Oatmeal, Vegas and Getting Unstuck

Summer is almost over, and I've really been aware that the angle of the light is different, the sun is setting earlier, and oatmeal is starting to feel like a good idea for breakfast again (I like it with mango). 🥭

It feels like my body knows that fall is coming, and I feel sad to say goodbye to the warmest months.

Maybe you've noticed some signs of change, too ~ the way endings and beginnings, sadness and excitement, so often are braided together. This poem reminds me of that complexity, too (Note: if the word "god" doesn't feel relatable, you can substitute a word like "life", "universe" or something else):

Change
by Wendy Videlock

Change is the new,
Improved
word for god,
lovely enough
to raise a song
or implicate
a sea of wrongs,
mighty enough,
like other gods,
to shelter,
bring together,
and estrange us.
Please, god,
we seem to say,
change us.

from Nevertheless (Able Muse Press, 2011)

The idea of change is poignant and layered. One of my clearest memories of this comes from a trip to Las Vegas 30 years ago ~ in August 1995. I was sitting on the casino floor next to my grandmother, watching her play the slots, when I noticed something surreal: a black balloon with the word CHANGE printed in silver letters, bobbing along above the blinking machines.

It seemed so bizarre! But when I looked closer, there was a simple explanation: the balloon was attached to a cart pushed by a change attendant. So it was literal. But it was about more than coins and poker chips. That balloon was a one-word commentary on the casino floor ~ change was literally in the air! Circulating above a sea of people wanting their lives to be different; playing and hoping to win.

That image has stayed with me for decades: a reminder that change is always in the air. And that it can give us hope and heartbreak at the same time.

Whether it’s on a casino floor or in the midst of everyday life, sometimes change is what we want more than anything. But the changes we long for can also feel so far away. We want a particular thing to shift, but we feel stuck. That, too, is part of being human.

If you're feeling this way right now, you're not alone. And even a few mindful breaths can help. If you’d like a gentle way to meet that tension, you can try this simple practice:

Put a hand on your heart and take three breaths:
With each inhale, say to yourself: resisting change
With each exhale, say to yourself: allowing change
When you're finished, notice how you feel.

When we can bring compassion to what’s true in the moment ~ even the part of us that feels stuck or resistant to what’s happening ~ something shifts. Not by pushing, but by honoring what’s real and making gentle space for what’s next.

And if you've got a three-day weekend coming up, I hope you enjoy these late-summer moments 🌻