Choose What You Want More Of

Have you ever reached the end of a busy week and realized you accomplished quite a bit, but didn't necessarily enjoy much of it?

You took care of what needed to be done. Answered the messages. Handled the responsibilities. Checked a few things off the list. Maybe even managed to squeeze in something you'd been putting off.

And yet, when you think back over the week, the moments that stand out aren't always the things you accomplished.

Maybe it was an unexpected conversation that made you laugh. A quiet morning when nobody needed anything from you. An afternoon spent with someone you love. Or one of those little adventures that wasn't particularly planned but turned out to be exactly what you needed.

I find myself thinking about this sometimes, especially when life gets busy. It's so easy to become focused on what needs our attention that we forget to notice what actually brings us happiness.

And there's a difference.

We spend a lot of time thinking about what we need less of.

Less stress. Less clutter. Less rushing. Less worrying. Fewer obligations. Fewer things pulling us in different directions.

There's certainly value in recognizing what isn't working. Sometimes we need to make changes, establish boundaries, or let go of things that no longer fit.

But lately, I've been thinking about the other side of that conversation.

What do we want more of?

Not necessarily more things. Not more commitments or another list of goals to accomplish.

More of the moments that make life feel good while we're actually living it.

Maybe you want more laughter in your home. More conversations that go beyond the usual exchange of how everyone's doing. More time outside, more creativity, more music, more spontaneous adventures.

Or maybe what you're craving is something quieter. More peaceful mornings. More time to read. More opportunities to sit with your thoughts without feeling like you should be doing something else.

And perhaps the things you want more of are already part of your life. They just don't always receive the same attention as everything else.

Think about that for a moment.

We can become so accustomed to prioritizing what needs to get done that the things we genuinely enjoy end up being what we do if there's time left over.

I've certainly been there.

And while responsibilities don't magically disappear, I wonder what might happen if we began treating some of those meaningful moments as part of living our lives, rather than something we have to earn after everything else is finished.

Last week, we talked about the possibilities that open up when we leave a little room for the unexpected.

But there's another side to that.

Sometimes we don't need to discover something new. We already know what makes us happy. We know which people leave us feeling lighter, which places help us unwind, and which experiences remind us that there's more to life than keeping up with everything.

Maybe we just need to give those things a little more attention.

And that doesn't have to mean making big changes.

If you enjoy talking with an old friend, perhaps you reach out instead of waiting until you both have more time. If being outdoors helps you feel grounded, maybe you spend a few extra minutes outside instead of immediately heading back to the next task.  If laughter has been missing lately, perhaps you find a reason to bring a little more of it into your day.  And if a sunset makes you smile...  chase it!

Not because any of these things will make you more productive or help you become a better version of yourself.

Sometimes the most beautiful moments are the ones we allow ourselves to notice.
            - Mary-Anne Schelb

Simply because you enjoy them.

I think sometimes we forget that's reason enough.

As we come to the end of October and our conversation about living intentionally, I hope that's something we can carry forward.

Living intentionally isn't always about changing direction, making difficult decisions, or figuring out what comes next.

Sometimes it's about recognizing the good that's already here and choosing to spend a little more of our lives enjoying it.

One Intentional Step

Think about something you've enjoyed recently. Something that made you laugh, feel connected, peaceful, or simply glad you were there.

What would it look like to experience a little more of that?

It doesn't have to be complicated, expensive, or even particularly memorable to anyone else.

Just something that matters to you.

And perhaps, sometime this week, you can make a little room for it.

Continue the Conversation

I'd love to hear from you.

What's something in your life you would love to experience more often? Maybe it's something simple that you've realized you miss, or something you've recently rediscovered.

Share your thoughts in the comments. Your story may be exactly what someone else needs to hear this week.

Until next time…

Grant yourself a little grace.
Trust yourself a little more.
And take one intentional step.

Be well,
Mary-Anne

What Are You Saving for Someday?

There was something I noticed this week that made me stop and smile. I have a collection of beautiful, brand-new notebooks sitting on a bookshelf. Some were gifts. A few I found while wandering through little bookstores or gift shops. Others were simply too pretty to leave behind. Every one of them felt like it was waiting for something important.

The funny thing is...many of them are still empty.

Apparently, I've been waiting for the "right" thoughts, the "right" project, the "right" season of life.

As I laughed at myself, I realized I'm not really saving the notebook.

I'm saving permission to use it.

That little realization reminded me of something I've seen more than once during my years working in eldercare.

Families eventually find themselves sorting through the belongings of someone they loved. They open closets, drawers, and boxes filled with a lifetime of memories. Sometimes they discover things that tell beautiful stories. Other times, they discover things that tell heartbreaking ones.

A friend once shared that while cleaning out her mother's closet, she found a beautiful dress with the tags still attached. Her mother had been saving it for a special occasion.

As she stood there holding the dress, she quietly realized...  The special occasion never arrived.  That story has stayed with me ever since.  Not because of the dress.  Because I wonder how often we quietly do the same thing with our own lives.

Maybe we aren't saving a dress.

Maybe we're saving permission.

Permission to slow down.

Permission to celebrate.

Permission to use the beautiful notebook.

Permission to enjoy an ordinary Tuesday simply because we're alive to experience it.

But somewhere along the way, I wonder if we've unintentionally started believing that ordinary days aren't worthy of beautiful things.

Maybe that's why so many of us keep waiting. Not because we're afraid. Not because we don't appreciate what we have. But because we've quietly convinced ourselves that life will announce when the "right" moment has arrived.

The truth is, it rarely does.

Life isn't made up only of milestones and celebrations. It's mostly made up of Tuesday afternoons, morning coffee, conversations around the kitchen table, a walk after dinner, and a quiet hour with a journal.

Those little moments often become the ones we remember most.

When we keep saving the good things for later, we sometimes miss the beauty that's already sitting in front of us today. Not because we're careless, but because we're looking past today toward a future that somehow feels more deserving.

I've started wondering if permission isn't something we receive.

Maybe it's something we gently give ourselves. Permission to enjoy. Permission to celebrate. Permission to make an ordinary day feel just a little more special.

Not because we've earned it.

Simply because we're here.

Because this day, like every other, is part of our life.

I recently came across an RV travel channel called Today Is Someday, and I found myself smiling before I even watched the video. Their name alone felt like a gentle reminder. We spend so much of life saying, Someday I'll... But what if someday isn't waiting somewhere out on the horizon?

Maybe someday has quietly become today.

Maybe this ordinary morning is the one you've been waiting for all along.

None of us knows how many "special occasions" we'll actually be given.

Maybe today is someday.

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One Intentional Step

Choose one thing you've been saving for "the right time."

Light the candle.

Use the notebook.

Wear the favorite outfit.

Open the good bottle.

Whatever it is, let today be special simply because you're living it.

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Continue the Conversation

I'd love to hear from you.

What have you been saving for someday?

And what is one small thing you'll choose to enjoy this week instead of waiting for the perfect moment?

Share your thoughts in the comments. You may inspire someone else to stop waiting, too.

---

Until next time...

Grant yourself a little grace.
Trust yourself a little more.
And take one intentional step.

Be well,
Mary-Anne

Make Room for Joy Again

There are seasons in life when we become so focused on getting through, healing,
managing, fixing, caregiving, working, and holding everything together that joy quietly slips to the background.

Not because we no longer want it.

Not because we are ungrateful.

Not because we have forgotten how to feel light.

But because life has required so much of us that relief becomes the goal.

This Memorial Day weekend may be rainy and imperfect, and for many, it may also hold remembrance, gratitude, or reflection. But perhaps that makes this message even more meaningful: joy does not have to wait for perfect conditions. We can make room for small moments of light, beauty, connection, and aliveness right where we are.

We want the stress to ease.
We want the pressure to lift.
We want the problem to resolve.
We want our nervous system to stop bracing for the next thing.

And that makes sense.

When you have been overwhelmed, burned out, grieving, stretched thin, or emotionally exhausted, relief matters. Peace matters. Rest matters. Protection matters.

But healing is not only about relief.

Healing is also about remembering that you are allowed to feel alive again.

You are allowed to laugh.

You are allowed to enjoy beauty.

You are allowed to have fun without earning it first.

You are allowed to notice small moments of lightness and let them count.

Sometimes, after a difficult season, joy can feel unfamiliar. We may even distrust it a little. We wonder if it is safe to feel good. We wonder if something will interrupt it. We wonder if we have too much still unresolved to allow ourselves a moment of happiness.

But joy does not require a perfect life.

Joy does not mean everything is fixed.

Joy does not mean you are ignoring what is hard.

Joy is not denial.

Joy is a form of nourishment.

It is one way your spirit begins to breathe again.

Last week, we reflected on tending to what wants to stay — the people, practices, routines, and truths that still feel nourishing and honest. This week, we take that one step further by asking:

Where can I make room for joy again?

Not forced joy.
Not performative joy.
Not the kind that pretends everything is fine.

Real joy.

The small, steady kind.

The kind that shows up in morning light through the window.
A favorite song in the car.
A walk without rushing.
Fresh flowers on the counter.
A conversation that makes you laugh.
A quiet moment with tea.
A creative idea that sparks something in you.
A simple plan you actually look forward to.

Joy often returns gently.

It may not arrive as a dramatic breakthrough. Sometimes it comes back in tiny pieces, almost like your body and spirit are checking to see if it is safe.

A smile.
A little more energy.
A moment of curiosity.
A desire to make something beautiful.
A soft yes inside your chest.

Pay attention to those moments.

They matter.

One of the things I believe deeply is that calm creates space. When your nervous system begins to settle, when your boundaries become clearer, when you stop giving all of yourself away, something opens.

At first, that space may feel unfamiliar.

You may be tempted to fill it immediately with another task, another obligation, another problem to solve.

But what if some of that space is meant for joy?

What if not every open moment needs to become productive?

What if your life is asking you not only to recover, but to reconnect?

To beauty.
To laughter.
To ease.
To creativity.
To pleasure.
To play.
To the parts of you that existed before life became so heavy.

This does not have to be complicated.

You do not need to overhaul your life to make room for joy again. You can begin with one small invitation.

Put on music while you make dinner.
Buy the flowers.
Wear the earrings.
Take the scenic route.
Sit outside for ten minutes.
Text the friend who makes you laugh.
Light the candle on an ordinary day.
Do something because it delights you, not because it is useful.

Joy is not frivolous.

Joy helps remind you that you are more than your responsibilities.

You are more than what you manage.
More than what you carry.
More than what you produce.
More than what you fix for everyone else.

You are a whole person.

And whole people need more than survival.

They need meaning.
They need connection.
They need beauty.
They need breath.
They need moments that feel like sunlight on the soul.

So this week, I invite you to make room for joy again — gently, honestly, and without pressure.

Start small.

Ask yourself:

What feels light?
What feels beautiful?
What makes me smile without effort?
What have I missed that I am ready to welcome back?
Where have I been postponing joy until everything else is handled?

Then choose one small thing.

Not a perfect thing.
Not a dramatic thing.
Just one thing that reminds you that your life is not only something to manage.

It is also something to live.

And maybe that is part of the healing too.

Not just feeling less pain.

But slowly, steadily, courageously making room for joy again.

Because calm is not a luxury — it is a lifeline.

And joy?

Joy is one of the ways we remember we are still here.

Still becoming.
Still softening.
Still allowed to feel alive.

Gentle Practice for the Week

Choose one small joy anchor for the next seven days.

It could be a song, a walk, flowers, a favorite mug, five minutes outside, a creative project, a phone call, or something beautiful placed where you will see it.

Each time you notice it, pause and say:

“I am allowed to let joy back in.”

Let it be simple.
Let it be imperfect.
Let it be enough.

❤
- Mary-Anne

Grace Between the Holidays: Enjoy the Moment Without the Guilt

Christmas is in our recent rearview mirror, and New Year’s is almost here. This in-between week can feel like a strange mix of gratitude, exhaustion, leftover desserts… and that quiet voice that whispers, “I should be doing better.”

Let’s pause and reframe that.

This week is not a test of your willpower. It’s a practice of grace.

Grace is the ability to enjoy a moment—fully—without turning it into a story of failure. It’s permission to be human while still honoring who you’ve become.

A mindful pause

Before we move on to what’s next, take a breath with me. Let’s pause before we turn the page:

In...  2  -  3  -  4  -  HOLD  -  Out...  2  -  3  -  4   

Once more:

In...  2  -  3  -  4  -  HOLD  -  Out...  2  -  3  -  4   

Great...  now...

How was your Christmas—really? Beyond the food, the lists, and the pace of it all, did you notice the unwrapped gifts—  presence, a quiet moment, a good conversation, a shared laugh, a sense of love or meaning, maybe even faith and peace? However, it went, let it be information—not a judgment. And if part of you is saying, “I wish I had slowed down more… or I wish that had gone differently,” that’s not a reason for guilt. It’s simply an invitation for grace.

This week isn’t about perfection

This is the week when the inner rules can get loud.

Maybe you indulged a little more than usual at Christmas dinner. Maybe you are like me, and dessert is your weakness. Maybe you’re planning to ring in the New Year with friends and there will be more appetizers, more sweets, and more “just this once” moments.

Here’s what I want you to know: allowing yourself grace lets you enjoy without feeling like you failed.  Not your diet. Not your lifestyle. Not your progress.

Because you need to remember that JOY is part of living.

I want this post to do something important: not limit you, not lecture you, not make you feel like you’re “slipping.” I want it to give you permission to enjoy—without guilt—and to feel understood and to feel seen, because you are not alone.

The “new you” doesn’t disappear during the holidays

Here is the mindset shift I want you to hold this week:

You are not “backsliding” because you had Christmas dinner.
You are not the “old you” because you enjoyed dessert.
You are a person with a healthier lifestyle—and that lifestyle has room for joy.

Grace still has wisdom in it

Grace is giving yourself permission to enjoy this season without the guilt story playing over and over in your head at the end of the day. It doesn’t mean ignoring what you know your body needs or stepping away from the supports that keep you well. It means you hold your choices with kindness. Enjoy what’s meaningful, stay aligned with what matters, and let your self-talk be gentle either way.

For many of us, grace also looks like intentional enjoyment—the kind you choose knowingly (not mindlessly), savor fully (not guiltily), and then release without a mental penalty.

A simple Grace Practice for this week

Not “getting back on track.” Not “starting over.” Just practicing who you already are.

1) Pause before you plate.
One breath. One intention: “I’m here to enjoy this.”

2) Sit down and remove distractions.
Because when you slow down, you actually notice what you’re eating—and what you’re feeling.

3) Choose one indulgence on purpose.
Instead of “everything because I already messed up,” try:
“I’m choosing this because it’s special—and I’m going to savor it.”

4) Speak to yourself like someone you love.
Replace: “I blew it.”
With: “I enjoyed a celebration. I’m still me.”

5) Make room for the unwrapped gifts.
The best parts of the holidays are often invisible: a peaceful morning, a meaningful conversation, a shared laugh, a memory you’ll carry.

Journal prompts (quick, powerful, and gentle)

If you want to bring this into your journal this week, here are a few prompts I love:

• What did I enjoy most about this holiday that had nothing to do with food or gifts?
• Where did I show up well for myself and others?
• What does “grace” look like in my self-talk this week?
• What is one tradition I want to carry into the New Year—because it supports the person I’m becoming?
• What do I want to feel on January 1: calm, clear, connected, energized, hopeful?

(Need a new Journal for January?  Click here to begin your year with intention and clarity with my "30 Days to Becoming Intentionally Calm" Journal  with Bonus Goal Section - Available through FGSL HERE)

 A final permission slip

If you indulged a little more than usual—at Christmas dinner, at dessert, or you plan to celebrate again as you ring in the New Year—let it be a chapter, not a verdict.

You are allowed to enjoy your life. Lifestyle medicine is meant to support sustainable wellbeing over time—not punish you for one meal, one party, or one week.

Next week, we’ll talk about stepping into the New Year with simple, realistic, kind steps—easy ways to return to what makes you feel good, without the harsh “start over” energy.

For this week: choose grace.

In Closing...

What is one word you want to carry into the New Year?

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Happy Holidays, Happy New Year & Happy You!

Love,
Mary-Anne

 

Week 2: The Transformative Power of Gratitude: Small Shifts, Big Changes

It started with a simple realization. After a particularly hectic day, I sat down with my journal and decided to jot down three things I was grateful for. At first, the list felt forced—“my chai tea latte,” “a good song on the radio,” “the quiet evening”. But as I wrote, something shifted. I began noticing the little things I’d overlooked: a kind word from a friend, the way the sunlight hit the trees, even the comfort of my favorite sweater. Gratitude, it turns out, is like a muscle—the more you use it, the stronger it becomes.

If you’ve ever felt stuck or overwhelmed, gratitude can be a powerful tool for transformation. Let’s dive into how this practice can shift your perspective and invite more joy into your life.

Why Gratitude Matters:

• Rewires Your Brain: Studies show that gratitude reduces stress, improves mood, and strengthens relationships.
• Shifts Your Focus: Gratitude helps move your attention from lack to abundance.
• Attracts Positivity: The more you appreciate, the more you invite abundance and joy.

Simple Gratitude Practices to Start Today:

1. Morning Gratitude Journaling: Write three things you’re grateful for each morning. They can be as simple as a warm cup of tea or as meaningful as a loved one’s support.
2. Gratitude Walk: Take a walk and mentally list things you’re thankful for—the fresh air, the strength in your legs, or the beauty of nature.
3. Gratitude Jar: Keep a jar where you jot down moments of gratitude throughout the week. Watch it fill with reminders of joy.

Overcoming Gratitude Challenges:

• On tough days, start small. Gratitude doesn’t need to be grandiose; even finding one small thing to appreciate can make a difference.
• Practice self-compassion. Gratitude isn’t about ignoring challenges but choosing to see the good alongside them.

Incorporating Gratitude into Intentional Living:

• Pair gratitude with your daily rituals, like sipping your morning coffee or doing evening reflections.
• Use affirmation decks or crystal jewelry to amplify your gratitude intentions.

Gratitude is a practice, not a destination. It’s about noticing and appreciating the beauty in the everyday, even when life feels overwhelming. This week, take a few moments each day to lean into gratitude—you might be surprised at how transformative it can be.

Let’s continue building a life of balance and joy, one grateful moment at a time.

Aligning with Your Purpose: A New Year’s Invitation to Intentional Living

Welcome to a fresh start, a clean slate, and a world of possibility. The New Year holds a certain magic—an invitation to realign, refocus, and reconnect with the life you want to create.

Here at Intentional Calm, I believe that stepping into a new year doesn’t mean reinventing yourself. It’s about honoring who you already are, while gently leaning into your dreams, desires, and purpose.

Instead of making resolutions that often feel like chores, let’s try something different this year. Let’s build rituals that feel like coming home to yourself.

Here’s how you can begin this journey:

1. Choose Connection Over Perfection: Let go of the pressure to get everything “right” and instead focus on what feels true. Connect with your inner self, your loved ones, and your surroundings in ways that nourish your soul.

2. Carry a Token of Your Intention: Wear a piece of crystal jewelry or keep an affirmation close at hand to serve as a reminder of your focus for the year. Let it ground you when life feels overwhelming.

3. Create Micro-Moments of Joy: Joy isn’t just found in big milestones. It lives in the quiet moments—a deep breath, the warmth of the sun, or the smile of someone you love. Take time to notice and celebrate these.

4. Find Strength in Stillness: Carve out time for meditation, journaling, or simply sitting with your thoughts. These moments of stillness can guide you back to balance when life gets noisy.

5. Be Compassionate with Yourself: Growth is a process, not a race. If you stumble, don’t beat yourself up. Trust that every step, no matter how small, is a step forward.

This year, I encourage you to embrace the flow, trust your intuition, and allow yourself to be open to all that’s waiting for you.

2025 isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about rediscovering the best version of yourself—the one that already exists within you.

I’m honored to be part of your journey. Let’s walk this path together, with intention, grace, and a heart full of hope.

Be Well,
Mary-Anne