Notes on Life

In the book Tiny Experiments, which I wrote about a couple months ago, Anne-Laure Le Cunff writes about how the ancient Greeks distinguished between Chronos time and Kairos time.

For those of you who haven’t heard of these distinctions before, Chronos refers to quantity, and considers time as a distinct measurement, a set march of seconds to minutes to hours to days. We stare at the clock, we agonize over what we can get done, how much we can accomplish.

Kairos, on the other hand, refers to the quality of time spent, and how the concept of time depends on the situation in which you find yourself. We’ve all experienced moments where time opens up and becomes spacious, limitless, such as when we are in flow. Instead of looking at what we are doing during a structured block of time, in Kairos time, we settle into the how of the experience…the actual experiencing of the experience. Wonder and awe present themselves to us in these moments. The creative muse visits us in Kairos time.

Last year in May the universe gifted me with a week of Kairos time. Up to that point, Chronos time had been ruling my 2025. Every stressful period during one financial quarter at work slipped into becoming the new normal the next quarter, and then a new stressful period emerged, and it had gone on and on this way for not just months, but full years. I was out of alignment with my authentic self in so many ways, and didn’t feel like I was actually living. My creativity was strangled. Any budding hints of vitality from my morning barre class or my coffee slowly sipped at the kitchen table with my family, any self-care that offered me the slightest momentum forward, was all smashed into a brick wall within seconds of logging on to start my work day. I can clearly say now that I was quite miserable.

When we are in constant fight or flight, when work demands are incessant and the messages are that you can’t take any breaks or even pause to use the restroom (our tasks were measured down to the minute of a 40 hour work week- this restroom piece is not me being sarcastic), we are in survival mode. There is no ability to step back and assess a situation or map out your future when you are that depleted and raw. And that is where I was. Each day felt like I was running up a hill of sand.

And then, the writing group that I had joined 6 months earlier, A Writing Room, hosted a springtime digital writing retreat. Desperate for something, anything, to bring me a distraction away from my work, I signed up. The retreat took place during the evenings in the week before Memorial Day. My little family knew I needed this time, and they held space for me to attend the virtual sessions as though I was attending a conference in person- I made the commitment to participate as much as I could. I locked myself into my bedroom each evening and lit a candle.

Here are my notes from the first day of the retreat:

I sat and absorbed author interviews, workshops, and sessions with editors. I worked through writing exercises (When I was a child, my _______ told me….). My heart warmed. Each morning my body felt a little lighter when I sat down to work, knowing that I had the retreat in the evening. I told no one at work that I was doing this; seeking joy outside work seemed like something I should keep a secret. A part of me felt delightfully naughty for abandoning my scientific work brain and nurturing myself with creativity and community during those evenings. I wrote genetic reports during the day but my mind was on poetry. I paused mid-email, on company time, and noticed the ducks on the Chicago river. For the first time in months, possibly years, I felt centered and whole.

In this new and grounded space, a new emotional visitor emerged. I could feel it in my chest, spinning around a few times like a dog before it curls up in front of a fire. I was almost afraid that by calling it by its true name, it would become skittish and leave. Even though I had not felt its presence in a while, I still knew exactly what it was.

It was Hope.

Hope…Spaciousness…Creativity….Excitement…and then, Clarity. I finally got the lift I needed; I was ready to hop the fence.

This was my @positivelypresent calendar page on Memorial Day, 2025, which was just a couple days after the Digital Retreat finished.

I knew that this note was special. I was ready for change. Just a couple days later, I signed up to begin my training as a health and well-being coach.

I have kept this single calendar sheet on my desk for this entire year. It’s been nestled beneath my support corner- my yellow bear from my childhood, Lucy my inner critic, my favorite little print about being courageous, and a note from my mentor about her joy in reading my work. And now here we are, a full year has gone by. I left my job on the last day of 2025 and turned my full gaze over to health coaching. I coached lovely humans, started my business, and wrote stories and blog posts. I have shifted from a predominantly Chronos to a Kairos-led life.

It is still uncomfortable at times— I will always be honest about that part. But look at all of this, one year later. Here I am.

Last May I knew I needed something different in my life, something big, yet I was too stressed to find my way through to a solution. The digital retreat was my invitation back into myself. The energy that I needed was handed over, offered gently by cupped hands. There was more out there for me.

This week I honor and acknowledge this anniversary. I am grateful, and I see how far I have come. I feel so excited and privileged to coach others through their own health and well-being journeys. I realize now, with my hands placed over my heart, that this is always what I was meant to do.

Life presented me with these “Notes on Life,” and I have held on ever since.