What’s a personal mantra or philosophy you live by?
“There’s room for you here.”
If I had to gather my philosophy into one sentence, that would be it.
You can come with the unfinished story. You can admit you’re having a hard day without immediately explaining why you’re grateful anyway. You can laugh in the middle of something difficult. You can be figuring things out and still have something worthwhile to offer.
I believe in making that kind of room for people.
But there is a small addition I’m learning to make to the sentence:
There’s room for me here, too.
That part takes practice.
It’s easy to pull up a chair for someone else, listen to their worries, and encourage them to rest. Somehow, when it’s my turn, I suddenly require a completed to-do list, three character references, and permission from a committee that apparently meets only during a full moon.
I’m trying to disband the committee.
Because I want the kindness I believe in to show up in how I treat myself, too. In allowing a tired afternoon to be a tired afternoon. In saying something hurts without apologizing for mentioning it. In making something simply because it delights me, even if I cannot explain what purpose a tiny paper teacup serves in the grand scheme of things.
Perhaps delight is purpose enough.
My philosophy has room for boundaries, too. I can care about someone and still say, “That doesn’t work for me.” I can reconsider a decision. I can listen with an open heart and take time before answering.
I don’t manage all of this gracefully every day. Sometimes I notice halfway through the evening that I’ve offered everyone patience except myself. Sometimes the best I can do is catch it, soften my voice, and try the next moment differently.
That counts.
So this is what I try to live by: make room for people to be human. Offer what you can honestly give. Leave space for laughter, for changing your mind, for beginning something before you feel entirely ready.
And when you pull up the chairs, remember to give yourself a place at the table.
