’d be better off releasing. We get outraged over annoyances that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If we’re not careful, we can turn life into a never-ending chain of problems to be solved—ever-fixating on external causes, looking for someone and something to blame.

It’s easy to get caught up in this cycle. We live in an imperfect world, and things aren’t always just. If we’re looking for them, we will always find things to complain and stress about.

But regardless of how much we worry in this moment, we will all age. We will all experience loss. And we will all come to understand more fully how valuable one moment can be when we choose to embrace and appreciate it.

It needn’t be at the end of our lives. At any time, we can sit back, take a deep breath, and bathe ourselves in silent appreciation. We are here, and we are loved.

Photo by Paulo Fassina

“Follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be.” ~Joseph Campbell

Recently I’ve been feeling this need to grow and expand. I’ve been doing the same thing here for about three years now, and I’ve identified a long list of things I know I don’t want to do—but aside from writing my next book, I haven’t felt a strong pull in any other direction.

Then this weekend I had an idea for a new creative project—something that has absolutely nothing to do with Tiny Buddha. In fact, it’s geared toward young girls, and it’s more silly than spiritual.

Although I love this site, and I’m going to continue writing here, this new idea ignited a different type of passion and enthusiasm in me. It was a reminder that I am more than any one role I play. I am more than any one project.

Suddenly I realized: I’ve been focusing like a laser on what else I might be able to do for and through Tiny Buddha, when it would have been far less limiting to ask myself what energizes me in general.

Essentially, I assumed progress needed to happen in one specific way, instead of opening myself up to new possibilities based on what makes me feel passionate and excited.

Can you relate to this feeling? Have you ever felt confident you should be doing one thing, and in the process closed yourself off to what you could be doing?

Have you ever felt so attached to possibilities in one venture that you closed yourself off to something else that might be even more fulfilling?

I suspect we’re more tempted to do this after we’ve put a lot of time and effort into something.

If you’ve spent years building a business or working toward a degree, focusing your energy on something else might feel like derailing yourself or starting over.

But when we’re willing to let go of how we thought things had to be, we’re often better able to create how we really want them to be.

It may look nothing like we first visualized; or we may follow our instincts and find they lead us right back where we started. The important thing is that we stay open to them.

Happiness isn’t a destination, but we’re best able to experience it when we follow where it leads.

Photo by John_Brennan

“Enjoy your own life without comparing it with that of another.” -Marquis de Condorcet

Last Saturday I decided to take a mid-day bath, just because I felt like it. I’d been working from home (since Monday starts my “weekend”) and I felt like I needed to take a break and recharge.

Not two minutes into my relaxing soak, I heard loud fiesta music coming from somewhere outside.

There’s a little park close to my apartment, and families frequently reserve the space for birthday parties, complete with barbecues and blow-up bouncy houses.

Whenever I walk by one of these events, I feel tempted to pretend I’m part of the group and inappropriately thrust my inner child into the pile of jumping kids.

But of course I don’t. I just reminisce about my favorite childhood memories and fantasize about all the multi-generational functions I’ll attend when, one day, I too have kids.

Anyways, as I was lying in the tub on Saturday, listening to the loud, happy music outside, I found myself thinking, “They’re probably having way more fun that I am right now. I should be outside, dancing, socializing—not lying alone in a steamy room.”

What usually feels like a sanctuary and a gift suddenly felt inadequate in comparison to someone else’s experience.

But then it occurred to me: At least one person out in that park could very well have been thinking, “I’m tired. It’s been a long week. I really need some ‘me’ time. I should be soaking in a warm bath right now!”

I realized then, or perhaps remembered, that dissatisfaction is often the result of assuming something else is better.

It’s a consequence of comparing our present experience to something else we assume is more interesting, engaging, meaningful, fun—or flat-out more worthy of our time.

Nothing is more worthy of our time than the joy right in front of us, because in any given moment, that is where we have the opportunity to fully experience life. Not where someone else is, not where we suspect we should be, but right where we are.

I pulled out the rubber ducky last Saturday; I wasn’t alone after all. And I listened to the joyful music while I silently appreciated the opportunity to just be. It was a worthy choice.

Most choices feel that way when we consciously choose to let ourselves enjoy them.

Photo by Akuppa

“Dwelling on the negative simply contributes to its power.” ~Shirley Maclaine

Have you ever felt like you were drowning in negativity?

Maybe you were feeling down on yourself, but instead of pulling yourself up, you made yourself feel bad for struggling with yourself in this way.

Or maybe you made a mistake, but instead of forgiving yourself, you beat yourself up over it, rehashing everything you should have done.

It’s all too easy to get stuck in a cycle of negativity. Even if we practice yoga, meditate, or start our mornings with positive affirmations, we can fall down, and find ourselves wondering why it feels so hard to get back up.

As I mentioned last week, I spent most of my life in this type of cycle, and despite the tremendous progress I’ve made over the years, I still fall into this trap sometimes.

When this happens, I might be tempted to think myself in circles—to essentially let my feelings paralyze me while I dwell on the same fears and frustrations over and over again. And then I might wonder why I feel so stuck.

The truth is we feel paralyzed when we paralyze ourselves, and we can set ourselves free if we stop obsessing about why we can’t.

We don’t need to identify concrete solutions to all our problems. We don’t need to create the illusion of control amid uncertain circumstances. We just need to accept that our biggest problem is fighting the way things are, and then consciously choose to stop battling ourselves.

We just have to choose to be in this moment instead of scheming toward something better

This moment is a new opportunity to let go of everything that’s stressing us.

This moment is a new chance to take a deep breath so that we don’t feel overwhelmed and frustrated.

This moment is a tiny lifetime, all in itself, and we have the choice to live it.

We can trudge through mental quicksand, feeling bad and wishing we didn’t; or we can realize that stewing isn’t even slightly productive, and then consciously choose to let go and be free.

Photo by Alex [Fino] LA

“A wise man makes his own decisions; an ignorant man follows public opinion.” –Chinese Proverb

As you may remember from a recent post, I’m planning to have surgery soon to remove benign uterine tumors, known as fibroids.

Although I felt certain then that this is the right thing to do, I’ve vacillated quite a bit—mostly because I’ve been listening to too many other people.

Some have advised me to try alternative methods to shrink the fibroids, including herbs and positive thinking. Others have reminded me this surgery could have undesirable complications and a rough recovery. And then there have been people who’ve shared their own experiences to reassure me I’ll be fine.

The friends who’ve suggested alternative treatments have pointed me toward self-help authors who’ve written about curing their own diseases through positive thinking. While I believe in the mind/body connection, I initially felt confident about my choice to seek traditional medical care.

Yet I’ve still stopped and questioned myself, wondering if perhaps other people know something I don’t.

The reality is that no one knows the one thing I want to know: what the outcome of this particular surgery will be, and whether or not I will eventually be glad that I did it.

No one knows what will come of my choice. And no one knows what is right for me. They only know they mean well and want to help—which means I need to own my decision and simply accept the unknown.

This is a frequent theme on the site, and for good reason: every day we have countless choices to make, and sometimes even the smallest ones can have major repercussions that we may later feel we could have prevented, if only we knew.

Yet we can’t. All we can do is recognize when we know all we can, trust our instincts, and then resist the urge to be swayed by everyone around us.

Of course we need to be open minded and to educate ourselves before making a choice; but in most cases, once we’ve done that, we don’t need more advice and information; we need courageous resolve. So I’ve decided firmly to commit to my surgery, despite the other options and things that could go wrong.

No one can predict our future or take responsibility for it. It’s our job to create it, if we’re brave enough to decide.

Photo by Eddi van W