![]() Is it true that "what goes around, comes around"? Maybe—if you believe it. Is karma for real? I’m curious—if it is, how does it really work? Are there hidden laws of nature at play beneath the surface? Absolutely! These invisible forces—the ebb and flow of life, the tides of energy, and the subtle threads that connect us—remind me that there’s always more than meets the eye. What I do know is this: seasons happen. People, thoughts, and emotions appear and disappear in waves. The ebb and flow of motivation and inspiration is undeniable in my personal experience. In the past, whenever I encountered an ebb, my knee-jerk reaction was always to resist, push through, and never give up. But isn’t that the opposite of “going with the flow”? Living one block from the ocean on Venice Beach, California, taught me a lot about the rhythm of the tides. I’d watch waves advance and retreat, each one flowing farther up the shore or pulling back, depending on the tide. I witnessed ferocious storms and times of total calm. I remember a specific ebb during my career when I tried to push through a project that simply wasn’t ready. I poured my energy into every detail, ignoring the growing resistance I felt inside. The result? Burnout and frustration. Later, when I paused and gave myself space, the clarity I’d been searching for arrived effortlessly. The lesson was clear: sometimes, flow comes only when we stop forcing it. Patience—and awareness—are the only salves for this particular force of nature. I’ve witnessed my own ebbs and flows of emotion and inspiration. In these moments, I sometimes sense the faint pull of a thread beneath it all, connecting the waves of life and guiding me forward. Sometimes pushing through yields fruit; other times, it doesn’t. Learning when to push and when to stand still feels like a hallmark of an ever-expanding maturity. There are milestones, landmarks, and defining moments along the way, certainly. But the fall back and regroup often feels like an automatic, wild response to moving forward. “Two steps forward, one step back...” The pause—whether caution, contemplation, or simply waiting—is what allows me to be unattached. Given my intention and my actions, I can watch the outcome unfold and reflect: Was it even close to what I intended? The “step back” becomes a space to learn and grow with ease, little by slowly. Though I don’t have children, I often imagine what a curriculum in Life Skills might look like. What lessons would I teach my younger self? Lessons that allow the confident spirit to shine, creativity to flow, and life to be free of suffering (if not pain). After a 30-year corporate career training adults, I wonder how I could package my experiences to be touching, moving, and inspiring for peers—or for anyone seeking a little more ease in navigating life’s ebbs and flows. One of the first lessons I’d teach would be patience. It’s a skill that doesn’t come easily, especially in a culture of “hustle” and “never give up.” But patience is what allows me to ride the waves of life with grace. Another would be awareness—the ability to set aside beliefs, expectations, and defensiveness, to stop blaming or criticizing, and instead to fully experience the moment as it is. Awareness invites me to notice life’s tides as they shift and pivot gracefully, rather than reactively. Both skills have carried me through countless moments of uncertainty, showing me how to trust the process rather than fight it. And at the heart of it all, I’d include a lesson about connection—about learning to recognize and follow the subtle threads that guide me. There’s an emerald thread of the soul that runs through my life, quiet but persistent, and noticing it is what allows me to navigate even the stormiest tides. This awareness creates space for trust, curiosity, and growth. For some time now, I’ve shared my journey and reflections here, inspired by images and ideas from my daily meditation practice. Recently, though, that hasn’t felt adequate—or entirely authentic. But in writing this, I’ve noticed a thread running through my tapestry, one that might just resonate with others. This thread—the emerald thread of the soul—has always been there, even if I wasn’t looking for it. It’s a thread that’s shown up in moments of inspiration, in quiet pauses, and even in the middle of life’s storms. Following it has taught me to see the beauty in small, subtle moments and to trust that even the “setbacks” are a critical and necessary part of a larger picture. Each individual experience may or may not resonate or inspire you, but the bright emerald thread of the soul is beginning to emerge. This is what I’ll pay attention to—watching for it out of the corner of my eye. It might not be visible immediately, but like the rising tide, it will eventually and inevitably raise all vessels. The tide doesn’t rush or resist—it simply rises, carrying everything with it. This is the kind of trust I aim to embody in my own life: a quiet, steady faith that even when I can’t see the full picture, the tide is lifting me toward clarity, growth, and alignment.
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