The one question that created easy miracles for me last year…

Exciting opening picture right? There's a reason for it…

Last January I was in a small ceremony, seated, looking down at the rug beneath me.  It was woven together in braids, and then each braid was sewn into the braid above and below it.  

My eyes started to fill with tears.

My friend ask, “What's coming up for you?”

I was surprised by my answer. 

“If I don’t hold it all together, it will fall apart. Chaos will ensue.”

I felt like the weaver and the sewer of all the pieces. 

I didn’t walk around consciously believing this. I wouldn’t have called myself a micromanager or someone who tries to dominate outcomes. I'd even tell you that I see the support that I do have. Which made this belief sneaky.

When it surfaced my friend questioned me about its validity. I had evidence. Times when I stepped back and things did get messy.

Very messy.

At home.
At work.
In relationships.

So I held tighter,  managed, and stayed even more alert to make sure everything stayed woven together, moving properly behind the scenes, attempting to make life easier for everyone.

This pattern is incredibly common among high-achieving, highly capable people, especially those who learned early that things worked better when they held the seen and unseen pieces.

Then my friend said something that made me giggle and shook me out of my own rumination, "That sounds like a double bind.”

I had just taught her that phrase the day before and now she was offering the medicine right back to me.

A double bind is all-or-nothing thinking: black-and-white, either/or, win/lose or lose/lose. From inside it, we can usually only see two options, and suggestions of “another way” feel naive or irritating, not because we’re closed-minded, but because the nervous system is experiencing a threat and our window of possibilities narrow.

So I did what I always do when I finally see I'm in a double bind.

I acknowledge the parts that feel real, and then I asked a better question. 

I call this space the Sacred Third.

It's what emerges when we stop choosing between control and collapse and allow something more intelligent to emerge. 

It’s subtle and often unexpected. As the nervous system settles and curiosity returns, new options begin to appear. Sometimes it’s a clear third choice. Other times it’s a small next step that opens into a future you couldn’t have imagined yet.

For me, it was a ladder.

This is where the word Juice came from.

As I thought about the place between chaos and control the word presence came up but I needed something more alive.  I needed it to have eros, life force energy, creativity.

Juice feels slightly embarrassing to share as my revelation, but it really did something for me. I share it here because I wonder if it might do anything for you??

It’s not necessarily about expanding capacity to tolerate a life that's draining.

(Although it does expand capacity.)

Juice is what happens when energy starts circulating again.

When you stop gripping and start collaborating with the unknown.

It’s embodied.

It’s responsive.

It has movement.

And it became something I could practice in moments of tension.
I’d pause, even when it felt like everything had to be done right now, and only by me, and I would ask, “What would Juice do?” 

(again I get how cheesy this sounds… but when results follow?!)

Sometimes it meant connecting with my husband.
Sometimes it meant taking the dog for a walk.
Sometimes it meant putting music on and still doing the thing that had to be done, and doing it then and there, but with more joy. 

And it worked.

Not perfectly, but meaningfully.

I stopped over-planning without any guarantee that someone else would pick it up. And often when they did on their own accord, they did it with more joy and skill than I ever would have.
 

I said yes to more intimacy and silliness. 
I paused just long enough to unhook from the tightness that shows up when I’m over-weaving.

And last year, in ways both small and unmistakable, miracles followed.

I’ve been working with the nervous system for over twenty years — first with athletes, then through yoga therapeutics, and over the last five years more deeply through trauma resolution.

This work is profoundly body-based.
It’s precise.
It’s supportive.
And for me, if I’m not careful, it can get a little dry.

So I’ve been calling breath back in.
Movement.
Energy.

Curiosity.

Presence with pulse.
Safety with risk.
Support that actually moves me forward.
The part of this work that feels alive — not just regulating, but circulating.