Today is my first day back to work after my three-week family adventure in Spain and Iceland. This trip was a much-needed break for all of us – it allowed time to process Shon’s cancer journey and celebrate that the cancer is now in remission. It was a time for us to rest and relax, to connect with each other, ourselves, and this beautiful planet we live on.

It was fantastic. I am completely enchanted with Spain. It was my first trip to Europe, and it was so fun to just be there, taking a break from work and the problems of the world. There are so many highlights of this trip – eating gluten-free baguettes with local cheese and olive oil on the beach, building sandcastles and playing in the waves, seeing old-growth olive trees, exploring 2,000 year old ruins and tiny mountain villages, soaking in hot springs in the mountains of Iceland and riding Icelandic horses, to name just a few. While I was away, my body aches and pains went away. Several years’ worth of stress slowly sifted away with the crashing of the waves.

This morning, on my first day back to work, I met with two incredible teachers, Q and C. I will be working with their classes over the next 4 weeks on a collaborative Art in Action Project. The class’s title is From Climate Crisis to Action: Is it too late to Hope? It’s a big title for a big problem. On my way to this meeting, the first since my return, I could feel stress circling, wanting to land within me. I brought in a mantra that my mentor gave me a while back: Time is my friend. Time is my friend. And allowed ease to be my guide.

When I enter the room to meet with these teachers, who are also friends of mine, we hugged and said our hellos. One teacher mentioned how I would have to pick up all of the balls I’d set down during my trip and start juggling them again. I said “Oh no, I am not juggling balls, I am juggling balloons. They just slowly float down and if I drop one, it doesn’t break, and I can pick it up again at my convenience.” They oohed and aahed over this visual. Q said she’d been imagining juggling balls, or maybe fragile China and that the balloon analogy felt so much better. She added to the analogy that sometimes the wind might blow a balloon away and that is OK too.

In fact, I had a couple of my metaphorical balloons blow away in the past week. And while I mourned the loss of one for a minute, I decided to simply trust that as that door closed, another would open.

As I talked with these teachers, learning what they’d focused on with the students over the past few weeks, we began exploring concepts for the collaborative art project. As we were tossing ideas back and forth, an idea came to me. As I shared it, I felt shivers run through my whole body. I’ve come to know that this is a sign that I need to pay attention. That something magical is in the works. As we explored this concept, we talked of the duality of this life we live, and of the overarching question of the class itself—Is it too late to hope?

Life is filled with really hard realities and sometimes terrible things can and do happen. At the same time, our planet is incredibly, mind-bogglingly beautiful and nurturing. How can we hold these two truths at the same time? I had tears come to my eyes at the thought of the beauty that I experienced over the past three weeks: the red rocks along the coast, wild rosemary growing in the mountains of Spain, 1,200 year old olive trees, waterfall after waterfall after waterfall in Iceland. Then returning home to find everything green and fresh with life, birds singing, and the sun shining. This world is filled with so much beauty that I overflow with emotions. As I take the next step on the path of my calling, the emotions begin to flood through me. Yes, this is my work. This is what I am here for. I am humbled with gratitude that I get to do this work. I am ready and willing to take the next steps on this journey.

And to take those steps with as much ease and gentleness as I can, even while I work hard.

I return home rested, more connected to self, to spirit, to our earth. It is unseasonably hot here. I could be worried and upset—this is just one more sign of our changing climate. Instead, I swim in the cool lakes near my home, laughing with friends and family. And I get back to work. Because, taking action and doing the work, following my path, is what allows me to be free of despair and anxiety. It allows me to root into the beauty around me. It allows me to hold the duality of our changing world with the consistency of the absolute beauty and magic that this world provides. I come back, rested, ready, filled with active hope.

Are you ready for the next step on your journey?