Holding hope

hope

I was recently asked who I most love working with. “What kind of client just lights you up?” I struggled at first, because I tried to visualize a type, and anyone who knows me knows I resist playing nice with stereotypes and archetypes and the like. After my brain was done battling with itself for defaulting to type casting my clients, I came up with the attribute I admire most in clients. I answered the question with:

I love working with people who recognize that the type of values and identity work we do together is hard, but is up for the challenge. That’s brave to me, and that really makes me excited to see, because it gives me hope that positive change is possible.

I’m grateful to be asked that question, because it redirected my attention, which has unfortunately been directed toward the complex problems in the world that feel beyond my control. The question helped me feel this:

You are not a drop in the ocean.

You are the entire ocean, in a drop.

~ Rumi ~

  

Since significantly lightening my client load since my daughter was born, I’ve found myself asking, “Am I making a difference?” For whatever reason, a lot of which may have to do with the last weeks of winter being a particularly dreary drag, I felt like a drop in the ocean. I love the Rumi quote because it reminds me of the interconnectedness of everything, which has the immediate effect of reminding me that every small action matters. It is so easy to feel overwhelmed and hopeless about the events and policies covered by mainstream news sources and so important not to lose hope, because no action comes when there is no hope.

I wonder, what sparks hope in you?

Unforeseen consequences

FrontCoverimageThe payoff since publishing my book has been more rewarding than I was able to imagine it would be. I’m not talking royalties, I’m talking connection with readers and other writers.

Even though I knew I wanted my book to find its way into the hands of teen and emerging adult transracial adoptees, I blocked out thinking about readers the entire time I was writing, because I had to focus on what I wanted to say, not what I thought they might want to hear. I wrote about my experiences, thinking some of them might resonate with adoptees and hoping my words might bring comfort to any adoptee feeling isolated or alone in their own adoption story. After one friend read The Struggle for Soy, they told me their daughter who’s in high school asked if she could read it, and share it with her best friend, who is a Chinese adoptee. She thought it would help her. Hearing this brought such joy to me and filled my heart. If what I wrote is able to help just one teen, I’m honored. I hope the book reaches many more adoptees— at the very least, as evidence that our stories matter and sharing them positively adds to the diversity of narratives out there in the world.

A gift from another writer popped up in my message box a couple weeks ago, it read:

From the “unforeseen consequences” department: Seeing you have the courage to publish your book made me finally stop the endlessssss tinkering with mine, stop being a sissy, and just push it out of the nest. AND made me sign up for a writing retreat in Puget Sound (well, on dry land) to start developing a more personal body of work. See how that all works? Thanks so much.

I really appreciate her sharing this with me because although people influence and inspire each other on a daily basis, so much of the time we don’t pause to tell each other. Hearing how my action gave momentum to hers was soul nourishing. Of course I ordered and read her book, and am so glad I did, because it is full of the type of prompts that will help keep me stretching myself to grow and explore what a better version of my personal consulting business looks like.

I urge you to pause for a moment and think, “Is there someone who’s positively impacted me who I can reach out to an tell?” If there is, I encourage you to do so. It’s these connections that spread joy and hope, refreshing relief in the world we live in.