Love flurries
It's cold here in Boston, and although we haven't had much snow, this week was filled with lots of little flurries.
Not snow flurries, but love flurries:
A man stopped me on the street, here from Montana to visit his daughter. He was struggling to orient himself and was flustered. I stayed with him while he called a Lyft, and made sure the car would pick him up in the right spot. A simple thing to do, and a gift for me. Helping him filled my heart. It was a tiny little generosity flurry.
Leaving the gym one morning I paused to check my coffee order. When the woman behind me spoke I assumed she was asking me to move along. (An assumption based on my own irritation when folks stop in the middle of the sidewalk to check phones.) She was actually complimenting me on my coat. A kindness flurry.
A client spent the much of their recent session in tears — tears of pride, exhaustion, and relief after completing a significant project that called on every ounce of their courage, self-trust, tenacity and vision. I cried, too. A connection flurry.
I spent an evening with beloved former colleagues from the BSO, laughing and reminiscing. A belonging flurry.
These little flurries have been gifts. Like little weather systems, they captivated my attention, made an impact — and then they passed.
This is true for other flurries, too. Because I am human, this year has also brought flurries of overwhelm, self-doubt, and worry. Some felt more like storms, maybe even deluges.
And they all eventually moved through.
Those emotional weather events existed within larger seasons — seasons of instability, calm, growth, seasons of high productivity and inspiration, seasons of rest.
I'm fortunate not to have experienced a season of grief this year. And many people I love are in one right now.
Thinking about my emotional world in this way — flurries, weather systems, seasons — helps me remember that whatever I'm feeling right now, whether love, gratitude, fear, connection, exhaustion, or inspiration, it will inevitably change.
As Pema Chödrön famously said, “You are the sky. Everything else, it's just the weather.”
INVITATION TO REFLECT: What were the seasons of 2025 for you? What season are you in right now? What love flurry showed up unexpectedly for you this week?
MY YEAR-END WISH: As we reach the end of 2025, may we all reconnect with the spaciousness and capacity of our own internal skies. May we notice those little love flurries when they arise, be kind to ourselves during the inevitable storms, and may we do our best to see all of it as passing weather in our current season of our life.
With love and gratitude to you, dear reader.