This past Monday I had the pleasure of returning home from an amazing trip to the West Coast. I spent four days on Martha Beck’s ranch — playing with life and opening wider to all the magic that sings with us and through us.

However, what was scheduled to be a 12 hour, 2 flight rendez-vous home– turned into a 21 hour, 3 flight trek. Very little pleasure in that reality. 

I was grounded at the first airport for 5 hours and yet was surprisingly calm and joyful.

What I noticed — it wasn’t attached to anything except my own internal compass. Funny things started to happen when I leaned further into the calm and joy — a friend of mine arrived to catch her flight and we were able to spend an extra 45 minutes together talking about the weekend experience.

The kind gentleman that helped reroute me– spent 45 minutes finding the best possible scenario home for me– and then upgraded me for all my flights and tagged my bag a priority (this was a gift into itself if any of you have spent way too much time at the BWI baggage claim– especially after midnight).

I delighted in the universe conspiring on my behalf to take life’s circumstances and co-create some magic with me.  

And then, on the very last flight– 40 minutes from landing— we flew directly in to a windy, rainstorm that shook the plane and my stomach up and down and sideways.

Suddenly, the joy of living in creative response to all that had happened up until that point– was gone. 

I didn’t want to wade through another storm– I believed I had already had enough that day.

I was tired. I was hungry. I was done.

How often do we almost get home, metaphorically speaking, and there’s one last storm? 

Maybe we’re not in our best when the storm arrives due to navigating all that has already come before.
Maybe we want the last part to be easy. We believe we deserve it.
Maybe a lot of us quit (myself wholly included) right before we would experience the breakthrough.

So, how do we weather this last storm?

Here’s what I practiced in that storm (and it safely brought me home to my bed about 2 hours later):

Presence which includes feel all the feels.
Raw truth (no sugar-coating the feelings of fatigue or hunger or frustration).
Being in the discomfort without victim-status.
Asking myself what feels most like love in this moment (the answer for me was “just breathe slowly”).

What I’ve learned this week…we can weather the first storm, the middle storms and the last storm and the journey will be so worth our effort.

I’d love you to share with me how you weather your storms– send me an email or let’s share a coffee together.

With love,