What the Tinman Already Has

If you are trying to build self-trust, work through old patterns, or care for yourself with more intention, you do not have to do it alone

I pulled my old copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz off the shelf today. It has many bent corners. I was not sure which page to revisit until I landed on the one where the Tin Woodman finally receives his heart:

Oz opened the Tin Woodman’s chest, placed a silk heart inside, and patched the tin where he had cut it.

“I’m sorry I had to put a patch on your breast,” he said.

“Never mind the patch,” the Woodman replied. “I shall never forget your kindness.”

I dog-eared this page in my twenties. At the time, I thought I marked it because of heartbreak. Now I see something different.

The Woodman’s heart mattered to him only if it was a kind one.
He welcomed the patch.
He chose to believe the process would not hurt.
And he trusted help when he needed it.

Those choices take strength.
They also take support.

If you are trying to build self-trust, work through old patterns, or care for yourself with more intention, you do not have to do it alone. I am here when you are ready.

Simmering

Simmering our thoughts is part of the creative process. Sometimes, we just need to be still.

When I worked at a girls’ school in Princeton, the chef made the kind of soups you remember years later. He once told me his grandmother insisted that soup is the most important dish to learn because it grows from attention and care.

I thought about that when I opened an old dog-ear in Rumi: Bridge to the Soul. The page folded toward the poem “Let the Soup Simmer.” The lines I had underlined long ago still feel true:

Let the soup simmer
with the lid on.
Be quiet.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is pause.
Not rush to fix.
Not force clarity.
Just let things settle long enough to understand what you have been creating.

When life feels full, the silence helps you see the adjustments you need. It also helps you notice when something is already working.

If you need support as you sort through what to hold, what to change, and what to give more time, coaching can offer a steady place to think and breathe.

A Routine to Start with Wonder

When I worked as an educator, my days ran on structure. Classes gave shape to the hours. Routine kept my mind steady and helped me stay organized.

Now that my work looks different, I protect a small morning ritual to keep that steadiness. I start the day with a short Tai Chi sequence. It grounds me even when life feels busy.

That routine came to mind when I opened a dog-eared page in The Tao of Pooh and landed on this conversation between Pooh and Piglet:

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”

“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”

“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?”

Pooh nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

There is something refreshing about starting the day with simple curiosity.

A small moment of openness.

A gentle way to set the tone before responsibilities take over.

If you are navigating change or rebuilding routines of your own, you can start with one repeatable action each morning. It does not have to be elaborate. It only needs to help you step into the day with a steadier mindset.

If you want help building that structure in a way that works for your life, I am here.

Welcome to Dog-Ears

For most of my life, I could hold complex ideas with ease, but my working memory never kept pace with my reasoning. Thoughts came in quickly. They left just as fast. I needed ways to keep them still long enough to understand them.

I built habits to help myself along.
Lists.
Routines.
Annotations.
And dog-eared pages from the books that shaped me.

Those folded corners became reminders of ideas I wanted to revisit. They marked the passages that stirred something important, even if I did not yet know why.

This Journal series returns to those pages. Some come from books on education, psychology, theology, or leadership. Others come from novels, picture books, or the kinds of stories you pick up for fun and end up thinking about for years.

What matters is what those passages reveal now.
What they meant then.
What they might mean to you.

If any of these reflections spark something in you and you want guided support as you sort through your own next steps, I am here when you need me.