Many losses during the last two years have had a surprising upside. They’ve given me the freedom and opportunity to choose my own new life. I don’t care much about normality. I’m discovering my own world, from the inside out.

Reclaiming the right to choose is my secret for living simply, joyfully, and sustainability.

I’m building a structure one habit and one choice at a time. I decide what gets my precious attention and what doesn’t. I decide what fills my days, and I watch carefully what fills my heart.

What Must Go in My Own New Life

What doesn’t make the cut in my new life is mainstream news media. Was that hard to give up? No, it was a relief.

Thankfully, my husband Bruce keeps up with world events for our household. He keeps me posted on the headlines.  

He finds inspiring stories to show me, such as “On the Road” with Steve Hartman—a CBS segment that’s been running for years. In fact, when it began, Steve and his crew would show up in Anytown, USA, open a phone book (what’s that?) and call a random person to ask if they could stop by. The team believed everyone had a story worth telling. As they talked with strangers, they uncovered that story.

Bruce also keeps track of documentaries I might appreciate, even if they’re a bit tough to watch, like the Naudet brothers’ film that followed Firehouse #1 on 9/11.

Social media is strictly limited. It’s not that I don’t care about others’ lives; it’s that the sheer volume is untenable and the interface scrambles my brain.

Old beliefs, and roles that I was certain were lifetime commitments, didn’t make the cut. Those were harder to surrender because without them, I questioned my identity.

Sometimes, these are difficult decisions. What stays or goes reflects new priorities.

What I Choose To Stay

I’ve noticed that what stays becomes increasingly more precious. The women in my family—sister, niece, and grandniece—are treasured. A few friendships I choose to nurture are deepening.

Creativity is dialed up! Singing again has made a huge difference in my ability to stay uplifted and joyful. Then, there’s writing, which both fuels and expresses my creative spark.

I’m focused more on welcoming new habits. A well-suited exercise routine is bringing physical strength. Pickleball has opened me to community that encourage playfulness over competition.

What stays has to align with fearless freedom, sustainability, or joy. Often, all of the above.

My New Habits and Practices

I’ve started to watch sunrises. They connect me with the earth and start my day with silent, often colorful, beauty.

I watch birds at the feeder. I watch my cat Zoey watch birds at the feeder.

I watch my reactions now, too. I take time to make decisions, and I try to be aware when other people’s thoughts or fears push me around.

I soak in the winter sunlight from our southern exposure windows, and open those windows for fresh air, even when the temperature is below zero.

I love seeing neighborhood dogs run in the snow.

I appreciate the simple kindnesses of strangers who bag my groceries or hold open a door to the rec center.

I’m ever grateful for my old Honda Civic that can still go another 100,000 miles.

I’ve given up self-punishment in favor of self-forgiveness, and worry in favor of curiosity.

I’m experiencing direct perception of a tangible, higher love that’s training me.

I’ve given up taking care of others when they haven’t even asked.

Finally, I’ve stopped behaving as if money is a God who requires the sacrifice of my health, wellbeing, and life force.

I’ve begun to cherish time with my husband in these days of simple living that roll through an evening, one into another.

I’ve found myself amazed at my existence—the wonder of being made of stardust, and the power of the body to heal itself.

Albert Einstein famously said, There are only two ways to live your life: one is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.

In my own new life, I choose.


Portrait of Emma & Grandniece Natalie by Mary Ann Baxter