Mind-Body-Living | BodyLogos

Two Realities, One Life

A photo of me from The Art of Strength taken in 2011

Photo from my book: The Art of Strength

Two Realities, One Life

This is not your typical love story. Although my family of origin taught me tough love, there was love. In their passing, I miss them all.

It’s easy to believe that incest is a relationship between the victim and the perpetrator. But it’s a family relationship that feels like a virus. It infects the hearts of every member of the family with mistrust, jealousy and fear.

My family was no exception.

My sister felt like I was the flower and she was the dirt. In dad’s drunken rage’s he would hit her; and, saved me for his more perverse character flaw.
I understand her lack of sympathy.

My mom was in denial and insisted that my history with dad didn’t leave any scares. “You’re fine,” she’d insist. She could never grasp that his pedophilia had nothing to do with her attractiveness and allure. She never even asked how I was.
I understand her distance.

I just felt like a piece of garbage, not worth protecting.
I also understand that understanding doesn’t change the despair I’ve had to sift through.

After years of being gaslit, my mind felt like Swiss cheese. What was true, and the fear that 3-years of incest was nothing to whine about, started to flip flop. If it weren’t for my body’s “tension patterns” coupled with the disassociated experience that rescued my senses from the events, I would have remained confused indefinitely.

The body can override the mind’s confusion. And more importantly, the body cannot be gaslit.

My body remembers the fright from the sounds, the muscular tension from protective posturing, and the frustration of a vocal freeze, from when dad repeatedly entered my room in the dark.

My body also remembers the safety when in a disassociated altered reality, the sense of belonging I experienced when my bones felt aligned with gravity, the freedom of a tension free body, and my senses being elevated out of dad’s grasp.

The fear, protective posturing, and vocal freeze from my reality could have taken over my life. But instead, I learned to embody the safety, belonging and freedom from my disassociated reality.

Mind-body or somatic therapies listen to the body’s version of a story. Asking the mind to take a break from its over-investment with emotional reactions. A mind-body approach recognizes the body’s remembrance of a story, tracking the “tension patterns” left over from protective posturing.

Because of my experience with dad, I created such a therapy that I’ve named BodyLogos—meaning the body’s Divine wisdom.

BodyLogos uses posture and strength training to track the “tension patterns” in the body, employs a technique that uses resistance to release tension as you create strength, and infuses the movement with transformational active meditation that replaces personal despair with hope.

BodyLogos is the healing art that elevated me out of despair and is how I bring hope into the world.

This is what healing looks like.

Some stories appear negative, yet have happy endings.

If anyone is interested in learning more about BodyLogos please reach out to me at mindthebody@bodylogos.com.

Untethered Through the Holiday

by Tammy Wise

I was warned that losing a second parent would be heart-altering. What I was not warned about was that, being left with no parents, siblings or children, would be life-altering.

It feels like the taproot attached to my very core has been uprooted. The ground under me tilled, ready for mulch and seed. But the nourishment from rich mulch and chosen seeds not yet in place.

As soon as the funeral wrapped up, I was thrust into wrapping holiday gifts. A lonely undercurrent beckoning me to shift myself somehow.

The holiday was without any of my usual family traditions. I grasped for something that felt like family—I made twenty loaves of mom’s cranberry bread to share—desperately keeping what I knew alive.

I quickly realized that I needed to create my own sense of family within myself.
My taproot wasn’t gone. “I” was simply its only occupant!

I say this with enormous gratitude toward the extended family of nephews, cousins and friends, who held a safe space for me to land in the shattering of my family of origin.

I share this experience for the 13% of adults who have lost all family of origin kin. And, those who could join this small community.

Entering into this new year, I celebrate a new beginning. My authenticity a guiding light, as I embrace myself as the new matriarch of a clan.

I’ve come to realize, that I have an opportunity to empress the values I deem important on great nieces and nephews and second cousins. Values of unity and inclusion. Transforming duty to be what is expected, to loving the differences in each of us.

To be the last kin standing feels untethered, but this new position asks me to respect my own authenticity, as I had always respected the elders before me.

2026 is the year I claim a posture of authority in regard to my own life. Any remaining threads of victimhood attached to parental shortcomings to be transformed into compassionate overviews.

I used to resent having to invite myself into the lives of family and friends. Now I feel empowered to do so. It’s an expression of my love for them, not an intrusion of their time or an unwanted request.

The emotional armor I’ve worn to deflect the dissonance I’ve experienced within my family of origin is melting. It was so embodied, I didn’t know it was there; so reinforced by my own misaligned beliefs, I couldn’t alter its trajectory. It’s only through its retraction that it’s now palpable.

Loneliness no longer defines my untethered state, a new respect for authentic authority does.

Leave a comment if this relates to you here.

Tough-Love to Self-Love

by Tammy Wise

As I navigate through my mom’s death, someone spoke of her own father’s passing in a way that struck me. She said, “The whole world seemed to shift for me in some way I can’t name. A before and after.”

As I enter into the days following mom’s funeral, the ‘after’ is taking shape. But it isn’t what I expected. To explain, let me start with the ‘before.’

A quote from my eulogy:
“Mom believed everyone was creative, and she was determined to draw that creative spark out of anyone who would show up at her annual Christmas Craft Party! After building confidence making an ornament, tutored by mom, some guests took on their own projects: like, learning to crochet or quilt!

Styrofoam balls, ribbons, beads, sequence, glitter, pine cones… you name it, every Christmas work station overflowed with possibilities using mom’s collected STUFF!

One year I was securing pinecones to a wire wreath form, and it was a substantial size. I’d ask mom, “how’s it looking?” She replied over and over again, “More… it needs more pine cones!” After a while, I was getting tired and my fingers hurt from the wire. “Isn’t this enough?” “No, not really,” she’d say.

I can remember feeling, like many younger sisters, “I’m NEVER enough!” It doesn’t matter how many pine cones!

But I hated that look of disappointment my mom was so good at casting out, so I’d push on. Today, that pine cone wreath hangs as a centerpiece in my home for the entire winter season!

She single-handedly taught me to push myself until I WAS ENOUGH. And THAT, is what got me on Broadway.”

In appreciation of mom’s tough-love antics, I found a positive spin. My mind held this perspective through the years, as a loving gesture of gratitude, for both of us to co-relate peacefully. But it wasn’t wholly honest. It was only half the story.

The other half of the I’m Never Enough story is recognizing how hampered our relationship truly was. In fear of being blamed for not being enough, I wasn’t free to share anything important with mom. To preserve the peace, I learned to limit what I shared of myself.

After the pressure of the funeral was over, I expected to grieve the loss of a second parent with lonely unfulfilled wishes. But instead, I’ve grown lighter and lighter. The dark cloud that hovered over me pre-funeral has lifted.

My heart feels open, my shoulders feel relaxed, my waistline feels tall. The contraction my body held to override the conflict within me has released.

I’m not worried about disappointing mom anymore. I’m not longing for her approval anymore. I’m not aggrieved by her constant scrutiny around my values.

I’m just me. Alas, the free-spirit she’d always described me as. No apologies or excuses.

I never remember feeling so light!

Grieving my mother is re-introducing me to my authenticity. It’s given me permission to be too much, not enough, or just enough. The I’m Not Enough conversation is over.

Good grief… All the self-development work, I’ve done through the years, to free myself from this conversation is suddenly felt tenfold.

Both sides of this story are true. Healing is being able to tell both sides of a story from a place of love.

Thanks mom. Your tough-love has led me to self-love. I wish the same for you.

A Love Letter’s Passage

by Tammy Wise

Love letters are written to encapsulate and celebrate a moment in time, and in hope of a shared, reciprocal, experience. Being thanked for a love letter’s kind words, although polite, does not communicate any reciprocal feelings. But, at least, it lets you know that you’ve been heard.

When a love letter response leaves us feeling flat, we generally wonder if we’re barking up the wrong tree? We question, “should I stay or should I go now?” Maybe we even consider further conversations, but who likes to ask for, beg for, or whine for love?!

Love is either a shared experience or a life experience.
And, when the response-that-feels-flat comes from mom, there’s no place else to go.
But, here lyes the gift of this life experience.
I got to sit in an important truth… love is not my mom’s currency.

I’ve spent my life chasing mom’s affection, acceptance, attention… to feel love and belonging. But, mom was busy collecting affection, acceptance, attention… to feel beloved and validated.

Belonging is a shared experience.
Validation is an autonomous experience.

This distinction reframed my whole understanding of our relationship!

Mom has always used her artistic gifts to share her worth in the world, and she taught me to do the same. I thanked her for this in my love letter, feeling incredibly lucky to have learned so young that my natural gifts could be valuable.

But, this is how mom and I differ…
• When she receives praise for her art, she feels validated… beloved.
• When there’s an opportunity to give praise, she feels threatened.

• When I receive praise for my art, I feel belonging… loved.
• When there’s an opportunity to give praise, I feel connected.

All these years I kept trying to win her love by getting better at the things she taught me. But finally, by witnessing her polite, emotionally void response, around the expression of my love, I see that my efforts to be better at the things she taught me felt threatening to her, rather than loving her.

She’s a lone wolf, while I want to be part of a pack.

To her, my love letter was validation of HER worth, not an honoring of OUR relationship.

The way to love a lone wolf is to keep your eyes on them, love yourself in the way you want to be loved by them, and realize their autonomy is their survival. It’s not personal.

The way to be loved by a lone wolf is understand that the affection, acceptance and attention you give them unconditionally, curates within your self the confidence, pride and love you thought you needed from them.

The original sentiment of a love letter is a beginning. How it is received sheds light on the mystery between two people and their inner dynamics. Love’s passage is a full circle between two people.

A quiet chamber of my heart is now saying:
It’s not personal mom, but I don’t need your affection, acceptance, attention… to feel love and belonging anymore.
You’ve taught me to love myself.

Leave a comment, if you can relate.

New Year’s in July

by Tammy Wise

Eli and Tammy

A New Year’s Resolution Success Story.

New Year’s Resolutions are often repeat pursuits and thought destined-to-fail. Amateur night, right? Maybe because a result is desired without a roadmap or real interest beyond that result.

My 2025 resolution has not only become a lifestyle, the journey has brought me so much unexpected joy, connection and insight.

It started as a simple wish. I wanted my hands to look better.

I touch people all day long as a body worker. My nails had ridges, splits and cracked cuticles. I always wanted to hide them, but I need them front and center.

Manicures, as I’d known them, lasted a day. My lifestyle of gym workouts, motorcycles and bicycles, handling big dogs and big birds, hadn’t made beautiful hands possible. What’s a girl to do… I thought?

Manicures these days, however, have toughened up. Shellac, gel, powder, and so on, are options that ward off the splits and cracks, cover the ridges, and are indestructible!

So, December 31st 2024 I had my first powder manicure experience. My manicurist was a young man named Eli. I marveled at the process. The tools were like the Dremel tools I once used to carve designs into wood. My love for arts and crafts was fully engaged!

After trying a few different manicurists I returned to Eli regularly. He’s my favorite. He’s first generation Chinese. He came to America at 14-years old with his mom, after his dad died.

Eli’s mom couldn’t find work in China to support them both. And, with China’s one child law, and the Chinese prioritizing sons and adopting daughters out of the country, there were few young women for Eli’s future happiness.

This story, of how a widowed Chinese woman came to America to make a better life for her son, fascinated me. How brave she was! My manicures became story-time, even though we sometimes struggle with language to be understood.

His mom, a manicurist, taught Eli, now 25-years old, her trade. Now he has made it his own.

Every 3-4 weeks we sit across a small table to craft beautiful new nails for me, gifting me pause from the demands of my world; while in exchange, I teach Eli new English words and learn the life of an immigrant.

His American journey and beautifying my nails have become an ongoing story that integrates both our wishes to look good and feel better.

It’s been a resolution more meaningful than I could have ever imagined. Because there was a roadmap to get started, and a real interest in what was unknown until I began the journey.

As an old biker-chick, I still say, “It’s about the journey, not the destination.”And, more to the point of your next resolution, “A destination is an excuse to journey!”

Share a New Year’s Resolution story that inspires commitment and resolve here!

Cancer is Never Nothing

by Tammy Wise

Photo by: Carol Forman

Navigating through cancer has been a roller-coaster ride of emotions. Lucky for me, this scare was a short-lived one-and-done surgical procedure. I’m now cancer free.

The experience, however, of sharing my diagnosis of skin cancer with friends and colleagues, had a trickle down effect that scared me more than the cancer. I was met with a range of responses, some of which, made me question friends’ sincere care.

Comments like, “skin cancer’s nothing, you’ll be fine,” may have had the intent to make me feel better. But actually, made me feel dismissed.

Cancer is never nothing! (A quote from a cancer surgeon).
And, how would any non-doctor know if I’d be fine?

If your intent is to comfort a loved one in need, this message is for you.

In my cancer experience, there was the haunting feeling that the “Big C” found its way inside me, and forevermore, I’ll be on the lookout for its next move. And, there was the practical fact, that I’ll lose work and be in pain in the same foot I’d just nursed back to health from a fascia rupture.

Comments like, “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this, but I’m glad that they caught it,” actually did comfort me. They were true statements that considered the feelings and facts I was actually floundering through.

A here-and-now death was not what scared me. Living through the next few weeks was. I believe, this is the case for more health scares than not.

It was hard to know what to ask for, when swimming in the “I don’t know” abyss of cancer. And, in the like, it must have been hard to know what to say, when asked to respond to that “I don’t know” abyss.

What I learned from this cancer experience is that, being in the “I don’t know” with someone in need is the kindest and most comforting path to take.

But, sitting in the muck with someone asks us to be brave enough to remember, or sit in for the first time, our own fears. And, recognize that we don’t know another person’s fears unless we take the time to ask.

I appreciate everyone’s intentions to comfort me. And, now that my recovery is on the homestretch, I’m no longer scared by the unintentional dismissals I experienced when in the thick of it.

I write this to help us all remember to consider the “I don’t know” abyss when consoling another’s situation. Because that is what’s at the heart of every matter.

Philosophical overviews, personal experiences or false proclamations don’t soothe the heart. Once you console the “I don’t know” abyss of the heart, philosophy and experience can soothe their mind and body… love before lecture.

The support I received through texts, checkin calls, appointment company, and a homemade cake, has assured me without question, that I do have support in the world.

Thank you to everyone.

Passion Project or Purpose Project?

by Tammy Wise

Tammy wearing her crafted jewelry

What do you do when your Passion Project takes over your Purpose Project?!

With a full time personal training practice, creating my latest app product—The Art of Posture—has been a slow build. My time is always mortgaged out to clients. At least that’s what I tell myself.

What makes me question my time excuse is that, since I started making jewelry and envisioning an Etsy store, I find time to make jewelry. Mostly weekends, but occasionally during the week I also indulge!

I tell myself, I “should” only indulge in my Passion of making jewelry on weekends, and during the week all free time “should” be committed to my Purpose in creating my app!

But these “mental shoulds”depressed my creativity in both directions with joyless rules.

So I asked myself, how can I create time to have it all?
I love my vocation around mind body fitness and posture, as well as my avocation, around crafting jewelry and beading.
Is this an either / or situation?

Then, when working with a client on posture, I was reminded that the body always shows us the way. When standing still, she was able to adopt a relaxed, centered, square skeletal frame; but, when engaged in movement she couldn’t maintain it.

We discussed how:
• The weight of her body (bones) and outside resistance (dumbbells) are a grounding force, not a burden.
• I suggested that she drop into her bones’ weight to feel more grounded when in motion.
• Aligning the skeleton by elongating her muscles centered her in her alignment (mind & body), but when she used muscle tension it diffused her alignment.
• I suggested that she focus on muscle quality, rather than movement size and speed, to maintain her alignment in motion.
She agreed that the fear of not being good enough led her toward tension and an urgency to be better than her best; while the Centered Grace she was now experiencing, using a more relaxed elongated muscle quality, felt timeless and meaningful.

There she was, having overslept, with bed-head hair, no caffeine or food, still feeling physically exhausted from her previous day’s monster walk, looking more sophisticated, confident and beautiful than I’d ever seen her.

And, as long as she maintained this grounded, elongated posture, she maintained her confidence.

This Centered Grace I’m talking about transforms time and space, offering a lightness of being to emerge. We become our best by extending ourselves into space, rather than muscling ourselves through space.

I walked away realizing I wasn’t following my own advice!

The WEIGHT of my Passion and Purpose Projects were both being thwarted by my fear of not being enough to do them both. But, when I relaxed about what I “should” have done already, the projects regained their meaning. And, time stood still.

I felt aligned again.

The QUALITY of my attention when aligning with these projects is what centers my creativity, not the number of minutes I have. It’s amazing how time can expand when I’m grounded and relaxed.

I feel joyful again.

Each video, script and lesson plan brings me closer to launching The Art of Posture. Every necklace, bracelet and earring made brings me closer to launching my Etsy store. Small steps strung together creates a successful journey.

Aligning with these projects starts with embodying Centered Grace. The rest will naturally unfold with the joy-filled passion and purpose I have for these projects.

Time is simply a space. The quality of that space is ours to create.

Start a conversation HERE about your Time Management for your Passion or Purpose Projects!

Empathy has No Agenda, only Love

by Tammy Wise

A spiritual guide warned me recently to be more selective about who I empathize with. I was advised that empathy was for those who are “ready.”

This unfolded at the same time as Elon Musk shared his view that, empathy is the “fundamental weakness of Western civilization,” pushing us toward “civilizational suicide.“

Having always believed that empathy was a virtuous quality of spiritual significance; and, that empathy may well have been the catalyst that inspired the development of divided countries to united states; and in the like, aspiring a future of global co-operation; I had to pause and reflect.

This double-warning around empathy confused me.

Merriam-Webster got my reflection started with clear delineations. Empathy, compassion and sympathy all refer to a caring response to the emotional state of another person, but they all have distinctions…
• Sympathy feels like sincere concern toward another’s problems.
◦ Like a co-worker saying, “I’m so sorry to hear this, good luck with your treatment.”
• Compassion is being conscious of another’s distress and having a desire to alleviate the problem.
◦ Like a doctor saying, “I’m sorry about your situation, but follow this treatment protocol for 3-months and we’ll reevaluate your progress then.”
• Empathy is sharing in the emotional vulnerability of another’s problem.
◦ Like a friend saying, “I’m sorry the medicine is worse than the disease, let me come sit with you through the treatment.”

Sympathy is given to those who want to be heard, so they feel seen in their justified victimhood.
They see the problem as outside themselves.
Compassion is given to those who want to change, so they feel supported in their plight.
They realize that they need help solving the problem.
Empathy is given to those who want a shared experience, so they feel loved in their imperfection.
They understand the problem is within themselves.

This means, the level of care someone is willing to accept from another, to alleviate their own problem, directly correlates with the level of responsibility they are willing to take on themselves.

Care-responses have two sides: the caregiver and the caretaker. There are two perspectives to care for when choosing a care-response. Here’s the thing I’m learning, emotional maturity runs parallel with the ability to choose the appropriate care-response in a situation.

Let’s say, we caretake ourselves and caregive others. Taking responsibility for the caretaker and caregiver within ourselves prepares us to choose healthy care-responses outside ourselves. But not everyone considers the choice between sympathy, compassion or empathy. So, they respond from an unconscious default setting; and, when they’re rejected feel punished for caring.

This is a cycle that I have naïvely lived repeatedly!

When sympathy is all my mother, my partner’s daughter, or my aging friend is comfortable receiving, they can’t see how compassion and empathy could be their change-agent to feeling better! They’re busy defending themselves, not recognizing that taking responsibility for their problems isn’t the same as being responsible for their problems!

Empathy is the care-response that only the most emotionally responsible people can engage in. It requires no personal agenda and a wholistic attitude: first, the body identifies with the problem with sympathy; second, the mind evaluates how to ease or remedy the problem with compassionate suggestions; and third, the spirit’s ability to empathize holds a safe space where the other person feels seen, supported and loved.

Without the emotional maturity of empathy we would live in a dog eat dog world. We would self-sooth and blame-others. Use up the sympathetic concern, compassionate support and empathetic love offered from others. Only to feel insatiable and alone.

This is a path to both personal and “civilizational suicide”… one person, one community, one nation, at a time!
Until, the only way to survive is to change…

To be selective with empathy, I now realize, means co-operation from both parties is required. The outward focus of a victim attitude isn’t “ready” to consider the inward responsibility to change one’s own attitude.

To collectively turn the corner from victim to champion, the way we can live in the spirit of empathy is to return to its original 1900’s definition: Empathy imagines ideas, feelings and attitudes as fully inhabiting something or someone “infusing” it or them with meaning.

Empathy was not primarily a means to feel another person’s emotions, but the very opposite! It was spiritual Divination, whereby one augurs another’s potential to the surface by regularly perceiving them in that light.

I intend to practice the skill of empathetic imagination, to rise above the blame and judgment of those who have rejected my care using spiritual Divination. These are my “infusions.”
• Mother—You are open-hearted, self-accepting and self-reliant.
• Partner’s Daughter—You are seen, supported and loved.
• Aging Friend—You are peaceful, humble and appreciative.

How could YOU practice empathy from a distance?
Imagine light into being with ME.

Give Them Something REAL To Talk About

by Tammy Wise

Light over Darkness

Too often my greatest accomplishments and deepest sentiments have been judged or dismissed. And, no matter how often it’s happened, I’m surprised by it.

I believe, that my surprise comes from their response being so distant from my reality.

While my intent is consistent: to be my best. The response is of me being bad, wrong, or intentionally hurtful to them. And, as a result, an unfortunate parallel and parallelizing truth is amplified. A part of me believes they’re right.

I must be bad, wrong and hurtful, if people feel this way around my life choices and direction. I feel annihilated and embarrassed to be me!

When consulting therapists and friends over the years about this sensitivity, I’m met with, “you SHOULDN’T feel that way. They’re jealous… they’re resentful… they’re scared.” But, why THEY are the way they are, doesn’t remedy MY reaction, of being the cause of their cut-me-off, shut-me-out ways.

• In my childhood, I had to grin a bare parental annihilation until the summer after high school, when I could run away as fast as I could.
• In my sister’s passing, I had to create distance with family members who insisted I didn’t love her, because I hadn’t visited through the Covid years.
• In my friendships, I’ve had to, at times, silently withdraw myself from the confusion of their belligerence toward my good will.

There’s a darkness to this dynamic that I just don’t want in my life. It’s joyless.
So, I run!

Now this annihilating darkness is asking me to stay.

My boyfriend’s daughter is poking-the-bear, as they say. I’ve assumed the role of the “wicked step-mother,” while doing nothing wicked. To run would mean annihilating my relationship with my lover.

Unless I can rise above this sensitivity, it’s a him or me situation!

While I believe that there are times one needs to extricate oneself from dark influences, to protect one’s own light. I also see that there are times one needs to stand up to dark influences, and project one’s own light.

I don’t believe that means condoning poor behaviour or accepting what’s unfair and unjust. Taking the high-road requires boundaries that protect our self-respect.

But what I’m beginning to understand is, the JOY that is behind our intentions, is the light that can vanquish the darkness. Not the darkness that lives in them, but the darkness that has infected us.

If my light dims, or goes out, then I’ll be just like them. The annihilator!

Under the details of each situation, it is my joy the annihilator tries to steal. When my joy threatens others, I need not be sorry that I imposed myself. But instead, I can feel sorry that they can’t meet me in it.

When we’re threatened, we make a lot of noise about it. We talk about it, cry about it, get angry about it… we become the darkness. Might JOY be the answer to preserving the light… our light.

Let’s give them something REAL to talk about… unbridled fearless JOY. And, transform embarrassment into gratitude for being joy-full. Perhaps, with time, light can ingest darkness. Just as darkness has infected light.

Wrapped in Hand-Me-Downs

by Tammy Wise

Mason & me with Grammy’s knitting!

As I took my first steps into the winter freeze, my braced body surrendered into a sense of unexpected safety. I was warm!

Out my window, heads were buried as they bustled by. NYC had a white dusting that looked like frost. A mixture of snow, salt and sand made every color fade into dusty white hues. The Hudson carried giant blocks of ice that groaned as they traversed.

With temperatures dropped into record breaking lows, wind chills that felt like razor blades on faces, the warmest clothes were unburied: a floor length shearling coat, fur aviator hat, lined knitted mittens, a thick-knit pocket scarf and heavy-knit socks.

As much as I always try to avoid the emotional angst of being cold, just the thought of it triggers my survival instincts into overdrive.

Truth is, feeling safe in the cold has never happened to me before. I actually have an odd fear of cold weather. It’s as if I have to fight for my life! So, when I felt warm and safe in the cold, I was disarmed.

At that moment, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

My shearling coat was gifted from a client’s closet. The fur hat was gifted from a friend. Mittens, scarf and socks were all homemade by my mom.

It was the generosity of others that protected me from the extreme weather that was beating up others.

As the youngest in my family, I grew up wearing hand-me-downs. As a dancer/personal trainer, who fits into my friend’s outgrown clothes, I still wear hand-me-downs. I’m a 62-year old hand-me-down queen!

In the past, I’ve appreciated receiving unwanted treasures and enjoyed making them my own. But, gratitude felt like appreciation on steroids!

Gratitude felt warm inside and out.
• Gratitude required me to fully receive what was given… to accept the gesture as them wanting me to have it, rather than them not wanting it.
• Gratitude made me feel worthy of these gifted items, rather than less than because I didn’t or couldn’t get it brand new.
• Gratitude blessed me with abundance byway of my appreciation for YOU—the care giver, as well as, ME—the cared for.

I learned that, appreciation reflects my feelings for the giver; and, gratitude reflects my capacity to receive.

It’s been said that, it’s better to give than to receive. I disagree, it’s a full circle of gifting/celebrating/ honouring. To fully receive is what the giver intended. It’s what makes the giving worth while and honours the love being exchanged.

While saving money initiated my childhood recycled closet, and environmental concerns initiates my adult recycled closet, hand-me-downs are a form of cycling the energy of love anew.