Be kind and rest

This Summer was different. My vacation started and I still had some personal goals I wanted to achieve while on my time off. So I kept working with my own stuff. I wrote scripts. While watching the kids swimming at the beach. I filmed a course. While hearing my family on their Summer activities, jumping on the trampoline, throwing the darts. And yet I knew this was such meaningful work for me to do. So I did it. 

But when I had filmed my course, I sat on the beach with my dear sister-in-law. They had come to visit and the kids were enjoying swimming. And while we were discussing I realized that I was harder on myself than I even realized. I had used half of my vacation for creating the scripts and filming and I still wasn't planning on giving myself vacation from the content creation work I work with in my free time.

While sitting on that beach I could feel my body carrying the weight and pressure of the past year. I could sense how my nervous system was stretched and wanted to relax so I could experience a full on reset. So I made the decision. And told to my sister-in-law that I had just decided to give myself a few weeks full vacation and time off from all of my work.

That decision caused my whole body to relax in a way that I felt it all the way in my nervous system. I was able to be present for resting in ways that my family had been doing already for the past few weeks. I found my real rest mode. No agendas. No task lists. Just me and the Summer and the people around me that mattered the most. And now coming back from my vacation, I can tell you the difference that made. The real reset happened and I feel rested and peaceful to my core.

I’m sharing this hoping it inspires you to listen to your body. It holds special wisdom that affects your well-being profoundly. How are you being kind to yourself and finding rest in the season you're in? 

Love,

Pia

dance of the sun

Unyielding inspiration springs from the deepest meanings within.

It doesn’t wither away, not even in the harshest conditions.

It clings to life.

When a merciless winter freezes everything,

it hides so deep

it survives.

It’s never truly forgotten, even if hidden for years.

It reminds you of its presence.

Lifts its head now and then and asks:

Is it time yet?

It goes by many names.

Some call it a calling, others a gift.

It’s more than just a hobby.

You think about it all year long - maybe every day.

You dream about it.

It’s there in the crisp morning, before anything else comes to mind.

One person might call it passion.

Another, necessity.

Out of everything else - this, I will not give up.

It’s a beautiful thing if it can be shared with your dearest ones.

If they get excited because it excites you.

Or even carry it in their own hearts too.

One way or another, they understand:

this is a permanent part of who you are.

They make space for it, by making space for you.

They cheer it on, because they cheer for you.

Maybe without even knowing it they sense how big it truly is.

That what they’ve seen so far is just the tip of the iceberg.

The rest is still hidden.

And they want to see more.

Not for it, necessarily.

But for what they see it doing to you.

That spark in your eyes.

Maybe a few flyaway hairs.

A healthy flush on your cheeks.

The life-force rushing wild in your veins and radiating outward.

No words needed.

Like the sun itself is dancing on your forehead.

Love,

Pia

Do you have a version of yourself you miss?

Have you ever had a routine that made you come alive and then you just forgot it?

This happened to me with my three core words. 

If you’ve experienced something similar, you most likely know the feeling too.

Feeling of losing something valuable that you suddenly remembered you once had.

I learned from my coach at the time, Brendon Burchard, about three core words. 

I had chosen three meaningful core words for myself back in the day we lived in Uruguay.

I reminded myself actively about them, how they challenged me in a good way to show up as my best self.

I had several moments, when my usual decision would have killed something fun, spontaneous and unforgettable with my family.

But because of my three core words I chose differently.

I leaned into the authenticity of the person who I wanted to show up as.

And my family noticed.

They saw how I came alive in those moments.

They were there when I showed up as my playful relaxed self.

They remembered when I chose to play.

And then something happened and I forgot to carry with me those words.

It might have been a big change.

Or even just a small meaningful shift that took my focus elsewhere.

I don't clearly remember.

But the one thing why I want to share this with you is this.

I wish I had someone telling me this years back.

It is okay to forget, remember, and start again.

Deep down, it does not mean failure.

Deep down, it means you value something so much that you can go through the feeling of regret.

And find yourself on the other side.

The question is, are you willing to feel it?

The sadness it might bring when you may ponder upon moments you lost, because you forgot.

You never know how it might enrich your life without being brave enough to feel regret.

But you and I don't need to be left second guessing when we just dive right in. 

Let the emotions flood in.

And find what's on the other side.

Love,

Pia

mosaic

the scar tissue of the soul affects everything I do in the background.

but what if I decide not to be ashamed of it?

of being, in some ways, incomplete.

I’ve been broken and put back together again.

wounded in ways that have healed over time – but left their marks.

what if I see them as part of me?

what if I treasure everything I’ve been through as my greatest teacher?

because of all of it, I am who I am.

one of a kind.

I carry supplies in my basket that others don’t even know exist.

I gathered them through the hardships I’ve endured.

they are like medals pinned to my chest – signs of battles survived.

because I am a victor – I’ve come out of war alive.

sometimes the scar tissue aches more.

other times, I forget it even exists.

but it would be a lie to say it isn’t there.

and that would be sad.

it wouldn’t help anyone.

I’d only be pretending – trying to look like someone I’m not.

I’d be denying parts of the road I’ve walked.

and in doing that, I’d be tossing aside the treasures I gathered along the way –

the understanding of human brokenness,

the aching of being alive,

and the hidden mercy and beauty within all that pain.

the healing that flows from the embrace of eternal love.

a beautiful mosaic made from broken pieces might just be

the best thing to scatter little sparks of hope

into the cracks of those who are shattered and desperate.

wounds leave their marks,

but as long as there is life, there is hope – even in the ashes.

when the fire that devoured everything finally goes out,

the ashes can still nourish something breathtakingly new.

so with a faint smile, I gently stroke the aching scar.

you are beautiful,

I whisper to it softly.

love,

pia

you’re not spiraling: your body is speaking

 

have you ever felt the whole day spin before 9am?

like something tiny set you off,

but now you’re snappy to yourself in your mind, feel exhausted, find yourself scrolling, or shutting down?

here's a gentle toolkit to help you catch the signs sooner.

because your trauma response isn’t random - it’s a signal.

and when you learn to recognize it early,

you can shift before the spiral.

I write this as a love letter to your nervous system:

the signs, the pause, the power you have to choose something new.

my story

I remember the feeling of my throat shutting down

I woke up late for the first day of school

it was the beginning of fourth grade

in a brand new school

that moment I was my own greatest bully

when I waited there, 

after being led to the new classroom

by the teacher's desk

other students told me afterwards

how calm I looked

but boy if they would have seen

in the inside 🚨 

that nervous cramping in my stomach 

while I was leading the scout girls team

my mind was such a hostile place

and when something happened that I froze

someone was unkind to my little sister 

who had her special needs challenges but just wanted to be part of the team

it felt so lonely and isolated

my whole world was spiraling

those days when I stayed silent 

in the loud youth crowd

felt myself different

awkward and someone nothing to say

I carried that stigma of poverty

fear was shutting me down emotionally

so often that feeling came that 

I didn't belong

I changed school again

being closer to my extended family made me feel safer inside

like I belonged in there 

even if I froze in the cafeteria

among the crowd of teens

in my grandparents place I felt 

all was good

grandma told me to take a nap

when the overwhelm of homework hit

and I did

and I felt better

the pressure of my hostile mind 

when I found myself spiraling

and the pressure from the outside

were together sometimes 

too much to bare

and I cried 

that ugly cry 

when your eyes are swollen shut afterwards when you wake up 

the next morning

but what I learned along the years

was that in those moments 

especially

I was being held

that the pressure I put on 

my own shoulders

that hostile mind jargon I listened

coming from my broken self-image

was just words

they were echoing in my own mind

and that made them feel like they were

true

which they weren't 

I was allowing myself to be 

my own biggest bully

and when I realized that

and saw myself being held

in those moments

I started to shift 

this shift in what I did 

is what I’m sharing with you today

because this changed everything

I still get those moments

when I don't feel safe

and my mind starts the bullying drama

and when I feel like the outward world

is threatening my very being

then I go to this place in my mind

I take my body to this safe moment 

I catch the hostile flame early

and I blow out that toxic candle 

before it becomes a torch 

that spirals me with it's fumes

gentle steps to reclaim your day, this is what I do.

1. notice the whisper, not just the scream 🌬️

when the first cue of the hostile waves of emotions and thoughts is approaching

and my inner alarm goes off 🚨 

I go to this place in my mind

I remind myself that what's happening inside of me is not necessarily truth

about me

I take myself to this circle of adoption

it's this place where I stood in 2009

while I was in Hawaii

I felt like I was being adopted 

in my very being

from that orphan hostile place I held for

myself in my mind

to this belonging where 

I was being embraced 

with all in me

and I was being held 

and when those first waves 

start building up

I remind myself that what is true

is that I am adopted in love

and then when the toxic hostility tries to

build up and crash against me

I realize

it's just noise

and I can choose to let it roar

but not to be 

swept away with it

like it was the truth about me

who I am deep down

it's just my nervous system 

being loaded up

too tight

a moment when something triggering

got the mental system overloaded

and my mind went spiraling down and attacked me

2. respond with softness, not survival 🍵

I take my body to this safe moment

depending on where I am

when the first cues arise 

of the hostility in the horizon

when I notice in my body

the signs

that something alarming is happening 

if I’m at home

I take a nap

or curl up in the sofa with a soft blanket

or I make a cup of tea

I hold it in my hands

and remind myself of 

what is true is the warmth 

I feel in my hands

it reminds me

that I am safe

I breathe

if the waves crash in on me

with a stronger force in the beginning

I might add some essential oil

that reminds me of calm

I take a little walk

preferably in my garden

it always grounds me

back to safety

3. choose safety before the spiral

I catch the hostile flame early

I won't allow it to grow so strong anymore

without standing up for myself 

I read my body and notice early

when my breathing becomes shallow

my stomach cramps

my shoulders tighten

I’m realizing that something

within me fights myself

and I won't allow that bullying in

full force anymore so easily

when I notice the early signs 

I go to my safety toolkit

and I blow out the toxicity 

before it convinces me

that what's going on inside of me

would be the truth

I choose to find safety

before my inner world blows up 

in the spiral

I’m actively involved in putting out the fire 

and when it's early on

it's becoming easier

as part of my daily routine

my inner voice becomes gentler

it's like there's this gentle mother

at home inside of me 

who helps the tantrum bully girl 

to calm down her rage

the older and wiser me

who knows I’m being held

and the afraid young one of me

who listens to all the echoes

and nasty whispers 

that were meant to be blown out

with the wind 🌬️ 

🛟 fill in your safety toolkit:

what is your calming thought?

mine: I’m adopted in love

what is your calming action?

mine: nap / a cup of tea / garden tour

what is your early body cue?

mine: shallow breathing / stomach knot / shoulders tighten

having your toolkit ready is 

the sweetest thing

of loving yourself tangibly

that you can do 

Love,

Pia

Rain against clay

Rain beats down. Whips the surface with its merciless lash. This isn’t a soft, soothing Spring rain. Its touch is cold and harsh. Shivers run down the spine. Loneliness echoes hollowly in its howling.

The clay won’t hold much longer before it crumbles. The beautiful grooves, skillfully thrown into place, begin to wash away. Two vessels that had become one. A delicately carved coffee cup and a streamlined saucer found each other - and nothing else quite fit anymore. They were made for each other. One cannot exist without the other.

Just clay, in someone’s eyes. Fragile, replaceable. Yet for some reason, placed in the potter’s cabinet, front and center. Even though they weren’t finished yet. Still mid-process. Not yet fired, not yet glazed. Just dry, raw clay - waiting for something. Waiting under the potter’s gaze. On display, as said. Until another time came.

The time of the outdoor setting. On a summer terrace, they decorated the morning coffee table. For some odd reason, again under the gaze - these unfinished vessels.

Then the rest of the setting was cleared away. The howling autumn rains returned. Those two were left outside. Forgotten, someone said. The rain etched, and eventually broke them. They didn’t survive. Discarded, someone whispered.

But the one who designed them knew otherwise. Broken, forgotten perhaps - they were carried back in. The wheel was set on the table again. The clay was reshaped. The cup and saucer joined seamlessly, like softened clay. Cast again into one whole vessel.

Then into the hot kiln they went. For what felt - at least to them - like far too long. Again forgotten. Then coated with a sticky glaze, painted all over. Pushed through yet another unwanted phase. And as if that wasn’t enough, tortured again in heat.

When the autumn rains were covered in a blanket of snow, on one clear morning, they were placed back on the table. After washing, hot liquid was poured inside. For hearts gone cold in the middle of winter, a steaming drink was offered. What brightness in those eyes - awakened by the drink of love.

Love,

Pia

toxic self-talk diary

Have you thought about, when was the last time you gave yourself nurturing feedback?

I’ve been pondering a lot about being your own cheerleader and how that can affect everything you do.

We seek for healthy and balanced relationships with others, instead of toxic, twisted ones.

But the more I reflect upon my own self-talk I’ve realized how easily it is toxic and twisted with heavy demands that have no joy.

What exactly is it that I am demanding of myself?

A perfectly managed life in every area.

And take into account that it’s part of my personality that I always have some area of my life out of control and it is okay. 

So as a roadmap I have this list of rigid lifeless NO’s and MUST’s, with no celebration of the life that’s actually happening around me.

A perfectionist approach that kills all the joy before I even start doing anything.

Yes, I am a recovering perfectionist, so this shouldn’t surprise me.

But the way that automated self-talk is playing in my mind is so toxic, that I would never allow it as something that’s okay in my relationships with others.

And yet I am blindly obeying it, going through my lists of demanded perfection.

How does it look like for you to intentionally build a relationship with yourself, that allows you to enjoy your life as it is, today?

What lists of perfection do you throw into the trash bin when your mind creates drama and offers you the toxic list?

What is the simple thought that you commit to carrying that allows you to see the beauty in your life today, as it is?

Yes, you can build your life piece by piece, further from here, guided by pure joy.

But you find your way into that spot only through thankfulness of what already is.

Name one thing you’re thankful for today, just as it is.

And that’s where you start.

Real and raw joy is your guide along the way. 

I’ve learned a secret that toxic perfectionism and that bubbly joy are opposite powers.

Love,

Pia