On the Threshold

Listen, See, Connect, Grow

I have a cup

by Jennifer Nice on category ,

I have a cup

It’s a lovely and sturdy cup

Is it full?

Is it empty?

What’s in there?

Is it half full?

Is it half empty?

Something is in there

Why do you tell me how to view my cup?

Do you know its contents?

Do you know what my cup is made of?

My cup has

Spilled

Overflowed

Burned my fingers

Chipped

Knocked over

Cracked

Repaired

AND it has never

Gathered dust in the cupboard

What a lovely and sturdy work of art

A gift

My cup

This poem rolled out of my brain through my fingers quite quickly as the curtain came down on 2023. Instead of saying Happy New Year, I changed that salutation to It Will Be a Year. As I’ve written about in previous posts, we’ve learned that control over our lives is an illusion. Who am I to say that next year will be a happy one? This I know: it will be a year.

After fighting what we (and the doctor) thought was a horrible flu for a week, William was hospitalized for 3 nights and diagnosed with a mysterious kidney infection. He was discharged on Dec. 31, 2023, then had to recuperate at home and miss the first week of winter term. Meanwhile, Marguerite, my mother in law, ended up in the ER in the same hospital at the same time as William, and was diagnosed with an inoperable and malignant brain tumor.

So yeah, 2023 ended with a slam that shouted “don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” 

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Receive and Release

by Jennifer Nice on category

Impermanence: the fact or quality of being temporary or short lived. This past calendar season, as well as the season of my life, has presented multiple moments for me to recognize the presence of impermanence. As a champion of change, I welcome new opportunities, new adventures, new challenges. Most kinds of novelty energize me over the predictable and familiar. I cannot speak for others, but for me, change precedes growth and renewal, even when it’s hard.

While I embrace change, I haven’t given much consideration to impermanence until lately. I’m reminded of a parenting article I read years ago when my children were young and the physical exhaustion was nonstop: “The days are long, but the years are short.” Indeed.  Just a few weeks ago, we dropped off William for his first year of college at Seattle University. This was not my first rodeo with college drop offs, and yet…impermanence gobsmacked me again, like I was born yesterday and had never experienced an ending of one thing and the beginning of another.

What do we do with this old/new friend of impermanence and its accompanying complicated emotions? I don’t know, but I’m trying to learn. I logged onto a live online yoga class the day after we returned from Seattle, feeling melancholy and fatigued from the weekend. The instructor talked about how we can receive and release during times of transition. I’ve noodled on this quite a bit. Honestly, to receive and release could be a daily practice to “get through this thing called life” in the words of Prince.

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What about mountains?

by Jennifer Nice on category ,

I love the mountains. Truth be told, I love the beach a little more, but mountains are a close second. Mountain metaphors, verses, quotes speak to me: 

Climb every mountain till you find your dream

I’d move mountains for …

The mountains are calling and I must go

I lift my eyes up to the mountains, where does my help come from?

In yoga there is a pose called Mountain Pose. (The English names for yoga poses, as opposed to Sanskrit, are very literal: mountain, tree, downward dog, table top, cobra, lizard, happy baby.) Mountain pose is probably one of the easiest. It’s often a beginning pose or transition pose before a sequence. For those non-yogi readers, allow me to describe it as a yoga teacher would:

Stand with your feet shoulder width apart. Feel the earth underneath all 4 corners of your feet. Stand as tall as you really are. Stretch your arms at your sides, fingers pointing down, palms facing forward. Allow your breath to flow in and out of your lungs. If you’d like, bring your hands into prayer fashion with your thumbs touching your heart. Feel the strength of your legs and the earth supporting you.

I never gave mountain pose too much thought until a couple of months ago when I attended a weekend grief retreat. It was co-led by Kirstin, a Courage & Renewal facilitator, and Phoenix, a certified yoga teacher. There were 19 of us, all women, all in various stages of grief. As you might imagine, the retreat was a weekend filled with tensions of both/and. Painful and hopeful. Emotionally laborious and liberating. Exhausting and cathartic.

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Blank inside

by Jennifer Nice on category

I was more than ready to turn the page on 2022. Many people in my circles felt the same way, so I’ve been told. 2022 was the hardest and worst year of my life (see previous post for more context) and yet, I do not feel an exhilarating fresh start with 2023. 

I possess no inspiration to set goals, make big plans, or create opportunities for success. And it feels okay. I’m doing okay, sometimes better than okay, but mostly just okay. And I’m okay with that right now.

‘Tis the season for New Year’s resolutions. Why the fascination with resolutions? Our capitalistic culture glamorizes making resolutions every new year, but most of us drop them sooner than later, despite our best intentions and the promise of improving ourselves…or something like that.

Who says starting anew can’t happen in March? Or June or October – or on an ordinary Thursday? I’m not in a space for a resolution, now or next Thursday, but still, I’m pondering the concept “resolve to always keep resolving.” My meditation practice falls under this resolving umbrella, which I’ve resumed in 2023 after an 8 1/2 month hiatus. Last week I certainly noticed a positive difference in my days after I meditated first thing in the morning. Who knows how it will unfold this week?

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Learning to carry what can’t be fixed

by Jennifer Nice on category

Dear readers, it’s been a while. I’ve started this post more than once in the past few months but didn’t feel sturdy enough. Please be aware the following contains raw and possibly triggering content, especially for those who have ever experienced trauma. If you are not in a place of strength at the moment, you may want to consider reading at a later time.

Five months ago, my daughter’s boyfriend was murdered in a double homicide. My heart races as I write this, and my fingers feel clunky on the keyboard. Where do I even start? Maybe at the beginning of their story…I will never stop remembering that Griffin’s short and brilliant life eclipses the tragic and wildly unfair ending.

Vivian met Griffin at Chapman University in September 2019. She was a freshman who had been hired as a student phonathon caller for University Advancement. Griffin was a junior and a supervisor for the student callers. They started out as work friends. I recall Vivian would often call us on the 20 minute walk back to her dorm after her shift on Tuesday and Thursday nights. She was always buoyant and happy after work. 

We first heard Griffin’s name in January 2020. He invited the phonathon team to his apartment for a party and Vivian decided to go, riding the Chapman shuttle bus over after her evening class. After that party, they played a cat and mouse game of mutual crush for a couple of months…and then March 13, 2020 happened. All the students were sent home, thanks to COVID erupting and shutting down the world.

Vivian and Griffin kept in touch all spring and summer via text and SnapChat. In August 2020, she moved back to Orange and into a house with 4 friends, where they settled in for online classes and college life in the pandemic. Griffin stayed at home in San Juan Island to work and take classes remotely, mainly because his apartment was Chapman apartment housing, and Chapman only opened up dorms that fall for freshmen to live in single rooms. During Fall 2020, their relationship ramped up to a long distance romance. When Vivian was home over the holidays, they FaceTimed every few days. Griffin finally returned to California in January 2021 and they became official. She called me the next day after he arrived and declared jubilantly, “He’s my boyfriend now.”

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Yoga retreat

My Heart Sees Your Heart

by Jennifer Nice on category

About a month ago I arrived home from a week long yoga retreat in Mexico. Even as I write this, it chagrins me how my privilege is on full display, especially in light of world events transpiring. But allow me to keep going, as my humble aim is to be honest when writing about experiences in mid-life. Although our paths look different, the journey is universal. I heard on a Brené Brown podcast once that mid-life is an actual developmental stage in adults and it’s critical we’re aware of the changes and challenges facing us in this stage of life. And I would add, let’s be open about it!

The theme of the yoga retreat was “Embrace the Edge,” taught by Fiji McAlpine of Do Yoga With Me. I started doing online yoga classes on this website back in 2016 (thanks to a tip by my sis Molly) and Fiji quickly stood out as my favorite instructor. When the yoga retreat was advertised in the winter of 2021 for the following year, I needed a ray of light and hope to grab onto…something to look forward to, hopefully post-pandemic. Even so, making a reservation felt indulgent and maybe reckless, with the future uncertain. Yet a giddy anticipation bubbled inside me by the act of committing to something I knew I would probably, absolutely, savor.

Molly and I decided that yes, we should book our spots and go for it. It was the best decision.

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Be Still

Stillness

by Jennifer Nice on category

Welcome to January 79th, the endless month of the year! January has a knack of dulling the “new year” glitter and resolve in a matter of days….at least for me. While I’m not a resolution type person, I read this thoughtful article in the New York Times about ReSOULutions. This happened around the same time I was wearing a cloak of depression that I couldn’t shed, no matter how hard I tried. I pulled out every tool in my toolbox and while these tools didn’t hurt and probably helped some, I wasn’t getting the relief I was seeking. A blessing and a curse of my personality (an Enneagram 1) is my tendency toward action, toward improvement. But humans sometimes exhaust our reserves, and when we get to that point, we have choices to make. 

That’s when I have to surrender. Usually the memo comes through my physical body, which makes my choice for me. The body doesn’t lie. Any kind of mental or emotional distress generally shows up as pain, illness, infection, fatigue, etc. Surrender isn’t giving up, it’s giving back. Giving back to health and wholeness. There is freedom in that, rather than loss. At least that’s how I’ve reframed it for myself.

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Traveling light

by Jennifer Nice on category

This fall we headed to Boise to watch William run in a regional cross country meet. It was going to be a quick weekend, and I preferred to not sit in the car all day on Friday and Sunday with only one day of play in between. I’m a bit of a diva when it comes to avoiding physical aches and pains! So I booked a one way ticket from Portland to Boise on a Friday afternoon. William hitched a ride on Thursday with friends and Jason departed Friday morning with one of the dads. Lucky for me, that meant my luggage could ride in Jason’s car and I only needed to take my purse on the plane ride. The ability to move through security, walk through the airport, board the airplane, get seated – unencumbered by a roller board felt absolutely liberating!

When the plane landed in Boise, we deplaned down the stairs outside. Even passengers with carry-on bags had to “check” them at the gate because the overhead bins were small. Lots of people had to wait outside the plane while their carry-ons were unloaded. Not me – I sailed by the crowd and strode out to meet my ride. I felt so carefree, and yes, lighter.

What does it mean to travel light at this stage of life? It’s something I think about often. No one gets to mid-life unscathed. It’s part of the journey of being human. Although our problems and suffering are individual to each of us, the struggle is universal. By the time we reach mid-life, we are carrying around a backpack that is stuffed with experiences – the good, bad, and in-between. The ordinary and extraordinary. The successes and failures.

Sometimes, that backpack can feel mighty heavy. It’s up to us to pause from time to time and unpack it. Sift and sort and discard. Because if we don’t, the heft of that backpack can become painful, even unbearable, and negatively impact our wellbeing and those around us. They see us metaphorically hunched over and shrinking under the weight, and it’s usually a detriment to us and our relationships.

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Let’s grow: inner knowing

by Jennifer Nice on category

I’ve been procrastinating writing this post for a while. It’s been an interesting, albeit gorgeous (as you can see from the photo) fall. The irony is I’ve had more margin and time to write since I’m job searching and not going to work everyday, but the words have been just tumbling around inside me, unable to to express anything coherent. So, please bear with me this month!

When I say interesting, I’m referring to the interior field trip I’ve been on and how it has played out with some experiences in my exterior life. The opportunities to strengthen my inner knowing have been relentless and persistent. So I’ve been paying attention. 

Richard Rohr has explained that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, rather than thinking ourselves into new ways of living. I have pondered what that means. He recommends “voluntary displacement” – get out of your routine, your group, your comfort zone, your little world. Any little effort that perhaps makes us uncomfortable and gives us new ways of seeing and helps rewire our brain. This is probably why I love traveling, especially to foreign countries, so deeply. When we sailed on Semester At Sea it was an endless string of discomforts along with the adventures, but I have never felt so alive. Alas, international travel doesn’t happen much these days, so I try to look for other avenues to “live” myself into new ways of thinking. This includes my inner knowing.

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Expectations, joy, grief

by Jennifer Nice on category

Last month I was in Southern California to drop my daughter off for her junior year of college. Lucky for me, beloved friends I met in college still live in the area, so visits to SoCal always fill my bucket in more ways than one. After her work day, one of my friends invited me to go to an AKT class with her (she likes to try new fitness trends, of which there is no shortage of in Southern California!) I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m always game for a new physical challenge, so of course I said yes.

When we arrived, the instructor “Chelsi” personally greeted me and was dressed head to toe in 80’s exercise garb, including “Let’s get physical” splashed across her bodysuit. I smirked inside, remembering how Santa gave me that Olivia Newton John album in 5th grade. Chelsi informed us it was 80’s week, hence her “costume.” The class turned out to be a super high energy aerobics class that kicked my butt. Waayy harder than the aerobics classes I took in the late eighties and early nineties…or maybe it’s just that my muscles are now 50 years old! She cranked the 80’s tunes for the entire hour and taught us (not so) simple choreography the last half of class. Even though I was sweating bullets and gasping for breath, a huge smile plastered my face the whole time. When the disco ball sprinkled its shimmery lights everywhere for the “last dance,” joy was literally bubbling up inside me. The novelty, the familiarity, the music, the endorphins, the zero expectations….all of the above made me feel giddy in a way I hadn’t for a very long time.

Joy truly does show up unexpectedly. We just need to be ready and receptive. 

Earlier in the summer that was not my posture. At all.

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