present

You Might Be Right…

Posted on by Geller Coaching

There comes a time (sometimes more than once) when the stars align in a completely different way due to unforeseen circumstances and you notice a significant shift. Your feet seem to step lighter, the ground feels more absorbent, and the air around seems to be clear. It is in that very moment that you can barely hear your own ego, and suddenly you hear your own voice whisper, “You may be right.”

And for once in your life, you are not talking to yourself. Well, yes, you are, but you are not referring to yourself in being right…again.

After many years of the most challenging life events I have ever had, though clearly not the worst there are to have…I have a sense of clarity I cannot ever recall having. I suppose it is not that surprising. Maybe after you have been stripped of the things you have always ‘known’, what’s left…is true vulnerability.

I am not quite sure what exactly got me to this point since I have been deeply working on myself for the past year and a half, but I know for sure there has been a shift. Not only in the way I see myself, but in the way I see others.

I can see today that what I hear coming at me is actually my perception of what is being given to me, that has first gone through years of being alive. Years of being engaged in meaningful relationships. Some great, some not so much. But all have left me with emotions in regards to how I perceive the present, how I perceive the future and how I perceive my life. That’s a lot of filtering.

It reminds me of the time I put a contact into my eye that already had a contact in it. That’s right. Two contacts in one eye. Now, if you are not a contact wearer, you might think, ‘now that would give you amazing vision!’ Right? Like if you held your eye to a magnifying glass.

But no, that is not what happens at all. It does not give you better vision. It does not provide even more clarity. What it gives you is a murky version of life. And since I did not realize what I had done, my brain tried desperately to make sense of what it could and could not see. Trying desperately to convince me that I had not in fact just gone blind…

If you wear contacts you might be thinking, ‘Well of course you can’t see better if you force your eyes to see through filters not meant for your eyes.’ However, I wrestled with vision for several minutes before panicking that I had just double dosed my eyes and wondered if my eyes had suddenly seen enough and had called it quits.

This is actually quite similar to what happens in our listening. Based on our emotions surrounding this person, this event, this thing, filters cloud our thinking and hearing. While we can hear the words coming at us, we may not necessarily be hearing what is said, but may be picking up on what we think someone is thinking. We may in fact be interpreting what is not being said. Or we may have already decided how we are going to respond before it is even heard, so therefore don’t listen at all. Either way, how we respond gets filtered through millions of past events and feelings and this simple conversation ends up being anything but simple.

It becomes what my eyes experienced, trying to see through a double dose of contacts and not providing an ounce of clarity or truth.

In addition to speaking from a place other than now, whoever you are speaking to will also respond from that far away place. It is then that the whole conversation becomes one hot mess.

So how do we have conversations not masked by previous emotions?
Here are some simple tips:

1- Create an intention. Are you trying to set the record straight? Are you hoping for clarity? Or do you genuinely just want to hear what someone has to say? Design it, commit to it and then set it in motion.

2 – Clean your slate. Come to the table and pretend that your slate has been cleared. Remind yourself that the past has no bearing on this present moment.

3 – Leave your ego at the door. Yes, I know that you know and you want them to know too. However, if you come to the table with that perspective, you might as well call it a day before you even get there. The truth is that you might or might not be right, but more importantly, in order to fully hear what someone is saying to you, you will need to stand in the place, that maybe…just maybe…you don’t know.

4 – Listen. Listen like it’s the first time you are hearing this person speak and then no matter how you are feeling, repeat after me: “You might be right.” Even if you are certain they are not right. Even if you are positive that you are the one that is right. Let it go. Create space for what is possible in the land of the unknown. You will be amazed at the possibility of what comes next. Trust me…

On the Other Side of Chaos.

Posted on by Geller Coaching

I couldn’t have known there was another side to the chaos that had transpired in my life, because I wasn’t fully aware of the chaos that had begun to surround me. I did know that my life had straddled itself in an endless spin that left me feeling dizzy on most days, and that it seemed an explosion of some sort was inevitable, but knowing just wasn’t enough. Because when you are in it, you don’t really know. You don’t know much of anything at all. You don’t know if it is temporary or permanent. You don’t know if you can control it in one way or the other. You don’t even know if you are contributing to it by simply being in it. And you don’t know how to make it stop. All you do know is a persistent feeling of overwhelm and despair.

Yet in the depths of real chaos, sometimes someone becomes just strong enough, or weak enough, that the whole thing blows up. It becomes not just chaos but a sort of madness that stirs the whole pot so intensely that it explodes. Pieces fly everywhere without real certainty of how it ever stood as one. A million pieces, representing your life, scatter all around unrecognizably…no sense of order, no sense of love, no sense of self. Just pieces, fragments of life with no place to go.

It is only then that darkness becomes so blinding you instinctually head for the light. You cannot see it, you cannot hear it, or feel it, but you know that you cannot stay where you are. That remaining in this one spot is no longer an option and that you must move with certainty forward and pray for light and solid ground. With your heart pounding, you just keep moving. There is no guarantee about what awaits around the corner, but it doesn’t matter. You just keep moving, knowing that whatever is next, will be better…safer…than this.

Sometimes the walk in the dark lasts only a few hours, yet can last for days or months, but you just keep going because there are suddenly no other choices.

Until one day, while feeling the sun brightly on your face, the quiet somehow catches you by surprise. It is only then that you acknowledge the peace that radiates from a place within that you did not know was available. It is then that you know you have found the light. That you have walked far enough away, that there are no more scattered broken pieces you once called life. No more darkness. That the quiet is not necessarily what is or is not around you, but what lies within you.

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It is only then that you are able to see and feel the other side of chaos that you often denied. It is only then that you can experience quiet and peace in a way that soothes your heart and soul. It is only then that you can hear your own voice, not what you have been lead to believe about yourself. Because on the other side of chaos, you will find yourself. As each layer slowly peels away, shedding off all the protective layers you once needed…you will find yourself raw and vulnerable. You will find the actual root of who you are. Not the names that someone once gave you…but who you actually are.

You will find beauty and strength, from the inside out. Courage and love, with an intense desire to do good in this world and a willingness, to do whatever it takes to have the life you want and deserve.  Only then will you notice the circle that has filled in around you, with people who support, accept, love and feel grateful for who you are…not who they want you to be.     On the other side of chaos…you will find you. A very happy you.

All That Wander, Are not Lost

Posted on by Geller Coaching

My fingers hit the keyboard gently this morning in hopes of finding just the right words to send to my people. “My” people…the ones that have so inspired me this year to honor my life and the way I want it. The ones who have struggled with pain, cancer, stress, chaos and even just the feeling of ‘is this really all there is?’ For those that have reached out for a hug, dared to scream ‘I can’t do this anymore!’ For those that wanted to simply give up, but instead decided to lie down and rest and for those that feel torment in their heart, but allow me to love them anyway. For all of you and more, I thank you for giving me the permission to touch your life, help alter your perspectives and trust me to tag along in your life. I have so enjoyed being a part of your life story.

It is only now that I am beginning to see the pattern each year brings. A clear balancing act between holding on and letting go and understanding that everything that comes at us is a precious gift we call life. A one time offer.

Yet as I continue tapping on the keypad, wondering what inspiring words will come from me next, something that I can offer my favorite readers as words to live by, words to carry into the New Year…I see this large blank slate reminding me of what matters most.

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Sometimes we do not have the answers. Not right now anyway.

If we can lean into that, lower our shoulders, soften the lines in our face, and quiet the ego, we can then be confident that the answers will come. Because they will.

It is in that faith that we continue to live our life with a full commitment to being the best we can be, not a constant image of ‘I will do better tomorrow’, but rather a commitment to honor our word and live life as if this is the only day we have…ever.

All that wander, are not lost.

Caving into feelings of exhaustion, asking for help, being silent, letting emotions overcome us or choosing to get off the path completely, doesn’t mean we have failed, are weak or have limitations. But rather, all show signs of strength in knowing oneself, our needs and our ability to lean in to our life in this moment. In fact, it is the true ability to be present.

So if you feel confused, frustrated about where you have been, worried about where you are heading or are fear that this is all there is, simply breathe.  Inhale all that is good, and then exhale, letting go of all that does not feed your soul. Only then, can you be present with the blank slate in front of you. The unknown does not have to be a place of darkness and fear, but an opportunity to redesign what you already have and appreciate all that is within you.

As the New Year begins I wish you all at least a few moments to wander, and see just how great you really are.

No Gift Quite like the Ability to be Present.

Posted on by Geller Coaching

I walked into the clubhouse last Saturday to sit by the fire and read for a bit. It is a beautiful quiet space with couches that have barely been used in a several thousand square foot room that I rarely have to share. While it seems odd to me that I usually have the place to myself, I am never disappointed by the intimacy and quiet I can find in this space I call ‘home’, even during the busiest of seasons.

Quiet. Serene. Peaceful. Yes, even during the holiday season. Even with all the celebrations and parties, the gift shopping, the hustle and bustle of the crowds, and even work, I declare peace on this holiday season. Why? Because I don’t want to miss it. I have missed many precious moments…but won’t ever again because I know now that what is now, will not be forever.

As I settled into the couch, feet propped on the coffee table in front of me, my Nook in my hands quieting my pulse, I began to notice a rigorous and constant sound of tape-tearing and perhaps a few sighs. As I looked slightly over my shoulder, I saw a woman standing at the counter who seemed to be wrapping several gifts. I assumed she was going to be adding them to the giant gift wrapped cardboard box in the hallway for children in need.

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My mind wandered a moment thinking how gracious it was of her to buy several gifts for children she does not even know and then to take even more time to carefully, though it did appear almost aggressively, wrapping them. Who was she? Did she not have children of her own? Maybe they were all grown and she was missing them?

I tried to regroup and concentrate on my book.

“Sorry about the noise,” I heard her say from the corner of the room.

“That’s okay,” I said, admiring her for her generosity. “So thoughtful that you bought all of those gifts…”

“I’m exhausted. I actually hate the holiday season. Just hate it. Too much to do and not enough time to do it. It is so stressful!”

I was silenced as my thoughts ran wild. Did she really just say that? While she was generously wrapping gifts? Was she the Grinch? No, she couldn’t be! She was wrapping gifts for children she didn’t even know. How could she hate anything right now? There had to be a mistake.

I desperately tried to find something slightly optimistic to say. “Yeah, it sure does get busy, but that is so thoughtful of you to think about gift giving like that, in spite of how busy you are…”

I hoped she would hear me. I wanted to say so much more but knew it was not my place. She hadn’t found me because she was looking for a new perspective. She hadn’t asked me to Coach her. She found me by accident and was simply sharing with anyone that would listen. I happened to be the one today.

“I hate to say it,” she continued, “but I cant wait til it is over so I can relax.”

My heart sunk for her. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to play the tape back so she could hear her own words. Surely she didn’t mean it. Or did she? Was all that work was simply just to get through the holiday season?

That defeats the whole point. The purpose. The meaning behind it all. The holidays are supposed to be about ‘being’ not ‘doing’. Period. It is a time finally when you get to be with the people you love. A time when schools and offices shut down, and people expect you to be on a break. Family members travel from far away, college kids come home, and growth is measured in leaps and bounds. It is the one time of year when busy is not supposed to be the actual activity…but instead, just being.

I am busy too. However this year I chose to take a few to-dos off of my list in lieu of more quiet and serenity, since I have lost enough this year already and finally am feeling mended. No one will notice if they don’t get that candle I usually buy, but I will notice if I am so busy doing that once the holiday has passed, I still feel like I haven’t had the chance to actually be present with my favorite people.

Want a great holiday season to remember this year? Then put your energy into being present in everything you do and everyone you are with.

Maybe you can recruit the family to help this year. How about ordering in to make it easier. How about buying a few less gifts and then let the dishes settle into the sink a little longer….dirty! Nothing will happen to the dishes while they soak. But you, my friend, will be given the gift of a lifetime. One that will never be quite the same again. Because that is how life is.

So commit to being present this year. No greater gift than that. Keep looking, listening and noticing who is around you. Surely this moment will never arrive again just like it is right now.

In the Face of the Unknown.

Posted on by Geller Coaching

We think that life is all about what we know. Where we have been and where we are now. Who we have been with and who are with now. But really, life’s true meaning comes from the unknown and can be found in the depths of the silence.

Sound simple? No, it isn’t simple at all. As a matter of fact, if you have been a specialist in analyzing your life like I have, it is very hard to even get to that space of quiet. The kind of quiet where you own head isn’t filling you with opinions on nearly everything. The kind of quiet that allows you to simply hear the sound of your own heart beating.

Some people can get there by learning how to meditate, or perhaps reading many books on the topic, but sometimes you are able to get there after the storm in your life has been so great, so overwhelming, that the only thing left to do…is be silent.

That place, is my most favorite place of all. This, is where I sit today.

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Today I chose not to rush out to the gym like I usually do on Sundays. Instead, I chose to start this beautiful Sunday in the quiet. I took the dog for his usual long walk, leaving my phone at home to silence the calls and music, made a cup of coffee and grabbed my laptop. I opened my blog folder trying to recall when the last blog rolled off my fingertips and my shoulders began to release, settling deeply into my new couch.

 

With the cool breeze gently blowing in my window, and the scent of a candle sweetly filling the air, I began to breathe deeply, open to the possibility of new thoughts. I begin to create a space separate from the people, places, and things in my past and instead, fill the space with thoughts about this moment.

As the sun shines in the window and I feel gifted in a way that cannot be explained. I am acutely aware of the stillness of this moment, even with my fingers antsy to move on the keys and am overwhelmed with the wholeness deep within my body.

I do a slow and steady internal scan of my body and notice for the first time in months, how complete I feel. How settled I even feel on the couch, without my mind and body yearning to get to get up and go.

In this moment, as the sun shines in on my stillness, warming me from the outside in, I know I have arrived. Yet I also know that it is in only in the space of all the things that I did not know would occur in my life, that I have actually been given my life. And that actually being open to the unexpected parts of life is where the real work begins.

In the space of the unknown I could see clearly that losing my mother and nearly losing my son, did not break me, but instead rebuilt a fiery strength within me that cannot be taken. And with that strength, I had the courage to walk away from relationships not meant for me. It was only in the space of the unknown, that I could see that leaving painful relationships did not create a feeling of more loss, but instead a gratefulness of life. It was only in the space of the unknown that I was able to see that I am worthy of kindness and love and cannot tolerate anything less than that.

It is in this sun-filled moment, that I am given the gift of life in a way that I did not know was possible. But do now.

Order a copy of my book: Own your Now. 

I am Just Afraid I Will Forget…

Posted on by Geller Coaching

Truth is that my memory has never been real strong. It wasn’t until I got to college that I realized that in order for me to remember things…any thing…I needed to write it down and see it. It was a tedious way to learn, but necessary.  If I were in school today they would probably slap a label on that, but back then you had to find your own strategies to compensate. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Today I began to wonder if this is why I take so many pictures. Long before the era of iPhones and the obsession of everything needing to be at your finger tips, I was documenting my world and the people in it. I was happy to be a part of a world that didn’t rely on film,  because the more I took, the better my chances of getting them just so. But that wasnt what I was going for.

I am highly sensate. Meaning, I feel things more intensely than most. Not just raw emotions from a conversation or two, but even from things I see around me. I am awestruck by beauty, especially things I can relate to or things that remind me of my past. And my incessant picture-taking has been a way for me to access the love of what makes me happy…anytime I want. I never thought of it as any more than that.

Until tonight.

After my first official day of summer at the beach, the 2nd summer without my mom in this world, I noticed the bright pink sky unexpectedly and hurried down the stairs to see the sunset. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, thinking I should at least grab my phone, bu convinced myself that maybe just for today I could simply be present to the moment. I hear that a lot. Like maybe not everything needs a picture as much as being present in the moment.

I headed down the street to see my first ever sunset…without a camera of any sort.

As I walked, I felt overwhelmed with how beautiful it was. The colors were radiant. I tried to analyze it, decipher how many colors there were. I tried to recall if I had ever seen one so beautiful. And while it was hard to stare too long since the sun was so bright, I couldn’t look away.  The way the lines created such beauty in the sky, silenced me.

Within minutes my heart started to race as I watched this bright sunshine fall into the earth, signaling another day gone by.

How would I remember this? Surely no one could ever recall exactly what this one looked like without seeing it in a picture. How would I remember this first sunset of the summer without mom, if I didn’t have the picture of it for later?

I began to have a sinking feeling as I forced myself to watch the sun set and then began racing back to the house as my brain scrambled to hold the memory. I knew this wouldn’t be a memory I could contain and as if to prove myself right, my brain began to run the photo reel it had stored. All I could think about though were the pictures that were missing. Images not as clear as I remembered. Difficulty trying to recall the true colors in my boys eyes, the sweet lines of my moms face when she would smile. The way she looked at me when she held my hand in the hospital…tears began to stream down my face.

My quick footsteps moved into a light jog with a hopefulness that I might make it just in time. I ran the stairs, grabbed my phone and headed for the balcony. Maybe, just maybe something was still left. Something I could hold onto….

And there it was. Not nearly the way I had seen it just minutes before, but just enough, to remind me of how eloquent it was. How much it made me appreciate each passing moment of my life, each ending of the day that continued to give me a brand new tomorrow…


Maybe it isn’t that I’m obsessed with taking pictures. It’s just that…well…without them I am just afraid I will forget…

Survival Mode.

Posted on by Geller Coaching

I have never had cancer. I have not been tortured through radiation, suffered the exhaustion and breakdown of chemo, nor has death knocked at my door. Not technically, anyway.

Yet I can’t seem to shake the odd feeling that I am a survivor before anyone has even told me I have anything to survive.

My mom, who should have lived to the age of about 98, given her healthy history of a 74-year-old with the internal and external body of a 60-year-old, was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. PC. PC does not care how healthy you are. It does not care that you haven’t eaten a piece of candy in 40 years, that you didn’t smoke, drink, eat red meat or that you had a diet written by a nutritionist for over 30 years. It does not care that your ancestors had lived healthy lives into their 90’s. It does not care that you are a long distance runner and have the face and heart of an angel.

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Instead, it will offer you a few months of life. Which my mother did not take lying down, but instead through aggressive treatments, hours on the elliptical and a pocket filled with optimism.

She was my best friend. Even on the days when I was consumed with my own world and questioned this. I still knew it. There was no one in my world remotely like her.

She lived with this disease for 2.5 years. Not just staying afloat, but really living until she could no longer take another day. She was a survivor. She might not have beaten PC, but she sure did thrive in the life she lived.

But cancer is affects the whole family. Every single one of us. And I feel like I have been in survivor mode since the minute she was diagnosed. I spent the first 5 months in denial about the power of PC and believed that she would beat the heck out of it and land an interview with Dr. Oz.  I then moved into my eternal optimist state for the next 2 years with an acute awareness of each present moment. As a family I think we all did an amazing job at that, pulling together as only our home team could, yet it was the aftermath of discoveries once my mom passed away that had kept me stuck in survival mode.

With my mom gone, we were not technically fighting the fight any longer, yet I began my own battle as I found out that my mom wasn’t the only one with the BRCA (breast cancer gene)…as I had it as well.

I began to turn the corner of almost age 50, healthy as can be, training for triathlons in the summer, preparing to marry an incredible man, celebrating life with 4 amazing children…and then this.

BRCA. So basically, my odds were stacked against me with an 85% chance of breast cancer, 40% chance of ovarian and 7% chance of pancreatic cancer and changes would have to be made. More than changes actually, I was going to have to be proactive and make harsh decisions based on the fact that I might get cancer. In fact, the probability was so high that some might say, yea, you probably will.

I now see doctors every 3 months, while just 3 years ago I had one primary O.B. I have had my ovaries removed, am scheduled for a bi-lateral mastectomy and have a yearly abdominal MRI since there is no way to be protected from Pancreatic Cancer. Hormone replacements are not an option due to the estrogen adding to my cancer risk, and am on my 3rd round of MOH’S surgery for Basel cell spots, since apparently the BRCA gene makes you more susceptible to that as well.

So yes, that is why I am still in survival mode. I mean, I am trying to survive cancer…before I get it. I awake with that thought each morning, not as a resentment, but as my truth and remain grateful. Grateful that I know about the demons just beneath my skin allowing me to be proactive and make decisions that might protect me from cancer in the future. Decisions that might prevent my beautiful children from becoming a survivor as well.

So I do as my mom did. Carry on. Live. Manage each week around the hassle of doctor appointments, the aftermath of surgeries, some time off from the gym…and the heartache of losing my mom. But I am clear that some things cannot be taken away. They can cut away at Basel cells, keep my ovaries, and man-handle my hormonal balance, but they can’t take away my spirit and they can’t take away her spirit that lives deep within me.

So actually,  I am lucky to be living in survival mode. Lucky to be surrounded by the most supportive and loving family a woman could ask for and lucky, that for today, I do not have Cancer.

 

Even the Bad…Has a Purpose and Place.

Posted on by Geller Coaching

I had one of those weeks. You know, like every time you get a firm grip on the handle, the ground slips out from under you? Yeah, that kind of week.

The week filled with frustrations: The perfectly overfilled Starbucks coffee that drips not only on the sweater I am wearing, but also the sweater that is waiting patiently for me at my desk. The coffee machine that decides it needs a day off. The handcrafted salad that chose to jump from my hands and scatter all over the floor, leaving me no time to make another lunch. The half eaten perfect green apple that rolled off my desk and onto the germ infested classroom floor. The perfect morning to write at Starbucks, only to be interrupted by a charging cord that apparently was not in the mood to do its’ job…

Yeah, that kind of a week.

Luckily I am a Life Coach, right? Well, on most days that does help, but this week every one of those events sent me in a downward spiral, until eventually I even shed some tears. Yep, crying.  Sometimes I can cry over spilled milk too when I feel like I can’t keep it all together.

If only we could put everything in a box. Like when packing up for a big move. Put it all in a box, tape it up and mark it with a label! And just like that it would be all neatly tucked away, out of sight and not bothering us at all. If only we could do that with EVERYTHING! Imagine how our perspectives would change.

Imagine if we knew that it actually served a purpose and could be put away at any time? Would you feel less resentful when it came your way? Would you be more willing to lean into it until it passed?

Well here is a new perspective to try on: “Life is giving you exactly what you need practice in.”

At first glance you may scoff at this notion, but when you let it sink in for a few moments, thinking deeply about the things you most complain about, you can see where this makes perfect sense.

Is your universe driving you crazy? Things not going as planned? Feeling short circuited because everyone wants to throw a wrench in your schedule? Perhaps patience is what you most need to practice. Perhaps acceptance is something you struggle with as well. Perhaps this perspective will help you to welcome the challenges that come your way.

The next part is putting it away. This is the real challenge!

While we can’t actually put it in a box, the visualization of “putting it away” can really help. It’s not about attempting to put it out of your mind, but actually trying to reframe it. Same picture, new frame. Lets take my visit to Starbucks. I feel excited beyond words, having been gifted an extra few morning hours to sit and write. I am so excited I can almost taste the first sip of vanilla latte warming my throat as my fingers prepare for the tapping on the keys.  I am so excited I can feel my heart beating in a hurried pattern.

I open my MacBook and notice the low battery. Feeling relieved that I had my charger, I pack up all that I have laid on the table, feel disappointed to leave my favorite seat in the corner and move to a less desirable table that has an outlet. I begin to settle myself again, noticing my excited energy turning on its side and plug-in. Once. Twice. Three times a charm. Or no! Since it seems my charger is not working. My heart begins to pound in a ferocious way as I see the battery icon turn red.  I take several deep breaths, and even when I remember I also have packed my iPad, I don’t feel comforted.

I sit back in my chair and see that I have wasted 20 minutes and I can hear whispers telling me to just go home. Multiple voices begin to chime in, whining about the situation and suddenly feel like I am fighting back tears. Which is often when I criticize my dramatic behavior, blaming it on hormones, losing my mom to cancer and whatever else I can get my hands on.

But then I attempt to find a box. Not a real one, but one that can hold all my irrational feelings for the moment. I put my ear buds in, hit play on Anita Baker and inhale again. This time I unplug the non-charging cord, exhale deeply and move to a more private and comfortable seat by the window. I place my feet on the coffee table in front of me, pull out my iPad, click open my WordPress app and stare out the window. I picture myself with more patience and understanding of the world around me and of myself. I envision all the little things that went awry this week and place them into my invisible box. As I picture taping it up, I allow myself the time needed to heal over the loss of my mom and acknowledge how fortunate I really am, in spite of the story I want to tell about my dark and gloomy days. I put a label on the box: Patience.

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I place my hands gently on my iPad keyboard as the kind young man across from me (who must have seen my struggles) mentions there is an outlet right next to my comfy chair. I begin to tell my “story” but my optimism takes over and I give it one more try. And you know what? It worked! This outlet actually worked. Nothing was broken. Except maybe my heart recovering from many frustrations of the week. But I had already put those in a box, sealed it up with tape, and secured it with a label…so I let the computer charge and my iPad and I carried on.

Maybe all that happens in life IS just what we need practice in. Carry on.

Did You See the Flag?

Posted on by Geller Coaching

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I sat on the beach staring into the ocean. The ocean I had grown to love, the one that had become the place to rejuvenate summer after summer. A place to be with my family, lie in the sun, jump in the cold waves and get away from this quick moving thing we called ‘life’. It was what I grew up to believe was the ulitmate paradise…

I stared deep into the water, as the waves crashed upon themselves, forcing me into the deepest, most peaceful state and I inhaled. The last blissful day of summer had come and no matter what I did, was going fast. I tried to memorize the feeling of the sea air, and the way my heart barely needed to pound, praying that if I could hold onto it tightly, I could recapture it at any time. Times when I might need it the most…like when I worried, about my boys being safe, or my parents being healthy, or when the twisting of the daily grind pulled me into a frenzy, making me forget all about how grateful I was to have such an amazing life. For the times when others’ drama seemed almost like my own and for those days, when I just wasn’t sure if I could make it.
I inhaled again, thinking perhaps a little prayer might do or a plea to the universe for an easy year. But even that seemed like too large of a request. I mean, surely I was aware that to wish for an easy year was in fact missing the point of life to begin with.
I glanced at my watch to notice that we were down to our last 10 minutes of summer and inhaled one last time, hoping for some sort of sign. As I looked up again, the flag caught my eye. The giant yellow, flowing in the wind flag that had been in front of my face for an hour, was now blowing as if the only thing alive on the beach. As the ocean seemed to grow still,  the sound of the flag  rippled loudly in time with the breeze.
Why? Why now was that all I could see and hear? Where was it before? And why was it yellow? I looked again out to the ocean and noticed the waves were rough and only a few swimmers remained. And then it ocurred to me: The yellow flag. The one that tells us to proceed with caution. The one that says, you can go, just watch your step. Proceed with care. The one that says, slow down, pause, take a breathe, be mindful of what is around you. The one that says, you have arrived, again, now make sure you don’t miss it while you are here.
The yellow flag was all I needed on that final day of summer and was just the perfect reminder for all of us every day. Slow down. Enjoy whatever is here and now and know that it is all temporary. If things are perfect, inhale deeply and be present. If everything seems challenging, slow down even more. Most importantly, remember to be still enough to look up and see what lies what in front of you, so that someone doesn’t have to ask, “Did you see the yellow flag?”