Tag: reselience

Sparkling Sugar and Clouds

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”—Rumi

✨ When Hope Begins with a Thimbleful of Light

For days, we had lived beneath clouds, rain, and oppressive humidity. As I stepped out of the car early one weekend morning, everything felt heavy—what I imagined it being like to try to move through swampy waters, only without the alligators. Something caught my eye. I looked up. Directly within my line of sight was a thimbleful of light parting the clouds. It was not enough to brighten the sky or change the weather. It was just enough sunlight to remind me that the sun was still there. It made me think that sometimes hope begins with no more than a thimbleful of light.

Too often, we expect the feeling of hope to have a dramatic entrance, like a scene from a sweeping epic. However, hope often arrives in a quiet, almost understated manner. One encouraging moment: a phone call or text message, a kind word, a small answer to prayer, perhaps even a small patch of blue overhead.

When I later opened my car door to drive home, the overcast weather had not changed, but neither had the sun. It was there, somewhere, above all those clouds. It occurred to me that sometimes our circumstances haven’t changed—only our awareness. That tiny patch of sunlight stayed with me the rest of the day, though I didn’t realize just how much until lunchtime.

🥣 A Little Pizzazz for an Ordinary Day

Later, as I made fresh coffee and prepared my lunch—a mix of vegetable sticks, oatmeal, and yogurt with fruit—I decided to add some pizzazz to my meal. I reached for a bottle of sparkling sugar and added a pinch across my oatmeal and yogurt. For an extra bonus of fun, I also sprinkled a few chocolate sprinkles. It’s not that I wanted my lunch to be dessert, but rather I wanted a symbolic reminder.

That sprinkling of sugar and chocolate did not solve anything. The weather remained gloomy, and the humidity was stifling. Yet it allowed me to transform an ordinary meal into something playful—something that brought a smile to my face and my heart. I was reminded that sometimes joy begins the same way hope does—in small, almost unnoticed ways. 

🔎 Searching for the Hidden Picture

As a child, I spent a great deal of time in doctor’s offices. I remember the yellow Highlights magazines that always seemed to be waiting in those offices. One of my favorite features of Highlights was the “Hidden Picture” page. I’d search that page in earnest, not seeing anything at first glance. However, once I found one “hidden” item, my excitement and confidence would soar, even if I was really sick, and I quickly began finding one hidden object after another.

Life, too, can work that way. When we focus on what we are missing, that is what we see. When we begin to search for small gifts, we suddenly discover they were scattered across life’s pages all along: a sliver of sunlight, sparkling sugar and sprinkles, a fresh cup of coffee, a cool breeze, birdsong, a shared laugh, a thoughtful text, or even the peace of a house settled in quiet. None of those remove the clouds. But they do remind us that we aren’t living only in darkness. 

⛅️ The Sun Is Still There

The hidden sun, those long ago hidden pictures, that sparkling sugar—the weather never changed that day. What changed was the picture I was looking at. Gratitude is not about pretending. Joy isn’t denial, and hope isn’t ignoring reality. They remind us of what is equally true–that clouds are real, but so is the sun. Hardships also exist, but so too does grace. 

To be sure, there will be more cloudy mornings. I hope that when I next encounter gray skies, I’ll remember two things. Somewhere above those clouds, the sun is still shining. And if I examine carefully enough—or perhaps add a pinch of sparkle myself—I may discover that joy is also hidden in the picture all along, waiting to be found. Sometimes all it takes is a thimbleful of light.

Fighting Reflections

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

A cardinal, a window, and a lesson in perception

🐦‍🔥The Cardinal Is Back

“Guess who’s back?”

My husband’s message came through my AirPods as I ran early one Saturday morning in May. Then, in quick succession, two more messages followed. One was an image of a cardinal in mid-flight, attacking a window that I would later view on my phone. The other said, “It’s our crazy cardinal friend from last year who won’t stop banging the window. Tippi (our cat) is going CRAZY!”

Ten or so minutes later . . . “OMG! The Boy (our neighbor’s outdoor cat) just jumped as high as the window and nearly caught the bird. Feathers are flying!”

Thus began the return of our daily sound effects. Beginning at first light and continuing off and on throughout the day until full dark falls, we hear the thuds, the whams, and the kerthuds of the colorful, but crazed, cardinal attacking either the bay window or the large picture window at the front of our house. 

I added window clings “guaranteed to prevent even the most aggressive birds” from attacking the windows, but the sounds and the grotesque bird droppings that demand frequent cleaning tell a different story. Watching the cardinal attack from the outside while my 18-year-old cat keeps a vigilant watch—as though her aging joints were a force to be reckoned with—I frequently find myself shaking my head, wondering what on earth the bird thinks he is accomplishing other than a headache. 

From a biological point of view, I get the cardinal’s motivation. He’s naturally driven to fiercely protect his mating and nesting territory during this time of year. When he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window, he thinks another male is encroaching on his territory. So he attacks by charging and pecking the glass. Then, when he sees his own aggressive movements, he thinks the “intruder” is attacking back. This causes the cardinal to get even angrier and more aggressive, perpetuating the endless cycle of attacks.

The Problem Isn’t His Determination

 I admire the bird’s determination. The problem is not his determination; it is his perception. He isn’t fighting another bird. He’s fighting himself. 

🪟When We Keep Hitting the Glass

How often are we like the determined cardinal? How often do we keep mulling over and returning to the same argument, the same disappointment, the same heartache, the same resentment, and so on? How many times have we tried to change someone who is not yet ready to change? Yet our perception and determination trick our minds—and hearts—into thinking we can. 

We convince ourselves that “If I explain it this way, one more time, then they will finally respond this way.” 

“If only I try harder, then this will finally happen.”

“If only I push, pull, arrange, help . . . just a little bit more, then this will all fall into place.”

And yet, nothing changes. Like the cardinal, we keep hitting the glass. We may have warnings and interruptions that should cause us to reconsider—much like The Boy tried—but our misguided perception has convinced us otherwise.

The cardinal has lost countless feathers. His droppings, no doubt increased by his own anxiety, are piling up alongside those feathers for me to clean up. The bird spends untold energy defending itself from an enemy that isn’t there.

Humans, myself included, do a very similar thing. We spend untold amounts of emotional and mental energy, lose precious time, and sacrifice our peace trying to defeat “something” that may only exist in our minds due to our perceptions. Sometimes the “enemy” is not another person, as we may think. Sometimes the so-called battle is with ourselves, our assumptions, our fears, or even our need to be right. The toll is real. The bruises are real, even when the battle is not.

🧐Seeing More Clearly

The cardinal lacks the power to recognize his own reflection. Humans can. We have the power to pause and ask: “What if my perception is off?” or “What if my focus is fuzzy and I am not seeing correctly as a result?” 

This may mean stepping back in order to stop “banging our heads,” as it were. It may mean taking another look and examining the situation with a fresh perspective in order to identify what is really there.

I am reminded of my most recent eye exam.  “Do you prefer A or B? Is C clearer than B? What about D?” the doctor asked as she adjusted the lenses.

The doctor went from one eye to the other until finally she revealed the view with both eyes properly adjusted. What a difference in clarity that made when I was asked to read that bottom row for the third time.

Wham! I hear the cardinal as I write this. Kerthud! Ugh, that flash of red hurts my head in sympathy for this poor bird. His endless resolve to keep fighting causes me to feel tired for him. 

Every morning, since that first Saturday in late May, Mr. Cardinal is back, convinced that his rival still exists. I watch him and wonder. How many of my own battles have looked exactly the same? How many times have I mistaken my own reflection for a rival, misperceived the reality of a situation, or spent so much energy fighting glass?

The cardinal has become a daily reminder that sometimes the most important change is not changing what stands before us, but changing the lens through which we view it. 

Succeeding at Being Old: What an 18-year-old cat taught me about adaptation

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

Sometimes the greatest lessons about aging, resilience, and self-compassion come from the most unexpected teachers.

It Was Supposed to Be “Easy-Peasy” 😌

“It’s so intuitive!” I was told. 

“The GPS and data are so much more reliable.”


“The battery lasts so much longer.”

I had been considering switching from one brand of smartwatch to another. Fellow runners recommended it, but so did friends and family. My husband especially encouraged the switch because I had purchased one for him years earlier.

Still, I researched and debated the switch for years before finally deciding to “set the clock,” as it were, and buy one from a local shop. The team at Robert’s Running and Walking helped me set up my new watch. They assured me that it was “easy-peasy,” and I would “love it.”

Three days into owning one, I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel—or in this case, throw the dang watch through a window. I questioned my intelligence for buying it and wondered whether I had reached a new low in technological competence. I kept asking myself, “What’s wrong with you, Steph?” 

My struggles with the new watch were not an isolated event. It was one domino in a series of small incidents that sent me spiraling into the I-am-so-stupid mindset. This negative self-talk, I have noticed, has become amplified with age. It is quite astonishing to see how quickly I can move from, “I don’t know how to do this,” to “There must be something wrong with me.” 

A Better Question 🤔

During the height of my “something is wrong with me” stretch, I came across a social media creator who became an unexpected teacher. Actually, it was the creator’s moniker that caught my attention: “Whatstrongwithu”. I love a good play on words, so this turn of phrase really stood out to me. 

Later, as I was preparing for bed, running through the day’s events with the outlook of the children’s book character, Alexander, known for his “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days,” I had a flash of inspiration. What if I flipped my inner dialogue from “What’s wrong with you?” to “What’s strong with you?” like the moniker. What abilities, experiences, persistence, curiosity, kindness, adaptability, or perhaps even wisdom do I already possess?

Then, my mind wandered to the previous week’s scare when we thought we would lose our beloved 18-year-old cat, Tippi-Tail. After beginning a new medication for hyperthyroidism, she developed alarming side effects and seemed to rapidly decline. We quickly scheduled an appointment with our veterinarian, fearing the worst. Fortunately, her symptoms turned out to be a short-lived reaction to the treatment, and her bloodwork revealed she was doing remarkably well for her age. 

Tippi-Tail’s Nine Lives 😸

Reflecting on her life further, I thought of her “nine lives”, although, truth be told, she’s had about three. When she was young, Tippi acted impulsively. In fact, we often called her “wild” as she went rip-roaring through the house, knocking over plants, and attacking our then older feline friend, Bobbi with wild abandon. We would correct her with a squirt from a water bottle and a firm “no,” but she was fearless, looking at us with her big-eyed stare of indignation. 

During her middle years, our home became busier and noisier with another cat, another dog, and our energetic daughter and her friends. The fearless kitten who once charged through the house with wild abandon was now more cautious, often retreating under beds or into closets when her world became too stimulating and overwhelming.

In recent years, since the passing of all other pets and our daughter having moved out, Tippi has become an affectionate, cuddly pet. She is now a lap cat who drools when she’s petted as her motor runs. Even more surprising, she greets guests instead of going into hiding, and will even allow them to pet her or occasionally honor them by curling up in their lap. 

Learning to Grow Older 👵🏼

It dawned on me that Tippi-Tail wasn’t meant to be the cat she once was at two years old. She can’t jump as high or move as quickly as she once did, but she still leaps into the window when the neighbor’s cat appears. Her body has changed, yet she grooms herself with meticulous care. Tippi isn’t failing at being young. She is succeeding at being old. 

At my age, my body may not move as it once did when I was younger. I may not learn new technology as quickly as I once did. I may need more recovery time than I once did. In fact, I may have to adapt how I do certain things, but that adaptation doesn’t mean I am failing. 

Watching Tippi-Tail adapt to each stage of her life reminded me of something I needed to hear myself. Like Tippi-Tail, perhaps we aren’t failing at being the younger versions of ourselves. Perhaps we are learning how to succeed at who we are now. 

Maybe the question isn’t, “What’s wrong with you?” Maybe the better question is, “What’s strong with you?” What strengths do we already possess that can help us navigate the challenges in front of us?

Embracing Limitations: Lessons from the Asheville Half Marathon

by stephsimply, posted in Travels

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”–Prayer for serenity

The Blue Ridge Mountains outside of Asheville, NC.

“the mountains are Calling . . .” ⛰️

I had been training for months, despite the challenges winter threw at me. Cold? I can handle it. Snow? I can run in it. Gusty wind? I can run that too. However, after my husband, John, and I crested hill after hill making our way into Asheville, North Carolina, I knew the town’s half marathon would offer a whole new level of challenge. 

To be clear, participating in the Asheville Half Marathon was an insignificant hurdle compared to what the people in Asheville, and all of the other residents of the surrounding areas/towns along US 23, have been facing as they deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene.

Driving along US 23, John, and I were able to witness that six months after Hurricane Helene angrily chewed through a large portion of the western Appalachian region, the recovery is still ongoing. However, the willful, and not-to-be-deterred, spirit of the residents was unmistakable. 

Rooftop view from Asheville of surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains.

A Tale of Two Sisters 👧 👧

This past fall, not long after Helene hit, the high school in which John and I work, welcomed two sisters into the student body.  They were from the Asheville area and were staying with relatives while their parents and older brother dealt with the devastation and destruction back home.

The girls were engaging and well-poised, especially considering their circumstances. Over the course of a couple months, I got to know them–not well due to the short duration of their stay–but well enough to swap personal stories from time to time. 

When they learned that like their dad, I often trained for half marathons, they immediately invited me to run the Asheville Half Marathon in March. They explained that by the time spring rolled around, the community would not be fully recovered, but the local economy would need the boost that runners and the accompanying spectators could bring. 

“You should definitely come, Ms. Hill.  You’d like the people of Asheville, especially the running community.” 

Once Asheville High School opened, the girls returned back home. And though I haven’t heard from them since, they planted a seed that grew into a shoot of curiosity. 

Runners were asked to sign the board stating why they ran.

Sign me up! 📝

Around Christmas, I checked the Asheville Marathon/Half Marathon website, and the powerful and persuasive prose describing the event increased my interest. The website’s editors artfully articulated the community’s belief in the significance of the annual running event. They stated the course’s route would not be “pristine or predictable.” Therefore, the event was for those who “thrive on resilience.” However, the line that sealed the deal stated, “If you’re ready to run in the face of adversity and be a part of Asheville’s comeback story, we can’t wait to see you on the start line!” 

John and I at gathering with other runners and spectators at the starting line before the race began.

Ready, set, Go! 🏁

Soon enough, on a chilly, dark March morning, I waited at the starting line with approximately 2,200 runners from 40 states and three countries who also heeded the call to help support Asheville, according to The Weather Channel. The positive vibe was palpable as runners mingled with spectators. Nonetheless, I was feeling a bit nervous as I recalled the half-marathon route’s elevation gain was nearly 800 feet, and its elevation loss was over 900.  

And, it was hilly.  From start to finish, there were no flat stretches. In the beginning, I read spectator signs claiming, “It’s all downhill from here,” with hope. It didn’t take long to realize those signs lied!  Even the finish line required running uphill, but I am “running” ahead of myself.

Running is a metaphor for living life, and it is always whispering (or sometimes shouting, as this event seemed to do) lessons to those of us willing to listen. Accepting limitations–was the lesson those relentless hills of Asheville taught me. Which makes sense since this is what many of the residents of Asheville and the western Appalachian area had to do during, and now after, the storm–accept and deal with limitations. 

Whether literal or metaphorical, storms of life cause us to suffer. As I repeatedly tried to power through those uphills during the first half, my ego kept telling me to push harder, creating suffering. However, as a late-in-life runner lacking inherent running talent, the reality is that race events for me are more about creating motivation and structure to consistently get me out the door to exercise. At the end of the day, I am not about to set any records; I am not even close to winning my age group, so why was I pushing so hard?

And so, it was on a hill, not long after milepost seven, that I decided to accept my limitations. Sure, I had trained on hills at home, but nothing like this. Why not power walk up the rest of the hills, and then run the downhill portions?

Asheville taught me to accept my limitations.

There is a newfound freedom in accepting one’s limitations 🏃‍♀️

Once I accepted my limitations, there was freedom. I had a new way of being present with the race challenges as they unfolded. This acceptance gave me permission to slow down, take in the sites, and feel a sense of gratitude for my health and ability to make this trip. 

Additionally, by walking the hills, I had more energy to offer encouragement to fellow runners I encountered who also seemed to be struggling. (After all, I run at the back of the pack, where we could all benefit from a little encouragement.) Furthermore, I was also able to offer thanks to the spectators who manned drink stations, rang cowbells, or waved motivating signs with clever phrases such as, “Touch here for power,” “You’re stronger than any storm,” or “You’re running better than our government.” 

By the time I crossed the uphill finish line, tears filled my eyes as I raised my hands in the air.  No, I wasn’t celebrating a personal record, but instead, I was able to celebrate that I crossed the finish line with grace, humility, and a lesson learned. 

The AVL finish line of through which I would later cross humbled, and grateful, by another lesson running once more provided me.

The lesson? Transforming suffering can only occur if we are willing to be with it and accept the limitations it creates. Accepting limitations can be transformatively freeing, allowing us to lean into newly created possibilities we may not have been able to previously envision. I am not saying that accepting our limitations is not easy. However, once we let go of ego and embrace humility, it is possible to embrace the freedom that comes with focusing on what we CAN do.

Thank you , Asheville! I walk away from the finish line with grateful heart and a lesson learned. Furthermore, thank you, Hannah and Allison! I wish your family the best! 💜

Embracing Darkness: The Lotus Flower’s Lesson of Hope and Resilience

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Most people are afraid of suffering. But suffering is a kind of mud to help the lotus flower of happiness grow.  There can be no lotus flower without mud.”–Thích Nhất Hạnh

FAcing Difficult Days 😟

How many of us have endured through difficult and murky situations?  How many more of us have observed/supported a loved one undergoing a dark and/or dire situation?  Whether it is personal suffering or suffering of a loved one, we have all either experienced or observed painfully dark days; I know I have. 

Sometimes the difficulty can create so much suffering, it feels as if a pack of wolves have hunted us down, snipped and yipped at our heels, and are now chewing away at our insides.  Sleep may no longer feel like an escape, and even if part of the difficulty causes physical pain, it is often the pain caused by our own minds and heart that can hurt the most. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Quotes to Get you Through 📝

There are a couple of quotes and an image I have come to appreciate over the years. They tend to come to mind when I feel knocked down by life. I think of them as a mental antidote for counteracting my fear when facing down a difficult situation.

Keep getting up no matter how many times you fall.

One quote is a Japanese proverb: “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” This saying is hope-centric, and it means a great deal to me.  It serves as a reminder that no matter how many times we make a mistake or life events knock us down, we must still find a way to get back up.  This doesn’t mean it’s easy.  Sometimes, all we can do is claw, crawl, and clatter until we find the resolve and strength to stand once more.

Rise like the sun

Another inspiring quote by Maya Angelou: “Still I rise.”  While the author writes of her oppressive and challenging experiences as a black woman, the phrase’s universal theme of resilience in the face of struggles can speak to all of us. Those three words are filled with a bold defiance in the face of suffering.

Photo by Celeste 2305 on Pexels.com

Lotus are Adaptable 🪷

Both of those quotes culminate in the symbol of the lotus, the ultimate emblem of perseverance and tenacity. This aquatic flowering plant has been admired and a part of lore for centuries.  The more colorful lotus are tropical in nature and are most notably found in Asian countries.  However, the lotus plant is quite adaptable, and an American variation can be found along the east coast in waters ranging from Ontario, Canada to Florida. 

Lotus Persist 🌱

Because the lotus plant grows in a variety of environments, it has developed a method of ensuring its continuation. Once pollinated, the lotus releases large quantities of seeds into the environment. Many of these seeds will be eaten by aquatic life; however, the seeds, as I understand it, are quite durable.  Some lotus’ seeds can get up to 1.5 inches in size, surviving for several years, long past the life of the flower.  In fact, the seeds can persist in conditions that would prevent many other types of seeds from germinating. 

Lotus Aren’t AFraid of The Dark 🌑

Once germinated, the seeds begin sprouting in the mud, sending roots down even deeper into the muck.  Depending upon the plant and the depth of water, it can take from two weeks to two months for the plant to grow up to six feet tall through the murky water. As the round leaves reach the top of the water they can fan out in width up to 36+ inches wide. Once the plant has fully surfaced, the flower will begin to grow and ultimately bloom. 

Short life, Deeply rooted 🙏

Each American Lotus flower, with its butter yellow petals and fragrant aroma, will only last a few days, opening its petals during the day and closing the petals at night. The blossom appears to be free floating, but it remains rooted in the mud. During its short duration, the flower will bear seed pods that resemble the end of a watering can or shower head, ensuring multiple seeds from each flower will be dispersed back into its environment.

Lotuses ShaRe 🫱 🫲

Both the seeds and roots can be eaten, and parts of the plant can be used for medicinal purposes. Seeds pods can be dried and used in flower arrangement.  Additionally, due to the fact that lotus flourish easily in a variety of areas, even in the murkiest of waters, these plants provide shelter, habitat, and food for a variety of aquatic wildlife.  Each fall, however, the plants die away.

Gifts can arise from dark places

Therefore, the lotus is a prime example of the way in which gifts can rise from the darkest of places. Despite the fact the lotus is born in the mud, it rises to stand victoriously every spring.  Upon rising, its blossoms bear seeds to ensure it has a way to stand back up.

Seeds of hope, help, and healing

Beyond the fact the lotus has planned for its inevitable fall, it also offers seeds of hope and nourishment for others. Each flower produces an overabundance of seeds, many of which will settle into the mud for rebirth, but many more of those seeds will provide food for other living creatures. Additionally, those mud-buried lotus roots also provide nourishment not only to the plant itself, but can also nourish others.  Not to mention that the plant has medicinal qualities, offers shelter to others within its aquatic community, and beautifies a variety of environments.

Photo by Hiu1ebfu Hou00e0ng on Pexels.com

Lotus Life 𑁍

Let us live like the lotus flower. When we experience those dark and difficult times in our life, let us root down into the loam of our soul and allow faith to germinate a seed of hope. By rooting through the muck and into the nourishment of our faith, we can rise. It may take weeks, months, or even years, but we can rise and blossom once more.

Once on the surface, it is our job to produce good seeds of hope and help for others.  Even if our calm waters fade away and we find ourselves sinking into the inky dark once more, still we can rise.  We have done it before; we can do it again.  And with each new revival, our blooms can continue to offer more gifts to the world.  No matter how darkly rooted our past or present was/is, no matter the number of times it occurs, we can stand up, we can rise, we can bloom, and we can embody the lotus, offering shelter, nourishment, and healing hope to others.