Words carry messages of motivation, hope, joy, determination, sorrow, defeat, and resolve. How often have you been faced with a challenge and wanted to give up? Have you experienced paralyzing overwhelm that demotivates you to act? We’ve all been there. You are not alone. 

There are many ways to recharge your motivation, like changing your scenery, working with a professional organizer like me, or breaking an enormous task or project into smaller, doable pieces. Sometimes, the simplicity of a phrase, mantra, or idea can be just what you need to turn the corner. And even if the issues are more complex, having some words that resonate with you can boost and keep you motivated.

I'm keeping things simple this time and sharing my five favorite motivational quotes. When your motivation is low, focus on one of these messages to help move you forward. I’m curious which one will resonate most with you.

5 Favorite Motivation Quotes to Empower and Inspire

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”

— Arthur Ashe

---

“Focus on choices, not limitations. See the possibility and potential of the moment.”

— Akiroq Brost

---

“It’s always too early to quit.”

— Norman Vincent Peale

---

“Obstacles and challenges are the agents of growth.”

— Jen Sincero

---

“To begin, begin.”

— William Wordsworth

Motivation needs to be nourished, and one way is through words. Which quote speaks to you and why? Do you have another motivation quote that you like? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation. 

Letting go is never easy, even when it’s anticipated. On March 27th, my beautiful 92-year old mother, Wilma Simon Machover, died peacefully in the morning light while listening to Mozart. While her passing was expected as she had been fading these past few months, none of us thought it would happen on that day. But she was ready. As some of you may know, this has been a long goodbye. Mom was diagnosed with vascular dementia eight years ago, a year after my dad died. Her dementia presented many challenges but also learning opportunities and so much love.

In this time of grief, I am deeply moved by the outpouring of messages, support, and loving gestures from family and friends. Thank you so much for your kindness and the beautiful ways you have helped me and my family honor and celebrate my mom’s life.

It’s impossible to summarize her extraordinary life in a few words because there are so many stories and ways that she touched our lives. Instead, I’m sharing a few stories, and the legacy mom left us. 

Mom’s Legacy

When I think about the legacy mom left us, four words stand out:

• Love – which was visible in all things she touched

• Family – which was her everything

• Music – which was her passion

• Community – which she created wherever she was

Mom Stories

1. Love

Love was part of every conversation, decision, and choice mom made. It was present in her relationships and how she loved my dad, siblings, grandkids, family, friends, and me.

I remember after Allison was born and I was pregnant with baby #2, our beautiful Cassie. I was worried and scared, so I talked with my mom. Would I have enough love for another child? She assured me and said that love is an amazing thing. There is no limit on how much love we have. It keeps growing. And she was right. The more you love, the more love you have to give.

Always the teacher and role model, I watched mom. When each of her seven grandkids was born (Allison, Ryan, Cassie, Allegra, Hana, Halle, and Noa,) I saw mom’s heart expand as she welcomed them into the world with open arms and abundant love.

2. Gratitude

My mom was a grateful person. For years, maybe decades, I spoke with her at least once a day. Our calls were frequently about how grateful we were for the people we loved and the time spent together. She’d say, “That’s the good stuff!”

She always communicated a profound sense of gratitude for her family, friends, music, art, and the preciousness of time. Even as her dementia worsened and talking wasn’t always a viable way to communicate, she continued to express gratitude and appreciation in so many ways.

3. Mindfulness

For a brief period, when I was about 9 years old, I remember my mom told me that her friends, Jack and Erva Zuckerman, joined the Gurdjieff Society. The group encouraged a philosophy about life that fascinated her. One of the things my mom described was their belief in living mindfully, although I’m not sure they called it that. She gave an example- if you are making your bed, focus on just that one thing- smoothing the sheets, feeling the fabric, appreciating, and being in the moment.

Mom used to experiment with that idea and sometimes talked aloud to share it with me as she practiced mindfully washing the dishes, folding the laundry, or making the bed. I realized how in mom’s later years, she became my mindfulness guru in another way. Her dementia journey was long. Eventually, Mom lost her memory of the past and wasn’t aware of the future. With those changes, she modeled mindfulness and presence. She found joy in the present through playing piano, listening to music, singing, dancing, smiling, being with people who cared about her, exploring the garden, holding hands, feeling the sun on her face, or being playful.

When I was with her, I entered her world wherever she was, and we experienced the moments together. She helped me appreciate the now even more and savor the precious time I had with her.

4. Lifelong Bond

Mom loved telling me my birth story, which she shared often. She was fully awake when I was born, and the nurse handed me to her right away. She said, “You wrapped your tiny hand around my finger and squeezed it tightly.” Then she said, “I know we’ll be friends forever.” And she was right. We were always close.

Towards the end of her life, she hummed but barely talked. During one of my last visits with her before she died, I held her hand and sang her songs that she loved and used to sing to me. She swayed our hands gently to the rhythm of the music. Then suddenly, she squeezed my hand tightly and placed our hands together over her heart.

At the beginning of my life and the end of hers, there were no words. We shared touch, connection, and beautiful moments of love.

Letting go is never easy. Yet, in our letting go, the stories about those we love live on. Have you experienced letting go challenges or loss? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

The whole day was before me. It was my day to sit and write this post. However, instead of focusing next on writing, I felt compelled to delight in spring’s arrival. Outside beckoned me to walk in the warm air, bask in the hot sun, hear the birds chirping, and discover flowers and greenery gracing the landscape with bright spots of color. I also carried with me some ideas that surfaced during my morning mindfulness meditation. It was the combination of the practice, the week’s events, and my pull to be outside, leading me here. 

During Tony Brady’s meditation, he said, “We are doers and fixers and move impatiently from one project to the next.” I had to unpack that one. Doers and fixers? The “doer” struck me. Each day when I wake, I have a goal to do something. I rarely have a don’t-do day. The “fixer” resonated too. I recognize I don’t have to fix or solve everything. However, my tendency is to find solutions for others or myself. It’s how I’m wired.

Moving “impatiently from one project to the next,” I connected less with. I’m pretty darn patient. I like having space within a project to think, appreciate, evaluate, and readjust as I go. I never feel like I’m hurrying to that next thing. I actually don’t like to rush (or run). But Tony made me think about this.

Then he said, “We have lost the gentle art of waiting.” Those words hit me. We are accustomed to fast and instant everything. Do you remember when we used dial-up to access the Internet and how long it took? Now, if we don’t connect in a split second, we are annoyed. How about ordering from Amazon? I’ve ordered items that arrive the next day at standard free shipping. What about our conversations? Do we really listen to the person that’s talking? Or, are we thinking about what we’re going to say next before they finished speaking? 

“We have lost the gentle art of waiting.”

— Tony Brady

Tony’s statement about losing the art of waiting made me think about presence and mindfulness. Being here now. Focus on where I am and what’s happening around me. Don’t fast-forward to the next thing on my list.  It was with those thoughts that I approached this glorious spring day. Yes. I eventually wrote this post, as you can see. But before I wrote, I used most of the day for embracing spring. This included:

• Taking two walks- one by myself and the other with my husband.

• Enjoying a conversation with an adorable three-year-old kid who was happily sloshing around in a mud puddle.

• Watching geese waddle into the river and then glide along the water.

• Eating leisurely my brightly-colored salad as I sat in our greenhouse.

• Shooting photos of flowers, water, trees, and the Croton Picture Tunnel.

• Savoring the super cold Yasso fudge brownie pop as I sat in the hot sun.

• Reflecting on the two bookends of life this week as my great-nephew entered the world and my mom continues to fade.

There is doing and not-doing. There is life and death. There is being present and missing the moment. For this moment, this day, I chose to be here now. I’m also OK to wait and pause. I’m grateful for the arrival of spring, the birth of my great-nephew, being able to hold my mom’s hand, and this day. 

Is next calling you? Are you feeling content with things as they are now? What are your ideas about waiting, patience, and rushing? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

There is laundry to wash, meals to make, people to check in on, and bills to pay. You have papers to sort, closets to organize, and schedules to coordinate. Your time is filled with the doings of daily life and so much more. You work, walk, run, and show up to support injustices. You reflect, create, converse, sleep, and reset. 

For this brief moment in time, my purpose is clear. Instead of doing or preparing for the next thing, I choose to be still instead of rushing ahead to another moment. In the quiet cocoon of my dark green hammock, stretched out between two 100-foot trees, I gently rock. 

The white clouds navigate decisively across the light blue sky. The gentle breeze shakes the leaves on the trees, which makes a swishing, rustling sound. The spring air is delightfully warm, and not too hot. The sunlight dances as it shows off the varied green hues in the woods. My breathing slows as I take in the deep earthy aroma of the forest.

At this moment in time, as the leaves rustle and birds sing, I sway side to side. The hammock’s movement encourages stillness within – just sense and notice. There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still. I slowly breathe in and exhale out.

“There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

The landscape is wrapped in that sleepy, afternoon light. A rustle. A chirp. Clouds float across the sky. Feeling inadequate, knowing that I alone cannot heal this world filled with so much unrest, pain, anger, and sadness, I choose this one moment to just be. My pause is not forever. From this place of calm, I can reenergize. Learning, questioning, helping, and doing will come, but for this moment in time, I am still. 

What does quiet look like for you? Is it something that you need? Can you remember a time when your nervous system was calm? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.