Possibilities of 2024: The Strength of Being Soft

You are invited to rest here. What possibilities arise when you give yourself space to soften?

Hello, dear ones. Welcome to the Poppy Garden, where I explore the possibilities that emerge through presence and share poetry, practices, and photography. If this is your first time hearing from me, feel free to explore my inaugural post. If you are back for the second time and chose from everything you could be doing to stop and read these words, I am honored. Thank you for being here in this space with me.

May the Poppy Garden be a space for us to breathe, to stretch, to soften, to be.

A persistent poppy blossoming in December, 2023

As with most newsletters and marketing campaigns at this time, I will be addressing the unapologetically evident elephant in the room, that is, the tendency to set intentions, resolutions, or goals at the beginning of a new year. I personally enjoy the opportunity to give myself a fresh start and consider how I want to feel and be and what I’d like to experience. The beginning of a new day, month, moon cycle, season, or year inspires me to realign with my values, ethics, and what is most important to me.

Yet, too often, I come across the same stale obstacles (i.e., perfectionism, procrastination, not practicing what I teach). Even when my intention is to treat myself with more grace and compassion, to be more patient and loving, and to accept my imperfections, I witness myself struggle with stubborn, hypercritical self-talk.

And, I like to spice it up a bit and judge myself for getting stuck in these patterns, all while feeling quite justified for this harsh self-judgment, given that I teach about mindfulness, emotion regulation, and compassion all year long.

“Ugh, this again? I should have already figured this out.”

So even if I can’t abide by my values or follow through on my intentions, at least I get to be right about how much I suck… so that’s a win, right? :)

[[ I’m lovingly teasing myself here, but thankfully, I’m quite confident that this very challenge is part of what helps me teach these skills because I deeply understand how difficult they can be to implement. We do not always do better when we know better… and I have this thing where I grow older but just never wiser.¹ This is all part of being human, and I am comforted that it’s not just me who deals with this. ]]

Anyway, old habits die hard, I suppose. Isn’t that what they say? It feels too true.

And yet, last July, while sitting outside in the cool Colorado air between sessions at our retreat, my dear friends and co-teachers Brooke and Kelly and I were checking in, and Brooke shared, “You know how people say old habits die hard? I was thinking… what if new habits live soft?”

One by one, these magic words planted themselves in the soil of my heart.

I don’t remember what else happened in our conversation, only that I, as usual, felt deeply nourished by our connection.

After our retreat², I returned to my daily life, and unbeknownst to me, these words took root deep within, waiting to break through the earth as a tiny bud months later.

The autumn season came and went, initiating a disturbing, devastating, turbulent, tragic, and confusing, as well as sweet, exquisite, miraculous, satisfying, and inspiring few months. If we are paying attention, the world is some mixture of this at all times, it seems.

And then, in slow motion, it was suddenly December.

The annual pressure to reflect on all the things and set new aspirations for the year to come had arrived. And yet, I was not in the mood for my standard hours-long journaling activity. I already knew how I wanted to feel and be this coming year because I’ve been wanting to feel and be this way for so long. I keep making the same intentions and goals because I keep not following through on them … Old habits die hard, right?

On a walk with my mom, I shared my intentions and the pressure I was feeling to improve myself at this point of transition. Sometimes it feels like every new month or season is another reason to resent myself for making the same mistakes.

“That’s why I like to think about what I can do just for today,” she offered.

Once again, my heart received these words, but this time it felt like warm, golden syrupy sunlight on a cold winter day. Yes. These are familiar words. Just for today.³

Their simplicity can be misleading because there is so much wisdom and humility in this phrase. “Just for today” acknowledges our inherent impermanence and honors the preciousness of our lives. We cannot commit to something forever. Commitment is a choice we consistently make moment after moment, day after day, breath after breath. Just for today.

Setting intentions, resolutions, goals, or deciding new habits can be another way we set ourselves up for disappointment because we hold the unrealistic expectation that we can start doing something completely different from here on out, just like that. However, growth and change are not as linear as we like to think, and old habits die hard… right?

Maybe, but what feels more true is that new habits live soft.

These words are now a small field of wildflowers blooming radiantly in my heart, swaying in the sweet winds of change and reminding me of the resilience and fortitude of soft things.

To be soft is to be present.

Softness is frequently misunderstood as weakness or powerlessness. Yet, softness + patience + diligence are what allow water to carve out canyons⁴. Soft power is the way.

Self-compassion is framed as soft, as if that is a bad thing. If you have ever truly practiced self-compassion, you know the bravery it takes to be honest with yourself, to face your inner turmoil, and to trust the slow emergence of inner wisdom.

To embody the magic of “new habits live soft” is to remember that the conditions we are in right now, just as we are, are exactly the conditions we need to begin again and again and again. It doesn’t matter so much how often we get off track, only that we keep softly, gently, returning to the sanctuary of our hearts. This is the practice.

At any moment, no matter how messy or distraught we feel, no matter how long we have forgotten what we meant to do, and no matter how imperfect we think we are, we can give ourselves grace and begin again.

Every moment of presence is full of possibility.

Each time we begin again is another choice to embody the strength of softness, to live with the wordless knowing of our divine heart as our guide.

May all your (new) habits live softly, just for today.

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Today’s Poem

I wrote this on January 22, 2022, after it had snowed in Durham, North Carolina. I woke up to a thick layer of bright white snow coating the trees out my window and I immediately went outside to explore. The sky was blue with a bright sun, and there was a gentle breeze that blew snow into the air like diamond dust. I was in complete awe and bliss. The following photos were taken during my spectacular adventure in the parking lot of my apartment. Whether or not it snows where you are at this time of year, may you experience hygge, and cozy contentment, like I did with the snow.

rest here

snow rests
where it can be held.
it lands 
softly
slowly
silently
in the embrace
of a 
naked branch.

fallen trees
offer their 
mossy shade.

the open ground
invites each crystal
to arrive
in its spacious field 
of loving awareness.

quietly and
together
it grows deeper
and enriches the brightness
of its velvety blanket
that keeps us warm
in a hearth of enchantment.

awe like a flame
illuminating the inner sparkle
of each fallen flake
swirling and resting-
soft and radiant.

i listen to the stilling motion
the flurries of stardust
misting and mixing 
with my breath.

i hear nothing.
i feel everything.

a twinkle of cold
upon my cheek
like a kiss from a tiny angel.

i am here too,
merging with the
glitter as it descends.
floating in wonder,
i rise up to meet the source,
lifting my heart 
toward the sky.

i allow myself to rest
in the midst of this luminous cloud
that i find myself within
where i remember the entire cosmos.
yes this is where i shall rest
like a rainbow rests in light,
like a snowflake rests in flight.

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Today’s Photography

The previous poem refers to the marvelous experience I had encountering the etheric beauty of fresh snowfall. I wish you could feel the invigoratingly chilly air on your skin and hear the subtle crunch of my boots as I walked with delight and wonder. The scenery is both majestic and ordinary. It’s the resplendent yet unremarkable view of my balcony, the road, parked cars, and apartment buildings. Treasures can be found anywhere. (You’re always welcome to use my photographs as inspiration for your writing or art practice.)

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Today’s Practices

Writing prompts:

Choose any, all, one, or none of these invitations to journal about, contemplate, or discuss in conversation with a loved one. Start with one word and see what unfolds.

1. What (new) habits (or intentions or values) are living softly in your heart today? How can you make space for these habits in your daily life? How can you show yourself grace when you forget?

2. What does it mean to embody softness? What mindsets, perspectives, decisions, or actions allow you to access the power and strength of softness and gentleness?

3. How do you want to feel and be this year? What can you do, just for today, that will allow you to feel and be this way?

4. Free-write about what you learned in 2023, what you’re composting, what you’re forgiving, and what you’re bringing with you into 2024. It’s not too late.

5. Free-write about how you want to feel at the end of 2024. What choices can you make, just for today, that will bring you closer to this possible future?

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Body care:

At any time of day, set a timer for 3 - 9 minutes and let yourself soften. If you can, lay down somewhere that feels supportive to your body. Nothing special to do here but breathe and let each exhale soften something.

Inhale deeply, exhale completely. As you breathe out, soften your eyes, your forehead, your jaw, your shoulders, your belly, your legs, your hands, your toes, your mind, your heart. Breathe in and breathe out at your own pace. Soften as you breathe and let spaciousness flow where there is still tension.

If you’d like, you can rub your hands together to warm them up and then let them rest over your eyes, your heart, your head, or anywhere else that feels soothing. Let your breath carry rivers of loving energy wherever you need it. Breathe, soften into stillness, and stay as long as you’d like.

When the timer goes off or the practice feels complete, let yourself gently stretch your arms and legs, roll your wrists and ankles, and notice if there is a bit more mobility or ease in your body as you move about your day. You can also try this for 30 seconds at a time throughout your day and notice what becomes possible with softness.

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Fun affirmation:

Over winter break, I went on rollercoasters for the first time in many years. I am afraid of them, but I like to do something that scares me once in a while. As we waited in line, I felt apprehensive and questioned why I was choosing to do something so terrifying to me. I happened to be standing in line with a friend of my niece’s, who is 8 years old and absolutely adores rollercoasters. I said out loud to no one in particular, “Wait, why am I doing this again?” and she responded enthusiastically, “Because it’s fun!” I invite you to bring some fun and playfulness to your reflections and daily practices this year. Why? Because it’s fun! 😄

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1. Thanks for the common humanity, Taylor. Love you. 💜

2. Teaching with Kelly and Brooke is a sacred gift, and perhaps I’ll share more about this year’s retreat another time. If it feels like something you are curious to learn more about, please feel free to reach out.

3. “Just for today” is one translation of the beginning phrase of the Japanese Reiki Precepts, which are five principles to recite before practicing Reiki. I am not qualified to teach about Reiki but have found its practices profoundly meaningful, and the five precepts are powerful centering guides for daily intentions and ethical living.

4. Tao Te Ching - Verse 78 by Laozi (Lao Tzu)

P.S. Future offerings of the Poppy Garden may be shorter for the ease of writing and reading. Although the length of this newsletter will vary, the invitation is always to savor what calls to you and let the rest go for now. Read at the pace of grace.