You know that saying “Can’t see the forest for the trees?,” the one that describes being so focused on the details that you miss the big picture? I had one of those forest-seeing moments the other day and, lemme tell you, it was better than finding $5 in the pocket of my jeans.
My kiddo asked me over PB & J: “What’s your dream job, mama?”
Holy shit, I thought as my answer came out, almost on its own. “Well, it’s the one I have right now: teaching yoga and writing a book.” Holy shit, I thought again. I’m actually doing it.
Holyyyyyy shitttttt!!!!
I mean, sure, I’d like to scale the operation. Make an income that’s a little more self-sustaining. Get the book published and not just *talk* about getting the book published. But the BONES are there.
If you’ve ever been to one of my workshops, you know we spend a good chunk of time whether the life you’re living lines up with the one you want – and, if it doesn’t, that’s a pretty good sign that change is in order.
Then what? Well, then we get bold… we think through the tradeoffs and consequences… we commit to some major choices (which may or may not be popular with everyone who thinks their opinion matters)… and then we work, HARD, at turning big dreams into reality.
It’s not usually a quick process, but eventually, over time, as we do the work, we begin to notice that all the little trees we’ve been cultivating have grown up and become a forest. A FOREST OF OUR OWN.
Over time, as we do the work, we begin to notice that all the little trees we’ve been cultivating have grown up and become a forest. A FOREST OF OUR OWN.
Question is, do we pause often enough or long enough to look for the forest? Do we step back and take stock of our new situation in order to notice when – egads! – we’ve actually found the alignment we’ve been seeking?
That’s what I’m doing today: celebrating freedom by pressing pause on the hustle to appreciate the results of a series of choices, to smile at my string of little trees that, when lined up together, have created the beautiful forest I’m standing in.
I hope you’ll pause and appreciate your forest, too.
