On my recent walks this week, I noticed more leaves changing colors. The luminous sun embraced the intensely colored foliage and highlighted the shifts in the fall palette. Frequently, I paused to fully appreciate the beauty. I saw the brilliant warm reds, oranges, and yellows juxtaposed with the cooler greens. I felt the gentle, refreshing breeze on my face as I heard the rustling of the leaves above. During the later part of the holiday season, a commonly overheard phrase is “winter wonderland.” Today feels like a fall fantasy ripe with possibilities. Are you feeling motivated? Are you sensing a change? What is possible?

I look forward to the intimate monthly virtual gatherings led by my wonderful friend and incredible Life Coach, Yota Schneider. At the retreat, we meditate, journal, and share our thoughts. She selects a theme each time, and this month was The Season of Change. During the gathering, she told us about Chris Bianco, an “inspiring pizza man from the Bronx,” and his philosophy on life. He sees life as a “petri dish of possibilities.” What a concept and approach to living!

While we typically think of a petri dish in a scientific context where microorganism cultures are developed in a small shallow container, there is another definition. Something that fosters development or innovation can be a petri dish too. A petri dish of possibilities supports a growth mindset. You’re not a stuck, fixed being. You can stretch, create, change, and imagine.

Have you ever felt stuck? If so, you’re not alone. We all get stuck at times. There can be many reasons why or when that happens. Often our thoughts keep us fixated on a single idea, and we have difficulty changing the script. What if you integrated the “petri dish of possibilities” into your consciousness? Would that open up your thinking?

At times having too many options creates paralysis. When numerous choices make you feel stuck, the ‘petri dish’ phrase isn’t a great choice. However, in many situations, it is a useful concept to engage.

“Life is a petri dish of possibilities.”

— Chris Bianco

The phrases you repeat in your mind can change the trajectory of where you’re going. Are these affirmations helpful?

• I am moving forward.

• I am no longer stuck.

• I am making a choice.

• I am taking action.

• If my action isn’t effective, I will experiment with something else.

• I will embrace what’s possible.

• I see a petri dish of possibilities.

It’s fall. Change is all around. Are you thinking about what’s possible? Which ideas resonate with you? I’d love to hear your thoughts and invite you to join the conversation.

There is laundry to wash, meals to make, people to check in on, and bills to pay. You have papers to sort, closets to organize, and schedules to coordinate. Your time is filled with the doings of daily life and so much more. You work, walk, run, and show up to support injustices. You reflect, create, converse, sleep, and reset. 

For this brief moment in time, my purpose is clear. Instead of doing or preparing for the next thing, I choose to be still instead of rushing ahead to another moment. In the quiet cocoon of my dark green hammock, stretched out between two 100-foot trees, I gently rock. 

The white clouds navigate decisively across the light blue sky. The gentle breeze shakes the leaves on the trees, which makes a swishing, rustling sound. The spring air is delightfully warm, and not too hot. The sunlight dances as it shows off the varied green hues in the woods. My breathing slows as I take in the deep earthy aroma of the forest.

At this moment in time, as the leaves rustle and birds sing, I sway side to side. The hammock’s movement encourages stillness within – just sense and notice. There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still. I slowly breathe in and exhale out.

“There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

The landscape is wrapped in that sleepy, afternoon light. A rustle. A chirp. Clouds float across the sky. Feeling inadequate, knowing that I alone cannot heal this world filled with so much unrest, pain, anger, and sadness, I choose this one moment to just be. My pause is not forever. From this place of calm, I can reenergize. Learning, questioning, helping, and doing will come, but for this moment in time, I am still. 

What does quiet look like for you? Is it something that you need? Can you remember a time when your nervous system was calm? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

The world took one significant pause these past months with quarantines and stay-in-place orders. Each day we lived with a continually changing landscape, uncertainty, and stress. Some of us became ill, lost loved ones, or jobs. Some of us retreated and hoped that things would return to normal soon. Some of us did our best to keep it together because others relied on us to teach, lead, or comfort. We lost track of time and found it hard to remember which day it was. 

There have been inspired ways we’ve chosen to use our time, even with the hardships we’ve faced and difficulties we are still navigating. Because all of a sudden, we had time to spend in ways that we never expected. While there were the binge-watching-chocolate eating-no-showering days, we also crawled out from the covers to experiment. We created music, baked bread, knitted, made masks, gardened, wrote, invented, and delivered groceries to those in need. We Zoomed with loved ones near and far. We slowed down. From this pause and interruption, some of us found time to reflect and create. Some positive and unexpected outcomes emerged.

In recent posts, I’ve written about some of my calming and creative outlets like mindfulness meditation, yoga, walking, baking, writing, and photographing.  Something else surfaced for me during this time. Many of my friends are gardeners. I’ve always admired their ability to plant, nurture, and make things grow. I have vivid and happy memories of the few times in my life when I picked fresh fruit and vegetables. Yet in all these years, I convinced myself that I couldn’t grow stuff qualified by a host of good excuses. So, aside from one failed attempt at planting tomatoes over three decades ago, I never tried. How sad is that?

“This time of the pandemic has been fascinating because experimentation feels less scary.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

This time of the pandemic has been fascinating because experimentation feels less scary. There is a feeling of “Why not?” or “Things are already so strange. What do I have to lose?” I noticed that my thoughts about gardening kept surfacing. My internal musings became impossible to ignore. So I began discussing with friends that I was thinking about making an edible garden. They were so encouraging and had many great ideas.

Now here’s where things got tricky. While I was thinking about all of the delicious vegetables I could plant, I started feeling overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure if it would work, if it would be too hard, or if I’d enjoy the work. I thought about the advice I share with overwhelmed clients when their organizing goals feel too big. Start small and build from there.

“I thought about the advice I share with overwhelmed clients when their organizing goals feel too big. Start small and build from there.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

I took my own advice and decided to begin with a few herbs (and one tomato plant) to grow in our greenhouse. How hard could that be? It turns out that it wasn’t difficult at all. Not only that, but I loved digging in the dirt, arranging the plants, smelling their fresh scents, and watering them. I’m excited about my tiny, doable, not overwhelming garden. It might be a stretch to call it a garden, but I’m going to anyway.

I recognize that to some, especially the seasoned gardeners might think my story sounds ridiculous. Perhaps you’re thinking, “What’s the big deal? She just planted some herbs in a pot.” I get it. But to me, it represents getting over myself and being open to something that, for years, I convinced myself I couldn't do. I figured out how to create a garden on my terms. Perhaps it will stay small. Maybe the plants will die. However, this also might be the start of a new passion. Time will tell.

With so much destruction and strife in the world right now, it feels good to focus on growing and creating. Has the pandemic inspired you to use your time differently? Have you been experimenting more? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.