Making Space for Gratitude: Kindness Begins Within

There’s a particular stillness to November that makes me turn inward. Today’s Ripple Room was a celebration of that quiet inner work and the gift we give to others by being exactly who we are.

Someone stretched and happy at once. Another carrying heaviness alongside undeniable peace. Someone else inspired by time with elders. The awareness that it’s mid-November pressing against us all—how did that happen?

But here we were, gathered, gracious, grateful.

The Soft Work of Self-Kindness

Last evening, I lost track of time in my studio. Two letter envelopes glued into pockets. Fingers smudging leftover paint from the art battle—Naples yellow, teal, purple with flash pigment. No plan, just the need to make something for myself. Not for the Ripple Station. Not for anyone else. Just me.

When my daughter appeared at 6:30 asking about dinner, I looked up, startled. Two and a half hours had passed.

Inside the pockets, I tucked words that felt like anchors: community, ease, authenticity, presence, play. On the backs: quotes from folks who’ve attended my gatherings in person and online—reminders that what I value, they value too. Proof that this practice matters.

I brought it to the group not as instruction, but as invitation. What if we practiced being as kind to ourselves as we are to others?

What Emerged

The hardest thing for most people was choosing one kind word for themselves. Not inflated praise. Something rooted. Something specific. Something true.

“Soft.”

“Empathetic.”

“Curious.”

“Compassionate.”

“Generous.”

“Protector.”

Saying it aloud was, for some, the hardest part. Hearing it echoed back … seeing the tearful smiles was enough.

While conversation unfolded, I painted on brown paper because it was closest to me—another reminder that ease is not laziness, ease is wisdom. Circles made with fingertips. Colors meeting where they wanted to meet.

When I cut it apart later, each piece carried different energy. The “rainbow cloud” destroyed to become something else—tokens ready to carry chosen words into December and beyond.

The Year of Surrender

My word for 2025 was surrender. I didn't understand it in January. But I’ve lived it this year.

I counted recently that since January, without traveling anywhere, I’ve made 736 tokens. Seven hundred thirty-six! I’d been telling myself I wasn’t doing enough. That real impact happens elsewhere, in exotic places, with dramatic gestures.

But surrender taught me that when I release the performance of “more,” I notice what’s near. Staying local is the ripple. Ease is the path. Enough has been here all along.

The Gentle Reminder

As usual this morning, we arrived scattered. We left knowing that we are harder on ourselves than we’d ever be on one another.

Kindness begins within: as a practice.

A word whispered before the day gets loud.

A pocket-sized reminder.

A softness that travels with you, even when you forget it’s there.

The Ripple Room returns in 2026—and I hope I’ll see you there.