I spent the month of January in a tug-of-war between setting goals and finding inner peace with where I am. Today, I am emerging triumphant (and a little banged up), holding two truths: that I am enough, and that I also feel stuck.

The month of January is named after Janus, the Roman god of beginnings and endings. Janus was the gatekeeper of the heavens. He is depicted as having two heads--one to look into the past and one to look ahead to the future. The image of these two heads is a powerful representation of our divided attention.

2020 was a big one, you guys.

I left my job of 12 years, lost my young friend to a heart attack; narrowly escaped a money-draining; self-help cult; landed an exciting consultant job; and got divorced. And then it was March.

We are in a big collective transition right now. Tonight is a full moon eclipse in Gemini (kicking off eclipse season). In the US, we are winding down an unusual Thanksgiving week and witnessing the formal transition of power for our next president, Joe Biden (hallelujah!). And of course, we are about to welcome in the LAST month of 2020 (double hallelujah!). 

A lot of us are super-duper emotionally invested in the US election, and it feels very personal and very triggering. Whatever you are or aren't feeling is perfect. You aren't alone and you are doing great.

Here are 10 gentle suggestions for how to care for yourself and others this week (and always).

In this post, I share techniques and resources that helped me transform my worry this past year. I talk about moving worry through the body, making worry into an offering. taking intentional action, reframing worry as trust, and offering acts of self-kindness to the world. Audio version available.

There is SO much to worry about right now, collectively and personally. Instead of numbing out, berating ourselves, or feeling completely panicked and unhealthy, let’s explore the meaning beneath worry. Once we understand it, we can learn to work with it.

We are delighted to feature our first guest blog post, written by Paula Jones for The Retreat Space.

A couple of springs ago I found myself at the end of a magical week, sitting on my hotel bed, biding my time before departing for the airport. The hotel was grey and sterile. And the Monday morning light caught me suspended in time between two worlds. 

Do you trust yourself? Or do you consistently doubt, critique, or dismiss your desires and instincts?

Maybe things are so chaotic right now that you can't untangle your inner wisdom from the voice of your inner critic, your nosy neighbor, or your family?