Category: Uncategorized

October 2021

I’ve been making crazy art projects lately, collecting found objects from the seashore and winding, gluing, hammering them together to create forms and creatures. Most of the found objects are from nature – fragments of shell, softly shaped driftwood orbs or coins of seaglass that started out as man-made but turned into sea-smooth treasures.

The process of collecting is as satisfying as is the making, but curiously, I’ve found that when my conceptual “creature” feels bird-like, the shells I see on the beach are all shaped like feathers. If the shape of my base is reptilian, limpets seem to be everywhere I walk. And if I’m feeling like crafting a tiny, detailed gem, pink Pupu O Ni’ihau shells that are the size of the head of a pin somehow flash at me through the grains of sand. Of course, all of those objects are on the beach at the same time, but what I see is influenced by what I’m looking for.

I now know that scientists have a name for this strange hyper-focus: they call it the “pop-out effect.”

It’s a phenomenon where a unique visual “target” can rapidly be detected, even though it sits within a whole bunch of distracting and different objects. I’m looking for “feathers” so I see feathers; looking for “gems” so I see gems.

Which leads me to think about what I look for and what I actually see as I go through life.

* * *

I’m not proud of it, but if I’m feeling insecure, I notice the most beautiful woman in the room as a point of comparison.

If I’m feeling distraught about the state of the world, the validation of my dismay pops out in the form of the headlines, statistics and Youtube footage that catches my eye.

When joyful, the saturated color of new-fallen leaves or the glow of the moon through passing clouds feels like a sign from a higher being; bigger and more encompassing than they are in the context of the world.

So I guess my question is whether there is a way to harness this pop-out effect for good.

* * *

My father, known to our family as Pop Pop, died this week after an extended illness and 25 years of physical suffering. He was one of the most positive people I’ve ever known, and I think the pop-out effect defined the way he lived his life.

Renowned for his exaggerated explicatives about glorious things that stood out to him: the most beautiful work of art or the most captivating new friend, the most special community park or the softest sweater he’d ever worn; the things he loved stood out and took on disproportionate weight for him. They motivated him to seek more, create more, love more and acquire more. Objects, people and experiences carried him through the pain, the worry and the frustration.

If the glory of the “high” wasn’t carrying him along, the issues and systems that needed change popped out to him instead. He was equally passionate and active in his engagement with the issues that validated or violated his principles. He marched against inequity, fought discrimination and ranted about leaders who might be pulling us into hate-filled worlds.

Even in the midst of the worst of the worst of times – the pandemic which threatened his already precarious health, the “stay in place” that kept him from his precious parks and prevented him from turning strangers into friends, he saw, he loved and he dreamed.

For him, positivity and potential always popped out.

We all create our realities, seeing the things that we want to see. As long as we take the time to check in with ourselves to make sure that what we see and seek is revisited, re-evaluated and re-aligned so that it isn’t used to validate our preconceived notions and to prove ourselves right, the pop-out effect can be a force for good.

What a legacy he left behind.

To our family, he was known as Pop Pop. I think I’ll call this phenomenon of seeing the good, the beautiful and the cherished pop out beyond the world’s weight, the “Pop Pop effect”.

He would have loved that.

* * *

I shared a lot today and I usually ask that if you feel some truth in what I write, that you share it with others in intimate and broad ways. This month, I just ask that you hold the people you love deeply in your heart and tell them they are there.

September 2021

Over the past 18 months, a number of my friends have come to realize that jobs, social circles, activities, residences and other life-defining variables hold far more wiggle room than they had once thought.

They’re now shuffling their cards to get more of what they’ve been missing and to get rid of some of the baggage that was holding them back.

Their revelations? A career that sucks the life out of you might not be worth the sacrifice anymore. The city you’ve been living in might have changed… or you have. The activities you do for fun seem less fun these days.

It’s possible to get a huge refresh by changing just one thing. It can be a big thing – like shifting where you live or what you do – or a smaller adjustment like switching up whom you spend your time with or learning something new.

For me, it was the opposite. The last eighteen months have been a not-so-gentle wake-up call that the nomadic life I’ve been living might have met my aspirations, but the reality of being constantly on the move has pushed me beyond my comfort zone to a place of instability. I’ve been too far beyond the familiar, too far away from routine, and most importantly, too far from many of the people I connect with most.

My “wake up moment” opened my eyes to the fact that I need to dial back to more of the familiar routines that ground me. To be crass, it’s reassuring to know where the bathroom is in the middle of the night.

Dialing back and “saying no” is giving me a greater sense of control. My friends playing new hands say they are taking control too: of where they live, what they know how to do and what they see as their new life balance.

* * *

How do you shuffle your own deck?

Sometimes it’s clear. You’ve always wanted to (fill in the blank) and now you can. Or luck came your way with an opportunity, and for the first time you took the risk and jumped because there was less to lose.

But that’s not always the way it works. In fact, it’s really hard to make a move if you’ve been following the same strategy for so long.

Most of us who are tired of what we’ve been doing don’t have clarity about what we want to do next.

That’s especially true for high performers who get so used to being good at that thing they’ve always done that they fear any next step will take them backwards — out of that leadership role, away from the limelight and maybe even back into the minor leagues. The fear of taking steps backwards or being “not good” at something is daunting when we define ourselves by what we do.

It’s also true for those of us who are comforted by familiarity — in a city, a routine or a circle of friends. Being too far from that comfort zone (like I’ve been) can be disorienting or worse.

For those who are living paycheck-to-paycheck, shifting to something big might be impossible. But shifting to something better might be a start. Better hours. Better location. With shortages in staff, there may even be an opportunity to negotiate a raise.

* * *

Are you bored, bummed or burned out?

No matter how badly you want to find your next chapter, letting go of a situation where everything is “comfortable” is hard.

So how about starting with one small move.

Instead of defining yourself by what you “do”, add some additional measures, like what you are naturally good at. Instead of defining yourself by where you live, think about what you value as well as what you are missing in your current environment. Rather than sticking to your usual genre, pay attention to articles, entertainment or other people whose stories interest you but are not your automatic choice.

Then play a couple of hands to get a bit deeper into the areas that might add breadth and depth to your game.

My 85-year-old mom is taking weekly drawing and painting classes.
My friend Crystal rented an apartment in a new city to see if she liked it.
Parlay House member Jenna left her big city life to get her yoga certification.
By trying these new things, they’re building new pathways. Neuropathways, behavioral pathways and emotional pathways.

It turns out that my mom’s a damned good artist and Jenna is an amazing yoga teacher. Crystal learned that life in the new city wasn’t for her and she moved back home, which is as important a realization as finding her “yes.”

For each of them, there are additional experiences and skills that are more familiar as they reshuffle their decks. And the next move they make will be slightly easier for having tried the last variation.

Whether you feel like you’ve hit a dead end, or are staring at the intersection of your old path and have too many new directions to choose from, shuffle your deck and play a few small cards to see what you learn.

It’ll certainly help make you a bit more capable in unexpected areas and could even lead to some more major plays that take you into a whole new game.

* * *

Feeling stuck or lost? It’s easier to make a move when you have some support!

Share it Small: Want to dip your toe into something new? Ask a friend to do it with you? It’ll give you something to talk about, laugh about, or to support each other when it leads to bigger jumps and opportunities.

Share it Big: If you’re thinking of a bigger move, tell people about it. Putting your experiments out there will help other people in your life know what you’re looking for! In fact, sharing your aspirations and interests can often unlock job leads, invitations or even new groups of friends. You may not go in as the expert, but you won’t be lonely as you build your comfort in a new direction.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

August 2021

 

How many times did someone ask you how you are today? You probably responded with something like, “Fine, thanks,” “I’m good,” or “OK, and you?”

But were you really fine?

I’ve gotta tell you that I’m not always fine these days. In fact, I feel like I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. One minute I’m OK… and maybe even happy! Then in the next, I’m so anxious I feel like I’m about to pass out.

Here’s what I mean:

Last week, in a medieval castle on a small island in the Peloponnese, our daughter Ciara’s long-time boyfriend proposed to her. I got to be one of the first to hug them, toast to their future, and begin to plan a wedding with my daughter.

I’m bursting with joy.

Three days later, two different women whom I care about deeply, told me they were facing health challenges so serious that it could impact the rest of their lives.

I’m so worried and I feel completely helpless.

Today, I’m with my wonderful husband, enjoying a hot and sunny vacation in a place we love.

I’m sweaty, but I’m really happy.

Fully vaccinated, I was finally feeling hopeful coming out of this pandemic. But the Delta variant has re-introduced uncertainty and is making me nervous again.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. That was all just this week.

* * *

I’m guessing you’re feeling similar swings of highs and lows. Swings seem to be the norm these days.

It’s so hard to be filled with hope and fear, freedom and constraint, celebration and mourning all at once.

What do you do when your world feels like a roller coaster?

Sometimes you just need to “be in it” and live all of the feelings so that they don’t build up or get pushed down so far that they burst through in unexpected moments. Acknowledging the struggle and taking time to celebrate the joys helps me.

But it’s really hard to process and celebrate alone.

So, I’m being open and vulnerable, sharing my truth with a few trusted friends.

Putting “all my shit out there” has allowed my inner circle to comfort me and celebrate with me.

The support I’ve received has been amazing.

My friend Vicky said, “A friend of mine is a psychotherapist. She lost her husband recently to cancer. It was sudden, heart-wrenching and put a strain on her family before and after the loss. Between it all though, there were marriages, grandchildren – joy and agony all mixed into one.”

I asked her how she was coping with it all, and she said, “This period of time is so challenging, but it’s rich. These experiences are rich. I’ve often thought of that statement when I’m feeling the weight and the whirlwind of it all. The extreme highs and lows of this human experience is the real stuff of life. The joys and the agonies are universal and connect us. Please know that I’m here for you for all the highs and lows.”

In these two tiny, texted paragraphs, Vicky let me know that I’m not alone in my struggles with the complexity of our times. What’s more, by naming the struggle a “rich” one, she gave me words and helped me gain perspective that made these swings make more sense.

I also appreciated her reassurance that I could be my true self with her, and she would be there for me no matter what. I don’t usually feel I have “permission” to share the lows, and I worry I’ll be a burden if I do. She helped me get past that.

When it comes to our own low moments, keeping them to ourselves can push us lower.

So… whatever swing you’re on today, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to share it with someone who holds your heart gently. Whether you are celebrating together, mourning together, or living through a mixture of all sorts of feelings, you won’t be alone in experiencing the richness of your one precious life.

Another dear friend pointed out to me that trees grow up and down at the same time. Now I know that people do too.

* * *

Do you feel the fluctuations of the world on a daily basis? It turns out you’re not alone. Sharing your ups and downs will likely bring you points of connection with others going through their own roller coaster.

There are all sorts of ways to share your experience:

Share it Small: Pick someone you trust, and tell them what you are experiencing. Chances are, they’ll let you know their story too, and you’ll both feel less alone.

Share it Big: Tova Mirvis, last week’s Parlay House speaker, decided to share her truths about the complexity of separating from her community directly with the New York Times. She was flabbergasted by the thousands of people who related and responded to what she thought was only her journey. You may not need to be as bold as sharing your truths with the world, but writing them down and sharing them more broadly will not only be a release for you, you’ll make others feel less alone, too.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

July 2021

 

Saying these words often feels big and scary – uttering them implies so much.

Affection. Commitment. Acceptance. Vulnerability.

Occasionally, an “I love you” comes pouring out without thought — sometimes even during a business setting, when one might think it inappropriate. Oops.

I, personally, try to tell the people I’m close to that I love them as often as possible. When I say it, I genuinely mean it. I use the phrase to say:

• I choose you
• I hold you close to my heart
• I feel a true connection with you
• I value you
• You are especially important to me

But it’s not the phrase “I Love You” that recently took my breath away.

There’s another phrase that’s far less common but equally meaningful. But before I tell you what it is, let me give you some context.

My dad is battling some new health issues. He’s 84 and has already been through a lot. Over the past 25 years, there have been a number of times that each member of our family thought we were saying goodbye to him for the last time. The I Love You’s, like the tears, flowed like water.

With the latest bout of swiftly dividing cancer cells and an unknown course of his disease, I flew up to Seattle last week to see him and spend the day with him and my mom. Ciara came with me.

The four of us spent the day touring the city where I grew up. We reminisced about the places he had worked and visited his most recent environmental projects, which reclaimed abandoned street-ends and turned them into community nature preserves. He loved the idea that the people in the neighborhood who would not have access to the wonders of the waterfront could marvel at seeing beavers thrive in an urban setting, and native plants could grow where trash had covered the public land. He raved about the volunteers who rallied around him to accelerate each area’s transformation and donated money so that he could plant more trees.

It was one of those days when we experienced life together with the underlying (yet unspoken) truth that this might be one of the last times we could revitalize these memories before I have to carry mine by myself. That truth, of course, is especially hard to accept.

As our day came to a close and I picked up my bag to leave, he hugged me and repeated how wonderful it was to spend time together. And of course, he told me that he loved me.

But then he said something else.

* * *

He said, “I’m so very proud of the person you are.”

I lost my shit. It wasn’t the “I Love You” that hit me deeply and profoundly. I knew he loved me, and I could believe it. What struck me was how wonderful it felt, as a fully grown, independent, 59-year-old woman, to have my father say he was proud of me.

I know. This probably says more about me than it does about him. But for whatever reason, it felt like I was being given approval and validation on a really meaningful level.

Should I need approval from my parents at this stage of my life?

It’s entirely reasonable to argue that my own self-approval should be what matters. But I’ll admit that I’m one of those forever-achieving people who somehow feels I’ve never really done (or been) enough. That’s why I always keep stretching, taking on new challenges, and pushing myself higher, better, faster.

For me, there’s something incredibly validating about having a person whose judgment I respect, whose approval feels meaningful, and whom I love with all my heart say, “I see you and I think you are good.”

This leads me to assert that “I’m Proud of You” is as meaningful as “I Love You.”

I’m proud of you is another way of saying, “You are enough.” It might even mean, “You are even more than enough.”

We’re never too old to be seen, and to be told that we are good, what we’re doing is good, or even what we tried (and failed to do) is worth being proud of. For me, it meant everything.

So taking the cue from my dad, I will try to practice noticing the people around me and passing on validation to them. When I feel proud of them in whatever way, I’m going to tell them that I see them and feel joy for them. It’s not the “I” that gets the emphasis, like in the phrase, “I love you.” It’s the “you” that is dialed up in “I’m proud of YOU.”

Somebody might receive it with the weight and meaning that my dad’s words had for me. How wonderful to make others feel so good.

* * *

How can you make a difference with just a few words?

Share it Small: Tell someone you are proud of them! This isn’t a nod to the all-too-frequent, “good job for using the potty” that we pour onto our children. This is an adult-to-adult boost that’s said with thoughtful delivery: I see you. I respect you. I feel joy for you.

Share it Big: Be public about expressing what you see and admire in others. You’ll never know who will be watching you and will pass that moment of validation into someone in their own lives.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

June 2021

 

In January, I wrote about the aspiration of a cyst on my spine which relieved my back pain and lifted a huge weight off of me. I described the results as a Benjamin Button moment where I became instantly younger, livelier, and freer than I could have imagined. I felt both literal and figurative transformation and was poised to reclaim my spry self.

It turns out I spoke too soon.

The procedure was only a mirage of a miracle, relief dissipating in just one short month. The persistent cyst quickly re-filled with fluid, and as I entered the month of March I also re-entered the hospital to have it drained again. “Second time’s a charm,” I told myself, waiting to welcome back that rush of youth.

The second time was not a charm.

For whatever reason, the sedation didn’t knock me out and I ended up having the procedure while being awake and aware of all that was happening. It was hell.

To add insult to injury, that second procedure gave me almost no relief at all.

March fell heavily into April and instead of feeling the much-anticipated spring in my step, I found myself sinking back into the dark disability, frustration building and the pain so omnipresent that it cast a dull haze over everything. “Give it time,” the doctor said when I talked about my ongoing struggles. “Sometimes it takes a couple of weeks for the full effect of the draining and the cortisone”.

But the weeks slowly passed and the pain went in the wrong direction. So did my perception of self. Forget Benjamin Button – I now felt like the world’s oldest woman. By May, I began a conversation with a spine surgeon who will soon perform full-blown surgery to remove the cysts (it turns out I have more than one), and who will also deal with the underlying structural decay.

Which leads me to what I really want to talk about. I want to talk about losing control.

* * *

Anyone who knows me will vouch for the fact that I’ve never been one to lose control of anything easily. That’s why I’ve never tried hard drugs, I feel no effect from marijuana and I have no desire to do mushrooms or ayahuasca. It’s why I always prefer to be the driver, the planner, the decider and the boss. It’s why I exercise daily and it’s probably part of the reason that the second sedation didn’t work.

I won’t let my body go.

I find letting go exceptionally difficult. Especially now – a time that feels like letting go of my body means I’m letting go of my youth. No amount of exercise, stretching, meditation or surgery will slow the progression of years and the obvious wear and tear on my core. Like everyone else, I’m aging.

I know, I know. Eye roll from those of you who are older or have already come to terms with this fact. Those of you who are younger will probably not relate either. But for me, my body breakdown is in direct conflict with my youthful state of mind and perception of a 30-year-old self.

In fact, my spine is waving the truth in my face: I never really had as much control as I thought.

Of course, I’d prefer to breakdance than to breakdown.

But those aren’t the only choices. By letting go of full control, I’m beginning to discover something new — the beauty of getting out of old patterns, and reframing expectations to create a clean slate for what comes next.

It’s obviously time to make a fresh start. Physical slowing makes room for mental stretches. Less “doing” and more “seeing” is another way to grow. Physically, the control needed for Tai Chi is no less than the control needed for a hundred-meter sprint. There are alternative ways to be strong in the world.

Getting there requires a rebirth of perspective and less rigid forms of measurement.

While I’m not letting go, I’m loosening up. Because in my new, lightened state of control, I’ll have more space for the world to sink in.

* * *

How have you successfully used setbacks to reframe your life?

Share it Small:  We can all learn from each other. If you had to let go of some expectations in order to make room for a new life chapter, tell your loved ones about what you did and how you did it. They are probably working on their own reframing too.

Share it Big:  So many of us think of life as a straight line instead of a series of pivots and re-thinking. If you are taking a turn – in your physical self, in a relationship, a job, or an aspiration… share it out loud! It turns out that every 12-18 months every one of us is in a transition. Sharing yours will be a way to open the dialogue with others doing their own pivoting.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

April 2021

 

A bit over a month ago, my husband David had surgery to remove a cataract from his right eye. After the procedure, he came home and said he was seeing things in technicolor. He wasn’t high from pain meds (my brave guy was wide awake for the procedure). What he was seeing was vivid color for the first time in years. The surgery literally replaced the cloudy lens that turned his vibrant world into shades of grey and left him with a completely new view. Within hours post-procedure, I saw him marvel at the colors of the trees and remark with amazement that the house across the street was tan rather than grey. For the next couple of days, he looked through his right eye while blocking the left and vice-versa, marveling at the difference between the two views. I listened with wonder as he described everything that appeared so much brighter and more saturated than anything he remembered.

It was as though he was seeing the world for the first time.

* * *

A couple of weeks after his surgery, we found ourselves back in New York City, our second home and a place we sorely missed during our shelter-in-place year. New York is still playing it safe: the streets are emptier than usual, restaurants are different, and many stores are still closed. But there is a buzz that is inherent in a big city. It felt particularly alive as the colors of spring coincided with an increasingly vaccinated population who were, like David, seeing the world with fresh eyes.

What’s more, most of the people we encountered felt metamorphosed, coming out of their cocoons, stretching their wings, and greeting their familiar world not only with a big, post-vaccination exhale but with a reminder of the joy that freedom brings and the warmth that can come from being near other human beings. We noted how strangers who would have walked by each other on the streets actually nodded or winked behind their masks. Servers were happier, cashiers chattier, and pedestrians more aware of making room for others walking nearby. It was as though they were seeing each other in a new way.

This visit completely reminded me of what it felt like as New York City reopened after the terrors of 9/11. When the dust cleared, and we were told it was safe to return to our work and our homes, New Yorkers realized how much they had taken for granted before the terrorist threats, and we treated each other with an enhanced level of reverence, kindness, and sensitivity. I remember strangers letting working mothers join them at the front of the line that wrapped around the Christopher Street Path Station so that they could get home in time to tuck their kids in bed. I remember tourists being escorted to the building they were seeking, rather than becoming prey to pick-pockets or con-artists. I remember the grace on the subway trains when riders actually noticed each other and made room on the seats for the elderly or sick or those who just looked like they needed a rest.

It is now two weeks after our trip, and we are back in the Bay. A few days ago, David had a cataract removed from his other eye. Yes – there were still the technicolor rainbows as the light streamed in, but after a few days, his eyes had adjusted to their own normal. I asked him whether the world looked different, and he said he actually couldn’t remember what they looked like just a month or so before when his entire world was lost behind a cloud of grey.

Will we quickly forget the grey as we step out into a new normal?

* * *

We forget the things we missed once we have them again. We forget the new priorities we set for ourselves without the incentive of longing. We don’t waste time on introspection when we are running again at full pace.

I worry that we will forget all that this isolation has taught us when we head into post-COVID life. In a relatively short time, we will be back in offices, bars, and stadiums. We will hug our loved ones and fly to see them, and take vacations as we have always done. But, how quickly will we forget the simple joy of outdoor walks or dinners with friends? How many days until we stop checking in on neighbors or lovingly calling family members that we haven’t seen for a while. Will we dial back on the FaceTime chats, the Zoom connections, and the bonding with those in our own homes? Will we stop appreciating all of the workers, providers, and service people who got us through?

This year and a half of isolation will fade in memory as David’s recollection of his pre-surgery eyesight has already done.

Does it have to?

* * *

This moment of returning can also be a moment of reckoning; a moment to make amends for the behaviors we fall into when we aren’t forced to re-frame.

There is no reason that a return to normal can’t include incorporating some of the simple acts that helped us all feel connected and seen even now that we can begin to see each other in person. This is an opportunity to make a permanent commitment to remember what it felt like to have the limitations and clouded lenses and to hold onto the skills we built that allowed us to substitute vivid color of being out in the world for the vivid feelings of interconnectedness and interdependence when we were distanced.

Let’s make a pact never to forget.

• Never forget that we found new ways to connect and to keep those bonds strong
• Never forget that we saw the value in small acts of kindness, and to keep up with those small acts long after the obvious need has passed
• Never forget that when our own worlds are bright again, there are still so many people who are locked in isolation that we can now relate to and that we can see them with compassion and empathy

* * *

How will you keep this moment alive?

Share it Small:  Make a pact with a friend to remind each other of the things you are happiest to return to, as well as to hold on to the experiences that you don’t want to forget. Return to that pact every now and then to see how you are doing and work together to recommit to treasuring freedom without forgetting the lessons learned in isolation.

Share it Big:  Live life out loud. By being open about your gratitude and channeling it into the work you do, the relationships you have, and all of the people you choose to meet with love, you will be the change you wish to see.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

March 2021

 

I’ve had many “mom talks” over the years, exchanging ideas with friends and family and trying to figure out how to do it well. Recently, in preparation for an upcoming Bring a Friend podcast, Tina Knowles Lawson and I had a chat about raising strong daughters. It was phenomenal to share experiences with someone at her level of prominence, and I felt reassured to know that some of the moments I’ve faced were also true for a woman I so highly admire. The conversation about motherhood continued with Jessica Oliveira-Haddad, another inspirational guest who was just beginning to think about how she would best raise her soon-to-be-born child. Vicky Tsai, Founder of the Tatcha skincare brand gave birth to her daughter on the same day she launched her company.

These conversations were grounding for each of us because they made us feel a little less alone as we navigate the fine line between being strong women ourselves and raising daughters who are equally strong. We also noted how impossible it is to anticipate how we will feel in each phase of motherhood, and universally agreed that you can’t really know how you’ll feel until you’re deep in it.

While many people talk about parenting challenges, these conversations felt especially intimate because we dove deep into the “mother-daughter dynamic” and noted that it’s rare for “strong mothers” to anticipate the complexity of raising strong daughters, and how our relationships evolve as we move through life. There are inherent dances, adjustments, and hurt feelings.

There are shifts of female power, breaking of hierarchies and the birth of new ones.

* * *

In the first few years of motherhood, learning to be a mom means a shift away from prioritization of self and practicing how to put your children’s needs first. That’s not to say (in the words of Cleo Wade) that we choose motherhood OVER personhood. But motherhood necessitates mastering basic nurturing and it quickly evolves to finding a balance between caring for their falls, encouraging them to get up and try again, and making sure you have enough fuel in your own tank to keep everyone going. In these early days, mothers (and fathers) are inherently the givers, the teachers and the foundation, with our own needs becoming secondary out of necessity. While overwhelming at first, that “sacrifice of self” becomes a core part of our definition and the process of “giving without thought of return” is an important muscle to build.

As our daughters grow, the focus shifts from nurturing them to empowering them: making sure that they feel the freedom to safely try, experiment and fail without the judgment of societal norms and expectations and without the fear of disappointing us with something that isn’t perfect. At that adolescent stage, the role of parenting still revolves around them, but transitions from teaching to listening and from protecting to encouraging. We gain strength from beginning to let go: holding the proverbial door open as they push away and lovingly welcoming them back when they need a safe haven. We have to be strong in order to let them try things themselves instead of doing things for them, and they become strong by being given the power to make age-appropriate (and sometimes age-inappropriate) decisions for themselves.

As girls grow into women and live with other strong females, the “power” in the house is not always collaborative. This is where the comparisons between women often emerge. Mothers walk a precarious line between modeling strength while not being so strong that we overpower them. We try to show that we can be moms, wives, daughters, employees, leaders and volunteers without setting unattainable Superwoman standards of achievement. We allow ourselves to be increasingly transparent and vulnerable, yet not so vulnerable that our role as “household stabilizer” is suspect.

In essence, as they come into adulthood, we try to artfully tame our reach so we don’t block out their light.

Simultaneously, our daughters flex their own muscles, and create self-definitions not just based on their unique interests and skills, but also based on qualities that other women in their female circles do not have. Each woman, whether sister or friend, carves out space for individuality, freedom and differentiation from the other. In these pivotal coming-of-age years, growing into strong women is often a study in how to stand out and be unique, including how to carve out an authentic and unique space — including a space that is different from our mothers.

For those of us who have tried to be our very best selves, our daughters’ autonomy can feel like a painful rejection after a lifetime of care. It’s a new and necessary evolutionary relationship phase for them, and another growth-moment for us as well. Instead of moms being brave while we let our daughters grow, they begin to assert their strength by letting us go.

They are not “letting us go” from their lives, of course.

But they are appropriately creating their own cadence, priorities, families and boundaries. By necessity, we are no longer central. Instead of asking for direction, they tell us about decisions. Instead of asking for help, they tell us not to provide input. They are now strong and independent, just as we had wanted them to be. But is it what we had wanted for ourselves?

This is maybe the hardest phase yet for us moms. At least it’s the hardest phase for me thus far. To have successfully raised independent and capable daughters, we should be flying high. It’s what we set out to do. Yet their independence and strength mean that they don’t need us or want us to behave in the ways that we are used to, and that can feel like a rejection, a dismissal and a diminishment. Instead of being a frame for how to move through life, we become the frame for how they want to do things differently than we did.

It’s important during this time to create new chapters for ourselves as our daughters do the same. We have more time to pursue passions, to re-activate activities that had taken the back seat during the hands-on years, and to dream about our next life chapter.

* * *

Our personal growth doesn’t end when their adulthood begins: ours begins again.

The phase of mutual growth is awesome. As two generations of women, we become stronger side by side, shining light, sharing wisdom and holding space for each other. These days allow for the development of deep roots, the blossoming of our own fruit, and the spreading of seeds for generations to come.

This is where I am now. So happy to be in sync with the other strong women around me, and so glad to be finding pieces of myself that had been neglected for so long.

What will come next? Since you can’t know what the next phase feels like until you’re in it, I’m guessing… and worrying. Will it be that one day in the not too distant future, the circle of life will meet itself, and our strong daughters will become the nurturers of us? On one hand, it will be fabulous to know that the women we cared for will now care for us. On the other hand, no strong mother wants to lose her ability to care for herself or to become dependent. It will take a whole new form of strength to receive and accept care.

Mary Oliver wrote, “To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

Raising strong daughters feels like life-breathing: a cycle of holding close and letting go, of exchanging air and seeing the world through each others’ eyes. It’s through the synergy of grown women that we set the stage for future generations to hold tight to their autonomy, to keep the maternal bonds eternally connected while creating a legacy for the women who will follow us through the world. I feel blessed to be in that powerful cycle and am practicing my exhale.

* * *

What are your experiences in the cycle of life? Whatever they are, you are probably not alone.

Share it Small: Talking about the unexpected phases of motherhood and parenting is the first step in gaining support and finding people who can commiserate, connect and collaborate. When you express your concerns, feelings, hopes and challenges with the people around you, chances are you will both feel relieved and more connected.

Share it Big: Break the cycle of pretend perfection and share your challenges on a broader level. Whether it’s a discussion in the workplace about the balance of being a working parent, or on social media where the tendency is to only highlight the glowing, gushing moments, being real will set the stage for others to do the same.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a break-through, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

February 2021

The other day, I took a bite of a homemade chocolate cookie with powdered sugar sprinkled on top. It was no ordinary cookie. In one bite I tasted not only the cookie but my childhood.

I could see myself with my mother and my grandmother, rolling chilled chocolate balls in our sticky palms, and then tossing each one lovingly in a bowl filled with powdered sugar. While baking, chocolate vapor filled the house, and through the oven glass, I could see the powdered sugar splitting into cracks as the chocolate expanded underneath. The cookies were still warm when we ate them, and the moment was warmer still.

I’m amazed when senses trigger memories.

The smell of microwaved broccoli with cheese sauce still returns me to my pregnant (nauseated) self, the sound of a crackling fire puts me right back on the beach at Useless Bay where our family spent childhood summers. The sight of a seashore pulls me to search for shells and agates as I did for years with my mom and sisters.

How will the smells, sights and sounds of this current moment show up over the years to come?

• Will the sound of a ringing doorbell immediately cause us to salivate and expect to see the Uber Eats delivery driver?
• Will the sight of people in masks trigger fear, or cause us to cherish the memory that masks were the reason we learned to smile with our eyes?
• Will the smell of a t-shirt worn for the third day in a row be sweeter because we remember the time we could wear it thrice… or because we’ll never do that again?

* * *

Don’t get me wrong: I’m as ready as everyone else to move back to more normalcy. I can’t wait to be able to hug again, to invite strangers into my home and to eavesdrop on the conversations of couples sitting next to us at the crowded restaurant.

But I also know that this time is worth savoring. I’m savoring mine because this has been the moment when I gained clarity about who my dearest friends really are.

In this year of hiding, my truest friends were perpetually seeking.

I could feel them looking out for me through their texts, and I could read love between the email lines. Even when they didn’t say it out loud, I could hear affection during our phone calls. I could see that they were thinking of me through the little surprise they left at my door and in the pages of a favorite book that they forwarded to me in the mail. A couple of them even sent me love-filled, hand-written letters. They made it obvious that I was in their thoughts, and I hope I conveyed to them that they are whom I would choose to be with whenever I could.

I have learned over the years that when the going gets tough, the best, deepest, truest friendships rise to the top. I will remember this time as a moment that happened.

It will be no future surprise to look back and see that it was during this time of both isolation and love that my closest friendships were formed or cemented. In fact, two of my dearest friends and I used this moment to extend our connections into something broader — something that could spread beyond our inner circle and hopefully give others a bit of what we get from each other.

This is the moment when Bring a Friend was born.

Bring a Friend is a podcast created with the intention of sharing catalytic moments and authentic experiences to a broader circle. A way for everyone to feel the love that comes from beginning to truly know someone else’s truth, and to care.

I hope you’ll take a moment to think about who has risen to the top for you when the going got tough. Those are the memories worth savoring, connections worth treasuring and friendships that are palpable.

What a wonderful way to be reminded that when we were alone, we weren’t really alone at all.

* * *

Who rose to the top for you?

Share it Small: Has this past year given you clarity about who you’d prefer to spend your time with? Can you see where the love is coming from? If so, tell them, and make a concerted effort to continue the love-fest even when the pace of your life returns to a more familiar rhythm.

If you don’t know how to start, try using a fun prompt like one of these:

• I love you more than hot ramen soup delivered on a rainy afternoon.
• I’d rather chat with you than binge-watch an entire season of Schitt’s Creek.
• You make me feel like I look good, even in yesterday’s sweatpants

Share it Big: It lifts everyone to hear about moments of caring, and feelings of being seen. In fact, as we gleaned from the research for The Parlay Effect, people hearing stories about moments of connection, generosity and kindness (all expressions of love) began replicating those behaviors themselves. How about starting your own cascade of love by living your moments out loud for others to witness and build from?

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a break-through, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

February 2021

Have you heard about throwing a frog into boiling water?

The story goes that the frog will immediately jump out of a boiling pot, but if you put it into cool water and slowly turn up the heat, it won’t notice and will boil to death.

That was me and my aching back.

Having had degenerative discs for over 20 years, I’m used to my back hurting. I can barely remember a day when it didn’t hurt. In fact, I have had three ablations, numerous epidurals, and daily stretching and strengthening to keep it in check.

Lately, when the proverbial heat got turned up and the pain got worse, I chalked it up to a preexisting condition, aging, and the stress of the moment.

I accepted increasing pain as something I just had to live with.

But after about six weeks of sciatic agony that reverberated down to my calves, I realized I was nearly at my own boiling point.

I had expected the MRI to show degeneration and stenosis. It did. But I hadn’t expected the MD to find a cyst filling with fluid and literally butting up against my spinal column and nerves. That explained the dramatic increase in pain.

Two days later, that cyst was drained.

When I woke up the morning after the procedure, I could have sworn I’d dropped 20 pounds or suddenly developed the ability to fly. I felt light and agile. I could breathe fully. I could walk or even jump around the room. And I did! It was a Benjamin Button moment.

But, these moments of relief are not ends in themselves. They are moments for context and new beginnings.

They mark the time for us to open doors to move forward again. They are moments to remind us about our greatest potential when we are operating at full steam.
Of course, in my rejuvenated state, I went out the next day and played better golf than I’ve played in years.

But, as you might guess, I’m not really talking about my back pain.

* * *

While watching the inauguration this week, I sensed a similar sense of relief and movement – but this time on a national level. I felt physically able to breathe again and was energized by the lessening of the pain that many of us have been feeling about our country’s internal strife and discord.

For me, the inauguration felt like a weight had been lifted and that we had regained a communal sense of pride. I sensed renewed energy, hope and potential to be reunited.

I realized that over the past few months, we had all become frogs in danger of being slowly cooked together.

These moments of context are windows to jump out of the pot and to make leaps beyond the boundaries established by yesterday’s suffering.

Yes. My back is still “disintegrating.” That hasn’t changed.

Yes. As a nation, we are still wounded, and those wounds will take some time to heal.

But the pain which felt ever-present over the past few months has been reduced a bit – just in these first few days. Many of us can now see the potential for a future that we had feared could never be reclaimed.

It feels like a moment to take great frog-leaps forward.

We’ll do it by using this renewed sense of possibility to treasure the moments of light, to take advantage of countless opportunities for connection, and to unleash the potential in each of us to change the things we care about most.

If we are all watching out for each other when moments of pain creep back in, we will know the warning signs, and be able to nurse the wounds for each other, and turn down the heat together.

We are our sister’s keeper.

In the wise words of Amanda Gorman:

There is always light,
If only we are willing to see it.
If only we are brave enough to be it.

* * *

How will you channel this new chapter?

Share it Small: Make a pledge to yourself to initiate good. Pledges and commitments keep us self-aware and checked-in. They are a perfect reminder of our personal commitment and our broad-reaching connection, and the potential of what each of us can accomplish when we focus on it.

Share it Big: Commit to making progress on a more public platform. Lead by example and tell people why you are doing it. Shut down divisiveness by giving it no place in your life. Help heal old wounds by taking responsibility for your piece. Speak up for people you don’t totally agree with and find common ground. Each step we take is one step closer to each other, and often the steps we take are replicated by those who are watching.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a break-through, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

January 2021

My sisters and I often talk about our childhood and how certain experiences shaped us to be who we are.

But when I recall the moments that were pivotal for me and how they influenced my view of myself or my world, Rachel and Suzy often don’t know what I’m talking about. They remember events very differently or maybe don’t remember them at all. That’s because they were my moments, not theirs.

Lately, these conversations have led me to wonder about how each of us will recall the past year. Not just how my sisters and I will remember it, but how we will remember it as a society.

Like most people, I crave clarity, agreement and a shared view of events. I’d love for us to have memories that allow us to connect through common experiences and allow us to plan for the next time we face monumental challenges.

But I’m worried we won’t find common ground because our memories and truths are shaped by many variables and are made even more complex because we subconsciously write and rewrite those experiences over time.

* * *

Scientists say that our brains update memories to make them more relevant and useful for us, even if the re-written story is not a true representation of the past. In fact, we rewrite our memories so many times that things that we would recall with complete clarity and conviction may never have never happened… or at least not in the way we remember.

We are not liars.

In fact, the subconscious re-writing of memories is a way we maintain our mental health. We do it by “imagery rescripting” or editing negative memories to create more meaningful or happy ones. Imagery rescripting helps us feel more in control and less despairing.

As long as our own recollections aren’t imposed on the healing memories that serve other people, why not use these natural coping mechanisms to self-soothe and move forward?

The key question though, is whether we really can self-soothe while also coming back together with others who don’t see the world as we do. We’re so fragmented right now.

My daughter Ciara is a therapist. She says that in her world there is a practice called, “Both, And”

“Both, And” is a way to validate your truth, someone else’s truth, and to agree that there is more. 

* * *

No one’s narrative and recollection of a story is necessarily truer than another, and the more we search for right and wrong, the less connected we become.

It’s the “AND” that keeps us together. 

In fact, we grow not because we share the same story, the same perspective, or the same goals, but because there IS more yet to come, and together we can create and find those connected experiences.

My aspiration for 2021, therefore, is for more ANDs. More mutual acceptance and more opportunity to craft experiences that we can share. More times that we chose to allow for our own truth and to allow for others’ truths too.

And, in the words of Mary Oliver:

Someone I loved
Once gave me
A box full of
Darkness

It took me years
To understand
That this, too,
Was a gift.

* * *

Do you have some experiences where finding an “and” was meaningful for you?

Share it Small: Tell someone who allowed space for your truth that the acceptance mattered. It sounds like a small thing but the positive feedback will encourage both of you to find more “ANDs” moving forward.

Share it Big: Help start an “AND movement” by being open and vocal about accepting others’ experiences and views as valid, even if you disagree. It’ll open up conversations AND so much more.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a break-through, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.