MAD HATTER CHAOS...
We recently went to see Cirque Alice in Reno—which, as an aside, is 1000% worth seeing. The intimate venue, the costumes, the score, the acrobats, the magic... all of it was spectacular.
But before we went inside, we recreated a photo we'd taken years earlier beneath the RENO sign.
A simple photo.
The same two people, the same four kids.
The same sign.
But not quite the same moment.
Back then, we had fewer wrinkles. The kids were still shorter than us. There seemed to be endless time stretching out ahead.
People often ask how long Commander and I have been together.
I usually answer, "multiple lifetimes."
Standing there looking at those two photos side by side, it felt as though we'd experienced some sort of Cheshire Cat time warp.
One minute we had all the time in the world.
The next, entire chapters had passed.
Dreams achieved.
Dreams abandoned.
Victories.
Heartbreaks.
A few hundred ordinary Tuesdays that somehow became years.
Then we walked into Alice in Wonderland, and somewhere during the performance I found myself thinking:
This is life.
One moment you're tumbling down the rabbit hole, convinced you'll eventually arrive somewhere important. Then one day you look around and realize the destination was never really the point.
The wonder was.
The adventure was.
And most of all, the people beside you while you wandered through it all.
Lately I've been feeling the passage of time more than usual.
Perhaps that's part of getting older.
You begin to understand that life is measured less by calendars and more by seasons.
There are chapters I wish had been shorter.
Moments I wish had lasted longer.
Things I wish I could redo.
Things I wish I could undo.
Words I wish I had spoken.
Words I wish I had kept to myself.
And clocks I wish had ticked just a little slower.
But there is a gift hidden inside that realization.
Because once you truly understand that time is finite, you become more intentional about how you spend it.
And who you spend it with.
The other night, Commander and I had one of those conversations that lingers long after it ends.
We talked about energy.
About attention.
About how easy it is to give both away to people, situations, and dramas that contribute nothing meaningful to our lives.
And how moving forward, we want to spend less energy responding to chaos and more energy creating beauty.
Less time defending our peace.
More time living it.
Less time explaining ourselves.
More time chasing wonder.
Less time entertaining madness.
More time creating the kind of stories we'll be grateful we lived.
Because life offers us only so many years.
Only so many sunsets.
Only so many adventures.
Only so many opportunities to say yes to the people and experiences that make us feel fully alive.
The truth is, there will always be people demanding your energy.
Always another distraction.
Another conflict.
Another rabbit hole.
But not all madness deserves an invitation to the tea party.
The older I get, the more convinced I become that one of life's greatest skills is learning to distinguish between the madness that drains us and the magic that restores us.
One steals life.
The other creates it.
And when I look back on the years that seem to have disappeared in a Cheshire Cat blur, I realize something beautiful:
Even through the madness, we somehow managed to build a life filled with peace, adventure, laughter, and joy.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But beautiful.
So these days, we're choosing more magic.
More adventure.
More laughter.
More curiosity.
More beauty.
More moments that make us lose track of time altogether.
After all, if we're lucky, we only get one trip through Wonderland.
I'd rather spend mine at the Mad Hatter's table than arguing with the Queen of Hearts.
❤️🎩.
Do you know your Primal Wound?
Because once you do… it changes everything.