A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a passage from Claire Cook's book Walk the Talk that really resonated with me. (If you missed it, you can read it by clicking here.)
Since that post, I have finished the book and have a few more passages I'd like to share with you.
While pages 146-147 concerned a mother of two young children and her own landscape design business, I could completely understand the situation she was describing and the emotions involved:
" 'I put everybody else's wants about my actual professional need to focus on my landscape designs. And if I don't put their needs first, there's this unevolved ruffly apron-wearing part of me that feels like I'm a bad mother.'
" 'We often do things ourselves because it's faster and more efficient,' I said. 'But there's a learning curve to everything. And that means doing things imperfectly is a part of the process, an experience your kids, and even your husband, actually need to have in order to learn how to do something well. And the reality is that every time you step in, you're not just taking away their opportunity for growth, you're also literally stealing time from yourself.' "
And while I definitely don't always hit 10,000 steps each day, I did love this:
"In a way, walking had become my North Star. Whatever was or wasn't happening in my life, if I set my sights on those 10,000 steps and just kept putting one foot in front of the other, eventually I'd work it out. Because it can take a long time to find the courage to say no to the stupid stuff and take steps toward the things that will make your life soar. And more and more I was realizing that courage doesn't mean you lose the fear. It means you keep walking anyway."
Then there's this hopeful bit near the end:
"I let my mind wander wherever it wanted to go. And I started thinking that life might really be like that cinematic box of chocolates — you know, full of surprises and you can't predict which one you'll get next.
"But a relationship — romance, friendship, partnership, walkingship or a hybrid of some or all of them — is more like an iris rhizome, with roots spread out in random directions, often chaotic, sometimes dramatic, occasionally crazy, but always still connected by the sheer beauty and complexity of this lumpy bumpy thing that holds you together and keeps growing if you water it."
Have you read any of Claire Cook's books? Do you have a favorite?
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