The Best Advice I Ever Received

I need advice. I seek second opinions. I ask questions. In general, I do not think these are negative traits. I like the concept of due diligence in all things. My researcher’s mind feeds on information. This often serves me well. (I guard against second guessing and procrastination, the evil twins of thoughtful deliberation.) In remembrance of a time when advice was more than “avoid large groups,” “wear a mask,”and “wash your hands.” In honor of graduates who want to hear commencement messages. In the spirit of a beginner’s mind. In the hope of living in alignment with the wisdom I have learned over the years. In gratitude for my favorite advice givers — Cheryl Strayed , Amy Dickinson, Liza Featherstone, and Carolyn Hax. I have made of a list of some of the best advice I have ever received.

You can worry about your ankles tomorrow. Finish the damn race.

At mile 20 of the San Diego Marathon, my Team In Training coach approached on a bike. (He had been following team members throughout the race.) I was in real pain. The Advil I had taken had worn off. My stomach was in a knot the size of Texas. My toes were numb. I proceeded to whine about my ankles. He did not listen. He did not stop. He simply told me to finish the race in the most booming and definitive voice imaginable. That was exactly what I needed to hear. Finishing what you start is huge.

Let your light shine

That has always been a favorite lyric from a song I sang in church choir as a child. We are all light. Our lights our unique and powerful and vital to the world. Don’t hide your light. Don’t let rain extinguish your light. Don’t let anger turn your light to dark. Don’t let fear keep your light from shining. Don’t let hate guide your light. Shining is what we are all here to do.

Talk From Here

I heard these words during one of my first meetings with a member of my Master’s thesis committee. I was nervous. I was speaking very quickly and without focus. At one point in our conversation, she gently asked me to stop talking and take a deep breath. She moved her hand in front of her body tracing the energy of her spine. Standing strong like an oak, her hand moved from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. (She practiced Tai Chi. Her grace spoke of mastering that art.) As she moved she said, “Katie, you must talk from here.” I strive to always talk from here.

Find A Spot Before You Turn

I took dance lessons starting at the age of 5. When it was time for us to learn how to turn, the first rule we were taught (so as not to fall) was to find a fixed point on the wall. Dancers know this. Setting your eyes on a fixed point can help you keep balance during a turn. Spotting is about staying centered. Spotting is finding focus. Ultimately, spotting is about successfully completing a turn.

Never go somewhere empty handed.

My Aunt Bessie was an example of generosity and grace. She blessed alot of hearts in her day. She lived well into her 90’s, sharp as a tack, drove her car until the day she died. She never missed a beat. She had a rule. She never came to our house empty handed. (She would also never let us leave her house empty handed.) That was just how she lived her life, with generosity and grace.

Measure twice. Cut once.

Before my niece Emma was born, the women in my family made her a quilt. We chose fabric, sat down, and made the quilt together. In that process, my grandmother would repeatedly instruct, “Measure twice. Cut once.” Several times, I wound up cutting the wrong size squares before I learned. Measuring before you cut makes a more beautiful quilt. Measurement is important. Process is important. Process prevents problems.

Pay attention to the books you schlep around.

My dissertation chair gave me this advice when I was searching for a dissertation topic early in my doctoral work. It made me think about what was important to me, how I wanted to spend my time, and where I wanted to head in the future. I still pay attention to the books that I schlep around, the small voice that sometimes screams, the ease when things are meant to be, the stops along the road that point the right direction, and the wisdom of strangers.

That is just what you do for family.

My family has always cared for people, both people to whom I am related by blood and people who have become family by blessing. Even in the midst of the day-to-day stresses and drama, my parents taught me that the real work of our lives, of family, is love. I learned a family invites and does not exclude. I learned a family allows love to expand and grow and multiply.