The Moments Archive
clear enough to move
Many of us make decisions as if each one has to carry our whole life.
Dear Reader,
Many of us make decisions as if each one has to carry our whole life. We stall, gather more opinions, and hold the choice so tightly that it begins to hold us. Simplifying a decision is not about lowering the stakes. It is about choosing a frame that fits the moment, so you can move without pretending you know everything.
A helpful first move is to sort what kind of choice you are facing. Some decisions set direction. Others simply express the direction you have already chosen. Direction-setting choices may need more time, another conversation, or one more piece of information. Expression choices usually need a boundary: a time limit, a budget, or a brief list of what matters most right now. Naming the kind of decision you are in reduces the fog.
Reversibility also clarifies the path. If a choice can be revised without heavy cost, set a small interval and test it. Pick the option that teaches you the most with the least risk. If a choice is harder to unwind, return to your values and one concrete criterion. Ask what you are protecting, and which option protects it better. Perfection is not required; alignment is.
Your body can offer useful data here. Imagine saying yes and notice what happens in you. Imagine saying no and do the same. You are not looking for comfort, only for steadiness. If both options feel workable, choose the smaller step and give it a clean trial. Decide for the next hour, the next week, or the next season, rather than for forever.
The goal is not to make flawless choices. It is to create decisions that are clear enough to move, honest about what you know, and kind to the person who has to live with them. When you practice deciding this way, the day stops deciding you first.
Yours in the journey,
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joy as evidence of life
There are times when joy feels like an interruption.
Dear Reader,
There are times when joy feels like an interruption. An emotion that arrives in the middle of everything else and doesn’t quite fit. It can feel strange to laugh when so much remains unresolved, or to feel gratitude when another part of you is still tired, uncertain, or afraid.
But maybe that’s the point. Joy doesn’t need to erase what’s difficult. It reminds us that our story isn’t finished. That even within the heaviness, something inside us is still reaching toward life.
And if joy hasn’t shown up for you in a while, that too is part of being alive. The absence of joy doesn’t mean it’s gone forever, or that you’re doing something wrong. It only means that life has been heavy, that your energy has gone toward endurance and survival. Even then in the most difficult of circumstances, the possibility of joy remains waiting for the smallest opening, ready to return when there’s room.
Life is still happening. We are still here. And the capacity to feel joy, even briefly, is not a denial of pain but a quiet affirmation of life itself.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
staying open to change
Learning often begins at the moment we least want it.
Dear Reader,
Learning often begins at the moment we least want it. Someone names something we missed or a result shows us our approach isn’t working. The human impulse is to tighten, to explain, or to find the part of the story that makes us look better. Being teachable begins before the explanation that we try to give. It is the brief and intentional choice to stay with what is being offered long enough to see if any of it might be true.
In practice, being teachable looks ordinary. You ask for a concrete example so you can see what the other person saw. You reflect back what you heard to be sure you understood it. You name one change you are willing to try so the conversation lands somewhere real. If the feedback only partly fits, you take the part that serves you and leave the rest without resentment. None of this requires perfection. It requires enough steadiness to keep listening.
Teachability actually protects connection. When harm has happened, the person across from you wants to know that their experience matters and that something will change because of it. If you can hold still long enough to take in the impact, trust begins to rebuild. The room feels safer because you were responsive when it counted.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
essence
There are seasons when life asks for so many versions of us that it becomes hard to feel the throughline.
Dear Reader,
There are seasons when life asks for so many versions of us that it becomes hard to feel the throughline. We move from role to role, answer to what is needed, and carry forward without pausing long enough to remember who is doing the carrying. Essence is the word we use for what remains when the dust settles. The part of us that stays recognizable even as everything around us shifts.
So then, essence shows up in the way we care, in the choices we repeat when no one is watching, and in the values we return to after the distraction fades. You can sense it in the tone of your attention when you are fully present with someone, or in the relief you feel when an action matches what you believe.
The more we live from this place, the less we need to convince anyone of who we are. Our actions begin to do that speaking. We say ‘yes’ where it is real to do so, and we let ‘no’ be an act of care rather than defense. We offer presence that feels like itself in every room, even if the room changes us.
When life feels scattered, remembering our own essence gives us a place to stand. It does not solve the day, but it keeps the day from deciding us. And with time, moving toward that steadier center becomes less of an effort and more a way of being that we can recognize, return to, and trust.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
the space between thoughts
There is more than one way to look inward.
Dear Reader,
There is more than one way to look inward.
Often, introspection is treated like a mental exercise meant to sort through feelings, locate causes, and arrive at conclusions. That kind of thinking can have its place. But there is another way to understand introspection, one that begins with a willingness to make a little room inside the moment.
If you pay attention, there are brief intervals when the mind pauses between one idea and the next, and in that pause, something subtle can be felt beneath the noise of analysis. Experience itself becomes visible again. The breath moving in and out, the weight of the body in the chair, the texture of your own attention. Nothing needs to be solved there, yet a kind of slow and deliberate recognition begins to take shape simply because you have allowed it space to exist.
This way of being introspective is simply another way to listen inward. One that invites patience rather than certainty. Some days it will feel impossible to access, especially when the mind insists on solving. Other days, it may be the only approach that feels honest which may be a reminder that not every truth is revealed through thinking.
To practice this kind of introspection, you might begin with the smallest gestures. Feel a full breath before responding to what’s in front of you. Pause at the end of a conversation and notice what remains unspoken. Sit quietly and listen. Each time you give yourself that space, you allow awareness to gather at its own pace.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive