Notes on Life

In the book Tiny Experiments by Anne-Laure Le Cunff, which I wrote about in more detail a couple months ago, she 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.

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 just crawls along (for me, I am thinking of one evening class during my undergraduate years where it felt like I would be stuck there through my retirement, never before in history did time pass so slowly), or other 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. Wonder and awe present themselves to us in these moments.

Last year in May I was gifted with a week of Kairos time. Up to that point, Chronos time had been ruling my 2025. My job robbed me of my creativity and vitality. I was out of alignment with my authentic self in so many ways, and didn’t feel like I was actually living. 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- 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 their 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 room each evening and lit a candle.

There were author interviews, workshops, and sessions with editors. I can feel the lift in my spirit as I sit here remembering it a full year later. Suddenly, I felt excited. I felt connected to my joy. I felt connected to my self. For the first time in months, possibly years, I felt centered and whole.

In that grounded space, a new 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. This was what I had needed to break the spell. I finally got the lift I needed; I was able to hop the fence.

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

I knew that this note was special. I knew 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 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 quit my job. I have written, coached lovely humans, and started my business. I shifted from Chonos to Kairos.

It is still so uncomfortable at times, I will always be honest about that part. But look at me. 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. I saw there was the digital retreat, and I signed up just to see what it would be like. Today I honor and acknowledge the way that Life cared for and supported me when I needed it. I am grateful, and I see how far I have come. I hold onto these notes on life.