It’s March. In New England. An inelegant time of year we north-easterners lovingly dub the shoulder season. Something to bear. Something to carry. A way to cross from here to there. A way to tolerate the transition from winter to summer caught in the cross hairs of sleet and sun, overnight freezes and muddy morning thaws. A restless in-between, not quite time to put away the down vest or winter hat. Not quite time for the t-shirts and shorts. But on any given day, one or the other wouldn’t be so out of the question.
This explains the get-up I sported last Saturday as I set out for a long-loop woods walk. Five layers deep, zipped up to the chin, mittens, hat, heavy socks, boots. The air steely and metallic. The wind brusque and rude. Nothing terribly forgiving in the whole of it until I put in the effort, willing a deepened and relaxed stride. Only then, a mile or so in, did I begin to enjoy the heat being generated from the exercise itself, making its way out to my limbs and extremities. A perfect blend of cold air against warming cheeks.
Until the early ease of descent reversed itself on the back end of the loop requiring the uphill return. Then I began to broil. Microwave on high. Heating from the inside out. I stripped off a layer or two, the relief of the sudden cold slapping against my bare skin. And the attempt to “adjust the settings” for the remainder of the walk. Layer one untucked. Layer three around the waist. Layer five unzipped all the way. Mittens off and pocketed, hat on then off then on again, we’ll deal with sweaty socks later.
The polarities of a singular experience, emblematic of many a human adventure. Which is why I shouldn’t be overly surprised to find myself emotionally un-layering from the process of writing my book. It’s out now. Beautifully formed. Ready for exposure, to reveal its deeper purpose. But I somehow find myself tucking it in, protecting it, unnecessarily barring against the temporary blast of exposure that will inevitably and eventually soften and warm if I just keep moving.
Alternatively, I go all in, wasting the weekend consumed by non-sensical “conversations” with artificial intelligence bots at Amazon.com preparing to obfuscate the analytics of every best-selling author on the top 100 list. All out or all in. That’s me. Except it’s not.
Rather, I am somewhere in between. I am the jacket with underarm zippers that can be opened for just the right amount of venting. I am the cotton gloves, weight-appropriate for 45 degrees. I am the wicking layer you put against your skin; protective, yet ingenious. I am the hair tie in case you no longer need the hat. Practical. Prepared.
Which is why I was perfectly at peace on Monday morning when I spoke to my marketing team and we agreed my book belongs for sale on the FH Perry Builder website. An inextricable duality between the book and the company. One supporting the other in vast terms well apart from the numbingly frustrating fine print of a larger distribution conglomerate. A sense of ease and hope, a sense of purpose and arriving home. A belonging. A rightness. Yet out there and available.
And so my dear friends, I can now, unequivocally say, if you would like to purchase a copy of Leading with HEART please click on this link and you will find yourself directly connected to the landing page, lovingly and appropriately housed by the FH Perry Builder website.
“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.”
–C.S. Lewis
Enjoy!
Allison
