Light Up a Path to Lead Yourself Home

Plus: Scenes from a PNW Island Getaway

Hi, it’s me.

Welcome to my Wednesday newsletter…on Thursday! I spent four days on a PNW island last weekend for a writing retreat. It was lovely (as usual), but I’m a little behind schedule. You don’t mind, do you? Fabulous. Here’s what’s been on my mind…

Last year we adopted a dog from a friend of a friend whose mom, the dog owner, had died after a long illness. His name is Wiley, and I find him to be both adorable and maddening. He’s very attached to me, and me alone, which is lovely when we’re snuggling on the couch, but I trip over him often because he’s always right there.

Wiley’s sweet demeanor erupts into rabid attack mode whenever a stranger comes to our door, which is often. I’ve been trying to smooth this behavior out of him. When Wiley goes into agitator mode, I’ll call his name and walk toward him, put on his leash, and lead him away from the window to calm down. Since he feels comforted when attached to me, I don’t have to wrangle him away, he comes willingly.

After doing this for a while, we established a pattern well enough that I no longer have to go get him anymore. He just comes to me. His indoor leash hangs over the back of a dining room chair as a visual reminder, and all I have to do is call his name while standing with my hand on the chair near his leash. He comes immediately.

In those moments of high agitation, I’ve given Wiley a clear path back to me where he feels calm and safe.

Find someone who looks at you the way Wiley looks at me 24/7 (March 2025).

I could use a little of this energy myself, because nothing about the way I feel almost all of the time lately feels calm.

I’m unsettled.

Agitated.

I sit down, stand up, pace the floor.

What was I doing again?

Why did I walk into this room?

Between political chaos and perimenopausal chaos, I’m a wreck.

My recent getaway to a writing retreat was an excellent reset—a bit like that leash tethering me to something calm within. Four days offline and completely immersed in creative conversations reconnected me to a peace and purpose that drowned everything out long enough for me to me to breathe and stretch.

While thinking about writing on this topic, I was reminded of a passage from the book, Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card:

“Follow the lighted dots on the floor. Your color code is red yellow yellow—whenever you're assigned a path to follow, it will be red yellow yellow, three dots side by side— go where those lights indicate. What's your color code, boys?"

"Red, yellow, yellow."

"Very good. My name is Dap. I'm your mom for the next few months."

The boys laughed.

"Laugh all you like, but keep it in mind. If you get lost in the school, which is quite possible, don't go opening doors. Some of them lead outside." More laughter. "Instead just tell someone that your mom is Dap, and they'll call me. Or tell them your color, and they'll light up a path for you to get home.”

Many years ago when I first read this book, I desperately wanted someone to tell me the way home. A lighted path would be nice, I thought. Can the color be chartreuse fuchsia teal?

To a fault, I’m very comfortable with other people telling me what to do and where to go (until I’m not, but that’s another essay)—mostly in times of urgency when options are overwhelming and decisions must be made quickly.

But this weekend I was reminded that I don’t need someone to tell me what to do—I already know what brings me peace, whether I think of it as a lighted path or a tether:

Walking.

Breathing and stretching.

Changing my scenery.

Getting my hands in the dirt.

Answering a writing prompt.

Taking a shower (seriously, all of my best ideas come to me in the shower).

Listening to music through my earbuds (it has to be inside my brain!).

The future feels uncertain and my perimenopausal hormones are crashing and my mental health is wildly erratic and my heart is finding it increasingly more difficult to calm itself.

But my heart does have a home. I’m tethered to it. And even though it can take buttloads of energy to find my way, at least I know a path exists that will light up and lead me there.

What about you? Does this resonate? How do you find your way back home? What tethers you to peace and calm?

Until next time,

Jen

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Scenes from a Pacific Northwest Island

A few photos from a walk with my kid on the Doe Bay Resort property. Absolutely stunning. It is such a mood, here.

A few of my favorite PNW things: mixed textures, hues of green, and water views through a stand of trees. 🌿

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