Tag: Encouragement

What Do You Want to Take into 2026?

This time next week we will be in a new year, which often lends itself to setting goals and resetting our priorities. I would like to offer a second approach which involves using the next few days for reflection, rather than immediately determining what needs to be different about 2026.

I let go of rigid New Year’s resolutions years ago. It might have been because I lost momentum after a few months, or sometimes the goals were short-term and once accomplished, I lost interest. Over time, I realized I was more motivated by examining a few core values and using those as a basis for how I lived, rather than deadlines or goals to meet. Progress and practice, not perfection.

For example, the fitness goals – building strength and flexibility and losing weight, eating healthy, and prioritizing sleep and rest. Nothing wrong with these as goals, I thought I only needed to set metrics to measure success. But what if instead I accepted that these goals were the foundation of my approach to physical well-being, incorporated them into my daily rhythm, and treated them as core values? One less resolution, one more practice.

As a recovering MBA, I am familiar with the need to set goals, deadlines, identify deliverables, and measure progress. But these days, I value time for reflection. In marketing we used to talk about the difference between “what’s so” or the facts, and “so what?”, which was more about making meaning out of the facts. Using this approach in reflection, I seek to slow down, sit still, and consider what has happened and what is going on. Then I go deeper into the “so what?” and consider what it means to me. What was the impact, what has changed, how do I integrate this knowledge into how I move forward?

In this way, reflection is like the light that shines back after bouncing on a surface; it is the understanding that follows allowing yourself to sit with your thoughts and experiences. 

I have already blocked out a day for reflection on 2025, in preparation for thinking about how I want to enter 2026. Call it superstition or the wisdom of the elders, but we were taught that you should enter the year doing more of what you want in the year to come, and leave behind those practices that no longer serve you. For a yogi friend, it is why she offers what she calls her Big Momma practice on January 1. Her grandmother had shared her wisdom about heading into the new year with her, and she chooses to gift those of us who show up with a yoga practice in the afternoon. I will be there, on the mat, in a sanctuary loft that looks over the altar where light is reflected through the stained-glass windows.

The next day is my day dedicated to reflection. I have a ritual, it includes dressing comfortably, making sure water and delicious food are nearby and ready. I light a candle when I enter the room and might play a little music for background as I settle in. I will grab a journal for writing down notes and thoughts, and have my calendars, digital and paper, nearby if I need to schedule events.

First, I consider the year in review – key events, people in my life, travel, what I accomplished, maybe what I left undone. Going through the calendar helps me remember. 

Then, I consider and write down my responses to several questions that I have gathered over many years. Some questions are:

What went well?

Am I learning?

Where was joy?

What felt hard?

Where was God in my journey?

What would I change?

Often, musing over one question might lead to another question I want to consider. I stay open to whatever the time of reflection offers. Only after I have given enough time to reflect will I begin to dream about what might be next for me, and that can be the foundation of practices reinforced, or new goals imagined and planned for. 

In my spirit, I believe that 2026 is going to be amazing, and I am excited about the day I have set aside for next week. I have the time and resources in this calm season to slow down and consider what I want more of in my life, and how I want to use my gifts, curiosity, creativity, and time.

For reflection:

How do you feel about 2025?

What would you like to leave behind?

What do you want to take into 2026?

Summer Is Still Here

As it has been for years, August was kind of my hiatus season. I slow down and except for a trip to Virginia to spend time with family and friends, I did not add much to my schedule. It is a time for planning, almost like going back to school, and I like to start September with a vision and a plan for what is ahead.

Lately, I have been intentional about taking daily walks. It is more about movement, less about “exercise”, and during these walks I sort out my writing and take in the world around me. I want to be better at observing, listening. I have seen so much on my walks, simply by paying more attention. Earlier in the summer I saw two fawns in a yard, one was resting in a shady corner, and the other jumped up, maybe at the sound of my steps, and watched me.  

I imagined their mother told them to rest quietly, that she’d be back after running an errand. Of course, there is always that one child who is either more skittish or needs to see what is happening. 

That was a joyous moment, and I took delight in seeing them. Weeks later I saw that one fawn had been struck by a car on a winding corner where I always look both ways before crossing, because some drivers think that the wide streets in my neighborhood are an invitation to race. I was sad to see the fawn there, and I wondered about its sibling. Then I wondered why we rush so much these days, not slowing down, speeding past each other, only to have to stop at the same red light.

When I took my walk on Monday, I noticed trees have lost a few leaves, or that the colors are beginning to change, and it reminded me summer is waning, and autumn is approaching. I took pictures, standing underneath some trees; other photos were taken at a distance. This summer has been a progression of colors – fuchsia peonies; red, orange, yellow and pale green zinnias; the orange of butterfly weed; the pink stripes of petunias; the red of roses; and the variegated greens of the ornamental grasses that will soon enough turn golden and burgundy. I want to take it all in, savor it, prolong the delight because I know what comes on the other side of this season. 

Where has all this walking and planning taken me? I realize I am in my calm season, my euphemism for what is something like retirement, but still very fulfilling. It has only been in the last few months that I have felt myself settle into a rhythm after years of work and other responsibilities. At first, I would intentionally busy myself if I sat still for too long, but I do less of that these days. I am learning to be comfortable with less doing, quieting that feeling of I could be more productive. I have my writing, travel, a few gatherings, and of course, my yard work. But mainly I commit to fewer things, seek to do those well, and leave room for serendipity and ease. 

Like a new school year, September feels like a fresh start, and I want to enjoy it while I have the energy of summer to boost me into autumn. I do not want to ignore these outside days, because when the inside days come, I will miss the option of heading outside without first bundling up. I am learning what life is like in my calm season.

O-o-h Child

This is not the time to put a spin on it, today feels a bit heavy because of the rising strife in this country. There is no need for me to count all the ways we are not getting along, you probably have your own list.

While I was driving in the car earlier this afternoon, a song came on and I immediately was taken back to my early teens, summer camp, and a sense that the world could and would be a better place; it would just take some time. One of the songs on the radio that summer was O-o-h Child by the Five Stairsteps, and if you are of a certain age, especially if you are Black, you remember the words:

O-o-h Child, things are gonna get easier, O-o-h child things’ll get brighter. 

Hearing this song reminded me that no matter what is going on — assaults on peaceful protests, a seeming lack of compassion for those who have the least but are expected to give up the most, growing tension in communities that used to be able to coexist — things can seem dire but we don’t give up hope. We remain or get engaged, living out our faith and activism in ways that are consistent with our beliefs and access to resources.

I’ll be at a conference this week, joining writers from across the globe. Peeking at the panel topics, I sense that activism and how to use one’s voice as a writer will be a huge part of our discussions as we gather. In the meantime, here is that song that I learned so many decades ago.

Video of O-o-h Child, sung by The Five Stairsteps. (Press “skip ads” if one pops up, it was not present when I listened to the song.)

May it give you a bit of hope in the middle of the storm.

Ramona

Resting in Winter

This morning is a cold one and usually I might complain. But this year I am reminding myself, again, that the coming winter and its colder temperatures with less daylight serve a vital purpose for nature and for me. One purpose is the same, it is a time to rest and rebuild.

Every year about this time a group of black birds settle in South Bend for a week or so, although some days it seems longer because of all of their cawing and screeching. I remember the first time that I noticed the ravens. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, talking to a friend on the phone. A landline, albeit cordless. I looked outside and saw dozens of birds settled in the intersection outside my window, in the street, and pecking at the ground. It was a bit terrifying because there were so many of them, and it reminded me of the scenes from the Hitchcock movie The Birds, where they descended on a town and started attacking people. However, maybe this area is just part of their migration path because they don’t stay long. For them, passing through town, likely led by the winding St. Joe River, is innate and part of an annual ritual.

For years I would bemoan the approach of winter, fretting over the cold and lack of sunshine, and I almost felt forced to stay inside. Two things helped me to change my mindset. The first was my growing love for gardening. Once I saw the winter as a respite for nature and an opportunity for the world above ground to be silent while my perennials preserved energy, I accepted that winter’s cold was part of the process and I could relish what was quietly happening underneath the frozen soil. I would look at the bare trees and think, “just resting, they will be back.”

Another purpose of this season was revealed at a winter retreat I went on in early 2018. I was going through a hard time, kind of low, and the gloomy days did not help. What I did was counterintuitive – instead of heading to a tropical beach, I went to the Berkshires for a week of winter hikes, workshops, and rest. I learned how to identify the tracks of animals moving about in the snow and realized that I did not have to shut myself in because it was cold, I just need to dress for it.

Our home is nearly decorated for Christmas, with lots of reds and greens, Nativity scenes, trees of varying sizes, Grinch decorations, and lights, so many lights and candles. This year has been such a busy one and it is time for me to slow down and enjoy this season. There will be some holiday gatherings, but I am also leaving time to write, sew (now that I finally got a new machine) and learn how to sit still without cooking up the next project. One of my brothers once teased that me and another brother are “always looking for something to do.” That quality has served me well but in this season, I am going to hush the small voice that tells me I could get one more thing done, that the goal is constant productivity and doing. It is not always easy, but I am learning. 

In a few weeks I will share some of my favorite reads of this year, but here is one that might help others who struggle with winter. The book is How to Winter by Kari Leibowitz. In the meantime, I hope you can enjoy some of the stillness that comes with this time of year.

Peace,

Ramona

Finding Comfort in Presence

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My father is not doing well, he’s over 90 years old and his body is slowing down. He doesn’t talk as much, eat as much, or move around like he used to. Some of this was expected—I have seen the changes over the years, but his age and health are also factors. There are days when I miss the extended conversations of months and years ago, the ones that you don’t always consider might come to an end…until they do.

My father used to tell me a story about his relationship with his mother, and how it differed from the ones she had with her other children. My grandmother passed shortly after I was born, so I know her mostly through stories and photos; the stories were always happy ones. She used to worry a bit about my father because he was more likely to handle problems on his own, and she wondered if he would tell her about issues she could help him with. She knew her son well enough, and their relationship was close so they knew what was most important to them.

It was presence, the simple act of sitting together in the room, joined in spirit and ready to talk or listen should the occasion present itself. He told me, “For us, it was presence. We could be in the same room and didn’t have to say much.”

I think of those words more these days as I spend time with my father. Our visits are quieter now, sitting outside when the temperatures rise into the 70s, or inside, where he wraps himself in a blanket even as I sit there and wish for a lower temp on the air conditioner. He takes longer pauses when he speaks, and sometimes he gently closes his eyes, still listening, taking it all in, but resting. A week or so ago, I found myself remembering longer conversations and big laughs. It is a funny feeling when you realize that an experience to which you have become accustomed might not occur as frequently, or will completely stop one day.

That’s when I remembered the words he had shared with me, the idea of presence being enough. I thought how for my father, words weren’t always the most important thing, sometimes it was the presence, the silent connection that two people could share.

Now I am looking at these quieter times with my father differently. It’s not that we don’t talk, even when the laughter is not as full as before, the twinkle in his eyes and a soft chuckle let me know he is still amused by something I’m saying. I have decided to lean into his presence, the fact that we can still be in the same room and communicate with each other. It might be different, but for me, it is enough. Okay, maybe it does not always feel like quite enough, but it is as if he is gently guiding me to a new future, towards acceptance of what is coming. I believe his presence, his spirit, will remain after everything else has changed. My father and I will be connected, as he is to his mother, now long deceased, and the ancestors that came before us all. We share a spirit, they are present.

Choosing What I Need

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Tonight, I am thinking about this question – are there times where you give up your ability to choose what you need? I don’t mean those areas where you make a certain decision because you have to, or because someone, perhaps a child or partner, is counting on you. I am thinking about the little decisions we make where if we just stepped back, we might be able to say ‘No” or “Not right now,” or even “Yes, yes, I can make time for that…because I want to, because I need to.”

Now more than ever, with so many of us feeling stretched to the limit, it is important to exercise the ability to consider what is best for you and not automatically doing things the way you always have. I am reevaluating my “shoulds” to make sure they are in alignment with my goals – personal, professional, spiritual, and creative.

It’s been a minute

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It’s been a minute – well actually months – since I have posted here. I have been writing a little, but when I’ve had thoughts about what to say in this space, it’s been hard to figure out what I wanted to share. I am doing well, and like many of you, I’ve had to adjust to life in this time where the COVID pandemic seems to influence everything.

A few days ago I was running some errands and decided to go to the cemetery where my mother and other family members were laid to rest. As you can see in the photo, it was a sunny day, and besides that, this cemetery has never seemed like a creepy place to me. I went because I can sit on that rock for a few minutes, gather my thoughts, talk to my mother and God, and pray. Sometimes I speak out loud, although not loudly, and at other times it is enough to be still. If I am patient, I just wait, and try to listen.

This time of year can be hard for me. People talk about the time before COVID as the “before-times” but this season is more the “between-times” for me. It is a few weeks after the day, four years ago, when we found out how sick my mother was and just a few weeks before the date she passed. It is a time when I can feel something in my body shift so slightly, and then I remember, that’s it, Ramona, it’s the same time of year as...

But this day it was not so hard. I had taken care of some important business and was on my way to a conversation that I was just not quite sure how it would play out. So I went to this quiet place, with only the sounds of birds, bugs, and the cars going by outside of the cemetery. I looked around me and was moved by the fact that so many other people had been here to say good bye to a loved one. I thought of how close this place is to the neighborhood we moved to when I was a senior in high school. Even if I just thought of my people here, there were so many good memories – of my mother and her laughter, my grandfather’s annual summer party, my aunt’s lemon meringue pie.

Over the last year and a half there has been so much loss – people, celebrations, gatherings, etc. We thought life was headed back to normal when it fact, maybe there is no longer normal, but just now, and the steps we take to shift to whatever is happening now. I am grateful to still be here, to have my memories and my hopes for a future. I will try to write here more often because there is one thing I have learned over the last year – waiting for perfect means I will surely miss it.

Staying at Home: My Tips for Coping during COVID-19

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I have a checklist that I’m trying to adhere to in this time of uncertainty, maybe some of my tips will help you.

My COVID-19 staying at home checklist:

  • In the morning – wake up, give thanks
  • Spend a little time being quiet – devotions, reading, prayer
  • Move a little – I can stretch, do Pilates, even lift weights at home. I don’t need a gym to move.
  • Check on family and friends, reach out – a note, text, calls later in the day
  • Work – I’m most effective in the morning so I tackle the more challenging tasks first.
  • Check reliable media to see if there is a useful update on the virus. I need to be informed, but not overwhelmed.
  • Write or do research for my writing
  • Relax
  • In the evening – Wind down, perhaps read, get several hours of sleep so I can do it again the next day

During the day, I try to eat simple, healthy meals (soups are filling and making them is relaxing for me) and drink plenty of water. I also am intentional about stopping during the day to check in on how I’m feeling—restless, tired, energetic, stressed, calm, grateful, etc. I realized getting a good night’s sleep was essential to being ready to go in the morning, and sleep is also important for a strong immune system and overall health. I hope to incorporate more time outdoors now that the weather is getting warmer, even if it means climbing the small hill in the backyard.

Stay safe, take care of your health. What are you doing to stay healthy in these stressful times?

I Can Show You Better Than I Can Tell You — BREVITY’s Nonfiction Blog

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My essay, I Can Show You Better Than I Can Tell You, appeared on the Brevity blog a few days ago and I wanted to share it with you. If you love creative nonfiction like I do, this blog, which has more than 46,000 readers, is one you should take a look at.

 

By Ramona M. Payne

My mother learned at an early age how to take care of herself. Her father died when she was six and life for her, her sister, and their mother was hard. I imagine that because her life was shaken by death and financial struggle, she sometimes had to go along with […]

via I Can Show You Better Than I Can Tell You — BREVITY’s Nonfiction Blog