The Art of Beginning Again

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings."

 Lao Tzu

Before today’s Little Bit of Happy, a quick reminder that Decide Happy Hour is back on

May 20th at 7 PM ET. 🎉

I’ll be joined by my friend and “Calm Savant,” Ipek Williamson. If you’ve been feeling stressed, overwhelmed, frustrated, or simply craving a little more calm and peace in your life — this one is for you.  

✨Come join us. Here's the link.

Have a beautiful day, and enjoy this Little Bit of Happy!

I called my friend Natalia the other day, hoping to give her a little break. She and her husband had decided to put their beautiful home of 25 + years on the market, and I knew she was feeling the stress of it.

“Hi Susan,” she greeted me enthusiastically, “I’m so happy to - oomph! - talk with you.” 

“What are you doing?” I laughed. “Did I catch you at the gym?”

“Kind of,” she huffed. “I’ve been magic-erasing all the floorboards and trim in the house. “What I wouldn’t give for just one clean wall that doesn’t come with 47 tiny ledges specifically engineered to collect dust.”

I smiled. “So, how’s it going?” I asked, after she sat down in an actual chair.

“It’s… a lot,” she admitted. “We just discovered we have two windows that are rotten and need to be repaired, and I need to deal with the spring landscaping, on top of all the packing and repairs. I have a laundry list of things that need to be done in two weeks before photos and the listing go live… It’s really wearing me thin.

“It will all get done,” she continued. “But, in addition to all the work, I just can’t shake this deep sense of sadness. We raised our family in this home. I see ghosts everywhere. Ours was the house where all the neighbor kids used to play. I look at the old oak trees in our back yard and they seem so lonely now. Once they held a tree fort, and I can still see the kids zip-lining between them. When I pull into the driveway, I see the girls on their bikes, and remember the day we took the training wheels off. There are so many fantastic memories. I feel like I’m clearing out 25 years of life.” 

I felt a stab of pain for my friend, empathizing with her loss. There is a mourning that comes with letting go of something we loved so deeply. Endings often carry the feeling of loss and grief that come with letting go of our past, and sometimes, our sense of identity. 

Here's what I have learned about letting go:

With every loss, we are freeing up space for something new.

I've learned to trust myself that even while I grieve what has gone, there lies within it an invitation to grow. To move forward.

I called my friend Jane recently.

Jane is 95 years young and still has a sparkle in her eye and a chuckle in her voice. "It's just hard to grow older without getting old," she said. "I can't see the way that I used to, and it’s bringing me down. I can't do the things that I used to enjoy - like painting and playing croquet. Oh, I let myself wallow awhile in all the things I can’t do," she said. “And you know what? I got tired of my sorry, sad, pitiful old self. Who wants to hang around a wallower? I just have to figure out what’s next for me.”

 I heard the shift in her voice.

“So, my son set me up with Siri and now I'm bossing her around like all get out. And he downloaded an audiobook for me. And I'm thinking of signing up for a sculpture class in the community room...” 

I got off the line with Jane, thinking once again how extraordinary she truly is  — constantly growing and challenging and reinventing herself. Many people her age, and much younger, would give up after such loss. But Jane keeps getting back up and asking, “What’s next?”

There's a biological theory that we human beings are either growing, or dying – if we're not climbing, we are sliding. But growth doesn’t erase who we were. The earlier versions of ourselves shape the wisdom we carry forward. 

Even when we start over, we are never starting from zero.

We are rising from experience.

Did you know that your brain has over 86 billion neurons? 

These neurons control your body, process the world, create memories, constantly rewire and make it possible for you to experience everything that you will ever experience in life. A worm’s brain, in contrast, has just 302 neurons. So, frankly, we can’t expect a whole lot from them. But we can probably expect a little more from ourselves.

We are meant to grow, to change, and evolve.

"When I let go of who I am, I become what I might be."

 Lao Tzu

I spoke with Natalia again the other day and asked her how she was coming along —practically and emotionally —with the move. “You know,” she said, “it’s been wonderful as a family home. But it’s time to hand the baton to another young family who can enjoy the comforts of a well-loved home.” 

I heard no regret in her voice, just a bitter-sweet acceptance. Even the right decisions can carry a certain ache. 

When I visited her in her beautiful new home, something caught my eye—a large, framed photograph resting against the wall, waiting to be hung.

Her daughters, younger then, were covered head to toe in vibrant yellow, green, pink, and purple—faces lit up, shrieking with delight. 

I paused to admire it.

“That was from when we took the girls to Holi in India,” she said, smiling with the memory. “It’s the Festival of Colors. Crowds of people pour outside into the streets, toss clouds of colored powder, and dance. It’s about celebrating the end of winter and the arrival of spring — letting go of the past, and reveling in the joy of new beginnings.” 

"What a beautiful thing to hang on the wall of a new home you’re about to create," I thought.

That photograph wasn't just a memory. It was a vibrant, colorful reminder that life is meant to be lived forward.

That joy can follow loss.

And that even after an ending, life invites us to begin again.

Stay Strong. Stay Kind.

With so much love,

Susan

Decide Happy Practice:

Have you experienced a loss or transition recently?

• Perhaps you're contemplating a new career, or retirement, or the prospect of an empty nest as the children grow up and move away.

• Perhaps you've let go of a relationship, or even, like my friend, a home you've lived in with neighbors you care about.

• Perhaps you are caring for aging parents and contemplating what life will be like without them.

1. What has this loss made space for in your life—time, perspective, relationships, or priorities - that you might not have noticed before?

2. What lessons or wisdom from this former chapter do you want to carry forward?

3. What might be waiting to grow in the space this loss has created?

 If you could use a little more calm in your life right now, please join me at

Decide Happy Hour on May 20th. ❤️

Bring your pet(s), your favorite beverage, and savor this time to remember just how extraordinary life can be. ✨ ​