UnDaunted: The month of living Audaciously

Today is just June 4th. I am writing this a month before you will even see it. And the content is so relevant to the energy of this month, I scrapped what I had intended to share.

So even after Gemini replaced it with a summary I had asked for… wiping out what I had just written - I sat down to start again. 

And that is the energy of this month - asking us what matters.

It is all about the cycle of life. Transformation. How we pass through moments. Whether we choose them, fall into them, see them, reject or embrace them -  or not. 

I’ve had the most amazing front seat row to watch this in real time with my son. Ten short years.

2016 - Happy young man out in the world, driving across the country for his first job, first apartment, and still thinking that jumping off a roof into a perfectly good swimming pool makes sense.

2019 - Happily married. Now doing home projects and mature enough to say - I love you mom, and my wife comes first. (Yes she does buddy, bravo. I am proud of you.) No more wild antics.

2026 - Talking about wills. Spending weekends at children's birthday parties and getting in bed by 9 at night to have the energy to run after three babies under the age of four. There is a reason God gifts babies to the young.

We are constantly moving toward something. Or having life show us the value of choosing. 

Just as I was reading the July transits, finishing up what I had planned to say about it, smiling and ruminating about life’s cycles and my son settling into the quiet rhythms of his own life, the phone rang.

It wasn’t good news. It was however an exclamation mark on all the things I’d been pondering. 

I lost a friend yesterday, unexpectedly, shockingly. I’m still processing what it means. He and his wife spent a good portion of their time in the condo below me. And the rest in his home of origin - Greece. I cannot imagine the grief and stupor his wife is in at the moment. And I cannot believe I will never experience his energy again.

He spoke from the heart, without reservation or apology. He was Greek. He talked about politics and philosophy and art, and the ghosts of his ancestors as if he’d just dined with them.

And if he reads this, from wherever he is, I’m sure he will smile.

I loved talking with him. Arguing with him. At least for an American that is how it feels, like an argument. It isn’t of course. It is just a cultural difference. 

Conversions with him reminded me of living in France. 

No, it is the first word a French person utters, in my experience, to anything you say. And if they have opened their hearts to you, it’s a sign of love. 

A heated debate indicates respect and true familiarity. A concept that was startling to me when I first arrived in France. A family meal with 12 people, loudly disagreeing; there I sat, silent, holding my breath, waiting on someone to hurl a glass. 

But that never happened. 

As soon as the discussion ended, another one began. And when all had exhausted their opinions, dessert was served. With smiles and jokes.

We don’t do that here. We don’t ruffle feathers. We don’t openly disagree. Or if we do, it becomes so derisive it breaks the relationship.

I was told, more than once, that Americans are so friendly. Except when they say let’s get together they never do.

Whereas in France, if you left the house for a “quick” trip to the market, you needed to add an extra 20 minutes in for running into the butcher or boulanger, or postman, or anyone you had ever seen more than two times… because a conversation would ensue.

When you are asked in France how you are - you stop walking. An answer is expected.

I miss this. Depth, passion, connection.

I will miss my friend - who said whatever he felt, whenever he felt it and could give a flying you know what less, if anyone found it offensive.

He soaked up life. He lived it. He complained about it. He argued with it. But he never shrunk from it.

I hope someone says that about me after I am gone. I hope they say:

She was bold and fearless. 

She laughed. 

She told the truth. 

She lived authentically. 

She dared. 

She loved with ferocity and depth. 

She was led by her values. 

She was unique …

and she will be missed.


That is the cycle of life. We are born. We grow. We transform. 

We live.  

Or we don’t.


What would you want someone to say about you?