Discomfort and Unexpected Beauty
“Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.” — Hafez
Hello Courageous Thrivers,
The light filtered through dying knotweed and landed just right on the begonia blossom that had been caught and cradled by browning leaves.
It was an unexpected beauty.
I had decided not to attempt to revive the plant or bring it inside for winter — I already struggle to care for the few houseplants I have.
And yet, the plant still shared a parting gift with me.
Receiving the Gifts of Presence
I’ve been learning a lot from Sara Tacy lately, and one of the things she reminds us often is how much we receive from something in Nature that is simply being itself.
Not by trying hard to give, and yet it does — so much and so consistently.
At moments like this, the gift feels so personal.
As if the begonia, and/or the Divine Mystery that enlivens it, felt how much I needed to remember — coordinating with the leaves on the ground and the sunlight — so everything came together in that moment of light on yellow petals, in the midst of the slowing of fall.
The move toward winter.
Balancing Rest and Action
This is not a time of rest for me, and yet I am called to a new interweaving of rest into action.
I don’t know how to do this — yet.
I know how to work hard and feel like I never have enough time.
Like I’ve never done enough.
Like I’m never enough.
There are ways that this way of being feels safe and comfortable.
But I also know what comes next: burnout. Collapse. Curling up in a ball, not wanting to face the world for another moment.
I don’t want to live in “never enough,” and I don’t want to collapse.
I want to show up — consistently, regularly.
I want to play and relax and have fun.
To fall deeply in love — again and again — with my husband of 30 years.
Our oldest son said to us recently, “You don’t seem to have much fun.”
He’s not wrong.
Learning to Live Nourished and Resourced
I want to stand with Black women, Trans and gender non-conforming and gender-fluid humans, immigrants, and people who are hungry.
I don’t just want to think about it.
I don’t just want to teach about it.
And yes — I tend to be hard on myself.
So I’m practicing acknowledging what I already do.
But/and/also — there is more for me to offer.
And to be able to do it, I need to find new ways to live nourished.
To live resourced.
To feed my inner activist as well as my inner contemplative.
Lately, I’ve realized I often look like I’m doing both — when inside, I can feel that I’m not really.
My 10-minute barefoot walk in the yard — during which I dumped the faded begonia out of its white plastic pot and onto the hill of knotweed — was a small, doable step toward integrating more earth-centered prayer into my day.
Instead of just journaling or thinking my prayers from my warm, cozy bed.
Discomfort as a Doorway to Beauty
November is calling me into discomfort.
Not deprivation or sacrifice — but discomfort in service of greater alignment with my values.
What adrienne maree brown and Sonya Renee Taylor might call being satisfiable.
Discomfort that disrupts old patterns — in me and in the world.
Discomfort that opens the door to unexpected beauty.
Is discomfort calling you to take one small, doable step?
I’d love to hear about it — or see a photo.
Deb
Reflection: When Rest Feels Uncomfortable
Q: How do I balance rest and action without losing momentum?
A: Start with small, consistent pauses. Rest doesn’t mean quitting — it’s how we sustain meaningful action.
Q: What does it mean to live nourished and resourced?
A: To act from a grounded, well-fed spirit instead of burnout or collapse.
If this reflection spoke to you, and you’re craving a way to find beauty in the discomfort, learn more about my 1:1 coaching.