Always Begin Again

especially when you think it's too late

This excerpt is from Why Bother?

“One warm July afternoon at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House

in Taos, New Mexico, I was leading a writing retreat and

talking about the power of “begin again,” how having the

self-compassion to start over—whether you stopped writing or some-

thing stopped you—is the most helpful idea and one of the

most difficult to allow ourselves. What we often do is dodge

the fact we stopped, try to figure out why we stopped, wait for

our life circumstances to change, or make a complicated plan

for how to never fall off the wagon again—and stick to it for a

couple of days and then feel defeated again.

Ruth took me aside after the class. “There’s something I

learned in the Benedictine tradition, Jen, that you might like.

‘Always we begin again.’”

I rocked back and forth in my Birkenstocks. “Always?”

“As in have mercy on yourself. You’ll always lose your way,

give up, doubt yourself. It’s inevitable. So don’t be surprised

by it. Always begin again.”

Always. What a miraculous word. Stop expecting yourself

to be steady, consistent, uniform, perfect, or otherwise robot-

like in anything.”

I needed to reread that section of my book because I’m beginning again to tend the habits and attitudes that I need to alleviate depression. As always, I’m amazed by how much easier this is to do when I take a gentle, lower-the-bar approach.

That’s the thing about anything that feels too late or past due — if we raise the stakes, if we put too much pressure on ourselves, if we insist on some form of perfection in our actions moving forward, we will wilt before we start.

Things that feel too late or “why haven’t I yet” are, by their very nature, in need of always beginning again as a guiding energy. A welcoming of all efforts with a generous attitude, a feeling of being united in the folly and miracle of being human, rather than isolated in your perceived failure or tardiness.

It’s one of my “it’s not too late” endeavors: to be lighthearted Jen more often. I want her back! I know that takes effort. My brain defaults toward depression if not roused with exercise, nature, creativity, and connection. However, I like to turn that into a bunch of shoulds that weigh me down before I even start.

Instead, yet again, I’m basking in the dignity of beginning again to treat myself with care, to make time for the habits I know will help. Dropping my expectations of what tomorrow must look like.

For tomorrow, I can begin again.

• What do you want to begin again?

• What would be different about starting if you didn’t expect anything of yourself but to start?

• If you offered yourself grace, what might you try?

Here are my always begin again habits for inviting lightness back into my life:

• Begin the day with poetry, journaling, doodling, fiction, or all of the above.

• Do not make checking my phone bad or wrong.

• Get my heart rate up for thirty minutes every day, first thing.

• Dance. Even one song.

• Yoga with Adrienne - this fifteen-minute practice helps.

• Reach out to someone every day. Texting counts.

• Do a Rick practice every few days or meditate with him.

• Listen to a yoga nidra in the afternoon. I use the free ones on Insight Timer.

• Keep an eye on pushing myself to finish the book fast or anything else that smacks of rigidity or pressure.

• Take at least one day off every weekend for FUN, and if that fun is reading on the couch, don’t judge!

Thanks for reading, thanks for being so swell. I appreciate your time so much.

Love,

Jen

P.S. I got encouragement on the novel last week. I took a class with an agent who loved my query and also my first ten pages, and Bob read the book for the first time and really liked it! He cried! He gave me great notes so I started the next draft. Onward!