By Suzy Rawlins with Roots and Boots with Suzy Rawlins

“The secret to life is to put yourself in the right lighting. For some, it’s a Broadway spotlight; for others, a lamplit desk.” ~ Susan Cain

If you have known me for any time, you have seen me serving on committees, leading teams, networking, hosting social events, and gathering people.  Most people assume I am an extrovert because of my outgoing nature.  It is true that I love to gather people and create great memories, I will lead when no one else will, and I have a heart for volunteering. I am also very outspoken.

Those who are a part of my inner circle know that I get energized from being in nature, making memories with just my immediate family or close friends, or spending time at home and getting some quiet time.  Even when it comes to having family over for holidays, I am happy to host and entertain, but then I need everyone to go home so I can re-energize. 

It has taken me many years to realize that I am really an introvert.  I tend to make friends out of strangers easily.  I love having a good time with groups of friends.  It was not until about ten years ago that I realized that I am an introvert who can extrovert very well.  It is in most recent years that I have become more intentional about my morning quiet time.  This allows me to center and ground myself before going into my day where I interact with customers or groups.

Being around fun people, making memories, and being part of groups brings me happiness.  Spending time in nature and enjoying a cup of coffee on the front porch while reading my bible brings me so much peace and joy.  By being intentional with my energy I can enjoy the best of both worlds.

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By Wil Becker with Turning Leaf Solutions

There are so many answers that can come from this question. Some that may be embarrassing and some that would be very funny. Personally, I tend to think of my formative experiences.

For example, the day I knew I loved air conditioning. My dad was stationed at Fort Meade, MD; I was probably 13 years old at the time. Maryland summers can be hot and humid… sometimes. We went to church in the morning and the house temp had been set to 70°F. We came home from church and my dad opened the door to the house, the storm door had closed behind him.

I opened the storm door and walked into that pocket of cold… aaahhh, instant relief. I knew right then and there that I loved AC and I would keep my own place chilled.

Eventually, we would move to another duty station, and I would sneakily change the AC temp in our home. My mom would always yell at me when she got too cold and after she discovered that I had changed the temperature again.

One year for my birthday, she made a cake and in the icing on top, she wrote “King of Cold” (it was blue frosting). I think it was a chocolate cake with cream cheese icing.

We moved to Texas after my dad got out of the Army. Eventually, I got my own apartment, during college, and kept the temp at 68°F. I had two roommates and we had three couches in the living room. We hosted a lot of hangouts because Steve was (and still is) the handsome one whom the young ladies liked, and Paul had a big-screen TV.

Because we did a lot of movies and other activities at that apartment, we kept a pile of blankets in the front closet. When people came over, they would grab a blanket from the closet. The ladies would sit two or three under a blanket. Spring, summer, winter, or fall… I kept that apartment at 68°F.

I have some fond memories of those times; so much so, that I sometimes miss that 900-square-foot apartment.

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By Sharon Loduca, Real Estate Professional in Ontario, Canada

I don’t think there is anything that no one knows. My life is kinda routine and predictable, and I have a reasonably consistent pattern. Well, mostly. Almost like the steady rhythm of the ticking of a grandfather clock, albeit with a few glitches. But there is this one thing that only a very small number of people know about me. I’m not even sure why I do it, but I do it. It’s such a seemingly insignificant thing, yet it’s become so ingrained within me.

I hold an unwavering respect for the potency of words. I guess it started with my kids on their first birthday. I didn’t plan it; it just evolved from a simple action that became a tradition. It began innocently enough, with heartfelt reflections on their past year and words of hope and love for the year ahead. In one of those moments, I was feeling rather philosophical. I felt in my spirit that the words I was writing could have a monumental impact. They were meant for this kid at this time. They would be fresh manna for their souls. I realized that these words held the potential to shape their destinies, instill confidence, and perhaps even kindle a fire of purpose in their hearts.

During one of those particularly sentimental moments, as I poured my soul into the ink of my pen, I was overcome with a profound realization. In the deepest part of my being, I felt the words were so impactful that they could become everlasting symbols of my affection and devotion to my kids.

For want of a better choice of words, I would say it became such a sacred purpose that I felt I needed to dedicate a brand-new pen that had never been used by me before. I wrote the living words. I clipped the pen to their card so that I would never use it to write anything else for anyone ever again. It was exclusively for their words. Exclusively sealed into eternity.

Over time, this extended to cards when they came home from camp, a card written during Christmas or New Year’s, and cards written for others. But whatever the event, to this day, when I handwrite a personal note of reflection or encouragement to anyone, I only use that pen for that select purpose, feeling a sense of divine connection to the words I am imparting.

I cannot rightly express the importance of this to me, the impact of understanding the value of words shared with someone, meant to impart purpose, value, respect, importance, love, compassion, and encouragement. It became a conduit for my compassion, transmitting the essence of my heart for them onto paper, in a way that would always transcend time.

When the words were finished flowing, I clipped the pen to each card, ensuring I would never use it for anything else, only for this sacred missive.

It is such a simple act, but it took on its own life and added depth to the life of the words somehow. Either way, it holds immense significance to me now. Somehow, it’s as if the pen’s exclusivity bestowed upon the words an everlasting power, sealing them into eternity and imbuing them with an indomitable essence. It was my way of instilling in them that they are valued beyond measure, that their dreams and aspirations matter, and that they are deserving of all the love and encouragement in the world. And that I unwaveringly felt every word that was written to them, for them.

My kids are adults now, but age doesn’t seem to matter. The words continue to flow. And always from a pen of exclusivity. These words of strength and empowerment continue to breathe life and meaning.

Ahhh, the power of the pen. To uplift spirits. Heal wounds. And perhaps from time to time even offer solace. The words it pens are just little ripples in the pond of life, spanning time, always living.

May there always be a pen around to extol the power of words that have the ability to penetrate hearts, minds, and souls. May you give the pen its due respect. May it always express sentiment, humor, compassion, and insight. May that pen always be an ode to the transformative power of words and the extraordinary potential that resides within every soul.

And now, you all know

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By Jamie Allen Bishop with Jamie Allen Bishop Coaching

Something you may not know about me is that I have bad days, too. The version of Jamie you may witness online is bubbly, accommodating, and hopefully a little bit inspiring. That is the real me. I genuinely feel happy and positive most of the time. I honestly am that person. I am joyful. I am giving. I am excited. I am straightforward. I am silly. I am eccentric. I am likable. I am a mirror. I am… me.

Have you ever read the book or watched the movie Pollyanna? I am a Pollyanna, which I take to mean I always see the silver lining on a stormy cloud, view the world through a lens of possibility, and see the good in every situation. Being a Pollyanna means I have unwavering faith that everything is always working out for me (…and for all parties involved).

But it’s not always easy to see life positively, and even I, like Pollyanna herself, can get caught up in my head… feeling doubt, worry, depression, and unhappiness when it seems like everything is going wrong. Having a bad day – here or there – is a natural and instinctive reaction to certain experiences. Being aware of what triggers us into that space is the key to unlocking how to release those feelings and discover the why behind the reaction. Not easy, but doable.

When I see the truth about my life and it seems bleak, I repeat the mantra: Everything is always working out for me.

Remaining true to the core of my being, the Pollyanna within, helps me navigate the challenges and obstacles that rear their ugly heads on occasion.

What do you do to shift your mindset when things are more challenging than normal?

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By Cheryl Clark with Clark Strategies

Hear that creaking sound??  That is the lid to Pandora’s box opening!  Boy, what a loaded topic this blog post could be!  Talk about picking and choosing what one may want to share for all to see and read!  I’ll share three:

1. I hate olives.
2. I can’t sleep with my feet tucked in – they MUST be out of the blankets/covers.
3. I am petrified of grasshoppers!  Yes, you read it right, and yes you can chuckle!

My hate for olives started about 12 years ago.  I went to a local Subway (sandwich shop) and had them craft me up a sub and said I would love some olives on it.  I took the sub home, opened the wrapper, sunk my teeth in, and gagged!  This was no longer a sub sandwich with multiple toppings. It was an OLIVE loaded, soaked, saturated moment… and Tada!  A disdain for olives has been part of my world ever since!  Some have asked but what about a pizza with olives on it?  Oh, I can get it into me, but I will go the extra mile on a pizza with olives and lift the cheese up to check for any sneaky hidden olive components prior to eating said pizza slice and remove them all before sinking in my teeth!

Why don’t they make sleeping bags with little tuck-outs for feet?  Have you ever thought of that?  I don’t know when or where or why this started for me, but it is very real.  My feet wrapped up and tucked in bring on a sort of small panic attack of feeling trapped and confined.  My feet also sweat if enclosed and I want to say overheat though I know that may sound like I’m exaggerating but they literally feel on fire in what others may consider comfy cozy moments.  Yet, let me add this – I don’t do barefoot hardly ever and always have socks on even when just wandering around home!  Go ahead and analyze this one – and while you are at it wait till you read the next paragraph on something you may now know about me!

Petrified is a level up from scared, isn’t it?  I am petrified of grasshoppers!  My mother said as a child I would play with them, and I can not remember those playful moments, but I can picture it because I do love all things nature and critters.  Give me a snake, spider, mouse any ole day but heck no to the grasshopper!  I faint.  The world goes dark and black, and I just can’t.  During ‘grasshopper season’ you will find me grabbing onto the shoulder of a friend, closing my eyes, and having said friend lead me to wherever we need to go!  You will see me pull my car forward and back and forward again and back until I think I have successfully scared all grasshoppers in the near area as I get out of my car and bolt to my indoor area.  Yes, me… a 5 foot 10 on the larger size gal can not do this bug whatsoever!

Now when you see friends post a picture of a grasshopper on my Facebook wall – you’ll know they are in the know and are one step away from being blocked!  Just sayin’!

Oh, the many pieces of a puzzle that make up who we are and so many pieces are never seen by others!

Great blog topic this month, and I am looking forward to reading other blogs, too.

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