So this year just happened…I became a grandmother…my dad passed away…I was a keynote speaker in Taiwan at a STEM education conference…my family cleaned out and sold my dad’s Marietta home…IN2 won a Chicago Innovation Award…I had a pacemaker implanted…my husband and I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru…and I resigned my leadership position at work.

These are some of the highlights from the past ten months of my life. It is only now, when I sit on the front porch to pause and write this blog, do I realize what a life shaping year it has been. Seven weeks ago I posted to the universe that I’m open to what’s next. Since then I’ve been listening, exploring possibilities and resting up.  What previously had been relegated to the sidelines is presenting itself. Coming out of the fog, I can more clearly see what’s been “tuned out,” neglected, forgotten or put in a pile to deal with later. This same pause has me inventorying personal strengths and calibrating opportunities.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause there is the realization that I am the author of my life’s choices.

Pausing just long enough to be hungry again. I’m a builder who loves to ideate, create, innovate, collaborate, construct, cut the ribbon, pause and move on to the next big thing. But I also need to remember to embrace the pause when it arrives. Because it is during the pause that my soul is awakened, listening to possibilities and hearing the voices I’ve blocked out because I’ve been “too busy” or “will get to it later.” Time to really look at my garden, to realize in the pause there is beauty in uncertainty and joy in possibilities. There are boards to paint, miles to walk, books to read, friends to catch up with and weeds to pull.  Not just the feisty kind in the garden, but the weeds of life – people who create unhealthy conditions for personal or professional growth or ones that steal the sunlight away. Yank!  They are gone once you realize you are the gardener of your possibilities. The pause helps me reflect, refuel and recharge.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause I am exploring what it means to be a middle-aged female servant leader with limited time on Earth.

When the sounds of your body clock start ticking louder you need to pause more. When your physical body continues to break down and needs to be tuned up, pause with purpose. It is each trial that forges the steel of conviction hotter and stronger. The trial that battles the frailty of the human body, growing ever more apparent with each passing year.  Yes, the pause fuels the fire.  The pause provides the rest needed for the next “buen camino” and energy to tend to the weeds and chart the course ahead.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause I am enjoying being a learner again, excited about taking on new roles.

I haven’t felt this urge to learn since I went back and got my master’s degree a decade ago. Being a student of life is both invigorating and humbling, as there is so much to learn and so little time.  The pause, my poignant professor, reminds me that as humans if we aren’t learning, we are not growing and if we are not growing, we are falling behind.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in the midst of pause the realization that its OK to just pause is part of my learnings.

In the pause we find meaning and purpose. The pause is then a gift of time to block out the noise that envelops us constantly.  I haven’t watched television in a month and you know what?  I haven’t missed it. Instead, hours have been spent pouring over books and plucking weeds from my life’s garden.  I’m encouraging you to do the same. Pause, to see where the gap guides you to next. Just don’t pause too long; the world needs us to hit “play,” to engage, to be change makers and to live with purpose.

We all have limits.  It’s moving beyond them that calls into question our character, inner drive and sensibilities. I can easily count the times in my life when I’ve been at the edge of my comfort zone and had to make the call to quit or to push forward. I faced the demon once again recently on our family Colorado adventure to summit Mt. Elbert, (altitude 14,433′, 2nd highest peak in the lower 48 and high point of Colorado). Footnote: My husband has a bucket list item – summit all the lower 48 state mountain high points.

Not one who wants to be left behind, I added this June Colorado trip to my “vacation” itinerary.  That decision triggered training for distance (which I know how to do) and for altitude (which Illinois doesn’t allow for at 586′).  My DNA is not wired to do sustained distance high altitude climbing efforts. I am a thoroughbred through and through. A “drop dead” sprinter as all my past swimming coaches would confirm for you. Fast twitch, white muscle fibers – the opposite of slow twitch, red muscles needed for such a feat as summiting Mt. Elbert. But nonetheless, the adventure began at 6:00 am, an “alpine start,” the best way to reach the top and get back down to avoid afternoon weather systems.

Perhaps the challenge is what appealed to me. Or was it not wanting to have my family leave me behind? Whatever the reason, I found myself again at the crossroads of pushing beyond on Sunday, June 18, 2017. The early hours of hiking were pleasant, I could talk and laugh and enjoy the scenery. Once we got above the tree line (about 12,000′), I stopped talking and the struggles began. My pulse raced above 160 at the slightest exertion and with rest, only barely dropped under 140; exhaustion began to consume my body. This first nod to the possibility that I wouldn’t summit crossed my mind while plopped down on a rock and mumbling, “I don’t think I’m going to make it” to my husband. A little encouragement, a swig of Powerade and a bite of energy gel got me back on my feet.

The second realization I was in trouble happened at about 13,500′. Again, collapsing on a rock in utter exhaustion, I barely got out verse two of, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” Steve, who had been hiking slowly with me (I have 31″ inseam, so add that to the list of why I’m a slow high altitude hiker) at the end of the group, started to articulate options. All I could think of was that I was the weak link on this family chain and I just couldn’t see holding back my husband’s checking off this state (and mountain) from his list, so got back up and pressed on.

It was the third time sitting down and muttering, “I really don’t think I can make it” that the reality of a failed attempt, just some 500′ feet from the summit kicked in. The weight of my weary body in relation to the thin air seemed insurmountable. My physical self had given in, so it was time for my mental side to convince my body otherwise. A check of my pulse was my only way to verify if I had recovered enough to press on. It was either time to submit or summit. Pause, meditate and take a deep breath; I focused on overcoming. Once my “resting” pulse got under 140, somehow my spent body listened to my inner will to summit. (Meanwhile my husband was making plans in his head to get me back down the easier side of the mountain, but first we’d have to reach the top). I left my poles next to the snow ledge at this point so I could better navigate the rocks with both hands.

Spying family members taking their first steps on the summit was just the motivation I needed to put one foot in front of another. Traversing between the snow route and bouldering over the last pile of rocks, my weary feet finally found the flat summit. My son Owen’s welcoming hug enveloped me, giving way to my silent, uncontrollable sobbing.  I had made it, yes, made it. It wasn’t pretty and I had to push beyond to get there, but I got there. Everybody else looked like it was no big deal.  But to me it was a really big deal.

So, indeed, this photo is one of sheer joy and utter exhaustion. We discovered a home made cardboard sign left for us by others to help mark and revel in the accomplishment. Cracking open the summit beers they brought, the kids toasted the top of the mountain. As I raised my Nalgene, I could finally bask in the accomplishment. Enjoying the makeshift backpack picnic I had prepared at 9,000′ the night before, energy slowly returned to my aching limbs. It is amazing how good salami and cheese tastes on top of a mountain. Nothing better I thought. Lots of photos later, it was time to think about going back down the mountain. As my legs tightened up, I was looking for the elevator or a helicopter service…

So if you are wondering if I got down off Mt Elbert, yes I did. I’m not blogging from the mountain top, though the cell reception was excellent up there. Our group split up into two – my nephew Jonathan drew the short straw to accompany me down the front of the mountain, which was shorter and less strenuous (thanks Jonny). The others went back the way we came up. I used Steve’s poles and he retrieved mine, which were waiting some 500′ down the mountain for him right where I left them. Although Jonny and I encountered lots more snow on our route, some of which ended up in my britches and down my socks, the easier way down was what I needed.  The scenery coming down was euphoric and a steady pace helped my pulse stay under 140 the rest of the trip. Sure, I fell 6x coming down (twice in the snow and 4x on loose rocks), we hit patches of mosquitos attacking us and to top it off, we came upon a washed out road with a raging river running through it and hitched a ride across in a most precarious manner. Twelve hours later we were all back in the same car, sitting in the same seats where we had anticipated the day. We all swam in a silent sea of accomplishment as we rode back to the cabin.

So now the only thing left to do for me is to sew this patch onto my backpack. It is truly a badge of honor for me and will be a reminder of the day I pushed beyond.  Will I feel the need to do this again?  It may be like childbirth – time makes you forget how painful the labor is.  Yes, time will tell.  I am ever thankful I made it up and down safely and can spend years sharing stories and memories imprinted by Mt. Elbert.

I wonder what’s next?  I hear Machu Picchu calling…

Hundreds of thousands of us marched in the Women’s March on January 21, 2017. I was one of those in the crowd in Chicago at Grant Park who showed up to take a stand for women everywhere. Some called us “radicals” or “protesters.” Whatever. It is not a crime in America to stand up for our rights – to show up and to exercise my freedom of speech. It is only when you exercise your rights do you truly realize how sacred that really is. Just to be there, to witness the spectacle and to participate was remarkable. The mass of humanity in Chicago, D.C. and around the world reaffirmed my faith in the power of the people to rise up. Yes, it was remarkably American to show up and to stand up for something as basic as my rights as a woman.

I went to the march alone, intent on observing a peaceful demonstration of humans who all had their personal reason for showing up. Despite the massive crowd (and before my phone was unable to work due to the thousands simultaneously trying to text or share their experience via social media), I was able to direct my daughter-in-law, Karen and her sister and mother to my location. That in itself was some kind of miracle. I’ve never been in a crowd that large. Not that it was not scary, but rather empowering and reassuring that other women and men united to share something so American as our rights. #whyImarch was featured on the big screen and I paused to reflect what drove me to march. My reason was for women’s equality and respect and to send a message to the White House that we are watching. My march was a message that women will not be held back or worse yet, pushed back. It has taken women decades to gain our voice and I’m not about to be disrespected or told where my place is or is not. And I respect why others’ marched – even if I disagree with them. Because we live in America and are free to believe, free to speak and free to peacefully gather to disagree.

Yes, Madeline, “It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I’m not going to be silent.” We can’t go back and we won’t go back. Because my children and grandchildren are counting on my voice to assure they have one.

We all need something to look forward to. Note: my high school grammar teacher, Mrs. Scully would be shaking her finger at me right about now, indicating her displeasure for my ending a sentence (or worse yet a headline) with a preposition. Sorry, Mrs. Scully, but it just has to be for this blog entry. I was reminded of the power of something to look forward to this past summer through my father’s eyes. My dad and I spent months talking about and planning a Chicago trip to celebrate both his 90th birthday and his grandson’s wedding. Once dad made the decision to attend in person, the full gift of something to look forward to kicked into gear and the planning for his adventure began. Dad literally purchased a new wardrobe – from a Sears Sucker suit to new wingtips, dress shirts and even two pairs of jeans. Clothes were lovingly laid out on his guest bed weeks in advance, waiting and reminding him of that something coming up. He counted down the weeks and days until he could wear the new clothes and be with family to celebrate in Chicago. Dad made the trip and now his “something to look forward to” is forever captured by this photo of our family and the creation of priceless memories.

My visit to a local retirement home about this same time, reminded me of the thousands of our elderly who don’t have many of those “somethings” to look forward to (sorry again Mrs. Scully). It is also a reminder that many people are living without anticipation, whether due to old age or poor health or living constraints. Some of us are plodding through the days that become weeks that become months that become years. We try to keep busy by numbing ourselves – some by drugs or food or depression. Some of us are filling our lack of something to look forward to by accumulating “things” to fill up personal empty spaces that may not be clearly recognizable. But soon we realize that that a material thing is not nearly as powerful as a human connection. That “something” is most special when it involves people who we enjoy seeing and memories we relish reliving.

Having just returned from a few days in Tampa, this human connection is top of mind. A group of my high school swimming girlfriends converged to celebrate our beloved coach’s induction to the Athletic Hall of Fame. Sure the event was an important milestone, but the more important “thing” was reconnecting with “Craig’s Chicks”, my valued teammates. Retelling stories, some of which I had forgotten, and catching up on lives transported me back to a time when I had everything to look forward to in my life. Landing back home in Chicago, I now search for the next “something” in my life. Sometimes it is a long wait, but this time it is only two weeks away when we fly to Arizona to be proud parents when my youngest son receives his Ph.D. at Arizona State University. The older I get, the more I value looking forward to celebrating the accomplishments of my family and friends and being there for them.

And so it goes on as we age. We need to create meaningful “somethings” to look forward to – home renovations, trips, reunions and visits to friends and family. It is how we navigate the passage of time and describe meaning to our lives that may be a struggle. Perhaps that is why New Year’s resolutions are set (or not set) as it gives us something to look forward to each year – losing weight, eating healthy, doing more for others or doing less with for ourselves. It is not your “honeydo” list, but it is your “I wanna do” list. There is a difference in doing what must be done and doing what feeds your spirit and nurtures your soul. I much prefer the latter.

I recently re-read all the Christmas letters bound into a personal book to preserve our family’s memories. Each annual Christmas letter recaps the year gone by in our family. If there is room, we also write about something we are looking forward to in the New Year – babies, childhood milestones, trips, graduations, career advancement and accomplishments. It is now time to again write the next edition of the family Christmas letter and to summarize the many things we were so looking forward to in 2016. It is appropriate that I write it during this Thanksgiving holiday weekend when I have time to reflect back and relive this year. Yes, time to pause and be mindful away from the daily noise of have to do’s. Because it is important to name our blessings and to tell people how we feel about them aloud. Really important. And it is the lull of the future and the anticipations of those “somethings” that keeps us moving forward towards it. So, today I reflect on my “somethings” and count my blessings and encourage you to do the same. As this Thanksgiving weekend comes to a close, it’s time to create a list of what you look forward to and get busy planning. Your “something” is waiting.

Getting away from things gives one the space to be mindful. A recent trip to Switzerland with my husband, Steve, found us both amidst throngs of people in public spaces and alone together in very remote areas. A value of getting away is to leave it all behind (your worries, problems, stresses, threats and daily noise) and to explore something totally new. It is when I am away from my routine that I truly find myself able to be more mindful, or at least to practice being more mindful. As I’ve been back from vacation for a week and find myself reflecting on our trip, I think back to the moments of being mindful and want to dig deeper towards new understanding of mindfulness.

There is a way to learn how to be more mindful AND you don’t have to be a Buddhist to do so. I skimmed through The Beginner’s Guide to Mindfulness: 8 Helpful Tips and thought it worth sharing, as much for me as for anyone who may be reading this blog. Here is the overview if you are short on time or read on and I’ll provide personal insights for each one.

Number 1: Mindful Breathing
Number 2: Mindful Eating
Number 3: Journal
Number 4: Appreciate Silence
Number 5: Appreciate Chores
Number 6: Exercise
Number 7: Immerse Yourself in Nature
Number 8: Make Time for Reflection

My reflections:

Number 1: Mindful Breathing.

I guess I find this most unnatural when breathing is the thing that we simply must do all the time without thinking about it. There is a reason this is part of our autonomic system, along with our heartbeat and blinking where it happens unconsciously. The term, “take a deep breath” does mean to get us to stop and focus on our breathing and to focus inwardly. I do focus on my breathing when I want to get my heart rate down and have been known to focus to my heartbeat while shooting archery or a rifle target practice as you want to squeeze the trigger or release the arrow in-between heartbeats and breaths. When I do focus on my breathing, it does help me relax. Yes, breathing is linked to your heart and well-being and deserves more attention.

Number 2: Mindful Eating.

Weight Watchers stresses being present for each bite of every meal for a reason – turning off the TV, putting down your fork in-between bites and really enjoying food instead of just shoveling it in to stop the hunger rumblies in your tummy. Or in my case, to feed the demon to prevent passing out (hypoglycemia). Upon reflection, I’m increasingly more mindful the more expensive the food. Fast food gets gobbled down in the car in a flash while attempting not to dribble on my outfit while fine dining is a more purposeful, lingering experience associated with entertainment – maybe the speed and mindfulness of my eating has to do more with how much I’m paying for it than the experience of eating? OK, I’ll add this to my list of what to work on. My bowl of cereal deserves some attention.

Number 3: Journal.
When I was about 8 I started keeping a diary and I still have it. From time to time I open that diary to revisit a much younger version of myself to see what my life was about then – so simple and innocent. Today’s journal is digital in the form of a blog, where I’m able to process things for me and for anyone else to read if they so chose. Not the same as pen and paper and not as intimate, but still a record of my thinking on a particular date. Instead of recording thought on paper that may get lost, become yellowed or tossed, this blog is archived for the future and unknown “Googlers” to discover.

I find that during my breast cancer treatment blogging happened more frequently, perhaps because I had lots on my mind and felt the urge to share as part of my personal therapy and recovery. As I’ve returned to life “more normal” I find it harder to make the time to blog. Perhaps the gaps between blogging is an indication and appreciation that life goes on.

Number 4: Appreciate silence.

To be honest, this one is perhaps most challenging. It is difficult for me to take time to “just be” and not to fill silence with words, music, TV or conversation. I somehow feel like I am wasting time instead of appreciating it. Some of my favorite moments in the mountains of Switzerland were when I just stood there and soaked it all in – the majesty that mere words could never describe. Sitting on a park bench with my traveling companion that someone purposefully build for enjoying the moment and just observing and reflecting has merit. Yes, I’ll add this to my list of things to continue working on.

P.S. I will have to work on this at home, as my employment involves bright teenagers who tend to be enthusiastically verbal and I rarely have silence during the 9 to 5 realm.

Number 5: Appreciate chores.
Perhaps the best way to appreciate chores is when you CANNOT do them. It sounds ironic, but when you are physically unable to do the chores you normally do, it becomes a goal to do them again – to mow the lawn, weed the garden, cook or do laundry. When you are incapacitated, all you want to do and be is to normal again. The short periods in my own life where I have experienced this, I was envious of those around me who went about their day without knowing what a gift that truly is. I think I have this one covered for the most part as I’ve had to learn the hard way, through being mindful, that chores are to be appreciated.

Number 6: Exercise.

OK, this one is in the bag. Walking, spinning, lifting weights and working outdoors. I have been an athlete and active all my life. Well, almost all my life – except during those few “gaps” of major illness where I remember craving my old routine and ability to exercise again. This just needs to be maintained each year in order to remain active and to enjoy everything still on our bucket list. And remember, it is never too late to start being active. Set a goal for yourself, start small and add just a bit everyday and before you know it, you’ll be setting new goals. Our next goal is set in Peru, to climb Machu Picchu and so the planning commences.

Number 7: Immerse Yourself in Nature.

And, I got this one too. From family camping to backyard gardens, from Boy Scout high adventure trips to walking el camino de Santiago. Nature has a way of helping me reset. Mother Natures really does take care of us. Get off your digital devices and electronics and step outside, visit a local, state or National park to see what visionaries set us aside for us to enjoy and share with our children. Find your own wanderweg (public footpath, trail, hiking path…) wherever it may be.

Number 8: Make Time for Reflection.
What does it all mean if we don’t take the time to reflect? Yes, I need to be more mindful about carving out time for myself to reset.

Thanks for reading along this far. It means you are working on your own personal improvement by considering what others have to say. So, what are you going to work on to be more mindful? For me, here are my top 3 (in order) to work on: 1) mindful eating, 2) silence and 3) making time for reflection (which could mean breathing, appreciating chores, journaling, immersing myself in nature or exercising). I guess mindfulness is an intertwined ecosystem…lots to work on, how about you?