Chunky and noisy,/ but with stars in their black feathers,/ they spring from the telephone wire/ and instantly// they are acrobats/ in the freezing wind./ And now, in the theater of air,/ they swing over buildings,// dipping and rising;/ they float like one stippled star/ that opens,/ becomes for a moment fragmented,// then closes again;/ and you watch/ and you try/ but you simply can’t imagine// how they do it/ with no articulated instruction, no pause,/ only the silent confirmation/ that they are this notable thing,// this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin/ over and over again,/ full of gorgeous life.// Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,/ even in the leafless winter,/ even in the ashy city./ I am thinking now/ of grief, and of getting past it;// I feel my boots/ trying to leave the ground,/ I feel my heart/ pumping hard. I want// to think again of dangerous and noble things./ I want to be light and frolicsome./ I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,/ as though I had wings.

Mary Oliver

Surprisingly, buying my first house a few weeks ago has made me think about the lessons life prepares for us. Oliver’s poem inspires thoughts of the gift of home. Gratitude for every step and choice that has brought me to this place. It makes me think of possibility and hope. It makes me think of finding spring in any season.

Here is post about the lessons life prepares for us (I ‘ll call it advice) I wrote on Medium in April of 2020.

I want to add a few things today.

Take a long and loving look

Naomi Shihab Nye offered this definition of contemplation in her On Being conversation with Krista Tippett. It captures what I have been learning in taking a closer look at poetry. Rumi, Emily Dickinson, and Mary Oliver (the poets who I have focused on thus far) are lessons in contemplation. They are lessons in paying attention. They are lessons in noticing and naming details. They are lessons in slowing down. Contemplative eyes see through a lens of love. That feels important to understand. Poetry does that. It allows for contemplation. It allows for a long and loving look.

Grief is meant to be shared.

I have been haunted by the images of people dying alone throughout the pandemic. Of families separated during their final hours before things will never be the same. It has been heart breaking to hear stories and know that more than half a million families have experienced that pain. That speaks to the overwhelming grief associated with death. There is also grief as racial tensions lay centuries old wounds bare. There is also grief as businesses close, schools go on line, and public events are cancelled or closed to groups. There is grief as milestones go unmarked and plans are forced to change. We have all experienced this grief together. Some of us — our frontline workers of all types and their families — have carried more of the load for a very long time. I believe sharing our grief will guide us toward healing.

Eat slowly and only until you are full.

I have been practicing intuitive eating for about 6 months. Intuitive eating offers an alternative to diet culture. The basic principle of intuitive eating is that eating real food, mindfully, and only until we are full, makes us healthier. To understand intuitive eating, I have been taking pictures of my meals, noting what and why I eat, and thinking about how I feel (considering the relationship between how I feel and what I eat) everyday. The results have been slow, but important. I generally know when I am full and naturally stop eating when I get there. I am much more conscious about what and why I eat. My thoughts do not always revolve around food, eating, and weight.

Leadership matters.

I am convinced, now more than ever, that leadership matters. Leadership in the sense that we are meant to be love in the world. We all can, and must, be leaders. Leaders across all contexts. Leadership starts with our personal relationships and extends to our relationship with our world. Leaders in science and innovation. Leaders in policy and law. Leaders in education and learning. Leaders in arts and culture. Leadership, for me, is closely tied to service. When I think about times when my boots leave the ground, when my heart pumps hard, when I do dangerous and noble things, when I am improbably beautiful and afraid of nothing, that is when I am spreading my leadership wings and flying.