When you’re anxious about the future and craving stability

Rootedness
Stability
An Anchor

These are words I’m often hearing when folks talk about what they are longing for. The question is, in this time of rapid change and uncertainty, what can be relied on?

As I was contemplating this question on a walk last week, suddenly a big hawk flew over and landed on a fence right in front of me. It checked things out for a few minutes, then looked me straight in the eye, shot out a big white poop, and flew on to a nearby tree. 

You might find this story gross, but I think it’s a pretty great response to the question!

“Release that shit and move on,” is what I hear. 

I think this process itself could be the anchor. We keep digesting, keep eliminating, and keep going.

Maybe we’re not truly designed for constancy anyway. Trees are so well-rooted, birds can fly from one to another, perching on any strong branch. Maybe we too can trust we’ll find what we need when we need it.

I think of the moon cycles too. We see the moon full for only a night or two each month, but in reality, the moon is always whole. She is a steady companion. Even though, from our vantage point, she seems to always be changing.

What I hear is nature saying:

Root in the practice of letting go and moving on.

Stabilize on what’s already here and grounded.

Find dependability in the cycles.

If you’re feeling anxious about the future and not sure how you’ll deal with the trials to come, here’s a little gift. It’s a simple song meant for the shower, the road, your community, or anytime you need a little help trusting yourself and the bigger picture: “When The Time Comes”: A Singalong for Anxious Times by Julia Aziz. It’s been good medicine for me, and I hope it will be for you too.

Wishing you a new chapter of curiosity and adaptability, with lots and lots of love,

Julia Aziz

PS- I made a choice some years ago to be consistent with certain offerings, to create a rootedness in practice and ritual. If you could use a space to rely on during these times of change, please check out the variety of offerings on this site. Or you can read these reflections in your inbox once in a while and get updates about services by signing up for my mailing list 💛

When you’re unsure and asking, “What should I do?”

As I write this, I’m watching birds nibble from the bird feeder out my window. They love when the feeder is full; they visit many times throughout the day. When the feeder is empty, they go elsewhere. Seeking direction on our own life questions, could the next steps somehow be as clear? 

Uncertainty is intrinsic to this human adventure, so asking “What should I do?” makes sense. But who gets to determine the answer? Are we meant to follow what other people do? What they say they do? What most people do? 

The problem in looking to outward authority is that no one else is living our whole story. No other person has experienced our childhood, our lineage, our hardships, and our particular gifts and blessings. There is no end to the influencers, gurus, teachers, and leaders who will speak authoritatively on how to live a life. But they too are unique and fallible human beings, no matter how wonderful, wise, or worldly.

What works for some doesn’t necessarily work for all. So what if we junk the “should” question, and wonder instead,

“What will I do?”

A question like this can feel silly, trivial, like child’s play. Maybe that’s because it points towards a subtle, innate way of discerning the dominant Western paradigm has taught us to dismiss rather than claim. Play with the question when feeling in need of advice, and perhaps in time, a phrase, an image, a sensation, a flash of remembrance–some tiny pull towards what’s next might come along. 

Or maybe no response arrives. It may not be the right time to know.

Maybe instead, it’s an opportunity to shed some material things and obligations we don’t really need. 

With the extra time and space, we’ll see what happens next. Maybe follow what feels natural from there.

With more bird seed in that feeder, undoubtedly more birds will come. They go towards what nourishes them. We can remember how too.

Believing in us, and in you,

Julia Aziz

PS- Could you use some deeper support in accessing your own felt truth as you navigate challenging times? See different group and individual offerings here. And if you’re curious about this topic and related contemplations, please do sign up for my mailing list.

Image by Les Bohlen from Pixabay. I’m not quick enough to capture the birds!

When you need to push through and keep going

“I’ve got a lot going on.”

“I may not like this process, but I need to push through.”

“I would love to take a break, but there’s too much to take care of.”

These sound familiar? Whether it’s a crisis, a big life change, social action, or relentless responsibilities, sometimes we need to answer the call of necessity–no matter how we’re feeling about it. The question is how to push through with vitality, rather than straining to the point of collapse.

It reminds me of a time when my seventeen-year-old sedan gave up on the hill of a highway frontage road. Cars were speeding by, blaring their horns, but there was no hope of revival. Luckily I was able to coast down to the exit, landing on the side of the road. That car had had enough. It had been pushed too far and too long, without the maintenance it needed to keep going. 

No one wants to be that old car! If we’re going to do more–for our work, for our families, for our communities–we will need to do more to sustain ourselves too. Sure, we’d all prefer a break to a breakdown. But when life is too full to take time off, we might have to take what I’ll call “time in.”

“Time in” might look like purposefully moving a little slower than our regular pace, especially during a busy day. Listening to a bird sing during a rare pause in the action, rather than checking email. It’s like the old Zen teaching on lengthening your meditation when you have less time to sit. Need to do more? Do less too.

“Time in” might also look like an intentional mini-breakdown. In a safe space, a good cry, a wild tantrum, or a full somatic anxiety release can relieve some of the tension that comes from having to keep it together. A little rest afterwards, and it can be just the right medicine for getting back up and keeping on going.

But hey, sometimes self-care can feel like just one more thing, so if that sounds like too much, it’s not necessary. The pressure to stay on top of everything is like the pressure of those passing drivers blaring their horns: it’s not going to solve the problem, it’s only going to stress us out more. Better to give up on being superhuman!

When the long road ahead is worth the trouble, we’ll each find a way through. 

I respect that there are times in life that require more of us. It can even be empowering to know we can step up when needed. Other times, it just doesn’t work to say “C’mon, get up, you can do this! What do you need to push through?” In these situations, maybe there’s a downshift, a “Here I am. Here’s my capacity. Now what will I do with it?”

Wishing you replenishing rest stops wherever you can find them, and a bit of coasting downhill too, 

Julia Aziz

PS- Need some supported time-in? Check out my individual therapy or the Release & Empower Women’s Group Program. And be sure to sign up for my mailing list; you’ll receive some free, easy ways to love yourself through all the ups and downs of life.

Image by Tobias Brunner from Pixabay

Orienting in uncertainty

This past summer I got to have another face-to-face encounter with a black bear. I was going down the winding mountain trail, she was going up, and we both stopped short upon meeting each other. I took a small step back to give her more space, trying not to fall off the mountainside. She quickly sussed me out, then turned and headed into the forest. I stood there watching her go, wistful and graced.

Every time I see a bear, I’m struck by the relaxed, easeful way they move. When they encounter something unexpected, they’re immediately alert and responsive. Then they go back to being relaxed again. Wouldn’t this be a powerful way to approach the uncertainty of our times? Relaxed and responsive, calm and available to act when needed. I like it!

I think about bears more often than most, but I still get the shock of “Oh! This is really happening now!” when I actually see one. Most of life is not so compelling. This kind of wake up call to aliveness is harder to come by when paying bills or brushing teeth. Though those mundane tasks may be exactly where more presence could help!

It makes me think of my dear friend Svenja, who died this past spring on the precipice of becoming an empty-nester. Sven was a master of savoring the moment, someone I could always count on to both dive deep and find humor in all things. On hospice care in her final weeks, one of the last texts she sent me said:

“I don’t feel like talking, It’s all a bunch of Hoo Ha. I just want to see stuff and taste stuff…”

It is all a bunch of Hoo Ha, isn’t it? We only get the moments we get. It’s a gift when we fully experience the small, everyday sensory experiences while they’re here. After all, this is really happening right now!

The point isn’t to be commanding “Be grateful!” at ourselves or each other in the little moments. Like Sven, who didn’t like to be too precious about things, we can take the pressure off. Savoring is not clinging–it fiercely appreciates then lets go. Savor and release. Relax and respond. Here and now, here and now.

I used to build forts in the woods with the neighbor kids when I was young. Storms would come, we would forget about these refuges for a while, then we’d go back and have to refortify. I think we’re in a time of inner fortification right now. We’re remembering what matters, replenishing the strength and courage we’ll need as our collective human story continues. My question is, what is this time of change asking of you?

Wishing you time to reflect, savor, and fortify—not just now, but any time you need to,

Julia Aziz

PS–If you’d like more support navigating these challenging times, we have spots available in the next season of Release & Empower: A Group Program for Women Moving Through Change. Or if you’d prefer individual counseling, please check out my psychotherapy page.

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Reviving Into A New Year

The other day, I was sitting outside with a cup of tea when a butterfly came for a visit. She fluttered around, then perched on the side of my cup, closer and closer to the edge, until she fell in. It took a few moments for me to find a twig and rescue her, lifting her drenched and struggling little body onto the rock next to me. I tried to use my breath to dry her off, but she was barely moving. I watched as she brought her little antennae to press lightly and repeatedly on her chest, almost as if she was giving herself CPR. For a long time, she just laid there still, and I figured that was the end. I went for a walk, thinking maybe I’d bury her later to honor what I had witnessed. After a half hour or so, I came back, and there she was–upright on the rock now, starting to flutter her wings a little bit. Surprised, I watched her for a while more, then took a break. By the time I came back, she had flown away. 

Revive. This word feels like it’s been taken by fundamentalists, but let’s think about it. To Bring Life Back. Wow! Nature is amazing. We have the capacity to return to life. Our metaphorical revivals are not always met with a lot of fanfare. They are often quiet, slow moving, and subtle. Nevertheless, they are real, and they are necessary.

As we enter this new year, I wonder, where have you been living a half-life, and what revival may be underway for you? This is an individual and a collective contemplation. It’s easy to see all the problems; so much in our lives and our world is not working. To be able to see differently is a big deal–maybe even essential for a new way to emerge. In 2024, my wish for all of us is to return to life with new vitality and vision, especially in the areas that need it most. 

What is the strategy here? The old way of pushing an agenda and trying to make things happen no matter the fallout has caused plenty of suffering already. What if instead we (1) take the risk of following curiosity, even if it means falling in the cup of tea (2) claim the heart’s longing to feel and revive and (3) receive the patience and support we need. Then rather than “making” transformation happen, we “let” it happen. Big vision, tiny changes. Everything grows, or returns to life, one day at a time.

Many many blessings upon you and your loved ones, and all beings of this earth, in this new year,

Julia Aziz

PS- If you could use more support in envisioning and allowing change, check out the Release & Empower Women’s Circle or my 1-1 psychospiritual counseling or consultation services. And if you’d like to receive occasional articles on self-healing and empowerment in your inbox, just sign up for the mailing list here.

May we remember that people on the other side of the internet are real, just like we are, with real feelings. May we remember how wonderful it is to learn from different perspectives. Let us find radical acceptance for ourselves and each other, and learn a new way of peace.

How this new year might be different

As I was leaving the farmer’s market this weekend, a young man called out, “2023 is going to be the best year ever!!!” I turned and said curiously, “Really?” We laughed together about how “best ever” may be too heavy an expectation to lay on 2023. Instead we agreed on wishing each other fresh new beginnings and an excellent new year.

There definitely seems to be a general sense of possibility in the air. I’m hearing people ready for something new and wanting lasting change, though also still struggling through plenty of chaos and grief. Like many of you, I’m over it when it comes to New Year’s resolutions, but the collective desire for transformation is definitely fuel for whatever we’re hoping to do right now. It’s a great time to welcome new beginnings while integrating the wisdom of what we’ve learned about power and limitations.

The pretense of what I’ll call the “marketing of manifestation” is falling by the wayside. Change doesn’t always pan out so well when we’re muscling through life, shouting, “I want this, and I’m going to make it happen!” If we haven’t learned by now we’re not in control here, I don’t know how we will. On the other hand, we certainly have a major role to play in what happens next. We can start down the road of our choosing with vision, courage, and flexibility–or not. We can be creative with the obstacles that impede our best laid plans–or we can resist them with all our might. We have choices, often and always.

Integrating both intentionality and receptivity might look a little different from the usual new year goal-setting process. Instead of “what do I want?” we might ask:

What will help me to open and meet life this year?

What do I feel called towards?

What changes are in right timing?

Intentions are only the beginning, just like this week is only week one. Purposeful change begins with clarity and continues with the unglamorous-but-necessary quality of perseverance–that slow, persistent willingness to keep taking the next small step on the winding path each day. More than an online quiz with a formula for what to do, then trying hard and giving up when willpower runs out, I invite you to find supports that will help you chart your own course, grow from failure, and re-open to life again and again.

Where is support showing up that I can receive more fully?

If you’re a woman who is often supporting other people in *their* changes, do check out the new year Release & Empower Women’s Circles. This program was created specifically to support *you* in maintaining the changes you want to make and in moving through those changes you didn’t count on. If this group isn’t resonant for you, I know there are plenty of ways a person can find accountability for keeping on the heart’s path. We know we will fall off again and again this year. We’re mere humans, and we are lovable when we dream big and when we fall short too. We are enough, and we keep going, together.

Wishing you less pressure and more ease in all that you create and all that unfolds this year, 

Julia Aziz

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How about “I don’t know?”

It’s been interesting to watch all the expertise being shared in a situation that almost no one alive today has ever lived through. Yes, decisions need to be made quickly in a crisis, and we have to use the limited information available to make them. Leaders, especially community-minded, heart-centered, intelligent leaders, are genuinely needed to set the tone, and there’s a lot of societal pressure on leaders to speak with the voice of authority. But what I’m not hearing enough of in the general discourse is, “I don’t know.”

I want to talk about what we don’t know because, the way I see it, the only way to learn is to begin with not knowing. Just imagine trying to speak a new language but instead of learning the alphabet and listening to others, you start pretending to know it. You’d mumble out some gobbledy-gook and wouldn’t be able to understand how anyone responded. How would you ever learn if you didn’t admit how little you knew to start? 

Now some may say we can’t just hang around doing nothing and not knowing. That’s true. There is a lot of service to do and mouths to feed. Yet, can we also be honest with ourselves and each other about being in a place of uncertainty? Yeah, it’s uncomfortable. It also just is. The place of not knowing is dark, vast, and full of potential. It’s an important place to be, even if just for a little while each day. It is where creativity, intuition, and wisdom originate. It is where control is released. Just because we can’t see well here doesn’t mean something important isn’t happening.

I’ve been obsessed with the lower edges of tree trunks lately. I pass by trees on my morning walk, and I gaze at where they meet the ground. If I hadn’t learned better, I would think those big trunks just popped out of the grass and reached into the sky. But of course their roots lie below, maybe even directly beneath the ground I walk on. There is so much beyond what we can see. We are, after all, just little ants on a big anthill. So why pretend otherwise? 

We start with not knowing. And then perhaps we ask, what is the very next right step? That may be all the truth currently available for now.

I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been working on a couple projects that I hope will be of service and support to you in the days to come. I’m not quite ready to talk about them yet, as I want to respect their particular life cycles, let them grow with their own natural timing beneath the surface a little longer. How any of it unfolds, your guess is as good as mine. What I do know is this: 

It’s OK to be unsure and to just take one step, then the next. 

Clear knowing comes from neutrality, not fear. 

Seeing the humanity in others will never go out of style.

I wish you waves of relief in the “I don’t know,” with plenty of curiosity and listening. Reach out for support if you’re struggling though. You’re not living in the uncertainty alone.

Much love,

Julia Aziz

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What it takes to be free

Commitment, structure, accountability. I’m surprised you’re still reading; those words bring up strong resistance for many of us. Or at least for those of us, like me, who like to feel boundless, creative, and free. But one thing I’ve learned is that commitment can actually be a channel for creativity, and structure, with its fewer choices, can be a relief, letting the wild one within feel safe to emerge.

In 2006, when the idea for my book first emerged, I started writing here and there, when I felt inspired. I didn’t feel pressure to produce anything, just a vision hanging overhead and a vague pull to sometimes give it voice. That haphazard “write-when-you-feel-it” pattern went on for about six years, until the very end of 2011, when I decided to take on a thirty day challenge of writing every day. Once the book became my homework, I actually made some good progress on it. I didn’t stick with the daily writing practice after the thirty days, but I did become more disciplined about writing, and two years later, I was able to send a manuscript out to a few publishers. When I received a book contract, it then took just three months to completely rewrite the book and ready it for professional editing. The structure of writing regularly, the commitment to complete the project, and the accountability to my publisher are what allowed a dreamy inspiration to become something you can actually hold in your hand. 

And so I wonder:

What if the commitment wasn’t to get something done, but to let something go?

What if a structure supported finding your own answers? 

What if you were held accountable to resting, receiving, and ease? 

We need containers for healing and growth, just like a caterpillar needs a cocoon. I would have given up on that book if it weren’t for the writing discipline and an editor waiting on me to finish. When it comes to our emotional health, commitment is even more important, because it affects not only us but also all those we care for in the world and in our families. To fully express what’s within us without alarming the neighbors, we need the space, the privacy, and the compassionate support to do what we know will help.

If you’re feeling like you could use some accountability for releasing stress from your mind and body, I absolutely invite you to explore the women’s release and empower group program. I know commitment is scary. Trust me, I feel it too! But wow, the alchemy of what is possible when heart-centered women gather together and let go of what’s weighing them down and holding them back… watch out world, here we come. 

RELEASE & EMPOWER: A WOMEN’S GROUP PROGRAM FOR LETTING GO AND MOVING ON

The women that have signed up so far are wonderful people, making me even more excited for this group. Check it out if it calls to you! And if you’re already committed to your stress relief and truly supported in your well-being, I hope you let this “no” be just as powerful for your freedom.

Shine on, dear ones,

Julia Aziz

When you gotta do what you gotta do

Two summers ago, I met a bear. It was my first morning in Colorado, when I went out for a walk and discovered a nearby mountain trail. Being able to walk alone out my front door and into raw nature is one of my favorite pleasures of life, so I was singing along and hiking hard, grateful to be there. After a couple hours of happy exploring, I returned to the base of the mountain and was looking at a posted map when I heard a rustling sound. I turned around, and there he was, a bear walking down the trail headed straight towards me. 

Not only had I never seen a bear before in real life, I hadn’t even realized that seeing one in this area was a possibility. My very first instinct was shocked stillness. My next first instinct was to flee. I made an involuntary gesture as if to make a run for it, which made the bear approach faster, with more curiosity. So I turned to face him head on, spreading my arms and legs wide, making my most ferocious-sounding, guttural growl.

The bear, now fifteen feet away, stopped, looked me in the eyes, and tilted his head, as if to say, “Huh?” Then he turned away, veering off the trail into the forest. Heart-racing, I watched him go, holding myself back now from following him. He had scared me to death and was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

Is there something you’re afraid of that may be coming towards you, like it or not? Maybe there’s a big change you’ve considered making, and though you don’t feel completely ready, it’s starting to happen anyway. Or perhaps you’ve been keeping parts of yourself hidden out of fear of being judged, but it’s becoming more painful to hold back now. We must do what we are called to do, even when the reasons don’t line up. It’s like hiking alone in the deep forest. Maybe it’s not the safest thing to do. But sometimes what we love requires facing what we fear. It’s how we find out we are strong enough.

Last year, on the same mountain trail, I started climbing a waterfall when I lost my balance, flipped over backwards, and luckily landed in a shallow pool of water. Alone, with less than half a water bottle left and one ankle/foot clearly unable to move, it was up to me to get myself down the mountain far enough to find phone service and call for help. I had to wear an ankle boot for two months and couldn’t take a walk again all summer. This mountain has been schooling me! I am approaching it this summer with great humility and respect. I will honor this trail as the pilgrimage route it is, at least for me. It is beautiful, terrifying, and magical, like all paths of courage. The answer, I know, is not to stop climbing the mountain.

I hope you have a wonderful summer, and I hope you decide to take risks for what you love. You’ve got what it takes, even when you’re not so sure that’s true. I always welcome hearing your stories if you’d like to share them too! 

Much love,

Julia Aziz

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When leaving it all isn’t the answer

The subject of quitting seemed to strike a chord for a lot of you, judging by the number of responses I received. Job dissatisfaction, relationship distress, the busy pace of modern life—so much isn’t working these days. Sometimes we’re not ready to throw in the towel completely though, and yet we can hardly bear staying stuck any longer. In these situations, it’s important to remember the other possibilities for change.

Here in Austin, we’ve been having intermittent storms come through. One day it’s sunny, and the birds are chirping; the next day, torrential rains are flooding the streets. On a neighborhood walk between storms last week, I marveled at the large branches scattered about the road. To look up at the healthy green canopy on a sunny day, it’s hard to imagine the trees carrying that extra weight for as long as they did. But they stood there tall and intact until nature’s momentum was strong enough to release their weaker limbs.

Counseling people over the years, I’ve heard a lot of stories, and I’ve seen how most of us struggle making decisions using the mind and the sheer force of willpower. Usually the options seem pretty dualistic, such as: should I stay, or should I go? Like the branches broken off in the storm, sometimes we can let go of the parts that are weakening, instead of uprooting everything. Examples are all around if you look for them. The parents who live separately but continue family traditions with their children together. The new mom who shifts from working full-time to being part-time and remote. The couple who lets go of monogamy and invites in other partners, while still loving, communicating, and respecting one another. Traditional structures are falling apart; they’re just not working for everyone anymore. What will survive the massive changes is what still has strength, vitality, and the ability to grow. When we embrace right timing to let go of the parts that no longer bear fruit, we may actually grow stronger once the storm passes. 

In this athletic, competitive culture, we’re taught well how to push through resistance, lean in to challenges, and manifest success. We don’t learn much about patience, adapting, and letting go. Most of us need some re-education, or better yet, de-education, in how to let nature take its course and remove what it will. When you know what’s not working, one way to respond is to grab a chainsaw and cut off that part of your life. Another way is to hold that grief with honesty and tenderness until, eventually, smaller breaks begin to occur. When the various unseen forces come together, the momentum will remove parts that aren’t serving their former purpose. Does any of this happen painlessly? No way! We need more love, not less, throughout the whole process, for the gentle light of compassion is the salve. 

Regardless of how it occurs, change happens by us, to us, and for us. It is the earth life we came here for. May you find courage through it all, and trust no matter what. 

Much love,

Julia Aziz

PS— Insight is easy, but how to actually live this stuff in the everyday is where the real work is. If you or someone you know is struggling with change, whether you need one-time or ongoing support, please reach out and ask. Or if you’d just like to stay in touch a bit more, sign up for my mailing list here.