Amazing What We Know That We Don’t Know We Know

I had a dream last night about the leather portfolio I bought with some of the money my mom left me. I had searched high and low for the perfect 3-ring binder and ordered one from Rustico. When it came, I fell in love with its soft brown cover and wide openness. I had known that I really wanted it but didn’t know what to use it for . . . memories; keepsakes; recipes; journal? It wasn’t clear, so until clarity came, I put it in the top drawer of my mom’s coffee table. That’s where it has been for 5 months . . . until the dream.

The dream felt like mom’s gentle nudge to use the binder every day. The vision was complete with lined white paper and unlined cream-colored paper for writing and drawing. When I opened the drawer, I was surprised to find a stack of both kinds of paper, already hole-punched and ready. How did that happen? Magic or did I prepare them when I got the binder? Hmmm. I don’t remember buying or punching holes in the cream-colored paper. It’s amazing what we know that we don’t know we know.

The large leather cover spreads out across my lap ready for words of life. Here they are . . . the first words written within its comfort. Thank you for reading.

Here to hear you and to help you hear yourSelf,

It isn’t Good that I’m Good at this.

A man I dated a long time ago told me: “You don’t have to anticipate my needs even though you’re really good at it.”

That was a wake up call that taught me I was over-doing, over-caring, and over-carrying responsibilities for others. I was over it.

Letting go has been a slow process. As a woman, mother, grandmother, fiancé, and Life Coach, I still remind myself daily.

Show up. Love large. Be present. Pause before over-anything. There is a big difference between caring and carrying. Does this show up in your life? How do you handle it?

Here to hear you and to help you hear yourSelf so you can Bloom,

What Role Has Worked Played in Making You Who You Are? My Story.

When I was in the 5th grade I had a Plainfield paper route that required me to walk with a bag that surely weighed about the same as me. I still remember nearly every house on that route, especially the ones on the hills with 30 steps leading up to them. I also remember the lady who offered me ice cold pink lemonade. I’m glad I did that work. It provided me with money for my first checking account and a few candy bars. My mom taught me how to track money in my ledger. It was dirty work rolling those papers. It was hard work. Made me who I am. #Grateful #BlogLifeLessonStoriesLikeThis #IFeltSafe #RodeBusToPaperPlaceFromSchoolIMustHaveBeenBrave

I would love to know your story. Here to hear you and to help you hear yourSelf.