Radical acts for anyone who wants to change the world
Snow Day
This Tuesday morning, we woke up to the news from my daughter’s teacher that there was no school. “Snow day!” it said. “Stay safe, see you tomorrow!”
Great, I thought, as timing is always impeccable. That day, I was promised a day for myself, as I had graciously been gifted a free day pass at Kripalu (a world-renowned yoga and mindfulness institute only minutes down the road).
So… I did what every mother would do.
I wrote my daughter a note (daddy would have to read it, of course), I even drew her a Christmas tree, some snowflakes, and an odd-looking Santa. “Mommy will be back in a few hours, have fun in the snow!” I dug up the kids’ snow gear, laid them out at the hallway bench, and let my husband know there were waffles in the freezer. Then I left him with a kiss on the cheek and some words of encouragement. “You got this, babe!”
There was no way I wasn’t going to miss out on my day.
Kripalu, in itself, with its location overlooking the mountain range, buffet of vegan and ayurvedic foods, schedules filled with yoga and mindfulness, and hiking trails, is worth any visit. But I also really needed this day for myself, a chance to return to my own spirit in a time of life that is wonderful but (let’s be real) quite overwhelming.
Then also, something quite unexpected — a realization. A remembrance. A call back to something sacred. It was a whisper that grew into full embodiment during our 30-minute morning meditation: this is where it all begins.
Where Imagination Lives
I remember an interview with writer Elisabeth Gilbert years ago when she was asked how she keeps her creativity alive.
“Oh, when I finally cracked that code, that’s an easy one!” She said. “As long as your vehicle (mind, body, spirit) is taken care of, creativity flows on its own.”
Those words stayed with me, and they also played a profound role in our decision to leave NYC for a quieter life a few hours north. I knew that what she said carried a lot of truth because not only had I experienced it myself, but it hit a chord with a deeper sense of wisdom.
We carry so much untapped magic within us. There are so many ideas yet to explore, so many creative endeavors to give into, and so many opportunities for a radically different presence here on Earth. However, when we’re out of alignment, even from the smallest bit of stress, we cannot access that treasure trove of expansion.
We keep running the hamster wheel of “the world as it is.”
What we need to know about stress
I’ve covered this in more detail in previous issues (check out this interview with neuroscientist Norman Farb), but there is something very important we need to understand about stress. When we stress over something and get hooked on an idea, feeling, or perception of the world, interesting things happen in our brains. The sensory part, where we take up information from the world as it appears this very second, gets weakened — in chronically stressed and depressed people, this part is almost completely shut down.
Instead, we begin to rely on our prefrontal cortex and preconceived ideas of the world. We get snarled up in our views of the world, ruminate on the problems we stress over, and get stuck in an unforgiving loop of “This is what it is!”
We try to think our way out of it, but that only digs us down deeper, as rumination on the problem will only enhance the belief that things are wrong. We cannot see the world for what it actually is, only what the brain has pictured from past experiences. And without the sensory brain present, the imagination of future unseen things becomes almost impossible to gain.
In other words, we get stuck. And many times (if not most), we keep reiterating the same problems.
Does this seem familiar?
If you can recall that icky feeling when you’re caught on an idea that your colleague doesn’t like you, or that you did a terrible job at your presentation, or that your boss is probably going to fire you because… then you can probably also recall that thinking more about it didn’t work, in the least!
The only thing that finally calmed your nervous system was probably a step outside, a walk, or a talk with a friend about something completely different. You allowed your sensory part of the brain to reenter, and with that, a new sense of ease and clarity took shape.
You stepped away from your own story.
Reflect on this for a moment as it relates to our collective work in co-creating a new reality here on Earth. How much do we get stuck stressing and ruminating on what isn’t working? And if our practices of self-care and embodiment fall short, how can we ever see our way out of that mess, if all our brains feed us is evidence from the past and wrongdoings?
My point is (which came to be so profoundly in my meditation), imagination and creativity begin here — in a sacred in-breath, and an exhale of trust: There is room for unimaginable tomorrows.
A plot twist
I’m finishing this piece four days after I started it, with a whirlwind of days behind me. I could pretend I’m in the same state of mind that I was when I began, but that would leave out a critical piece of the story.
It’s now Monday morning, and I’m coming off a weekend with the kids — meaning full-time parenting of both little monsters, 24/7. Now, I know this is the beautiful reality of so many parents (so maybe you can relate), but naturally, my husband and I had decided it was a wonderful time to paint our kitchen (never underestimate the work and time needed to repaint a “nook”).
What else? My son is going through a developmental leap and is clingier than ever. My daughter, however wonderful, can easily become annoyed when restless and does not want her brother getting in her space — or any of her toys.
The icing on the cake was that my son turned one yesterday, and we had planned to have our family over to celebrate (Hey, fam, come visit our chaos!). My husband wanted the kitchen to be somewhat ready before hosting. I had decided to bake our baby a healthy smash cake (because, don’t good mothers at least try?), meanwhile, the house hadn’t been properly cleaned in what seemed like forever. Tension built, miscommunication happened, and in that beautiful chaos, my son tried to climb out of his high chair, fell face forward on the table before him, and ended up with the biggest bruise I’ve ever seen on a baby’s head.
He cried, I cried, my daughter started crying too, fearfully asking what had happened. I snapped at her and told her to give us space. I yelled at my husband for not helping me get the kids ready, and instantly blamed it his fault.
It left me in a place of despair, sad I was “ruining” my son’s first birthday (a day he will never remember), and I couldn’t seem to snap out of this state of mind for hours. We finally decided to postpone the party, and instead, had a cozy family night in.
I wish I could say it stopped there, but at bedtime, none of the kids wanted to fall asleep, and my husband and I, both exhausted and in desperate need of any time for ourselves, cracked. We fought again, and it honestly took it out of me. I felt small, unseen, depleted of… everything.
I finally crawled into my daughter’s bed, and we snuggled to the lights of her porcelain Christmas tree hitting the ceiling. I began the night nuzzling my face in her newly washed hair, calm settling back in. It was magic.
After a rather sleepless night (between feeling wired, unable to settle, and tending to my now-one-year-old, who still wakes up every two hours), I ended the night in my other child’s bed, his warm body heavy on my forearm.
In the early hours before crawling out and praying it wouldn’t wake him, I lay thinking about this piece that I wanted to finish. Could I really write about a peaceful state of mind after a weekend like this?
But then I realized that everything we just went through only fed into the bigger message I wanted to convey, which is this:
If we don’t take radical care of our bodies, minds, and spirits, we will keep running on empty.
And when we do, we will fight over old problems, waste time in the dumbest of places, and miss the opportunities we currently hold to radically imagine whatever comes next.
One of my practices of sanity, joy, and inspiration: a few minutes with my coffee outside before the day begins.
One of my practices of sanity, joy, and inspiration: a few minutes with my coffee outside before the day begins.
Back to Elizabeth Gilbert’s words of wisdom: if the vehicle isn’t in good care, the portal to the sacred is blurred, potentially even closed shut. There’s no access to the world of possibilities, either within or outside of us.
And then, we get stuck.
So, in a time when being stuck is the most dangerous thing, let’s seriously ponder this for a second. How open are you to the possibilities of tomorrow? How aligned are you with the inner guidance, creativity, and curiosity that can guide not only you, but the world around you, forward?
It’s a busy time of year. Many of us reach mid-December feeling scattered, emptied, tired, longing for the break that will bring us back home. That’s okay, but when that break comes, I invite you to find (real) time to reflect on what you want 2026 to look like. Like — carve out some time between cookies and movies to journal on what you (actually) need in the new year to fill your cup first.
Things worth journaling on:
What areas of my life are taking more than they’re giving?
Where do I let my energy seep, and how can I close the source of that leakage?
What boundaries might need to be set? What “no’s” need to happen to give space for more “yes’s” to things that are actually important?
What new routines and practices (they can be small) could I create to enable myself to live life with more clarity, joy and grounded intention?
I will end this piece (amazed none of the kids have woken up yet, it’s almost 7:30!) with something profound that came through to me the other day:
“The only thing that will steal life from you is the feeling you harness in every moment.”
— My higher self
The words appeared out of nowhere, and I spoke them out loud to my husband. “That’s right!” he said, and we linked up in some spiritual agreement. I smiled from the inside out, reflecting on our chaotic little life and how much meaning it brings us, albeit driving us half crazy. Because if it’s not for this, then what do we do it all for?
Our kitchen will get done at some point. We’ll find another time for Lucas’s party. And in the meantime, I’ll get back to the practices that fuel my soul like nothing else:
Radically reimagining a different tomorrow. Are you with me in that quest?
