The Well-Crafted Mom's blog

The Long and Short of Letting Go

4/21/2018

My son owes me and my husband money for some purchases and a broken iPhone screen repair. Instead of having him do extra chores (above and beyond his regular household help), I put him to work for my business instead. I'm creating a new life coaching program that includes a crafting kit for each mom; there's a lot of prep work involved in gathering, organizing, and packaging the supplies. My son and I agreed to an hour of work a day during his spring break.

Every day, I eagerly anticipated that hour. My son and I sat side-by-side at the dining room table and built an inventory spreadsheet in Excel, ordered supplies, measured and cut paper, and divided up larger quantities of items into small ziplock bags and plastic containers.

This time with my son was the shortest hour of my day.

Based on the number of times that my son looked at the clock on the screen of his newly repaired iPhone, it was the longest hour of his.

This is where we are now: the years when my boys would much rather be with their friends than family - or doing anything but spending time with me, the years when my husband and I are too embarrassing to be introduced to friends, the years when planning for family time activities is met with barely restrained groans.

Looking back, I see it started early, my son's leaving and my letting go. Like when he was three years old and ran off to be with friends at daycare without looking back. When he was six and didn't want to hold my hand anymore. When he started asking at nine years old if he could just stay home instead of going with me to run errands.

Last Sunday evening he came home after spending the night at a friend's house followed by a full day of hanging out with his friends at the mall, the park, another friend's house. I met him at the front door with a big hug and said I missed you. He pulled out of the hug and replied with a smile that it had only been a day, then walked to his room and shut the door.

He's growing up, pulling away, doing exactly what he's supposed to do.

I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to do, too: slowly letting him go, whispering quietly to myself as he walks away, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

A Sign of Real Progress

4/1/2018

I started a meditation practice about a week and a half ago. I’ve meditated in the past and I currently (somewhat inconsistently) practice Tai Chi. I'm hoping a regular meditation practice will reduce stress, ease insomnia, and increase my happiness.

“We meditate to find, to recover, to come back to something of ourselves we once dimly and unknowingly had and have lost without knowing what it was or where or when we lost it,” writes Lawrence LeShan in How to Meditate.

Each morning, I wake up a little earlier than usual and listen to the guided instructions for the meditation of the day and then sit in meditation with the day's mantra. The actual meditation time isn't long, about 10 minutes or so, but getting through it is a challenge.

My brain doesn't shut up.

I'm constantly thinking, planning, worrying, calculating, dreaming, solving, imagining, desiring, wanting, stressing, fixing, fretting, unraveling, fantasizing, hoping…

One moment I'm breathing and focused on the day's mantra; the next I'm remembering all the things that I forgot to add to my to do list or beating myself up because I forgot to buy my rapidly growing 13-year-old a new pair of flip flops, again.

When I hear the chime that signifies the end of the meditation session I calculate how much time I spent actually meditating and how much time I spent doing mental acrobatics. It's discouraging.

Author Martha Beck compares the brain of a beginning meditator to a puppy.

By gently pulling your puppy mind back to focusing on your breath or a mantra, you can start to see the separation between what is you, the essential you, and what are simply thoughts, nipping at your heels, whining for your attention, creating messes on your mind's mental carpets.

There are a number of helpful mindfulness apps and programs that can help you begin your practice. I like the Calm app, which has guided meditations, nature sounds, breathing exercises, and many other ways to bring mindfulness into your day-to-day.

Deepak Chopra also has a number of guided meditation programs available on his website, many created with Oprah Winfrey.

But starting a meditation practice doesn’t require anything more than time and a willingness to begin. Simply detach from whatever is tugging at you, whether it’s a small child who is ready for a nap or your phone that’s begging for your attention. Find a comfortable spot to sit and bring your attention to your breath. When you notice that your mind is wandering, gently bring your awareness back to your breath, again and again and again and again.

“Somewhere in this process, you will come face to face with the sudden and shocking realization that you are completely crazy,” says Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, a 90-year-old Buddhist monk. “Your mind is a shrieking, gibbering madhouse on wheels barreling pell-mell down the hill, utterly out of control and helpless. No problem. You are not crazier than you were yesterday. It has always been this way, and you just never noticed…. So don’t let this realization unsettle you. It is a milestone actually, a sign of real progress.”

Nice to know: I’m making progress.

Making a Life you Love without Making Any CHanges

3/19/2018

What if all of this is supposed to be happening?

What if the crappy job is there for you to learn new skills (and resolve, commitment, and courage) for the next opportunity, a career that you love?

What if the challenges with your spouse are meant to teach you more patience, more compassion (for yourself and your partner), and give you the opportunity to set better boundaries?

What if your exhaustion and overwhelm are how the universe is not so gently pushing you to rock bottom so that you finally - finally - learn how to take care of yourself?

What if there isn’t anything for you to fix? What if your life, your circumstances, your experiences, your challenges, and your worst of days are all there to teach you and guide you and lead you to what comes next?

What if you and your life are absolutely lovely exactly as you are?
I’ve been playing with this idea recently - although it feels less like playing and more like struggling.
I’ve noticed that I spend a lot of time in an “if only” mindset:
If only I had less on my plate.
If only my husband understood me better.
If only my teenagers didn’t act like teenagers.
If only I had more money, more clients, more speaking engagements, more writing opportunities ....

“If only” assumes that the solution to whatever is wrong with me is out there, in my external circumstances. That once I fix the out there problem, everything will feel so much better on the inside. That if my work, my marriage, and my children were better, happier, and within my control, then I would feel better, happier, and more in control, too.

But what if that isn’t the case, at all?

What if the solutions didn’t come once things were better or different or happier or easier but came when I accepted it all? The whole kit and caboodle. The big mess. Me, included.

Easier said than done.

Change is never easy. It’s so much easier to stay in the familiar arms of unhappiness, resentment, despair, and blame. Or focus my efforts on making changes to my external life that never solve my innermost problems (so nothing ever really changes).

Here’s the challenge: how to make a life I love without making any changes.

Would you like to join me? This is how we start:

Step 1: Notice what feels icky and sticky on the inside (no blaming coworkers, supervisors, spouses, children, etc.) Focus on the feelings and drop the story.

Focus on this: I’m feeling frustrated with my lack of motivation and inspiration ...
And drop this: ... because there are too many demands on me as a wife and mom.

Step 2: Then, notice where the icky sticky feeling lives in your body and what it feels like:

My frustration lives on my right shoulder. It’s heavy, like an insistent, whiny toddler who’s been carried too long.

Here’s where you might normally look for the outside solutions, like letting go of commitments and responsibilities to make more time for yourself, but don’t head in that direction right now.

Step 3: Instead, reach for acceptance. Take a deep breath in and then slowly exhale. Repeat after me ...
I accept my (insert what feels icky and sticky on the inside). There is nothing for me to fix or change.

This week’s homework is to notice when you’re feeling discomfort or pain, either mental, psychological, spiritual, or even physical. You might feel a pain in your neck because you’ve been sitting too long staring at your computer or this pain could be your body’s way to get you to notice familiar, but negative, “if only” thoughts or feelings. This week, allow your discomfort to lead you to somewhere new.

Where is Your Happiness Hiding?

3/12/2018

We adopted a dog in December, a little rescue poodle from DPS Rescue in Palo Alto, that we named Jasper. In her early explorations of our home, Jasper found Angry Bird stuffed animals, discarded and forgotten under the boys' beds. She carried the toys one by one to the family room, delighted by her discovery.

As Jasper made our home her own, she found balls, more stuffed animals (some determined to be off limits by their human owners), a rope dog toy that I had bought for a previous foster dog, and a cat toy discarded by Traviesa the tabby cat.

Jasper likes to collect her toys in one place. If I'm working in my office, she'll bring an Angry Bird stuffed animal upstairs with her. On her next trip up the stairs, she'll bring the cat toy. Then, the ball. One by one, all of her toys end up where she is, whether it's upstairs in my office, in the family room, or on the rug in the hallway.

Watching Jasper surrounded by her toys, joyfully launching an Angry Bird stuffy into the air, a long-time massage therapy client asked me if I had anything in my life that brought me as much joy as Jasper's toys bring her.

I had to stop and think. In my coaching work with moms, I teach them a self-coaching tool called the Five Delights to help them figure out what brings them happiness and joy. It's been a while since I've done the exercise myself, though, so here's my Five Delights list for today:

My Five Delights:
1. My bed at the end of the day with my two perfect pillows and warm comforter
2. Bergamot essential oil (its citrusy scent eases stress)
3. Rubbermaid stainless steel travel mug (it keeps my chai tea hot for hours!)
4. OverDrive app connected to the Peninsula Library System on my phone so I always have something good to read, for free!
5. My box of vintage buttons

Now it's your turn. What delights you? Take a moment and write down five things (or people, furry critters, or activities) that bring happiness into your life.

The Five Delights self-coaching tool is a gratitude practice, of sorts, allowing you to focus on the happy things that are already present in your life. Research shows that gratitude is a powerful shortcut to happiness. A gratitude practice can increase your happiness set point; make you more resilient to psychological, mental, and physical stress; and even improve your sleep.

A gratitude practice like the Five Delights is simple: take a few minutes a few days a week to discover what's already good in your life. Just like Jasper the dog uncovered joy in the stuffed animals hidden under the bed, your happiness, too, is waiting to be found, waiting to be brought into the light, to surround you with so much joy.

Interested in learning more self-coaching tools to help you to build the life you love? Schedule a life coaching session with Kathleen Harper, certified life coach and author of The Well-Crafted Mom and Signs of a Happy Baby. Use coupon code NEW30 for 30 percent off your first session!

Bloom Where You're Planted

3/5/2018

“Are you sure the wisteria is still alive?” I asked my husband, Bill, as I peered through the screen door, looking out to the backyard.

"I think so. It’s the plant next to it that’s dead, but the wisteria is okay,” he replied from the kitchen.

I let the dog out into the backyard and followed her to the back corner of the yard where the wisteria grows. The branches of the wisteria were dark and spindly, twisted around the pergola and tangled across the top. Cracked, empty seed pods hung down over the flagstone patio. I was accustomed to the wisteria looking barren during the winter, but this year, the plant looked like it wasn’t coming back.

Over the next two weeks, I started a little ritual of checking on the wisteria. Whenever I let the dog out in the backyard, I walked to the back corner to see if there were any changes to the plant, watching and waiting for signs of spring when the vine explodes in purple flowers and dark green leaves, an incredible, beautiful sign of the season.

Bill was right: the bush alongside the pergola didn’t survive the winter and it’s definitely dead; the gardener will have to take it out. Last week, however, tiny buds appeared on the wisteria vine, dotting the topmost branches that get the most sun.

Spring is coming, not just for the wisteria, but for all of us.
It’s been a long winter. Just like the wisteria vine, you may be feeling dark after unexpected (and perhaps expected) disappointments, hardships, or grief. You may be a bit twisted and hung up, knowing that it’s your destiny to flower but not feeling strong enough to blossom right now. Perhaps you’re not getting enough care – or giving yourself enough self-care – to grow into whatever comes next.

Here are three steps to give you a little more spring in your step and help you to blossom:

• Dream. Give yourself permission to daydream about what you want. Believe outside the tiny box of parenthood that your dreams are valid and important. Grab a notepad and keep a list of ideas that give you shivers of excitement, cupfuls of curiosity, and handfuls of joy.

As best as you can, turn off the part of your brain that wants to draw fat black lines through the items on your list that don’t seem practical, aren’t financially feasible, or will take up oodles and oodles of time that you just don't have.
Dreaming big and outrageously is necessary to create happiness right here, right now.

I’ve been dreaming about the Master of Applied Positive Psychology degree at the University of Pennsylvania. Is this dream practical? Nope. Is it affordable? Not one bit. But unwrapping my big dream gives me ideas on small ways I can be happier now. I’ve realized that I’ve missed learning in a structured environment, like a school or ongoing class. I’ve always felt happiest when I’m learning, whether it’s life coaching school, massage therapy school, art classes, or university. My dreams are telling me to look for more learning opportunities besides tap dancing and Tai Chi.

• Set boundaries. It’s hard to grow a happy life when you’re busy taking care of everyone else. Taking care of everyone else’s needs before paying attention to your own is like siphoning off your water supply to feed all the plants around you (that already have their own sprinkler system).
“Feed my soul, feed my family?” is the question I ask myself when I receive a request for a speaking engagement, when the kids’ school asks for volunteers, when a commitment falls outside of my regular working hours. There’s only so much of me, and only so little time and energy to share. The answer to feed my soul, feed my family? shifts my response from ambivalent to unequivocal. “Each time you set a healthy boundary, you say ‘yes’ to more freedom,” writes Nancy Levin, author of Jump ... and Your Life Will Appear.

There’s no doubt that it’s hard to say no. Research shows that women have a harder time saying no than men do, a difference that is present even when personality factors like agreeableness and conscientiousness are taken into consideration. But if you do that hard work of saying no to what doesn’t serve you, you’re left with more time and energy for what unequivocally feels like yes. Determine what is necessary for you to grow into the life you want to live and figure out ways to say no to what doesn’t nurture you.

• Find pleasure. What can you do every day that brings you happiness, joy, delight, or pleasure? People often believe happiness needs to come in big chunks of time or that joy costs as much as a summer vacation. Delight can be as quick as a text to your dearest friend or as fulfilling as an interesting article from the New York Times.

Mother Theresa said “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” Start a practice of doing small things with great love for yourself every day. You’ll most likely find it will then be easier to do the bigger things for your family.

Just as the wisteria needs water and sunshine, you, too, need basic essentials. Dreaming, setting boundaries, and finding pleasure in your day-to-day routines will nourish you. Pluck the weeds of what creates unhappiness and nurture what generates joy. In the process, you’ll grow. You’ll bloom where you’re planted.

Muscling Through doesn't Make Me Strong

2/11/2018

I've always been able to muscle through, tell my body exactly what needs to happen to get s#!t done. Strong-arming my body has always worked, whether the mind-over-matter situation was getting to the end of a hike with a broken toe or to the end of a pitocin-induced labor with no epidural.

This weekend, however, my mind isn't nearly strong enough to surpass the matter of being sick. Even though I told myself I don't have time to be sick, I don't have time to reschedule my mini-retreat to another day, I couldn't cajole or convince my body into feeling better.

I've had to make time for what I don't have time for.

My life is pretty busy; I'm sure you can relate. There never seems to be enough time for everything that needs to fit in the too short hours of a very full day. Lying in bed at the end of the day, I chronicle what didn't get finished, what needs to happen tomorrow because it didn't happen today. I make lists and set deadlines. What I need is another me: another me to make the shopping trip to Target, another me to contact the director of the art school I'm looking at for my younger son, another me to drive my older son to his jazz workshop on Saturday while another me is at a couples seminar with my husband.

There's not enough me to go around. The person who feels this lack most keenly is probably my husband. I used to think my husband got the leftover me at the end of the day, the me who had worked all day, picked up and drove the kids around and made sure they had what they needed, like clean laundry, clothes that fit, permission slips signed, and enriching activities.

Lately, it doesn't even seem like there's a leftover me, just an empty, exhausted shell on autopilot as I brush my teeth, wipe off my makeup, and crawl into bed.

Muscling through doesn't make me strong. As I've had to slow my pace and lower my expectations of myself this weekend, I've realized that rest gives me more strength than hard work. Working so hard that there's nothing left of me at the end of the day doesn't serve me or my marriage, my kids or my clients.

Years ago, I led a coaching + craft mini-retreat where moms learned how to determine how much time and energy they had each morning using a decorated dish and little glass coins. Each coin - up to 10 a day - represents a certain amount of energy you have to spare. Activities throughout the day, whether it's going to work or going to Costco, cost time and energy, represented by the coins. The goal of the daily game is to figure out how to plan and live your day so you don't end up depleted and overdrawn at the end of it. (You can download a copy of the coaching + craft activity guide here.)

This morning, I pulled out my little dish from where it was tucked away in a cabinet by my bathroom sink. I allotted myself three coins, just three to remind me to spend the day resting, watching the Olympics, cuddling with my hubby, and building my strength.

Spring Cleaning Your Maybes

1/29/2018

How many things in your life feel like maybe? The clothes that you'll maybe wear again when you've lost weight. The InstantPot that you'll maybe use when life settles down. The career that you'll maybe pursue when you have more time.

Holding the door open for maybe takes a lot of energy. You have to think about your maybes, sorting through them as you go through your physical and mental closets and cupboards. Maybes are a constant reminder of what you’re not doing, whether it’s not losing enough weight to fit into the clothes that sit in the back of your closet, not finding recipes for the InstantPot you got for Christmas, or not getting your butt in gear to get your resume finished so you can find a job that you actually don’t hate.

Your maybes come with a lot of baggage, too. What do you say to yourself when you see the expensive sweater in the back of your drawer with tags still on, the one that looked great in the mirror at the store but made you feel bulky and big once you got home? Do you tell yourself that you’re lazy for never returning it? Are you mean to yourself because you feel too bulky and big?

Maybe–in all of the forms it takes–steals energy and time away from what feels like yes.

I have closets, cupboards, and drawers full of maybes. A shelf of journals with mostly blank pages. Drawers full to overflowing with clothes I never wear. Windows open in my computer’s browser with articles to read, books to check out from the library, visionaries to follow in the hopes that maybe they’ll have answers to how I can grow my business, write my next book, and feel more joy more regularly.

One of my maybes was a purple sundress that hung in the back of my closet for ten years. I splurged on the dress from one of the vendors at the park where we go every year to celebrate my oldest son’s birthday. I changed into the dress at the vendor’s stall, wearing it back to our little plot on the park lawn. My husband looked up from where he sat in the sun, peering at me in the new dress. Money was tight that year. He didn’t say anything but his look said enough.

I never wore the purple dress again. It sat in my closet, a regular reminder of how badly I felt that day.

I boxed it up a few Saturdays ago, that dress and all of the other maybes. I sorted through my closet and pulled out the clothes I don’t wear because the waist is too tight, or the color isn’t right, or the memories that come with the dress/sweater/shirt are uncomfortable. I put all of the maybes in boxes and sealed them up, promising myself that I won’t throw anything away just yet–I’m just taking a break.

Now, my closet is quite empty (except for the stacked and sealed boxes). My friends and family are seeing me in the same outfits week after week. But the clothes I see my closet are the clothes I like–the purple dress is nowhere in sight.

Next, I’m tackling the maybe cupboard under the sink in the bathroom. Then, the box of tchotchkes that’s been taking up room in my closet since I reorganized my office a year ago. The medicine cabinet needs sorting. And then, I'll dive into the catch-all closet that’s full of craft supplies, saved baby clothes, office supplies, and who knows what else.

The more items I go through, the easier it becomes to say no. The garage is getting full. As my husband side stepped the piles of boxes filling the space, he suggested a garage sale. “Maybe Presidents’ Day weekend, if the weather is nice." In the past, I would have delayed making a decision, saying “Let’s wait and see what the weather’s going to be like,” even though I dread garage sale days and vow at the end of each and every one that I’ll never do one again. This time was different: “No to the garage sale,” I said definitely and firmly to my husband, practicing my new habit of staying out of the mental clutter of maybe to make more room for what truly feels like yes.

Want to learn how to clear your mental and physical clutter to make more room for your yeses? Join me and a handful of other moms at March's mini-retreat, Spring Cleaning Your Maybes. You'll learn strategies for decluttering and avoiding the risk of "recluttering," and how to handle the discomfort that often comes with letting things go. Go to thewellcraftedmom.com/mini-retreats to register.

A Toast to the Wrong Turns

1/7/2018

Are you feeling a battered sense of relief you've made it to the shore of a new year? Does the past year look so much like a shipwreck on the rocks?

You can walk away from the wreck of the last year, but you can't really leave it behind. You wear your past like clothes: your pockets are full of memories, your shirt smells like the sea of your experiences, life lessons are left in the seams.

It's lovely and hopeful to look forward to a new and improved year. But it's far stronger to begin the year with what you learned from your struggles, the strength you've earned from slogging through what didn't go right, the wisdom gleaned from being wrong and doing things the hard way, over and over again.

Here's how I want you to ring in the New Year: Celebrate what didn't go right in the past one. Make a toast to the arguments, the bad decisions, and the failures. Make a list of your struggles, disappointments, wrong turns, and dead ends. And then next to each unfortunate incident, uncomfortable memory, or broken promise, write down how it's a gift to you and your year to come.

Here are a few things from my list ...
A struggle: I've been dealing with insomnia for almost a year now.
The gift: On my search for sleep, I tried everything except for prescription drugs: supplements, herbs, homeopathic remedies, breathing techniques, acupuncture... And then, I surrendered. I'm finding my way toward a fragile acceptance of my insomnia - and a hard-won recognition that I can do difficult things with little sleep (like write a book).

Bad decisions: I've worked way too much this past year because I couldn't figure out how to feel done for the day, which has affected all of my relationships - and not in a good way.
The gift: I'm being more realistic about my schedule for this coming year, building in time for friends and family, making room for creativity and quiet, and honoring Sundays as a day off with my family.

A big problem: I've neglected my marriage.
The gift: I've missed him, missed us, and I'm so clear on what I need to do to be more connected.
It's tempting to abandon your past, just walk away from the disappointments like you don't need anything from the damaged year. But when you do, you lose all the treasures you've collected along the way. Because your rewards are often so heavy, it's easy to mistake them for only rocks in your pockets, weighing you down.

But when you truly look at the last year, the wreckage becomes riches: the heavy memories shine and the little mistakes glitter in the sunlight, each and every one a pearl of wisdom to carry forward into the New Year.

(This post was originally published a few years back but the lessons continue to be meaningful: stay in the present moment, be kind to myself and others, focus on what matters most.)

Would you like a little help figuring out how to turn the wreckage into riches? Set up a time for a free call with me. We'll find your treasures and ways for you to use those well-earned rewards in 2018. Click here to schedule your session with me. Use coupon code NEW50 for 50 percent off your first session. Hugs, Kathleen

This is What My Personal Best Looks Like

12/20/2017

My house is a mess. This is the view of my dining room table. What you can't see are boxes of ornaments for the Christmas tree that's up but only strung with lights; stockings, and other decorations for our house that are still not up; and the scuba equipment that's "still drying" over by the front door, waiting for a place to be cleared out in the garage.

It wouldn't be so bad except this is the same view that my massage therapy clients and in-person coaching clients see as they head up the stairs to my office.

I should be embarrassed.

Earlier today, as I looked down at the mess from the stairs, I remembered when my kids were in elementary school, their teachers would ask, "Is this your personal best?" The phrase came home from school with them and I adopted it as my own. When the laundry wasn't done, everybody was hungry (including me) and dinner was far from being ready, and the house smelled like cat pee because no one (me) had cleaned it out in a long while, I'd shout out loud to no one in particular: "This is what my personal best looks like."

I'm reviving this phrase and using it as my mantra from now until well into the New Year.

This is what my personal best looks like:

• I'm not happy with the gifts I bought for my teenage nephews. I could purchase gift cards from Amazon and send them off in addition to the already-mailed presents to make me feel better. But I'm not going to. The gifts are imperfect but given with love.

This is what my personal best looks like:

• I'm struggling with the internal upheaval after an interaction with a mom of one of my sons didn't go well - at all. Another mom offered to have us all over for pizza to talk it out. I wanted to be the kind of person who was ready and eager for diving in and fixing things, but I'm not, especially right before Christmas. I don't have any extra inner strength for that. I suggested a date in 2018. Maybe I'll be ready then.

This is what my personal best looks like:

• I feel pulled in so many different directions. Jennifer Senior, author of All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood calls this feeling contaminated time. When I'm with my kids, I'm thinking about marketing the new infant massage class, renewing our health insurance, researching dog training for the not-quite housebroken new dog, numbly watching coverage of the s*!t show in Washington, and trying to finish a giant pile of chores and obligations that need to be crammed into whatever time is available. And when I'm working, I'm feeling guilty about not being available for dinner with my kids, not remembering to ask one of them about his math test, and having my attention be not quite there when I am there.

My goal is to be fully present for what is right in front of me, whether it's a tight trapezius muscle on a massage therapy client or my son explaining the piece he'll need to play for his placement test in January.

My life looks messy. Most days it feels that way, too. But I'm doing my personal best.

Making a Soul Map to your Very Best Life

12/4/2017

Sometimes people use vision boards to showcase what they want - a nice car, pretty clothes, a new job, a vacation to Hawaii, more yoga classes on a regular basis ...

These things are all nice. They don’t always lead to happiness, though. Often, they’re what you think you should be wanting, doing, or buying to be happy because that’s what everyone else is wanting, doing, or buying. Another person’s path to fulfillment, however, won’t ever be the same route for you.

That’s why I lead my vision board workshops differently. Before you begin to cut out words and images from magazines, I ask you to get in touch with your inner guide - that wise, soulful voice within you who knows your heart’s desires.

Once you place your inner guide in charge, your vision board becomes more than a collage of pretty pictures; it becomes your soul map to your very best life.

Do you remember when you were trying on wedding gown after wedding gown and then you knew which dress was the one? Maybe you felt tingly all over but surprisingly calm at the same time. Or when you were house hunting and you felt a certainty in your step as you walked to the front door of the house you knew would become your home. Or that sureness deep inside your bones when you saw your child for the first time and knew that you were put on this earth to love and nurture your baby.

These sensations are your inner guide’s way of navigating you toward your very best life. The more you tune into the way your body feels when you’re headed in the right direction, the clearer the path becomes. Once you know how your inner guide says yes, you can more easily choose what brings you happiness, contentment, peace, and all the other ways you want to feel.

Would you like to build your soul map for 2018? Come to one of three vision board workshops I’m offering in January. In a small group of women, you’ll learn how to listen to the quiet, confident voice inside you. Your vision board will be a manifestation of your inner guide’s wisdom and a beautiful reminder of how to make a life you love in the year to come. Visit thewellcraftedmom.com/mini-retreats for details and to register.

The Well-Crafted Mom

About

I'm an author, certified life coach, and certified massage therapist who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband (William White of Touch Blue Sky Baby Sign Language), their two sons, and a tabby cat that rolls over and fetches.

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