Home Ownership

There is a big difference between a house and a home. A house is a structure. A framework within which we live, and what can be seen on the exterior says little about what goes on in the interior. From the outside, a house doesn’t give away much about what happens inside the home, and like many things, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Having sold a house a time or two (five to be more precise), I know that location matters. Some neighborhoods are more desirable than others depending on our preferences, and most of us tend to buy into the best area that we can afford. When putting a house on the market, in order to distinguish ours from others that are similar, sellers are encouraged to create street appeal for potential buyers, and to stage the inside so that they can see themselves living within its walls. But location, street appeal and staging do not a home make.

Or a life for that matter.

When I set out to write a book a few years ago, I did it because it was the next right thing to do. I was compelled to write BLUSH: Women & Wine not to become rich and famous, but to discover why I had come to depend upon wine as a coping mechanism to soften the blows of my own life, and to invite my readers to embark on their own exploration with me. Yet the temptation was there, and sometimes still is, to make the book and my work look good out in the world, rather than using the book and my work to do good out in the world. I am often more easily enticed to sign up for another course to learn how to create a more successful platform instead of standing on the platform that I have and telling the story to those ready to hear it.

It can be easy to get caught up striving to situate ourselves in the right place, be seen with the right people, and surrounded by the right stuff. We develop an image that will appeal to those we seek to impress, and stage our lives to appear accomplished and successful. There is nothing wrong with working to cast ourselves and what we have to offer in the best light, but that is exterior window dressing to the real work of shining a light inside the walls of our life. The work of coming to know ourselves and our vocation, of cultivating our gifts and honing our craft. For only when we do that will we find ourselves at home in our own life, and it is only from there that we are able to step out into the world and offer what is uniquely ours to give.

When it comes to real estate it might be about location, location, location, but when it comes to real life, it is about vocation, vocation, vocation.

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The Garage

So we have this garage. It’s a big, beautiful, well-built garage. It was specifically built to have room for two cars, ample storage space, a garbage and recycling station, a workshop to die for, and an upstairs bunkhouse for overflow guests, complete with a full bathroom, and mini-kitchen. It was planned for all of those, has room for all of those, but has none of those, because there isn’t room for any of those. It is filled to the brim with, well, we’re not sure what, but we’re about to find out.

Tomorrow is the first day of Garage Resurrection Week. We’ve set aside the time specifically and intentionally to rid it of any and everything that isn’t needed, wanted, or has past its usefulness, so that we can bring back to life the purpose for which it was built.

A garage is such a metaphor for life. A garage becomes filled with things that get in the way of why it was built in the first place, and a life gets filled with things that get in the way of why we are here in the first place.

It boils down to this…What to keep? What to toss? What to pass on?

Wish us luck.

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A Safe Space


“The distance between what you want – what you clandestinely imagine in between the ritual tasks of the day – and where you are, is long.

The distance between where you are today and a first action toward what you want is embarrassingly short.

To be confused about the difference between near and far is to free your mind and bind your feet.”

David Berry - Rule13Learning

My first retreat of 2019 is over. Today I witnessed those present spend their precious day considering what it might mean for them to live more closely connected to who they are, why they are here, and where their life is calling them. Theirs was, as it always is, incredibly brave work, and I am humbled and grateful to have been their trail guide.

Today, as in any of my work, my greatest task was to help create a safe space. At the end of this day, here is what I am reminded of once again:

Given a safe space, people are able to engage in breathtakingly courageous thinking.

Given a safe space, people are able to recognize, listen to, and trust their inner teacher.

Given a safe space, people are able to show up for themselves, and for one another.

Given a safe space, people are able to find the courage to take the next right step, no matter how small or large it may be.

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The Trailhead

There is a trail leading deeper into our lives, and the trailhead lies squarely beneath our feet. Personally and professionally, taking the next right step begins with a right understanding of where we are now. Moving forward, our task is to follow the trail that connects who we are with how we live, so as not to get lost in a life that isn't our own. 

Today I’m leading a retreat, and we will be considering three questions. Perhaps you’d like to join us.

Where are you now?

Where is life calling you?

How will you get there?

Our lives don't happen by accident; we participate in creating them every day, and one step at a time.

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True North

There are such things as magnetic moments. Times when we sense an inner pull, an invitation to step more fully into our lives, calling us to our own true north, that unique, authentic, wholehearted life that is ours, and only ours, to live. 

Magnetic moments ask us to step over the threshold of uncertainty and fear, cross over the border of the familiar and the comfortable, and venture into the unknown. Marking both the ending of what has been, and the beginning of what could be, it is the threshold that bridges the gap. Sometimes that threshold sits beneath a door that opens inward, drawing us deeper into self-knowledge and awareness. This usually requires that we find the courage to look into our shadows, those parts of ourselves that we prefer to ignore or keep hidden, or those issues and relationships that call for our attention, but are painful, or scary to look at. Other times we are invited to venture further out, beyond the boundaries we’ve come to count on. Taking risks, embarking on new work, making important changes, practicing new ways of being in the world.

In case, like me, you didn’t know this, there is a difference between magnetic north and true north. A compass automatically points to magnetic north, which shifts over time, while true north does not change. In order to find true north a compass must be adjusted. Magnetic moments are an alert to adjust our inner compass. In the world of auto-correct, adjustments happen automatically on our devices, but not so in our own lives. Recognizing that magnetic pull, we adjust our inner compass to make sure it is aligned with who we are and what we care about. This adjustment doesn’t keep us safe…It keeps us true.

Magnetic moments are game changers, and the choice is always ours to step over that threshold.

Or not.

Either way the game changes.

This first day of the new year is a chance to adjust our inner compass, allowing it to help us make any necessary course corrections so as to step boldly towards true north. The life that is ours, and only ours, to live. This adjustment won’t keep us safe…it will keep us true.

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First light of the first day of a new year.

Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

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Great Question

“Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Lewis Howes, a NYT bestselling author, lifestyle entrepreneur, former pro athlete, and host of The School of Greatness Podcast, asks his guests the same question at the end of every interview. He calls it Three Truths, and he sets the table for the question like this. He asks his guests to imagine (paraphrasing loosely here) that they are at the end of their lives, and, when they are gone all of their work will go with them. Whatever body of work they have created will leave the planet when they do. With this in mind, he asks them to share three things that they know to be true, and would want their loved ones to know.

What a great question!

Since I may not be invited to be on his show, I decided to pretend that I was one of his guests. We were at the end of the interview, and I imagined that I was at the end of my life, and my body of work was packed up and ready to head out into the great beyond with me. 

So Molly, what are the Three Truths you would want your loved ones to know?

We are all created in the image of God. However you define that force, at our core, we have a spark of that from which we came.

 We are all called to live authentic, wholehearted lives.

We are all called to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

My prayer is that when the end comes, I won’t have to answer that question, because I will have lived my answers out loud.

What are your Three Truths?

(Written with gratitude for Lewis Howes and his good work and great question.)

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For What The Bell Tolls

 “We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.”

~John O’Donohue, To Bless The Space Between Us: A Book of Invocations and Blessings

I love where we live. I love our home, and the mountain that watches over us. I love the pine forests that surround us, and the wide sky overhead.

However.

I’ve decided that there is just one teeny-tiny thing missing; an ancient church with an ancient bell that rings like clockwork, every morning at 8:00, and every evening at 6:00. Speaking of clocks, it also rings out the hour, every hour, on the hour, all around the clock.  For the past week in the tiny ancient village of Lindum, Denmark, the ancient bell in the ancient church, next to the old home in which we are staying, has done just that.

When it rings at 8:00 in the morning, it is as if to say remember, it is a new day, a holy day. What will you do with this day that has been given to you?  

When it rings out the hour, every hour, on the hour, it is as if to say remember, it is a new hour, a holy hour. What will you do with this hour that has been given to you?

When it rings at 6:00 in the evening, it is as if to say remember, it is the end of another day, a holy day. What did you do with this day that was given to you? 

It is so easy to forget the holiness of time as it marches on, day after day. 

And if time is not holy, then what is? For it is within our hours that we live out our lives.

And if our lives are not holy, then what is? For it is with our lives that we are able to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

And if the world is not holy, then what is? For it is within the world that we live out the one life that we have been given.

And so it goes. Holy lives, spent in holy hours, in the midst of a holy world.

All is holy. 

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Photo: Tom Pierson

Just. Do. It.

 “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.” 

~Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life 

One of the unexpected outcomes of writing BLUSH: Women & Wine, was that I fell in love with writing all over again. In the process of sitting down and putting words on the page, I remembered something I had forgotten; I love to write.

By showing up day after day at my desk, I rediscovered one of my passions; I love to write.

In honing my craft, I rekindled an important fire; I love to write.

After the book came out however, the flames that had fueled it went out. I was no longer stoking the fire.  

 40 days ago today I made the commitment to write every day. Not ready to begin working on another book (yet), I decided to just start writing. I decided to just do it.

As with any endeavor, some days are easier than others. There are days when the words can’t pour out on the page fast enough. I love those days.

Then there are other days.

Like today.  

And so...

Today it is enough to put words on the page, because when you love something, you just do it.

Today it is enough to show up again, because when you love something, you just do it.  

Today it is enough to continue to hone my craft, because when you love something, you just do it. 

What do you love? 

Just. 

Do.  

It. 

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The Arcs of Our Histories

“I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc is a long one. My eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by experience of sight. I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends toward justice.” 

Theodore Parker                                                                                                                                       (Unitarian Minister and abolitionist. This quote is an excerpt from a sermon he delivered in 1853.)

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My husband Tom and I arrived last night at the home of our dear friend, Birthe, in Lindum, a village in Denmark that dates back 2500 years. The family home, which was built in the 1800s, sits across the street from the village blacksmith shop, and in the shadow of the village church that was constructed in 12th century.

Next to the house, and behind the church, is the village cemetery.

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From her kitchen window, our friend is able to see the stone, found in her garden, that marks the grave of her husband, Niels, also Tom’s host brother when he was here in 1965 as a high school foreign exchange student. 

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We slept upstairs in one of the many bedrooms in this house that has been home to the same family for five generations. 

Before a new day dawned, the small house next door burned down. 

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As we sit over coffee this morning, smoke still hanging in the air from the fire, and the church bells ringing in a new day, as they have every morning for generations, I can’t help but be struck by both the shortness of a life span, and the long arc of the history of this place. 

The tension between the two is worthy of our consideration.

Towards what do the long arcs of our own short histories bend?

 

Written with gratitude to Birthe, and in memory of Niels.