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Last Friday, Chris—my hubby—was away, and I made room for some me time. I enjoyed quiet moments outdoors, took photographs, played with Kaizen—my fur-baby—did some reading and writing, and picked up Chinese food for dinner. Earlier this week, I noticed the fortune cookies I had left on the kitchen counter and picked one up. To my surprise, the message was unfortunate. Or so it seemed when I first read it. Fortune cookies are meant to carry lucky, joyful, uplifting messages. This one did not. And it gave me pause. Why this cookie? Why me? Why now? I have been thinking a lot about choice lately. Maybe it is because I am quickly approaching a milestone birthday. With every decade of my life, I have made bold choices accompanied by opportunity and grief, ushering in big changes, transformation and growing pains. This season is no different. For me, choice creates an opportunity to examine what is in light and what is in shadow. Some choices are easier than others. Thai or Chinese for dinner? A movie or a show? Vacation or staycation? Other choices are more complex. They require much more energy, discernment and responsibility. They ask us to make space for what is calling us forward while revealing what may need to be released. They invite curiosity, courage and trust in our instincts and intuition. These are not always decisions made by the brain alone. They are heart-to-heart conversations with the self: What do I want? What do I need? What do I value? What brings me joy? Where do I see myself next month, next year or ten years from now? We may be tempted to ask a friend, a family member, or anyone willing to listen—“What would you do?” Trust me, I still find myself doing this at times. Then I remember that others can offer their opinions, advice and even direction, but they do so through their lens, from where they are standing, informed by their experiences and view of the world. They are not standing where I am. They are most certainly not walking in my shoes. The answers can only lie within me. One practice that has helped me at many of life’s inflection points is surprisingly simple: taking pen to paper and creating a pros-and-cons list. There is something very real about what paper can reveal. One of my earliest meaningful and defining choices came while I was still in high school. During my junior year, I had just become co-captain of the dance team. I loved performing at halftime shows and being part of something with my friends. Then I was given the opportunity to join the work-study program, the equivalent of a modern-day internship. I asked no one what they thought. Not my friends. Not my family. I considered what I might gain: A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Independence. The experience of working in New York City. A grown-up, paying job. Responsibility. Accountability. New knowledge, new perspectives and so, so much growth. I also considered what I would lose: Being part of the team. Performing. Having lunch with my friends. Spending time together after practice. Their companionship and support. Regular connection with them, and with my high-school sweetheart. I chose the work-study program. That single choice changed everything. And everything that followed has led me here—to the moment I read the fortune cookie’s message: “Be prepared to face the consequences of your actions.” At first glance, it sounded ominous—more warning than fortune. But consequences are not always punishment. Consequences are what follows. Some open doors. Some close them. Some help us grow. Some cause harm. Some can be repaired. Others cannot. Sometimes we do not know what will follow. Sometimes we recognize the risk and proceed anyway, out of impulse, anger, fear, addiction, greed or the desire for immediate relief. Choice does not free us from outcomes. It asks us to take responsibility for them. Many other defining choices followed that first one in high school. I explored different job titles until, before the age of twenty, I landed what felt like my ideal position at a Fortune 100 company. I chose to remain there for nearly three decades, building a lifelong career that took many different shapes and took me to extraordinary places. As an adult learner without formal artistic training, I applied to Parsons School of Design’s graphic-design program, trusted my creative ability and was accepted. Years later, I transferred to its parent university, The New School, where I earned my master’s degree in Organizational Change Management, a professional certificate in Leading Change, and created an award-winning arts-based coaching model that offered me a new way of seeing and knowing. I chose to take the time to know and honor myself before saying yes to my life partner and best friend of twenty years. I opened a brick-and-mortar glass-art studio before I felt completely ready, while working full-time, carrying confidence and fear beside one another, and becoming the next version of myself. Progress, not perfection. After the 2008 financial crisis and all the uncertainty that followed, I made the excruciatingly painful choice to close the physical studio. That ending transformed me. I purchased a home and moved away from my hometown just outside New York City, my happy place, to rural farmland in New Jersey. I exchanged proximity to family, friends, extraordinary food and endless entertainment for farm-to-table nourishment, natural beauty, and a home glass studio that has become both my arts-based consulting practice and my heart’s contentment. I departed a career of nearly three decades, trading financial comfort for the chance to reclaim my identity and sense of wonderment. I adopted Kaizen despite having been allergic to nearly every furry animal I had encountered until then. He has become a source of unconditional love. I still maintain that you cannot be allergic to something you love. Continuing to lean into what lights up my soul and unleashing my creative fire is what keeps me moving forward. Then there are choices that cannot be neatly explained or placed on a list. They are deeper, more complex, more painful, more consequential and life-changing. For those, I am grateful to have a mentor, coach and therapist wrapped into one amazing human being. She does not give me my answers. She helps guide me toward where they live, deep within me, and calls me out on my own shift when needed. I am fortunate to have her, and I do not take her for granted. Every meaningful choice carries possibility. It also carries the grief of what was not chosen. We cannot have it all. Every yes, however wholehearted, asks us to live with a no. When that grief is acknowledged, respected and honored, we can begin to move through it, accept it, integrate it and give it a proper resting place before continuing forward. Sometimes a choice begins with a pen, a piece of paper and a pros-and-cons list. Other times, it takes a more intentional practice: lighting a candle, reciting a mantra, journaling, calling something in, letting something go, washing something away or giving it to the earth for safekeeping. And sometimes, the safest and most responsible choice is to pause and ask for support. Accepting the fortune cookie’s message is part of what makes my choices possible. Owning my choices has strengthened my capacity to continue making them. They have not necessarily become easier. But I have become more capable of accepting what follows, of owning my shift and asking for support when I need it. This milestone year, I am honoring the season I am in and the choices I am making. I have chosen visibility. I am putting myself out here, showing up in person and online, unfiltered, uncurated, vulnerable, real and consistent. Even when it is uncomfortable. “No one can hear the words that are left unspoken or see the patterns in an unpainted portrait.” —Yvette Ramos-Volz
I cannot yet see everything that lies ahead. But I am shedding the protection of my cocoon in exchange for the exposure of becoming visible, opening myself to true human connection and exploring relationships and collaborations with curiosity and discernment. Tonight, the full Moon will move through Earth’s shadow in a deep partial lunar eclipse, briefly obscuring much of its reflected light. It feels like an auspicious bookend to my August Letters. The month began with the August 12 total solar eclipse, which appeared partial from where I live. The Moon cast its shadow upon Earth. Tonight, the Moon will pass through Earth’s shadow. Light into shadow. Shadow into light. Both remain part of the whole. So, if you are standing at the threshold of choice, whether the choice is life-changing or as simple as deciding between Thai and Chinese food for dinner, remember that there can be fortune within misfortune and light within shadow. To honor tonight’s passage through light and shadow, I am sharing a tool I offer my private clients as an exclusive gift to help you uncover the fortune—and the fuller truth—within a choice of your own. **Light & Shadow: A Weighted Choice Reflection** invites you to consider what supports your choice, what weighs against it, your core motivations, the possible costs and risks, and the resources and readiness you may need. The tool cannot make the choice for you. It can help you see what deserves your attention and identify one small next step. Clarity does not always arrive as a complete answer. Sometimes, it arrives as the next step we are ready to take. What we bring into the light becomes visible. That does not mean it becomes available for others to take. I will meet you there in the next Letter. Until next time, may we continue lighting the way for each other. With Peace, Love and Light, Yvette Download Your Exclusive Light & Shadow Reflection
Yvette Ramos-Volz, MS, NBC-HWC
Founder & Chief Creative Officer | Human Experience Strategist Linked Site Title.
If something in this letter met you where you are, you are welcome to learn more about The Glass Room and the spaces I create for reflection, creativity, and conscious connection.
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