The Year We Carved Squash

Are you wearing your favorite hoodie, my friend?

We're officially in chilly weather.

I walked past Christmas decorations at Home Depot this week.

It's on.

Experience, like your favorite tea, needs time to steep, and our lived experience filters how we see the world. Everything seems different in hindsight.

In processing my past, I've learned to see the world differently, and my soul search has allowed me to interpret my life in a new light.

Many of us grew up in such a different time than today, but in many ways growing up for me was the same old story.

The kerosene for America has always been an unbridled ambition and the desire to enjoy the fruits of our labor with a tight-knit community and live the dream.

My dad never missed the family tradition of carving a pumpkin; one year, he chiseled a Bart Simpson pumpkin at my request.

I'm not sure what year it was, but one particular Halloween was different for us as kids.

That year was different because we waited till Halloween night to get a pumpkin, and when we went to our local grocery store, there weren't any left.

My dad grabbed some winter and spaghetti squash, brought them home, and methodically carved two oblong smiling jack-o-lanterns.

My dad, like myself, was probably overwhelmed at the time, but oddly enough, the squash year is the one I will never forget. That was his masterpiece.

It's not about the pumpkin in the end.

This season is about to dial up, which means more parties, food, drink, credit card swiping, and stress.

Do yourself a favor and opt out this year, not of the joy and the connection, but of the hustle.

Katie and I are essentialists. We know what counts, and we no longer compromise our energy, focus, and the wellness of our tribe.

Unsubscribe from hurry now and forever.

Enjoy what family you have and realize that our presence in our loved ones' lives is what matters. Spend time with your closest friends, and don't be afraid to decline invites.

I closed my calendar this week, and I have plenty to look forward to for the last two months of 2022.

I have enough when I take the time to scribble in my gratitude journal. I've accomplished enough because I am enough. 

So are you, friend.