by Natasha | Sep 3, 2025 | connection, Shame, Vulnerability |
For the past two and a half years, I’ve been consciously downsizing my life to make more room for what really matters to me. It’s been a process of many steps to both explore ways to tangibly put this into practice and help decondition my pattern of constantly setting goals, planning, working, doing and achieving. It’s not that these skills aren’t or weren’t important, but my soul was calling for less — or more — depending which way one looks at it. More space in between all the work, time to pause and be present in my day, more time with my loved ones, for my inner state to be calm, flowing and at times still.
I have no problems with doing. I’m hard wired for it from years of it, and I’m very good at it. Twenty-six years ago I married a man from tribe in Africa with no formal education, passport or way to support us. In order to be together, it was quite literally all on me and I took on this challenge with vigor. This meant I worked in Canada to save enough to go to Kenya and live with him until the money ran out and I’d repeat it all over again. Five years into our relationship we moved to Canada and for the seventeen years we were married, his larger income went to our daily living and my smaller income, went to all the extras. There was always a plan and I was always saving for something — buying our first home, trips for him to go visit his family in Kenya, trips for us to bring our children to visit his family in Kenya, and adopting our daughter from Ethiopia. Looking back on all this, it’s not lost on me that I chose the hardest path possible. It was as if some inner force was propelling me to choose and even create situations that required me to work harder and do more. Not a year went by where I was just living solely for what was happening right in front of me. “Someday I will have time to rest” I told myself, meanwhile making plans to do more.
When I became a single mom 9 years ago, my skills at planning and doing supported me to buy my husband out of our house, take on the mortgage on my own, build a successful business, support my kids on one income and even have room for extras like professional development trainings, family travel and trips with my lover. This was all good, and yet in all the planning, rushing and doing, I began to notice a feeling of misalignment within me. I was supporting clients with connecting to what was authentic for them in their life and intimacy, while at the same time, rushing from session to session with little to no space in between to be present to the voice in my own body saying that something wasn’t right for me. When did the work that I love so much start to feel like work? In my “down time” I often felt overwhelmed and frustrated by tasks of daily living that were stacked on top of each other every weekend. Was it all necessary I wondered? Maybe at one point it had been, but at some point it just became my normal.
This summer we took a trip back to Kenya to visit my children’s family who had cared for me as a young, nineteen year old woman so many years ago. I felt like a shroud of shame was covering me from my divorce, and was terrified of being rejected by them. Would I see blame and anger on their faces for initiating the end of my marriage? As the days led up to our visit I felt resistance build in me to go, as if my legs were knee deep in mud. I tried to find reasons to delay and still — the day arrived. As I walked towards the village surrounded by three of my children and my new husband, I saw the colored cloths of the women’s dresses stand up and move towards us. The sounds of the women crying brought up the tears in me as I ran into their open arms. We cried and hugged — my hands feeling behind them to touch the small, round heads of their babies on their backs. Finally stepping back to look at them, I saw in their eyes acceptance, love and family.
As the days went by we caught up, laughed, told stories and talked about the divorce — how worried they were and had no way to contact me. I told them about my shame and subsequent regret at how it kept me away and from contacting them for so long. Slowly, I felt the shroud of shame loosen it’s grip and fall from me, landing like a thud on the dusty, dry ground below. When the dust settled, I was surprised by how much weight that seemingly small shroud carried over me and how it had — even with all it’s heaviness — acted like a propeller pushing me to do and achieve and prove that I was enough. I realized this shame was there like an appendage throughout my teen years and early adulthood, guiding my decisions even before my divorce. It was fed by the endless pursuit of trying to be enough and, because nothing ever felt like it was, it was fed well. This shame had been a part of me for most of my life and yet strangely, in that moment, I felt more me without it.
The weight of the shroud gone and my propeller now quiet, a distinct feeling of stillness, ease and space has replaced it. In an effort to support this feeling in my body to become my norm, I’ve set a goal for the next year of working less and having no goals. 🙂 Nothing that requires, steps, planning and saving. If things come up that I want to do, I can do them if I have the means. If doing them would take me out of this feeling of stillness, ease and space, or require that I work so much it becomes a chore, I won’t do them.
In this stillness, ease and space, I can feel my souls’ more.
by Natasha | Apr 23, 2025 | Body Awakening ©, Self loving/masturbation, Vulnerability |
Bundled up all winter, it’s easy to forget how sensual my body feels when it’s unencumbered,
open and exposed in nature;
On a break between client sessions,
I walk outside, take off my shirt, lift my skirt to my waist
and lay down on the old couch in my back yard.
Like a flower, my body turns slightly,
drawn towards the warmth of the sun and
I connect to the inhale and exhale of my breath.
As my belly rises and falls,
I feel a light breeze touch my legs,
dipping down between my thighs…
up and out again.
My body shivers, registering this surprise sensation.
My legs fall open, hoping it comes back.
As I wait, I notice a brush of air at my feet,
along my right arm, across my nipples and up my neck.
It’s dancing along my skin the way my lovers hands do.
My breath quickens.
The breeze swirls around my face,
taking a few strands of my hair with it.
I imagine the air as fingers lightly twirling my hair around them.
It feels so real, I’m tempted to open my eyes and see if anyone’s there.
But I don’t.
I keep on breathing.
The air stays still for what feels like minutes.
My body arches upwards, begging it to come back,
waiting and wondering where it will touch me next.
Then I feel it, like a soft exhale trailing along my breasts and stomach.
My breath stops.
The air loves to play.
My body loves being played with.
Feeling it’s delight, I wonder for a moment,
Is the air touching me or am I touching it?
It’s all perception.
I lay there, time irrelevant,
marveling at how the air knows exactly how to touch me,
as long as I’m present to feel it.
Like any great tease, I don’t want it to end
but eventually my timer goes off.
I put my clothes back on and
go back inside to meet my next client.
Cheeks flushed, body soft, smiling.
I wonder if they’ll see on me,
the face of a woman who just made love.
by Natasha | Sep 27, 2024 | Body Image, connection, Intimacy, Raising children with a healthy sexuality, Sex and mothering, Vulnerability |
As I work with clients bodies helping them learn to feel safe in intimacy, I’m brought back to my time in Kenya learning that our roots of intimacy grow from our initial familial relationships. I sometimes wonder if instead of working with adults I should go back to supporting parents in learning to attune to their infants unique language of expressing needs. But then I realize, I’m playing a part in reparenting the infant inside each of the adults I have the privilege of touching. This story is based on what I learned from the Maasai mama’s that I think so perfectly describes the potential for intimate wisdom that can come from our earliest relationships.
Nashipai spends her days with her four month old baby Kimaren, strapped to her back while she milks cows, cooks, repairs the walls of her cow dung home, and connects with others in her village. From his position on her back he can see the world as Nashipai sees it, experiencing all that she experiences. He feels her muscles flex and bend as she prepares food, fixes walls and goes about the tasks of daily life — absorbing a sense of capability from her movements. With his little body folded fully around her back, he feels the confidence in her posture and a sense of rightness in what she’s doing. Kimaren’s body connects to this feeling and intuitively holds his own back naturally and comfortably straight against his mamas. Sometimes, when her movements become rhythmic — like when she’s mixing porridge or milking the cow — he gets mesmerized by the sensations of their shared rhythm, belly against back. The rhythm of their movement creates a hum deep inside him, something he’s later surprised to realize is there, even when they aren’t moving. Sometimes his hum will start buzzing without mama starting it, and his round little body will wiggle. Responding to his movements, Nashipai laughs, sways and twirls as Kimaren lets his head fall back, giggling with joy at these simple moments together.
Other times, Kimaren will feel a change in his mama’s movements that don’t feel free or flowy like they normally do. This happens when Nashipai is learning something new and isn’t skilled in it yet. On his perch on her back, he clunks along with her clunks, learning in time that as long as they keep going, the clunks will eventually become confident, swift and knowing movements. It’s uncomfortable getting there and he much prefers when she confidently flows, but each time it happens he gains capacity in the unknown that comes before the knowing.
When Kimaren feels an uncomfortable emptiness in his tummy, he wiggles against Nashipai’s back for help to make it go away. Nashipai, who’s learned what this wiggle means, slides him around to her chest and offers her warm breast for nourishment. Feeling the soft roundness of her breast against his cheek, Kimaren opens his mouth and begins to suckle. The empty feeling in his tummy is replaced by the warm milk and, once full, he contentedly falls asleep. This symbiosis helps him at times when the uncomfortable emptiness arises and mama is in the middle of something that she can’t stop right away. Using her soft, soothing voice she tells Kimaren in words he feels but can’t understand, that what he needs will come in just a few more minutes. It’s uncomfortable but, because she always responds, Kimaren has come to trust his needs will always be met. So he waits.
Later, he’s woken by an uncomfortable feeling of fullness and again wiggles to tell his mama. Nashipai, feeling the difference in this wiggle, responds by gently lowering him to the ground and holding his knees up to his chest. Recognizing the cue, Kimaren lets the water fall from between his legs onto the dirt underneath until his tummy feels comfortable again. Mama always knows just what he needs because she’s always listening.
Nashipai knows everyone in the village, and with Kimaren’s cheek resting on her shoulder, he gets to know them too. He especially loves to see the faces that make mama’s body get soft and warm and he notices his own body become soft and warm in response. One face in particular lights mama up so much it feels like there’s a fire burning deep inside her. Kimaren watches this face and notices the way their eyes and body open towards mama like they’re inviting her in. His heart beats faster with hers and he recognizes a shared truth between the three of them; the truth of just how special mama is. His hum hums, and even though he can’t see her face, he knows mama is smiling.
Kimaren is most curious though about the faces that make mama tense and tighten, her hum go quiet and her fire dim. He notices that their eyes and arms are closed and they look down on her instead of welcoming her in. Kimarens body tightens against his mamas in response, and when she feels that, her hum starts buzzing inside her. All the muscles in her back go solid and he feels her body get bigger with every breath she takes. Even though the face was higher than mama before, it now seems like she’s looking down on them. Kimarens body softens in response to mama’s buzzing hum, and he settles against her curves, unafraid, soaking in a deep sense of her knowledge, capability, softness and strength. Being so close to mama, Kimaren is always listening too.
At night time, while mama lays beside Kimaren in their sheepskin bed, she traces her hands over the dips and curves of his whole body. Mama’s fingers are rough from hard work, but her touch is soft and curious and Kimaren senses her own pleasure as she lingers extra long over the grooves and folds of his chubby legs and neck. His body softens more the longer she touches, and he sinks deeper and deeper into the bed. Kimaren notices his hum is constant, like the purr of a cat. The feeling he has when mama touches him this way is something he can’t understand until he recognizes it later on in life when he’s a man touching his own wife and children in the same way that his mama touched him. Skin to skin, body to body …… this is the wisdom of intimacy.
by Natasha | Aug 23, 2024 | Erectile Dysfunction, Sexual liberation, Vulnerability |
This blog was written and shared with me by one of my clients in an effort to help other men with one of the most common issues that men come to me for. His words are honest, vulnerable and deeply self reflective.
“The work I have been engaged in as a result of our sessions and your guidance through the challenges I have been facing is deeper than I may have previously thought. I think it may in fact be life changing. My perspectives, feelings, and desires–each of these have been shifting and my mental, spiritual, physical, and emotional experiences have been responding to said shifts.”
From Boy to Man: Masculinity, Sex, and the Self
This blog is an autobiographical account of reflections on lived experiences and the subsequent analysis that showcases that for me the roots of male sexual disfunction go deeper than the physical and reach back further than the recent past or present. In what follows I will share and analyze experiences of my own life, connecting the roots of these past experiences to more recent experiences of erectile dysfunction (ED) and other foundational views about desire and arousal that were ill-informed and in need of address. I will conclude this by sharing my journey on addressing my erectile dysfunction and offer reflections that have come from being engaged in this deep, transformative, and even life-changing work.
The Boy
As a boy the seeds of arousal, libido, and sexual desire that were sewn in me were intimately connected with anxiety, competition, and a deep laden sense of inadequacy that barely permeated the surface: I didn’t find the problem so much as the problem found me. Early on earning female attention was represented to me as a game that I needed to win or an experience I needed to manipulate. I did not feel I was inherently worthy of love. The prize, ultimately, was gaining access to the ever-illusive experience of sex and the scarce message that I indeed was o.k., had value, and was worthwhile. These seeds were sewn in me by masculinity as taught through movies, television, competitive sports, older men, and pornography, all of which were initially presented to me in a formative way in grade four or five. The message was both clear and confusing but later unpacked to be: The sexual desire you are to control should also be insatiable, and your worth as a man is directly reflected in the opposite sex’s evaluation of you, of which there is no higher measure of success than sexual intercourse. Rife with power dynamics, heteronormativity, and misogyny, it’s a mystery that any of us would expect this messaging to yield anything healthy.
Masturbation
As the seeds of my sexual psychology began to grow, life also continued to move along. I found the satisfaction of masturbation during the same time that my home life became unstable and unpredictable. Turmoil, combined with the socially enforced idea that I, as a boy becoming a man, was supposed to cultivate an insatiable, almost uncontrollable sexual desire led me to form a deep bond with pornography. Pornography and masturbation became where I learned about sex between men and women, and a space where I could go to access pleasure that would help me cope with the dysfunction surrounding me. What pornography did not show me was what it meant to connect with a partner in a non-sexual way, or how to move through the courtship period of building a relationship, how to explore sexual pleasure and sexual connection with myself in a healthy way, or how to deal with and ease the pain of the non-sexual issues from my life in a manner that was not masturbation.
Wounds
Throughout my preadolescents and my adolescence, one of the most profound wounds I experienced was a lack of focused attention. I was routinely neglected and left to my own devices and in pornography and masturbation I found a way to access and provide for myself the focused attention that was lacking from my life that I so deeply craved. In addition to neglect, I received harmful messages about sex and women. The messaging that all too many men receive about sex is often toxic and can be very confusing. Boy’s and men’s messages about sex say that they do not deserve sex but that they need sex, that their sexual desire is shameful but is connected to their masculinity, that they have to fight and compete for sex, that sex is acquired or won, that sex is a measure of their worth as a person, and that they need to need sex to demonstrate their virility but also control their urges to demonstrate their power. Unfortunately, this list is not exhaustive. The amount of problematic messaging that boys and men receive about sex seems limitless. Finally, the messaging that young boys and men receive about sex also tends to dehumanize their sexual partners, reducing them to objects of desire and robbing all parties involved of true sexual pleasure.
The Man
Having now grown from a boy into a man, equipped with a daily pornography habit, my body began to betray me, making me unable to maintain or sometimes even achieve an erection. Scared, I was forced to address my body’s betrayal. The prescription, equally terrifying at the time, was to stop using pornography and to abstain from masturbation. This was terrifying as both pornography and masturbation were what I had previously used to ease the pain caused by wounding I had received throughout my life. Working through these fears and moving into healthier alignment with myself and my sexuality soon proved to be the most fun, interesting, and life and perspective changing work I had even endeavored upon. As such, I would like to share some of my reflections and learnings from that time, though it should be noted that the learnings are still coming—no pun intended.
Reflections
Reflection One: In stopping pornography we can come into closer, healthier, and deeper contact with ourselves, our partners, and our genuine, pure states of arousal.
Reflection Two: It has only been in my 30’s, without the use of pornography and daily masturbation, that I have begun to experience pure sexual pleasure, free from outside stimuli, motivating factors, or the drive of early childhood traumas.
Reflection Three: Masturbation and by extension my erectile dysfunction grew from dysfunction and wounding that harmed me far before I had the cognitive ability to deal with them in a healthier way.
Reflection Four: When abstaining from pornography and masturbation a critical component to my success was identifying triggers. Social media, television, advertising, everywhere we look, we are inundated with sexual imagery and inaccurate depictions of what it means to be a man that can trigger our arousal and push us to use pornography.
Reflection Five: If you are struggling with erectile dysfunction and trying to abstain from pornography or move forward in a new way sexually, give your body and yourself time to adjust before looking for results. This work is deep work and can be truly life changing. It’s worth taking time and being patient with yourself. Sit with yourself in a state of loving care and attention.
by Natasha | Aug 16, 2024 | Raising children with a healthy sexuality, Sex and mothering, Vulnerability |
Based on a true story:
There once was a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes that, from the moment she was born, was the delight of her mama. Observant and contemplative, mama marveled in experiencing through the little girl the wonder she saw in the world around her. The little girl loved closeness, being touched softly, cuddling and sleeping alongside her mama. She had a special connection with her grandpa who, with the strength of a carpenter, held her in his strong arms beneath the trees in their yard — watching the leaves above them blow while the breeze touched her face.
As she grew into a toddler and began interacting more with others, mama noticed that she often held back, taking her time to settle in and feel comfortable with new people and experiences. Being such a beautiful and curious little girl, many friends and family wanted to hold her and while she enjoyed them, she didn’t like feeling pressured to go to them. When this happened, her natural curiosity turned off and her body stiffened as she retreated back into the safety of her parents arms. Witnessing this, mama asked the people to simply invite her towards them with open eyes and smile — allowing space for her natural curiosity to draw her forward in her own time. The ones who listened to mama, delighted in the softness of the the little girls chubby legs as she sat on their lap, and the sing songy sounds of her voice as she chatted away. The ones who insisted on rushing her, were left disappointed that she chose to enjoy them only from the lap of someone else.
As the girl grew, so did her circle of people and she especially loved playing with other children. As always, she took her time at first, sitting on the edge, observing them and waiting to feel, without pressure, the readiness in her tummy drawing her closer. Invariably it would come and she would run off to play for hours and hours — occasionally looking back to check that mama was still there. Mama loved her little girl more than life itself and the only thing that could get in the way of that were when her own unresolved childhood wounds showed up. On one particular day, mama felt the pressure from other parents insisting her daughter play before she was ready. Feeling the need to please them, mama pushed her little girl to go and almost instantly was brought back to presence by the sight of her daughters little body contract and harden. Acknowledging her wrong doing, mama apologized and felt the little girl soften and settle against her chest as she held her, welcoming in space for her to reconnect to the feeling in her tummy that told her when she was ready.
The little girl grew older and taller, loving school, friends and spending time outside in nature. Sometimes, mama would watch her through the window laying on a blanket under a tree and looking up at the leaves above her. Intuitively mama felt that this was one of the ways her little girl connected to herself just as her grandpa, now passed, had taught her to do all those years ago. Other times she would, like any other kid, explore the world with her siblings, climbing trees and testing her body. Every so often she would stop and look at mama —questioning with her eyes how high she could go or what her body was able to do — and mama would respond “listen to your tummy, it knows best.”
The girl grew into a teenager who cared a lot about the world and the environment around her. She was tall and beautiful and, along with her contemplative and quiet nature, this made some people perceive her as aloof. She wasn’t at all — she just knew she needed space alone at times and to take time to pause and listen to her tummy’s wisdom.
When the girl began dating she listened to her tummy to set the pace of what felt right for her and knew that no one else’s desires were more important than what her body needed. “No ones gonna die if I say no to them” she told her mama. This seemingly simple statement touched something deep inside mama. She recalled her life long pattern of pleasing and as a result, internally bracing and guarding from touch that came from the feeling in other peoples tummy’s but not her own. Feeling unable to say no, made it hard for mama to feel when her tummy said yes. When had she forgotten to slow down and listen? Why had it taken her to this moment to remember that the wisdom she supported in her daughter, was innate to all of us?
Pondering this, mama went to her room, laid down on the bed and — with her hand on her tummy, turned her eyes towards the trees outside her open window — watching the leaves move and feeling the wind on her face. It took some time, but soon enough she felt something faintly familiar in her tummy — a resonance that she remembered feeling way back when she was a tiny little girl herself. “Listen to your tummy, it knows best.”
by Natasha | Jun 9, 2023 | Awakening, connection, Posts, Sex and mothering, Vulnerability |
I haven’t felt the internal pull to write and share my innermost self with a wider audience in so long. Maybe I’ve felt too tender, maybe I needed the space, maybe I was fulfilled with sharing my innermost with the people closest to me and in the spaces I hold for clients. I’m not sure exactly the reason. Today though, I feel that pull.
Last year I lost my friend Brenda. She was in the deep, early stages of grieving her son Thomas who died by suicide just over a year before. We weren’t everyday friends, but I helped raise Thomas in my daycare, our boys had been best friends, we bonded over beers, laughed at how we both felt inferior to each other for being a “better” mother and in particular connected through the vulnerability of loss and grief. I loved Thomas too and throughout preschool and elementary, I wiped tears from his eyes, told him how wonderfully kind he was to be such a good friend to the younger children in my care and cuddled him when he was hurt. I was his emergency contact, and I’ll never forget how my heart stopped the moment the school called to tell me he died. I’ll never forget Brenda collapsing into me inside her back door, with Thomas’ shoes still lined up on the mat ready to be put on. I’ll never forget the pain in my children’s eyes and holding my daughter Selam up as she struggled to stay in her body at his funeral.
I checked in with Brenda regularly after Thomas died and connected her to a suicide support group for grieving parents. That wonderful group became an absolute lifeline for her and, in my view, was the one place where she felt 100% understood in her grief. Still, I worried about her a lot. Thomas was her only child and I didn’t know a mom who loved their child more than she did. Brenda loved seeing my son Mateyo, loved talking about the times she’d taken him and Thomas to the Exhibition, or to their farm and how happy they were together. When she hugged Mateyo, I could see in her closed eyes that her hands reaching up around the shoulders on his tall, lithe body reminded her of hugging Thomas. I could see how it hurt her to let go.
We found Brenda on the cold floor of her bathroom one day in May, after she hadn’t responded to texts for 48 hrs. She’d been there, still alive in body but not in soul, for nearly 2 days after suffering a brain aneurism. Sweet Brenda who had devoted her life to her only child Thomas for 17 years and who would do anything for anyone, was gone. I remember standing on her front lawn with the paramedics taking her away thinking how in this moment so many things that had seemed important, just didn’t matter at all. Facebook didn’t matter. What people think of me didn’t matter. Being successful didn’t matter……
The first weeks after her death, I thought I was going insane. I’d never felt like that before. I couldn’t handle what I felt. The injustice of it. The pain of seeing her like that. The reality of her being alone for hours and hours in that state. I wanted to rip my skin off. Slowly, the pain eased and, miraculously it seemed, I started to feel okay again. I was sad, but I could be in my skin, and I was okay. The image of her curled up and soiled on the bathroom floor didn’t leave me though. I couldn’t help but think that even if I kept on living the rest of my life in service to others — my clients, my children — that I could still end up alone, dying on a cold bathroom floor too. If so much doesn’t matter, then what does matter? Like a curious observer, I stepped back and took stock of my life. I saw that I’d been running for years since my divorce, working several jobs to both cover up my guilt at ending my marriage, and make enough money to support my kids on my own. I don’t know if working that much helped the guilt, but I could see that I was able to support them and I might not need to work so hard. What was the cost on me? Was it enough for me to end up on my bathroom floor alone too? Did I want to work this much?
Slowly I started making changes by cutting back my hours at my job as an ADHD Coach and creating space for my Counseling practice, which provided enough income that I didn’t need to run myself into the ground. Why hadn’t I done that before? I’d been too busy creating self suffering in an attempt to alleviate guilt. Wasn’t being a mom all about sacrificing yourself? I started setting really firm and clear boundaries with my clients, children, friends. I quickly realized that I no longer wanted to work that job at all and started making a plan to quit. I hired a Coach and went to therapy to help me unravel the strings of guilt and self-punishment that were so deeply ingrained in me. When I became a mother, I did so because I wanted children more than anything else in the world. AND, I was afraid of facing myself and the other things I wanted for my life. I didn’t know I could have both. Motherhood was the ultimate way to sacrifice myself.
I kept going. My grief fueled me to do hard inner work. The layers of exoskeleton that had been removed through the past 7 years of stepping into vulnerability, uncovered a deeper set of layers. Layers over my innermost self, the part of me that isn’t just interested in meeting the needs of others. The me that has dreams of my own. I realized I was tired of how much work Bodysex retreats were and that I no longer wanted to do them in such a laborious way. I LOVED the circle of sharing, I loved the weekends with women, I loved how I grew and felt seen from them and I loved sharing pleasure. I didn’t love all the work before and after though. Maybe it didn’t need to be so hard….. I stopped offering workshops in Saskatoon and continued in Quebec where I had support with all the marketing, advertising, retreat supplies and food. I quit my job and made the decision to only Counsel clients 3 days a week and devote the other 2 days to something my innermost self was passionate about — writing a book. My work blossomed. The moment I quit my job (and I mean literally the moment), I had more than enough clients to fill my days and then some. Since then I have created a daily practice centering around myself and my passions — self-care, connection, health, pleasure and my work which involves all of that!
My days include space in between sessions so that I can ground and centre and think of the next person coming before they pass through my door. I say no to working weekends. I devote 4 evenings a week to going to the gym and 2 days a week to pilates – because my body feels great when I create space for it. I eat really healthy food, I drink wine, I walk every morning, devote time to enjoying pleasure, laughing and connecting with people I love. I can’t bring myself to advertise my work when I already have enough and don’t want or need to be bigger, more well known, get more likes or have more followers. I’m deeply grateful for what I have, and I just want to live my life from the innermost part of myself. I’ve noticed that in the space I’ve created, I’m closer to my mom, my sisters, my children. I’m more generous because I’m not running on empty ready to crash the moment I stop. I have space throughout my day to pause and feel and enjoy the moments.
I often wish I could tell Brenda how much she inspired me. How much I saw myself in her, how much I think of her in all the work I do, how much of an impact she has made on my life. After Thomas died, she told me that she could see her own pain every time she looked in the eyes of the homeless. She made a point to always look at them and had plans to devote her time to working with the homeless. I wish I could tell her that I saw myself in her too. In her loving devotion to her son, her outward care of others and in how she died. I know that could be me too. That could be any of us. That reflection changed me, and I’m forever grateful to her for helping me create space in my life for what matters. Spending time with people I love, smelling the lilacs first bloom in Spring, allowing others to care for me, the space to be present and ME.
In loving memory of Brenda and Thomas Schoor
