She Strengthens

Finding Solace in Uncertain Times

As someone who’s no stranger to anxiety and panic, I’ve spent years curating a personal wellness toolkit to help me cope. From calming candles to soothing yoga poses, I’ve tried it all. But when the coronavirus pandemic hit, even my trusty toolkit couldn’t shield me from the overwhelming sense of dread.

A Breakthrough in the Backyard

One day, feeling suffocated by the confines of my home, I decided to take my mindfulness practice outdoors. Accompanied by my loyal pup, Genghis, I ventured into the yard with a simple goal: to notice five things I saw, five things I heard, and five things I felt. As I breathed in the fresh air, I stumbled upon a small dandelion, and then, something remarkable – a four-leaf clover.

Unearthing Joy

The thrill of discovering that tiny weed transported me back to carefree childhood days, riding bikes with my dad and baking cookies with my mom. The next day, I returned to the yard, and to my surprise, I found another clover. And another. I began to collect them, carefully preserving each one between the pages of my favorite books or displaying them in my bullet journal.

A Family Tradition

My dad shared a story about my mom, who used to effortlessly find four-leaf clovers when she was young. He never could, but her infectious joy inspired him to search for his own. I remember the day he finally found one, beaming with pride as he showed it to me.

A Respite from Anxiety

Finding clovers has become a daily ritual, a brief escape from the constant barrage of anxious news reports and unrealistic expectations. As someone who spends too much time worrying, thinking, and daydreaming, focusing on the simple joys of nature – the dewy grass, the bright yellow flowers – helps me catch my breath and quiet my mind.

A Symbol of Hope

In these uncertain times, my clover collection has become a physical reminder of the peace and quiet I’ve found. It’s a testament to the power of mindfulness and the beauty of slowing down. And when I need a boost, I can simply flip through my journal or glance at my clover-filled books, recalling the moments of tranquility they brought me.