I was at the library the other day and I had a flashback of being there when my kids were young. They are now thirteen and sixteen, but for those younger years we made a lot of trips to the library. 

Back then there were so many days when I faced the tension of their desire for growth and autonomy—to do it themselves!—and yet so many things weren’t safe or they created huge messes for me or they just weren't really able to do it and they would get frustrated trying and I would get frustrated waiting. 

So I loved that blessed moment at the library when they would yell I’m going to do it and run to the computer to check out their books and they could!

The stakes were low enough and yet the process was official and important and necessary—first finding the books they wanted, then carrying the stack over to the big computers, then scanning their library card, and then the little beep as they scanned each book (and sometimes it took many tries), and then placing each book into their book bag, the more the better, and finally carrying their full bags out to the car.

I think they loved being responsible for their whole experience, and it also helped that adults were doing the exact same important thing at other computers right next to them. 

It's like Maria Montesorri’s idea that children want to learn to sweep rather than just have a heap of toys—they want to find the edge of self-mastery. 

Having the flashback of my kids at the library made me realize that I also want this for myself. Of course! (I think that's why this memory came up for me right then...do memories ever work like that for you?) I, too, am seeking new ways to take responsibility and find my edge of mastery. 

But this realization also surprised me because, like most people these days, life can feel pretty overwhelming and exhausting. Can you be exhausted and also want to find your edge of mastery? Can the two exist together? 

The poet David Whyte has been on my mind, and he recounts a conversation he had with his good friend and Benedictine monk Brother David Stendl-Rast. These two Davids were talking about how David Whyte was dealing with burnout out in his nonprofit job (trying to fix the world—ha!) and feeling afraid to follow his desire to become a full-time poet.

David Whyte asked Br. David to speak to him about exhaustion. Br. David told him that the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest, that the antidote can be wholeheartedness. 

I love this. I also don't think it's either/or. In our productivity-obsessed hustle culture, rest is a powerful medicine. And sometimes the remedy for exhaustion is also wholeheartedness—letting go of our halfhearted efforts and finding what enlivens us and moving toward it with our whole heart. We often desperately need both rest and wholeheartedness...and I would add finding our edges of self-mastery, which is connected to wholeheartedness. 

And I don't think this longing for rest, self-mastery, and wholeheartedness applies just to our work. You could be drawn toward exploring a new edge in your relationships, in your parenting, on your spiritual path, in your creativity, in your body. 

Right now I'm being drawn toward a new edge—I want to teach some coach-y type classes. I’m thinking about…
 
1. crafting a kind and friendly writing/art/creative practice

2. clearing out old ideas about God and yourself (old religious trauma can really drive the bus and affect so much in life!)

3. making amends to your younger self

We’ll see what comes. 

Warmly,
Brianna

P.S.  My coaching and teaching are not about perfecting ourselves or personal betterment projects. For me, the miracle of this kind of inner work is that when we consciously take responsibility for our life and walk our path, we become a nourishment to our world.