Coronacation Chronicles – April 19, 2020

Week Six of Isolation…

The snap is starting to hit closer to home as many people I know have now lost a loved one to COVID-19.

That’s not a hoax.

That’s a fact.

I wrote in one of my posts a few weeks ago that it’s extremely hard to be an empath right now, and that remains true to my core. I thank my lucky stars that I haven’t lost anyone close to me (dare I say yet?), but I honestly cry every time I read that someone I am connected to has lost someone. It happened yesterday morning, when I learned that a fishing buddy of my husband’s lost his father; 80-year-old Jesus Sande owned two recognizable fishing vessels where I live. I never met Mr. Sande, but I cried my heart out yesterday for him and his family when I heard about his passing. Same goes for a local firefighter whom I also never met but shed many tears for as I learned that he succumbed to COVID very quickly. He was younger than me.

The good news is the growing recovery rate, as many people who have battled COVID have recovered. My heart dances with joy when I learn of survivors, especially those I know. I’m inspired by the dedication of those on the front lines and tremendously thankful for the helpers and essential workers. Even though we’re not all technically in the same boat, our boats are simultaneously trying to stay afloat in the same storm despite the different affects the storm has and will have on our individual vessels.

In my vessel of isolation over here, we’ve been watching old “Cheers” episodes on DVD. It’s a little known fact that “Cheers” has always been one of my favorite shows with its timeless one-liners and classic storylines created by writers who masterfully intertwined the literal AND the figurative in order to tell a simple yet complicated narrative episode by episode.

I vividly recall watching with friends the “Cheers” series finale titled “One for the Road” in 1993.

In the episode’s closing scene, Sam (played by Ted Danson) walks over and adjusts the Geronimo picture hanging on the back wall. That framed Geronimo photograph hung in the dressing room of Nicholas Colasanto, who played Coach. After he passed away (which ironically was on my fourteenth birthday), it was placed in the set background and remained there for the duration of the series. As both the episode and series conclude, Sam adjusted Geronimo’s photograph as a final tribute to Colasanto, then walks down the hallway to the dark pool room. It’s a fitting end to the series, since in the very first episode, Sam makes his first entrance by walking into the bar from the same hallway leading from the pool room in the back. What a visual paradox.

There are a few lines in “One for the Road” said by Dr. Frasier Crane (played by Kelsey Grammar) that slug me in my gut every single time I hear them. It’s a seemingly innocent statement, but it’s teeming with significance and is just as relevant to the lives we are currently living today as it was in 1993, if not more:

You know, no one wants to be the first to say it, but I’m not ashamed to admit what I think we’re all feeling. Time goes by so fast. People move in and out of your life. You must never miss an opportunity to tell these people how much they mean to you. Well, I…I…I…

Hey….

You….

Yeah, YOU, who is reading this right now…

This is my opportunity to tell you how much you mean to me.

Maybe you are a childhood friend or just a passerby reader. Maybe you’re family or a complete stranger. Maybe I’ve known you for 49 years or 49 seconds. Maybe we grew up together, worked together, traveled together, or spent time together in a classroom or a watering hole or at a concert or a festival or a game, maybe not.

None of that matters.

What does matter is this:

Whatever footprints you’ve left alongside mine in my life journey, I am grateful for YOU.

I respect you. I honor you. I thank you.

Most of all, I love you.

I really do.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

 

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In Memory of Jesus Sande, owner of the Maria Noelle and Muros.

 

“Coronacation Chronicles – April 19, 2020” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on April 19, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

 

Coronacation Chronicles – April 11, 2020

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Apollo 13 Insignia – Creative Commons

It’s status quo over here with no potential end to the socially distanced life we are all subjected to living right now in sight.

Maybe a month more? Maybe two?

Probably more.

The World Health Organization declared a national pandemic a month ago today. The 31 days between then and now were both the shortest and the longest days I’ve ever experienced.

Together, we are collectively living a kaleidoscope of paradoxes rife with a wave of emotions that shift by the minute.

50 years ago today, the ill-fated Apollo 13 craft with astronauts Jim Lovell, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert aboard blasted off from Cape Canaveral to the moon.

Two days later, after hearing something similar to a small explosion, Swigert said, “Houston, we’ve had a problem here,” then Lovell followed with, “Houston, we have a problem.”

A problem it was, indeed, a problem that seemed too big to solve. Doubt and fear for the crew grew with each passing minute.

However, Flight Director Gene Kranz had a different attitude. In response to doubting co-workers, he replied, “With all due respect Sir, I believe this is going to be our finest hour.”

Surprisingly, Kranz never uttered the phrase, “Failure is not an option,” as was portrayed in the movie Apollo 13.

But failure WAS NOT an option for those who tirelessly worked together to solve one of the biggest problems NASA would ever face: bringing the three astronauts safely back to Earth with only what was onboard and a limited supply of fuel, oxygen, and water.

Together, the three astronauts endured fear, darkness, illness, and frigid conditions as they waited in isolation above the Earth.

And in time, NASA’s dedicated team DID solve the problem: Lovell, Haise, and Swigert landed in the Pacific Ocean near Samoa without harm on April 17, 1970.

Fifty years later, COVID-19 is our Apollo 13.

We’ve had a problem here.

It seems too big to solve as we live in doubt and fear.

We are enduring the darkness while in isolation and it feels like we’re floating in some surreal universe above the Earth. To make matters worse, some of us are terribly sick and those we love are suffering.

And some of us are dealing with a grief like no other.

However, there’s a dedicated team somewhere out there comprised of medical professionals and scientists who are working tirelessly to solve this problem because failure is not an option when lives are at stake.

It will take time, but eventually, they will solve it.

And when we overcome this pandemic, we will celebrate our finest hour together.

Until then, take care of yourself and your family, and please don’t lose hope.

Someday will come.

Someday.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Coronacation Chronicles – April 11, 2020” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on April 11, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

 

Coronacation Chronicles – April 5, 2020

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An Empty Planner: Blessing or Curse?

We are entering our fourth week of social isolation.

And for the record, it is Sunday.

You’d think because there’s nothing much to keep track of on my planner, it would be easier to know what day it is.

Nope.

It’s not.

Each day passes by inexplicably fast as it magically melts into its tomorrow while it simultaneously metamorphoses into its yesterday.

Before this drastic shift in life-as-I-know-it, my to-do list held me hostage and simply exhausted me. Run around, do this, check that off, don’t forget this, you’re late, you missed this, you failed because you forgot that

The frenzy of demands that, for the most part, served someone else’s or society’s checklist I religiously wrote in my planner and entered into my phone’s calendar took an enormous toll on my health and my emotional wellbeing, but if I ever admitted that, I’d be judged as a failure or labeled as “needing improvement.”

Turns out, most of those tasks were ultimately unnecessary in the big picture despite running me ragged.

This period of isolation, while foggy at times, has been crystal clear in presenting within itself a renewed illumination.

I absolutely miss seeing my family in person and would kill to hug my nieces and nephews right now. I miss my friends, my colleagues, my students…I miss the human connection.

But I don’t miss the frenzy, especially when said frenzy negatively affected my wellbeing.

Our current situation and the uncertainty that literally surrounds everything concerns me big time.

But the silver lining is this: my time is mine.

I’m spending a good chunk of time each week revisiting and updating my lessons to make them more meaningful for my students as we teach and learn from a distance for the foreseeable future. I’m helping my students make better connections and improve skills across the board, and I enjoy spending my time in such a manner because it benefits the greater good.

However, I am rather enjoying the limited structure of my days and having the freedom to walk on my treadmill, write for myself, and meditating whenever I please within the mandates of my pre-determined “time online” while keeping up with my professional responsibilities.

Life has given all of us permission to slow down.

And you know what?

I’m no longer suffering from the “fear of missing out” because of my fatigue, since there’s nothing to miss out on, and I’m no longer paralyzed with guilt for saying NO.

I’ve replaced the news with music, scrolling with gardening, and rushing around aimlessly with creating with words and crayons. I’m quickly becoming a talented “inker.” Kevin Smith fans will know what I mean.

If anything good comes of this extraordinarily strange time, perhaps it’s the opportunity to re-prioritize and adopt a renewed and enlightened attitude as we move forward.

Perhaps we will value time spent with loved ones, and creating meaningful memories will replace the go-here, go-there keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality.

Perhaps gratitude for everything we’ve previously taken for granted will outweigh entitlement and materialism.

Perhaps we will live more authentically and notice the little things with an increased sense of wonder and appreciation.

Perhaps respect, compassion, creativity, and kindness will flourish and “Look at you!” will replace “Look at me!”

Perhaps we will adopt a mindset of bettering ourselves and serving others not for external rewards or “likes” but to honor our intrinsic sense of purpose while promoting that lost concept of humanity.

Perhaps you will be able to finally live your life on your terms, and I mine.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Coronacation Chronicles – April 5, 2020” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on April 5, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

Coronacation Chronicles – March 29, 2020

snapseedIn Limbo.

No schedule.

No plans.

Slow down.

Reprioritize.

I am you.

You are me.

Distance unites us.

Normal no longer exists.

The non-essential are most essential.

The least vulnerable are most vulnerable.

The ones who can breathe are the ones who cannot.

Eternal thanks to those who are working.

Compassion has regained its status.

Empathy exceeds entitlement.

Prayers for all.

And so it goes.

Just

Be.

 

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Coronacation Chronicles – March 29, 2020” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on March 29, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

Coronacation Chronicles – March 21, 2020

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Nobody told me there’d be days like these
Strange days indeed
most peculiar
Mama…”

–  John Lennon

Some random thoughts from the front lines of this alternate universe we are living…

My life is in limbo, as is yours, and a giant shroud of uncertainty covers us all.

Everything is on hold until further notice.

I just finished my first week of teaching remotely without interacting in-person with my students and my colleagues. I miss their faces. I miss their smiles.

I never thought I’d see the day when my planner was empty.

I look at my calendar adorned with strike-outs and “canceled” stickers and wonder, when will the first social gathering happen that I will go to? When will until further notice end? Will it be in May? July? September? January 2021? Or beyond?

A more profound emptiness encircles us right now than the emptiness found on my measly planner pages… empty trains and busses, airports and parking lots, shelves and displays and freezer cases, playgrounds and basketball courts, classrooms and lunchrooms, stadiums and ballparks, arenas and aquariums, boardwalks and museums…

The biggest empty might be found inside our hearts and dreams.

Last week I wrote about hope, and while I’m clinging to hope the way a baby clings to its blankie, the daily shift further away from life-as-we-knew-it skews that hope just a little bit as it bends towards a new unknown.

I have underlying medical issues, and I am afraid.

Nobody deserves to die from this, yet we all know people who are going to die.

My heart is in denial and cannot accept that.

Nor can I wrap my heart around the fact that my five-year-old nephew figured out on his own that he wouldn’t be able to have his turtle birthday party next week. He’s bummed, but he’s okay with it. My heart, however, is not.

It’s extraordinarily difficult to be an Empath right now.

During my journalism lesson about 9-11, I tell my students that I’d love to bring them back to September 10, 2001 so they could experience the feeling of life before it was changed forever. I wonder, when I teach my future students about the history we are living right now, how drastically different our “yesterday” will be compared to the culture and society they will live in. How will their reality come about, and what will we collectively lose in the process?

Things will never get back to normal because normal no longer exists.

I’m off the news and listening to a lot of music. When I’m not teaching remotely or preparing lessons for remote learning, my words, my pen, and my keyboard keep me going.

So do the singing birds who wake me up every morning. I can’t hear singing birds in my classroom, but I can from my living room, and I’ve got season tickets with a front-row seat for their daily morning concerts.

Everything is blooming earlier than usual… the cherry trees, the forsythia, the weed flowers, the magnolias, the pear trees. Maybe the Earth knew we needed some color right now.

With a major announcement scheduled for less than an hour from now by our governor, I have no doubt that this post will be old news five minutes after I hit “publish,” but it’s a record of this moment: 11:15 AM on March 21, 2020.

We’re all human. We’re all concerned. We’re all connected. We’re all in this together. Much light and love to you and yours.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Coronacation Chronicles – March 21, 2020” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on March 21, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

Tiny Purple Flowers of Hope

Life as we know it is changing by the minute as we are living through a very bizarre time filled with unprecedented events.

A week ago, I was enthusiastically looking forward to spring’s arrival and to making one of my ideas become a reality.

I’m still making progress towards my goal despite the altered reality we are living, and I’m still looking forward to spring.

However, I sit here concerned, confused, and anxious.

I feel like I’m waiting for Thanos to snap his fingers as he dons his infinity gauntlet brimming with stones.

History textbooks are being rewritten by the hour. Earlier this week, I told my students their children will someday learn in school about what we are currently living through. These students are, in fact, the previous generation’s children who have learned about 9-11 in school, an event their parents similarly lived through and experienced.

After the dust settles, what’s going to be left economy-wise? How will this pandemic’s aftermath further alter an already skewed life-as-we-know-it? How will the healthcare system survive? What will our days look like a year from now? A month from now? Will I still be here?

Yesterday, I left my classroom after what might have been the last time I will see my students for a month or more.snapseed

As I walked to my car, I looked down and glimpsed three tiny purple flowers blooming in all their glory in the face of and despite the state of our world.

In Star Wars: The Last Jedi, General Leia Organa said, “Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it you’ll never make it through the night.”

Hope.

I might not see it, but I believe in it with all of my heart and my soul. Especially right now.

Hope.

The message from those tiny purple flowers.

Hope.

It’s what keeping me going as we collectively navigate uncharted waters brimming with hysteria and uncertainty.

Hope.

One word that’s making all the difference to me as one of millions living with underlying medical issues.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Tiny Purple Flowers of Hope” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on March 14, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

Marching Onward, With My Heart at the Forefront

Logo Color RedI slept until 6:45 AM this morning, although, in reality, it was 5:45 AM and the time I normally wake up. When you’re an early riser like me, March’s time change is of no consequence in the morning, although my eyelids will probably become heavy before the sun has completely gone to bed for the night until I adjust to the change.

An extra hour of sunlight at the back-end of the day. It’s one of my favorite harbingers of spring, along with dancing to the song of the spring peeper frogs as I waltz into school, which I did on Friday morning.

Even though it’s still technically winter, March has come in like a lamb along the Jersey Shore, and I’ll take it.

There’s always the possibility that a seemingly calm March can turn into a lion on a dime with Jack Frost busting in and riding that lion like a rodeo cowboy. However, the best thing about a March snowstorm is that it melts rather quickly.

Snow or no snow, light or dark, sunshine or rain, I’m all aquiver today.

Despite my best efforts and attempts to keep a positive outlook, the first two months of 2020 were emotionally difficult for me.

I dug out of the funk by adopting a new mindset: I dedicated myself to ME. Making myself the top priority in my life, along with incorporating lifestyle changes such as a regular and honest journaling practice, daily meditation, and yoga, has resulted in an awakening of massive proportions.

I’m experiencing life with a whole new level of awareness, one I never knew existed before, and it’s freaking amazing. I’ve got a new bounce in my step and a ridiculously stupid grin on my face as my heart now matters most.

My heart is simultaneously content and thrilled about the limitless possibilities that lie ahead of me, and my soul joyfully celebrates alongside my heart in camaraderie and sheer bliss.

I am now enlightened with a vision that will allow me to use my gifts and talents to serve others while as I follow the breadcrumbs I encounter along my path, ones I now see with absolute clarity.

Finally, I’ve found my dharma.

I am wholeheartedly devoting myself to my vision as I create it and give it life. As such, I’m looking for a few educators who would be willing to serve as beta-testers of my idea during the month of April. Should you be interested, please shoot me an email with your name, school name, and grade/subject you teach to jillocone@gmail.com.

Out of three ideas I have in my hopper, this particular vision will enact positive changes in the lives of fellow educators through leadership, support and encouragement, and if it proceeds as I envision, it will also shift the course of my future for the better.

I have a vision.

I have a plan.

I have a goal.

I have a purpose.

I am productive and focused.

And throughout it all, my heart will matter the most, as should yours.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Marching Onward, With My Heart at the Forefront” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on March 8, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

snapseedThat sums up how I’ve stood my ground as I maneuver through a tempest created by magazine article and editorial deadlines hitting at the same time as a new semester begins with a dash of minor health-related nuisances thrown in to make things extra-interesting. I’ve used a little of this and a little of that to stay afloat while keeping in check and putting my emotional needs at the forefront.

I am now my biggest priority.

Returning to meditation and yoga helped re-shift focus on my well-being, and I am noticeably happier and more grounded. I’m enthusiastic despite my fatigue and optimistic despite setbacks. I might be a big old clumsy mess on the yoga mat, but I show up anyway. I’m grateful for finding an attentive teacher who goes out of her way to assist me as I re-enter the yoga scene after too long of an absence.

Balancing my deadlines and professional responsibilities while allowing pockets of time to write solely for myself and to be with loved ones has helped me keep positive and on-task. I am not becoming overwhelmed by what I “have to do” because I find time to do what I “want to do” and prioritize using a forward-looking mindset.

I also shifted my writing purpose and goals to sync with my intuition. With pride and with dignity, I made the difficult decision to no longer pursue publication of my novel titled Chapter One-A Novel. My heart finally listened to what my soul and my instinct have known for quite some time, that this particular manuscript is not meant to find its way onto book store or library shelves right now.

That doesn’t mean I am a failure or that I suck as a writer.

My four-year journey of writing Chapter One led me to an unexpected and new chapter involving three heartfelt creative projects besides learning how to sand and paint furniture: two additional manuscripts including a second novel and a non-fiction book, and something I will call “Phase 3.” The possibilities of “Phase 3,” which will allow me to serve and support others while using my talents, excite me to my core and I promise to share more about it when I’m ready.

I dedicate time every day to work on my projects and hope to complete two of them by the end of the year. I am writing the novel and the nonfiction book for me without thinking about an audience, and that shift in thought has made a notable improvement in my work.

Not getting what we wish for can lead us to what we were created for.

A little bit of this, and a little bit of that. It all adds up to living a purposeful and passion-filled life, and I’m on my way to doing just that.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on February 22, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

17,897 Days

fullsizerenderI have been alive for 17,897 days.

That’s 49 years.

I’ve cheated death and outlived many.

I’ve loved and lost, laughed and cried, celebrated and mourned, lived and learned, succeeded and failed.

I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve made amends.

I’ve tried to be a good person.

I am a woman, a wife, a sister, an auntie, a daughter, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a teacher, a learner, a writer, a neighbor, a helper, a survivor, a kid at heart, and a lover of life.

My scars and wrinkles, both inside and out, are badges of honor. I wear them with pride.

I am strong.

I am unique.

I am perfectly flawed.

I am kind.

I am open to life’s surprises.

Most importantly, I am still here.

Today I celebrate 17,897 days.

Today I celebrate 49 years.

Today I celebrate me.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“17,897 Days” was posted on jillocone.com on February 12, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. 

 

 

 

Two of Twelve Twenty Twenty Chapters

img_1653What a fancy way to say February 2020, right?

January seemed like it was five months long, yet all of a sudden, it’s a memory.

Looking back to the first chapter of 2020, I am most proud of continuous progress towards my Jersey Shore Magazine Spring 2020 issue deadlines. I’m writing four articles and editing four guides as assigned by my publisher. It’s been a slow go at times due to circumstances beyond my control, but I’m hoping to complete my magazine assignments in a few days.

January brought with it a lot of fun times and laughter with my brother’s birthday celebration and a day to the aquarium, a Seinfeld trivia brunch with friends, lunch with one of my favorite students ever, and a belated holiday luncheon with family.

I penned over 10,000 words for my next novel, words that did not exist at the beginning of the month. I write every weekday morning between 6:00 and 6:45 AM and for at least 30 minutes on Saturdays and Sundays, and while it’s a very rough draft of a story I’ve had in my heart for a long time, it’s awesome to watch the story begin to take shape. At this rate, I hope to finish the first draft by June than heavily revise and edit over the summer while also working on researching and writing another book, this one a non-fiction volume about the history of surfing in New Jersey.

Unfortunately, January also ushered in a string of rejections for my novel which I’ve been querying to agents and publishers. I know it’s hard to break into publishing and that my novel is merely one of a thousand other works agents and publishers have to wade through, but I honestly believed in my heart someone on the other side would have bitten by now. Instead, my queries are either unanswered or I receive a “Thanks but it’s not for me” response, which comes with the territory but is disappointing nonetheless. After an extremely frustrating chain of events a few days ago, I received three of those punch-to-the-gut emails within two hours of each other.

That hit me hard.

The doubters who inhabit my mind have returned from vacation and are now chattering up a storm. I’m trying my best to ignore them, but it’s been a rough few days and keeping them at bay has been difficult. Hopefully,  their voices will soon become bored with insulting me and find something else to do.

As the second chapter of 2020 unfolds, I am looking forward to new beginnings with the start of the second semester and two new groups of students, the celebration of a dear friend’s birthday, and the arrival of my 49th year circling the sun on February 12. Plus, it’s a leap year, and this chapter includes February 29! I’m already thinking of how I can commemorate leap-day by doing something truly extraordinary.

My February goals are to research/write every day in order to make progress on my next novel and my book about surfing, walk for 30 minutes at least three times a week (wish it could be every day but health limitations dictate otherwise), take part in Deepak Chopra’s 21-Day Meditation Experience which begins on February 3, and to leave my nails alone.

My chosen quote to guide me through February is from Kobe Bryant: “We all have self-doubt. You don’t deny it, but you also don’t capitulate to it. You embrace it.”

Brain-doubters, you make me human, but beware. I see you. I embrace you. But I will no longer give in to you.

Join me in living each moment to its fullest and to being the best we can be to each other this February, for Ram Dass was right when he said, “We are all just walking each other home.”

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Two of Twelve Twenty Twenty Chapters” was posted on jillocone.com on February 2, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

Thank you, Kobe.

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