Musings from the Roller Skating Rink

Now, we find ourselves with three days left in 2025.

A natural place for a pause.

A chance to reflect and look over what was the year that has been.

A wonderful moment to vision what the year to come might be.

Where would you go to find inspiration in this moment? Is there a place in nature that calls you out here on December 29^th? Maybe even a nook in your house or a coffee shop or public library that is one of your sacred spaces.

All very good options, and I urge you to seek these places out, to make space for quiet and reflection in these last days of 2025.

My spot for inspiration was slightly less obvious. Strobe lights, music blasting, and lots of teen/tween energy. Any guesses?

Answer: The roller skating rink!

I decided to jump in with my daughters and try roller skating with them. I didn’t quite want to be out there on wheels, but I also didn’t want to sit on the sidelines. As a dad, going out of my comfort zone to do things with my children usually works out well.

And maybe right here, as I stepped timidly onto the wooden floor, wobbling like a deer taking its first steps, is a reminder for our 2026 journey:

Jump on in! Lace up the skates and go for it.

Amazingly, about thirty minutes later I was still in one piece, doing a decent job at faking it that I was comfortable on skates. And loving the thrill of being out there with my daughters.

Then I noticed something quite interesting about us adults in the arena. In fact, I watched my fellow moms and dads skating to make sure my observation was correct.

While the kids were out there to skate for joy, to experience the thrill of pushing their limits, going as fast as they could, us adults were out there with a goal of not falling. In fact, while kids were often on the ground, laughing about what just happened to cause them to tumble, I never saw an adult fall. Not in any way because we were better skaters – no, it was simply that we skated not to fall, while the kids skated to feel exhilaration. For them, even the falls themselves were a part of the fun.

As we head into 2026, may we all work to get beyond fear of failure and fear of falling in our life adventures. May we follow the kids' lead and skate for joy and exhilaration.

In fact, maybe our goal in 2026 should be to fall a few times, as that would be a great sign that we were pushing our limits. And maybe, just maybe, when we do fall, we can giggle about it and see that the fall as a success.

Signing out from the temple of wisdom that is the roller skating rink. 

Happy new year everyone!

Silence and Stillness

 

Silence and stillness seek you.

It may have been awhile since you have talked, 

But they are ready to sit with you and give you all the time you need.

Silence and stillness in these last two weeks of the year are likely the best presents we can gift ourselves.

Silence and stillness, in these last 1.5 million heartbeats that will get us to 2026, could become our new rhythm.

Will we accept their invitation?

Will we make space for nothingness, for everything, for ourselves this holiday season?

 

May you find silence and stillness in these last days of the year, brothers and sisters.

And in those moments where you become distracted and overwhelmed,

May silence and stillness find you.

Mad Dash!

The plane wheels touched down at 11:33.

I exited the plan about 10 minutes later.

James Bond-esque dodging in and out of the airport-goers to get to an Uber at 11:51.

I was now speeding toward the University of California-Davis Medical School where I was to give a talk at 12:00.

[But for a moment, I let my mind wonder…No, I was trying to catch the smugglers before they left their hideout, one that I had discovered using binoculars and a pair of tweezers. This was becoming more like an A-Team episode…]

But back to reality, here I was on the highway, in an Uber, having left my wife behind to get bags and rental car. My head pounded from a morning of stress as delayed flights ruined the best made plans.

And then, I have to tell you about another person in this story.

Her name is Ashley. She was the one who arranged for the Uber, ditching our previous Plan B which was for me to somehow give the talk via Zoom from the Sacramento airport, as we didn’t think I could make it to the talk in person.

[I had imagined my wife getting surrounded by airport security. “Ma’am, you can’t leave luggage or husbands unattended in the airport. He has been over there at Baggage Carousel #5 for the last 40 minutes, talking about who knows what and annoying the heck out of our customers.”]

Ashley was that gentle guide that you need when in trouble, when things start spinning a bit too fast.

As the Uber screeched to the curb at the medical school at 12:12, Ashley was there waiting to escort me to the building. Her smile reassured me that all was going to be okay.

A few technical difficulties later, around 12:23, the talk began.

Ashley, and the good people at UC Davis, thank you for making yesterday something I can write about this morning with a smile.

And a receding headache…