I AM Living

Compassion is often misunderstood.

It isn't weakness.
It isn't avoidance.
It isn't letting people off the hook.

In my experience, compassion often requires more courage than criticism.

Especially when we begin by extending it to ourselves.

What would change if you met yourself with the same compassion you so freely offer others? 💛

These lines by Danna Faulds resonate in my bones:

"Without a daily connection to silence I can't hear the guidance or feel the love that always moves inside me."

At 16, I was told I would thrive in New York City.

They were right.

I loved the energy.
The pace.
The possibility.

I spent much of my adult life there, and I still love it.

I love movement.

I love creating.

I love connecting.

I love making things happen.

What I've learned, though, is that there is a difference between being alive and inspired… and being swept away.

When I'm not careful, I can convince myself that the answer is in one more conversation.

One more call.
One more thing to figure out.
One more thing to do.

And while there is tremendous wisdom in learning from others, some of the clearest insights of my life have arrived when I stopped searching and grasping for them and instead took a walk.

Sat with a cup of tea.

Looked out the window.

Allowed for a few breaths of non-doing before opening the laptop.

Meditated.

Nothing fancy.

Just enough silence to hear myself…

and to hear a greater wisdom pour through.

I see this with the leaders I work with, too.

They're brilliant. Thoughtful. Deeply caring.

Many have read the books, listened to the experts, talked it through with trusted friends and colleagues.

And yet they're still searching.

Sometimes lost.

Not because they need more information.

But because they haven't had enough space to hear themselves.

To hear what they already know.

To hear the wisdom that has been there all along.

Here's to long dinners, late sunsets, good conversations, lots of laughter, and the people who make you feel most like yourself.

May this holiday weekend bring a few moments you'll remember long after the fireworks are over. 🎆

Happy Fourth. ❤️🤍💙

Do you ever notice how some people seem to move through life getting little upgrades from the universe? 😆

The parking spot opens.
The impossible reservation somehow works out.
The speeding ticket becomes a warning.

And then there are the “oh no” days where everything feels unnecessarily hard.

The ones where you wake up already irritated and somehow everything seems to prove you right.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about that.

How much is luck?
How much is circumstance?
And how much is the state we’re bringing into the day?

This week’s newsletter is about the way our internal state shapes what we notice, how we respond, and what starts to feel possible.

Read the full piece on my Substack. https://open.substack.com/pub/racheltenenbaum/p/the-days-when-the-world-seems-to?r=1pwv16&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

Most people think the pause is a luxury.

Something they'll do when things calm down.

After the meeting.
After the deadline.
After the quarter closes.

But the pause isn't a reward for having enough time.

It's what prevents us from paying the price of rushing.

The email sent from frustration.
The assumption that damages a relationship.
The decision made from fear instead of clarity.

I've yet to meet someone who regretted taking a breath before responding.

I have met plenty who regretted not taking one.

The pause costs a few seconds.

Not pausing can cost far more.

I was in a conversation with a client about the fastest way to achieve a goal.

And at one point, I gave an answer I knew he was probably not going to love 😆

I told him that one of the fastest ways to reach a goal often involves intuition.

Now to be clear, this was a brilliant, highly accomplished sales executive & leader.

So while he appreciates intuition philosophically… it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

Intuition can feel vague.
Hard to measure.
Hard to prove.

The more I study the brain & human behavior, the more I've realized something:

We like to think we're leading with logic.

Most of the time, we’re not.

We’re taking in far more than we consciously process—which means a lot is registered before the rational mind catches up.

Lately I've been laughing at how often intuition has shown up in my own life.

A few examples from the same week:

Intuition:
Follow up again about Friday's meeting.

Brain:
You already confirmed it. Don't be annoying.

I didn't follow up.

Result?
I found myself sitting there alone because of his calendar glich 😆

A few days later:

Intuition:
Follow up again about lunch.

Brain:
You literally confirmed this five days ago.

Result?
I followed up anyway.

Good thing, because somehow the meeting logged in her brain at a different time despite the calendar invite.

Then:

Intuition:
Don't go to Soho House to work today.

Brain:
You need to get out of the house.

Result?
The workspace was locked 😆

And then there are the bigger moments.

Intuition:
Build the retreat.

Brain:
This feels risky. Wait until it makes more sense.

I eventually listened.

That decision led to multiple retreats, deeper work, incredible relationships, & some of the most meaningful experiences of my career.

I don't think intuition replaces strategy, logic, data, or critical thinking.

But I do think many of us override signals worth paying attention to.

The older I get, the less I think intuition & strategy are opponents.

At their best, they’re partners.

One senses.
One builds.

And when they work together well, things tend to move faster.

Not because we’re forcing the outcome - but because we’re working with more of what’s already there.

Six years ago, in the midst of COVID, we started gathering online.

What began as a way to stay connected during a time of uncertainty became something much more.

Every month since, we've continued to come together from all over the world to pause, reflect, laugh, connect, and remember what it feels like to simply be human together.

Lately, I've been feeling how much this is needed again.

So many people I talk with are carrying a lot right now. Life feels full. The world feels loud. And genuine spaces to slow down and connect seem increasingly rare.

This Sunday, June 21 at 10am, we'll gather again for The Reset. Link in my bio.

If you're craving a moment to breathe, reconnect with yourself, and spend time with a wonderful group of humans, we'd love to have you join us. 💛

Someone at dinner recently said something I haven't been able to shake.

"I honestly can't remember the last time I went this long without looking at my phone."

Nobody had been asked to put their phones away.

There was no basket by the door.
No challenge.
No digital detox.

We were simply sitting around a table together, talking, laughing, telling stories, being human.

And somewhere along the way, the phones became irrelevant.

What struck me wasn't that she hadn't looked at her phone.

It was that she noticed.

More importantly, that it felt unusual enough to comment on.

That being fully engaged in a conversation with people she'd only met a few hours earlier felt noteworthy.

Heartbreakingly, I'm not surprised.

And that realization left me sitting with a bigger question about attention, connection, and what so many of us seem to be hungry for right now.

I wrote about the dinner, the moments that unfolded around the table, and what the evening reminded me about being human.

The full piece is on my Substack. https://substack.com/home/post/p-202127373 ❤️

One theme keeps showing up in conversation after conversation: how much of life we step over.

The difficult things, certainly.

Disappointment.
Uncertainty.
Grief.
Discomfort.

But also the beautiful things.

The joy.
The relief.
The moments of connection.
The small victories we barely pause long enough to celebrate before moving on to the next thing.

So often we're busy fixing, planning, doing, and moving that we miss what our experience has to offer.

Over the next two weeks, I'll be hosting two free Insight Timer events exploring what happens when we stop moving past our experience and create space for exactly what's here, right now.

✨ MAKING SPACE FOR WHAT IS

So much of life gets rushed past, pushed down, or stepped over altogether: joy, grief, disappointment, excitement, uncertainty, and everything in between. In this practical meditation and conversation, we'll explore what happens when we stop moving past our experience and create space for exactly what's here, right now.

📍 June 17 | 11:00 AM CST
https://insig.ht/VrZQAVyyR3b

📍 June 24 | 5:30 PM CST
https://insig.ht/20sBHg9yR3b

I'll also be hosting The Reset this Sunday at 10:00 AM CST. A monthly community meditation where we gather to pause, reflect, reconnect, and remember that we're not doing this whole being human thing alone.

🌿 The Reset | Sunday | 10:00 AM CST
https://www.iamliving.us/thereset

If either of these feels supportive, I'd love to have you join us.✨

A few weeks ago, I accidentally ended up on Broadway in Nashville.

And if you know me, you know that’s… not usually where I voluntarily choose to spend a Friday evening 😆

Think Bourbon Street.
Times Square.
Bachelorette parties.
$20 parking if you’re lucky. Usually more like $40 😆
Beautiful chaos.

I was supposed to be meeting someone for a work cocktail, only to realize (thanks to some kind of spectacular calendar integration kerfuffle) that I was standing there solo.

Second schedule mishap of the day, by the way.

Earlier, a lunch meeting somehow ended up on two completely different times despite what seemed like a very clear confirmation 😆. 1pm to one of us accidently registered as 11 to the other.

So there was definitely a version of this evening where frustration could have taken over.

And honestly, at first, it started to.

What is with today? 😆
Why am I paying to park on Broadway for a meeting that isn’t happening?
I could absolutely huff and leave right now.

But one of the things I teach - and actively practice - through the Seven Levels of Effectiveness® is this:

The moment we become aware of the state we’re in, we regain choice.

And somewhere between the frustration and the urge to leave, another thought showed up:

Okay… but what else might be possible here?
What if I could turn this moment into something more?

So instead of storming off (not exactly my style, but I was tempted), I stayed.

Not for hours.
Just for a bit.

Long enough to order a Rhône blend from France – coincidentally from the same region I had just returned from – and what may have been one of the most delectable hamachi dishes I’ve had in a very long time.

I asked the bartender for paper to write on and got handed an actual order pad 😆

So I started journaling.
Listening to the music.
Talking with the bartender, who complimented my earrings and somehow turned a random evening into a genuinely lovely moment of connection.

And somewhere along the way, the whole experience shifted.

I left feeling filled up instead of drained.
Creative instead of irritated.
Connected instead of frustrated with the world.

Nothing about the external circumstances changed.

But my experience of them completely did.

And honestly, I think that’s how these shifts often happen.

Not in giant life-altering moments.

But in tiny pivot points where we decide whether frustration gets to dictate the next hour… or whether we want to consciously create something different.

Because those moments ripple.

A frustrated state influences the email you send next.
The conversation you have next.
The energy you bring home next.

And on the flip side?

So does presence.
So does curiosity.
So does choosing to engage with life instead of immediately resisting it.

Anyway.

Apparently Broadway, a Rhône blend, an order pad, and an unexpectedly perfect Hamachi dish had something to teach me 😆