Tag: heart

What I Know, Not What I Think

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“The Heart has its reasons, that reason does not know.” – Blaise Pascal

I have a lot of opinions about all that’s going on in the world. Don’t worry – I’m not going to tell you them. I realized the other day that not only do I get a steady dose of news from my media intake, but I also am getting a whole lot of other people’s opinions about it from newsletters, expert commentary, inexpert commentary, memes, and more.

This a-ha made me realize that I needed to take a breath and find ground in what I know instead of just what I think. My dad was a great believer in the wisdom of the heart. The quote for this post was one of his favorites.

So here’s what I know:

No one knows the future, no matter what credentials they have.

People working together can accomplish great things.
Pitting people against each other can lead to temporary gains but comes at a cost.

There are real feelings in the pancake vs. waffle debate.

One suffering soul can hurt a lot of people

Healing is always possible but it takes hard work.
It’s my responsibility to do my work so that I can try not to add suffering to the world.

Believing is a way of life. If something requires me to check what I believe at the door, I should be doing everything I can to resist.

When I feel rushed, oppressed, and worried, the best thing to do is slow down, remember what I know, and find the next right thing to do. The rest is in God’s hands.
Believing that there is Higher Power helps me to work hard in the day and sleep at night.

There are an infinite number of things that can bug me – and the at least the same number that can delight me.
Whether I find one or the other, depends on me.
Developing the discernment between what is irritating and what needs to be fixed is a constant practice.

Love is all there is, to quote the Fab Four.
Being mindful of expansive love changes my experience: love of all the precious people around, the beauty of nature, the delight in the air I breathe, the gift of the day I’m in.
Uncertainty triggers fear and moves me out of love.

Navigating uncertainty takes energy.
Patience takes energy.
So sleeping and eating well can truly change the world.

When choosing between the standard and the ultra, always make the ultimate pancake recipe

The golden rule to treat others the way that I want to be treated works to reminds me to flip my perspective.
But I will never know what anyone else’s experience is like.

Sharing of authentic stories is transformative.
Opinions rarely brings us together. Swapping stories often does.

There is no one else I can be.
Conversely there is no one else others can be.
People change; but not how you want or when you want them to.

Slowing down how I roll helps me find more opportunities to be kind.

Effort brings outcome.
Exercise is worth it.
Setting goals that are bigger than I believe I can accomplish will take me somewhere.
There is nothing I can wear that will replace confidence.
It is possible to live through hard times and learn from them.

My dad once wrote, “The distance between our heart and our head is about 13 inches. When our hearts are right, our heads will follow along by believing.“
And that leads to the last thing I know for this post: A hopeful heart is a powerful thing.

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about collaboration and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

The Fullness of Time

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“The years teach much which the days never know.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Miss O has been working on “time” problems in school. Like “It’s 12:40. Zach is supposed to meet his friend in 45 minutes. What time will it be when they meet?” She generally likes math but these problems are getting her goat at the moment.

So, we were settling into bed and she asked me, “Was time around when you were a kid?” Then she thought for a moment and continued, “Oh yeah, they’ve had it for a while.”

I couldn’t get out of the room fast enough to burst into laughter and write that one down. That she said this the night before my birthday wasn’t lost on me.

Hee, hee. Yes, they’ve had time long enough for me to count out 55 years. What else has the fullness of time given me?

Laughter

When we had a small party of family and friends to celebrate my birthday, as well as my mom’s and my friend Eric’s, the thing I enjoyed most was the laughter. Miss O and Mr. D put on a recital. There was great food and also presents, but the real gift was the just the lightness of being. Miss O asked why my eyes leak so frequently when I laugh. I don’t know exactly, but it has something to do with just being so happy to be here.

Perspective

Time has also given me the gift of perspective. It’s a bigger sea in which my hurts, my worries, and even my hopes feel less significant. They matter, but more as in a way that helps me set my sails instead of being the sea itself. I’m a far more patient person – but not because I’ve grown my patience but because the fullness of time helps me settle into the wait.

Heart

I have a favorite quote when it comes to the heart,

“God breaks the heart again and again and again until it stays open.”

-Hazrat Inayat Khan

When I first met that quote, it was like almost everything else that has become my teacher. I thought, “No, no, no.”

But time has shown it is less about heart break and more about giving up control. There are people, things, dreams, and abilities that hurt so much when they go. But the heart has no hands to hang on to them. Leaning into that is like opening windows in my heart so that the breeze can flow through.

So, has anyone figured out the answer to the time problem at the top of the post? Clearly, it’s “Who knows because Zach is always running late? But we’ll hug him when we see him.” 🙂 Or at least that’s the answer that the fullness of time has given me.  

Writing From the Heart

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“There is a wisdom of the head, and…a wisdom of the heart.” – Charles Dickens

This post was originally published on 3/1/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.

The other day I read a beautiful post that was a tribute to a dearly departed pet. It was so touching and zinged me right where there’s a sore spot from missing my beloved dog, Biscuit, that died six years ago. I had to walk away for about 30 minutes before I could write a comment.

I find this so often be true – the topics that are the closest to my heart are hard to write about when the tears are still flowing. When I had to say good-bye to Biscuit, the next day the only words I could manage was to put a sign next to the cat who was also grieving the loss of his buddy:

Cat missing his newly departed dog

So this set me off wondering why it is so hard. Loss of perspective? Lack of clarity so I can’t yet make meaning? Inability to see the keyboard when the tears are flowing?

Thinking it could be a left-brain/right-brain kind of thing, I looked up the neuroscience of writing and found this New York Times article: This is Your Brain on Writing. Turns out that left-brain/right-brain isn’t much of a delineation that they make these days. Instead the article describes the results an fMRI study of the brain while writing including the detail that in expert writers, there is a part of the brain, the caudate nucelus, that lights up. The same part of the brain doesn’t light up for novice writers, a result that made sense to the scientists because the caudate nucleus is the part of the brain associated with expertise. Which was interesting but didn’t get me any closer to an answer.

Then I looked to our sacred texts and the spiritual world for wisdom on those moments when I can’t write. I was reacquainted with one of my dad’s favorite quotes from 17th century mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal: “The heart has its reasons, that reason does not know.” My dad often cited this quote in an argument about belief in God – that our heart knows even if there isn’t any proof for the head. Maybe those topics that zing me are too close to my heart so they haven’t made it to the head yet?

Next on my list of possible explanations was poly-vagal theory about the three states of our nervous system. When I wrote about it for a post, The Unified Theory of Breathing I summarized the three states as: ventral which is calm and regulated, sympathetic the fight or flight response, and dorsal which is when the nervous system has been so stimulated that it shuts down. Perhaps when I can’t write, I’m flooded, in a dorsal state and can’t write? While this alludes to an answer, I don’t feel like I’m dysregulated and can’t write, just that I can’t find the words.

Finally, I turned to the world of yoga and meditation and found an explanation that makes sense to me. Stillness. When my waters are muddied, I have a harder time seeing into my depths. In times of life when the waves are choppy, I am all churned up inside. It’s only when I reconnect with my inner stillness that I can see well enough to cross the space between me and you.

What I found to be as fascinating as the question itself were the lenses I looked through to find my answer. Brain science, theology, physiology, and meditation – my four go-tos and I usually find the answer sitting in meditation. Must be why I do it every day. A confirmation bias loop because it works for me.

Here’s my take-away from the journey: It’s hard to write when I’m too wet and stirred up in my heart. And it’s also hard when I’m too dry and too much in my head. I have to aim for somewhere in the middle where I’m soft, warm, and clear.

What about you?

Photos of the Week: April 1

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“Children learn more from what you are than what you teach.’ – W.E.B. Dubois

We didn’t do much this week. It was all gray skies and screen time so we just gutted out the last week of March and didn’t have any fun.

APRIL FOOLS!!

Because we did manage to have quite a bit of fun this week. Including, Mr. D working out his tetherball technique with Nana.

A 2nd grade class field trip to the Seattle Center.

Practicing assembly skills so that one day they can put together their own IKEA furniture.

The kids taught me never to cede high ground in a squishmallow fight.

A blossom heart creation.

And our favorite gas station being a little cheeky.

Photos of the Week: Feb 4

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“In every winter’s heart there is a quivering spring, and behind the veil of each night there is a smiling dawn.” – Kahlil Gibran

Weather – from freezing to springlike and back to rain all in one week. Welcome to Seattle winters – but it gave us a lot of interesting pictures.

How much is that doggie in the window? When we drive by, usually it’s an orange cat lounging there but on this particular day, the dog was taking a shift instead.

So nice to have help with my colonoscopy prep…I think. 🙂

Aww….

Which leads to the heart of the week – Cheerio dust in the sink!

A Kind Word

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“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.” – Lao Tzu

I received a lovely email from someone this week that was incredibly kind and complimentary. It ended with the sentence, “So, I just thought that was the sort of thing a person ought to hear about themselves.”

Encouragement, defined by Oxford Languages, is “the action of giving someone, support, confidence and hope.” The word origin is from the French from en (make, put in) + corage (heart, daring) from which I draw that encourage could be “make daring” or “put in heart.”

Using either definition, I am always deeply grateful for the people who have and continue to cheer me along. It is a gift that takes just a sentence or two but has a ripple effect that lasts so much longer than a conversation.

I find encouragement to be one of the secret sauces for life – whether it’s in the giving or receiving, everything tastes better. And when properly nourished, it’s so much easier to share the love. In trying to express my gratitude for my friend’s kind words this week, I hope I’ve taken a little bit of heart and passed it on. May we all tell someone just the thing they ought to hear about themselves.

Have you given or received encouragement this week? What does it look like for you?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Blogging Around the Coffee Table

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“Fill the paper with the breathings of your heart.” – William Wordsworth

I have a feeling when I blog – both reading and writing – that it’s like having coffee with a group of friends. I get to talk about what is holding my interest these days and I get to hear about what’s going on for other people. The topics are wide-ranging but the lovely part is that there’s space for everyone to share.

My experience differs based on whether I show up to share with my head or my heart.

When I write from my head, it feels as if I’m tussling with my inner critic. I find myself more restless and wanting to rely too heavily on other people’s ideas and words. It feels as if my fingers are encased in bubble-wrap and I have a harder time getting the message across. If I were to name someone I write for when I’m in my head, it’s my mom who is incredibly smart, very literal and a stickler for a solid argument and perfect English grammar.

When I write from my heart, it feels like being in the flow of the stream. I can produce faster when I get out of my own way. It’s not that my head isn’t present – it just has accepted its position to be subordinate to the heart. In that way, I get to the point more quickly, as to the “heart” of the matter. When I’m writing from my heart, I write as if for my dad, the person who is incredibly generous in their desire to understand the point of what I’m saying even if I miss a couple of steps in my argument.

Where do you go, metaphorically speaking, when you write? Do you have a specific person or image that you write for? What does the blogging experience feel like for you?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Looking for Evidence

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“Remember it is who you are that heals not what you know.” – Carl Jung

Yesterday I came across some notes I jotted on my phone of books that my brother recommended the last time we were together.

I adore my brother. He’s 6-years-older than I am and has been the sibling that I’ve looked up to since I learned how to look up. I’ve lived near him my entire adult life, I was very close with his daughters when they were growing up and now he’s very close with my kids. There was even a time 20 years ago when I worked for my brother at his company.

So I think it’s safe to say we have a natural affinity for one-another – we have lovely conversations, enjoy our time together and have stuck together through the ups-and-downs of life.

But I can’t name a single book that I recommended to my brother that he has read. And he reads all the time so it isn’t because he doesn’t like to read. Same goes for podcasts, tv shows (back when I watched tv) and spiritual practices like meditation.

It’s taken me a lot of growing up to be able to say with certainty that it isn’t because I’m his younger sister. I know he thinks I’m smart and he respects me.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who has looked for evidence that they matter in the lives of the people close to them. I’m thinking of a comment I once heard a husband tell me that his wife had to vote exactly the same way on a ballot which surprised me for an independent couple.

When my brother eulogized my dad he described my dad’s ability to “meet you where you were at without leaving where he was at.” Coming back to that helps me remember that hearts are the center of friendships, not heads. The work of love is to meet each other so we all know we aren’t walking alone. Instead of looking for the ways I’ve influenced my brother, perhaps I should just count all the miles we’ve walked together.

 I ended up not checking out any of the books on the list from my brother. Not because he doesn’t read mine, but because I like it when he tells me the stories of what he’s read and where’s he been. It gives us something to talk about when our hearts meet.

Do the people in your lives read the books or content that you recommend? Does it matter?

Hey, Listen

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“Please remember, it is what you are that heals, not what you know.” – Carl Jung

My kids and I were driving in the car the other day. My toddler kept saying “Mama?” and I kept answering, “Yes?” and because he still has a limited vocabulary, the conversation would stop there until he said, “Mama?” again a moment later with the same call and response. And then my five-year-old said, “I think he likes it when you answer him. It makes him feel like you are listening to him.” Awww.

But this post isn’t a victory lap celebrating great listening because I can just as readily not listen well. One rainy weekend during a coronavirus era lockdown, it felt as if my five-year-old hadn’t stopped talking, singing or asking something for the entire day. I asked her if we could be silent for 10 minutes and she thought about it and asked, “Why?”

When I listen well, it’s listening from the heart. It feels like a catcher’s mitt that is worn, old and ready to receive. I can listen to hurts, opinions and worries from my kids or friends and gently accept them. In that mode, I can even accept what my inner voice is telling me without struggle.

And when I’m listening from the head, it feels more like a tennis racket. I bounce things back without holding them. When it’s an owie, physical or otherwise, it seems to make them last longer. As if the teller has to dig in to convince me of the wound by describing the size, shape and depth which in the telling makes it larger.

When my kids get hurt, I want to solve what they were doing that caused the injury so they don’t do it again. Or, I want to downplay what I saw as such a minor scrape that couldn’t hurt so much. Even worse, when my daughter apologizes, I tend to use it as an entrée to a lecture on why she shouldn’t have done whatever it is that she did instead of simply saying “thank you, I appreciate that.”

And it’s not just kids, I have the same patterns with friends. Someone apologizes and I jump to say, “It’s no problem.” Or if listening to a hurt, I can rush to put one of my one on the table to somehow try to validate them or maybe prove that I have the right to be there.

I also find it difficult to listen to myself, to listen to my inner voice, that small, insistent voice that tells me I need to get up an hour earlier to mediate, do yoga and write. Or tells me to extend myself to a friend when I’m in a rush. A voice that I’ve come to recognize as part of my Divine path because I will inevitably end up having to listen to it, I just get to choose to do it when it’s a gentle whisper or wait until it’s an insistent bellow.

So, I’ve tried hard to learn to listen with my heart. Sure, there are times I need to engage the head to engage in critical thinking when safety and sanity are at stake but when it comes to hurts, apologies and accomplishments, I find the heart does best. Because it’s great to feel heard and it’s even better to feel heard and held!

The Root of Courage

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“Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow.” – Dan Rather

My mom was joking with me the other day that I’m paying for preschool for my toddler twice. “First you pay a monthly fee for him to attend three days a week,” she laughed “and then you pay again by having to hold him for three days straight after that.” And as it goes with humor, there is a lot of truth in that. As my toddler goes through this third week of being at daycare, I’m exhausted from making breakfast, lunch and dinner with only one arm but hopeful that he is getting a little more comfortable with this new routine. And as soon as we get into this rhythm, it’s going to change again when my 5-year-old gets to go to in-person Kindergarten for the first time.

This pandemic has been hard for me as I try to be everything to everyone – breadwinner, childcare, friend, teacher, janitor, all without much personal space to recharge. But this re-entry is definitely hardest on my kids. Even though there have been times when they were bored at home, all this time has mostly just been basking in their happy space without having to grow their boundaries. It has been all the sweetness of togetherness and not the growth that comes with otherness.

I come from a long line of encouragers but as we face these situations I think most often of my dad. At my dad’s funeral service, he was eulogized so perfectly as a “battery on feet, just looking for someone to jump start.” When working a project or a problem with my dad, I always felt that everything was possible. The word encourage has it’s origins from French – in courage. And to break that down further, courage as in rooted in the heart. So we encourage others by instilling courage, helping them to live from the boldness of their heart. I love this breakdown of the words because it reminds me that courage isn’t going forward without feeling but just the opposite, it is completely rooted in feeling. And to encourage, we help others lean in to all those feelings and do it anyway.

So I’m happy to hold my son for three days after his days at preschool. I give him some of my heart so that he can go forward living fully from his.