Have you ever felt like life was moving at sloth speed? Slow, foggy, and maybe even comically stretched out—like Flash the Sloth at the DMV in Zootopia, taking what feels like an eternity to type a single word?
We spend so much of life searching. For answers. For belonging. For peace. That search can take us to wonderful places — nature, community, teachers, and practices that guide us. Yet I’m reminded of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.
Depletion. It creeps in after a big expenditure of energy. I’ve felt it after major events and holidays—the build-up of planning, the fullness of the moment, and then…the letdown. I’ve felt it after a crisis—the adrenaline and urgency keeping me going, until suddenly, it’s safe to stop…and the letdown comes.
We all know an Eeyore. The lovable donkey in Winnie the Pooh whose catchphrase might as well be “Why bother?” He is endearing, yes—but also perpetually stuck in “poor me.” Contrast that with Maya Angelou, who faced racism, violence, and trauma, yet emerged as a voice of resilience, compassion, and grace.
Growing up, my family spent summers with relatives in the Midwest. There, various traditions gave shape to our days—tubing down the Apple River, pontoon rides on the St. Croix, catching fireflies, and eating fresh berries in my grandmother’s cut-glass dishes with sugar and cream.
I keep coming back to the image of the molting lobster. To grow, a lobster must shed its hard shell, leaving itself soft and exposed until a new one forms. It’s a vulnerable state—predators lurk, dangers abound. But it’s also the only way the lobster can grow.
This week, my 10-year-old granddaughter and I watched Wonder. She’d seen it before. I hadn’t. Truth is, I’d been afraid to. The main character, Auggie, is her age. His story — was born with a craniofacial condition.
Over the years, I’ve come to rely on a few core frameworks that help me and those I work with pause long enough to respond with wisdom rather than react from habit. One is ORID: Objective, Reflective, Interpretive, and Decisional.
One of the best things about travel—especially to new places, time zones, languages, and cultures—is the gift of returning with fresh eyes. Seeing beyond perceived limits to new potential.
Two weeks of traveling have been nothing short of transformative. My first long overseas trip since before the pandemic, and it allowed all my inner characters to loosen up. Wendy the Worrier became Wendy the Walker.