Week of December 30, 2024:

Sullivan has been on winter break since December 20. Since then, he has been home during the day with Ellis and me. Jared has returned to work, so I have often been alone with our sons.

Alone time with them has reminded me of the importance of mono-tasking. When I’m with them, I do my best to do one and only one task: be with them. I find I enjoy parenting most when I am present. I begin to feel less patient when I am with my sons and attempting to clean the kitchen, respond to texts, or begin a new essay.

Yesterday, I was talking with a close friend, and I told her, “The greatest gift I can give my sons is my attention.” No one else can give them my attention; only I can do this. It is an act of love to be present with someone.

As we enter a new year, to whom, and to what, can we show our love by giving our full attention?

This week, and this year, I wish you thin slices of presence.

Week of December 16, 2024:

This time of year inevitably presents to us self-reflection and analysis.

“Well done,” we might say to ourselves.

“What if?” we might wonder.

This hindsight is important, perhaps fundamental. It can reveal feelings of accomplishment and pride, spotlighting what we hope to build upon throughout the year ahead.

It can also reveal feelings of disappointment or desire, as we honor the space between where we are and where we hope to soon find ourselves.

What these feelings must have in common, though, is use as a guide. They lead us to more aligned pursuits, or abdications, allowing our time to be well spent as we forge onward.

As a mother in her postpartum period, the space between where I am and where I hope to soon find myself, creatively and entrepreneurially, can feel especially chasmic. On Tuesday, I told my therapist I am lustful toward my work. I fantasize about full days of canning, photographing, and writing. Yet, in this same moment, I am unwilling to surrender sacred time with my six-week-old. I want to make delicious jam, and I want to hear my infant sigh of satiation as he finishes nursing. I want to photograph a vibrant pomegranate drenched in sunlight, and I want to hold my infant to my chest as he sleeps. I want to write a profound essay, and I want to hang photos of my sons in their rooms to remind them each and every day they will always have each other to hold and be held. I want it all, one might say: the accomplishment and disappointment, the pride and desire. And, I know I can have it all, but I cannot have it all at once.

Recently, Leandra Medine of The Cereal Aisle was able to distill and articulate similar feelings quite beautifully here.

She writes, “I think about that Joseph Heller-Kurt Vonnegut story often, the one where at a mutual friend’s party, Vonnegut asks Heller how he feels to know that their mutual friend, the host, makes more money in a day than Heller made in the history of sales from his book, Catch-22.

Heller responds by saying he has something the mutual friend will never have: enough.”

What I have today is indeed enough. It is more than enough. The feelings revealed to me as I reflect this time of year serve as my guide, and all the while, as I so fortunately move forward, I will recognize that who I am, and what I currently have, is enough.

As we head into a full, festive week ahead, I must remind you of this truth: no matter your accomplishments, and no matter the space between where you are and where you hope to soon find yourself, you, and all that is because of you, are enough.

This week, I wish you thin slices of self-reflection.

Week of December 02, 2024:

As we’ve welcomed Ellis home, our second son, I have become more aware of how powerful it is to give permission, especially to our first son, Sullivan.

Understandably, we often remind Sullivan to use gentle hands and remain calm in his body around Ellis. Because of this, we have paid closer attention to moments when we can tell him, “Yes!”

“Of course.”

“Do your thing.”

What’s surprising about these moments, however, is I’m convinced I would have likely denied them in a pre-Ellis world. Now, though, I want Sullivan to be given permission more than offered correction.

For example, recently, he asked to write with a permanent marker.

“Yes!” I said.

He asked to remove the cap to our Tide pen to look at the tip of the pen more closely.

“Of course,” I answered.

He asked to pour his own milk, particularly from a new gallon, into his cup.

“Do your thing,” I nervously responded.

Remarkably, the reasons I would have denied these requests in a pre-Ellis world—the marker might stain, a Tide pen isn’t child-safe, and our milk might spill—have not once occurred. He enjoyed writing with a permanent marker and wrote appropriately on a piece of paper. He curiously explored our Tide pen and returned it to its home. He poured his milk into his cup and beamed with pride. I simply needed to give him permission to show me his capabilities.

What might it be like to parent from a place of confidence, more and more, compared to a place of nervousness?

Moreover, what might it be like to create from a place of confidence, more and more, compared to a place of nervousness?

To build a business?

To engage with our spouse?

To show up with our closest friends?

This holiday season, my wish for us is to give ourselves permission more than deny ourselves experiences.

May we tell ourselves, “Yes!”

“Of course.”

“Do your thing.”

This week, I’m wishing you thin slices of permission.

Week of November 25, 2024:

Gratitude is medicine. It is rest. It is a homecoming.

This Thanksgiving week, and every week, I invite us each to take stock of our health, relationships, homes, and communities.

“How do I feel today?”

“How do my relationships support and enrich me?”

“What do I value about my home?”

“What nourishment and abundance do I glean from my community?”

I am so very grateful for a healthy mind and body, a mind and body that allow me to nurture my marriage, mother my sons, manage my business, and think critically about, and feel sensitive to, the world around me.

I am so very grateful for each of you.

Thank you, as ever, for being my favorite part of Wiley Canning Company.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

This week, I’m wishing you thin slices of gratitude.

Week of October 21, 2024:

Each night, as a part of his bedtime routine, Sullivan and I (or Sullivan and Jared) read two to three books.

Recently, Sullivan added a step to this process that causes me to smile ear to ear.

He reads a page (i.e. recites a page he has memorized or makes up the words entirely), and then he turns the book around and pans it across his bedroom to ‘show the class’. I realized rather quickly this is what he must witness his guides do at school each day, and he has chosen to apply this practice of sharing to his inner, personal world at home.

What strikes me most is how contagious it is to share. We want to share our experiences with others. We want others to share their experiences with us. One of the very best parts of my work at Wiley Canning Company is the opportunity to share it with you. This desire to share—to be in community, to learn from you, and to remain in collaboration with you—drives Wiley Workshops, community events, a presence on social media, and more.

How might you share your work in the weeks to come?

This week, I wish you thin slices of sharing.

Week of October 14, 2024:

This morning, I was talking with a longtime friend. Unexpectedly, she asked, “What has been the best part of being pregnant and not in a global pandemic?”

She knew I became pregnant with my firstborn, Sullivan, in March 2020. I grew and birthed him in near physical solitude due to COVID-19.

I answered, “One of the most difficult aspects of my pregnancy with Sullivan was I felt quite isolated and alone. At the time, I didn’t notice how that affected the ways I began to identify, or, in this case, didn’t begin to identify, as a pregnant person because I wasn’t living normally as one.

This pregnancy, I have been very social, and I have received so much external feedback, such as, “You’re expecting!”

“Congratulations!”

“Your bump has grown!”

These moments always open opportunities to talk about pregnancy, as well as motherhood. This has helped me identify as someone who is pregnant, and furthermore, this has helped me more deeply experience and enjoy my pregnancy. The way I have identified this pregnancy has felt so much better, truer, more confident, and more communal. My parents, for example, saw me pregnant only once with Sullivan, and now they see me often. It has been so fun being seen in this way, having my belly touched, and existing in the world as a pregnant person.

This entire experience has made me think about the ways our identity is shaped in large part by our communities. Feedback is so important neuro-scientifically and socially. If Sullivan is out and about in an Ohio State jersey, and someone says to him, “You’re a Buckeye!”, that is going to help his identity form more deeply compared to him only ever wearing that jersey at home.”

When we apply this idea to our careers, we realize how important it is to share our work and goals. When we do so, we open ourselves up to external feedback, and this feedback helps strengthen and shape our identities as business owners, employers, employees, teammates, and more.

Are you considering hosting a community event? Now may be the time.

Are you daydreaming about an educational panel and inviting people to attend? Now may be the time.

Are you launching an online product or collection and hoping to share it with others in person? Now may be the time.

How can increased socialization and publicity help shape our identities?

This week, I wish you thin slices of community.

Week of October 07, 2024:

I am, with purpose, beginning to slow my pace as I inch toward my due date of October 29. This looks like being seated more often, catching up on recent Substack and blog posts written by those I admire, and beginning a new show with Jared. (We just watched The Perfect Couple. That scenery!)

I recently bookmarked Leila Giannetti’s post, of Patina Home and Garden and Patina Meadow, to read when I could soak in each and every word. Today was the day.

Her essay, The Story Behind the Season, walks us through her growth, vulnerability, experiences of comparison, and faith in herself throughout this past growing season. As my family is so close to expansion, there is one line in particular stood that out to me:

“I still carried the burden of the battle, but with loved ones carrying it with me, the load lightened enough for me to lift my foot to take the next step.”

Read Leila’s full post here.

I also loved Elise Joseph’s recent Substack post, Things You Should Know. It highlights thin slices of wisdom she wishes to remember and embody. Below are three of my favorites, shared in part by Elise and in part by others.

“Go for that walk.”

“Both can be true.”

“Everything can lose its luster.”

Read Elise’s full post here.

Finally, one of my all-time favorite poets, David Whyte, releases Consultations II in November 2024. His previous book, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words, is an all-time of mine. He has released select essays from Consolations II on Substack. His essay, End, spoke to me as I approach my final days of pregnancy.

This week, I wish you thin slices of slowing your pace.

Week of September 16, 2024:

As one who loves to plan, I leave space for an in-the-moment trick that always leads to connection and forward movement.

Here is my trick:

More often than not, the moment I think of someone or something, I immediately take action if it will likely take one minute or less.

For example, when I think of my friend who lives out of state, I say to myself, “I want to reach out to her to tell her I’m thinking of her.”

Then, I do it immediately.

It takes less than one minute to send her a text that says, “I’m thinking of you and missing you!”, and often, it leads to planning a more deliberate conversation or visit.

When I see a typo on my website, I say to myself, “I need to correct that.”

Then, I do it immediately.

It takes less than one minute to fix my error, and I free myself of additional time spent thinking about it or creating a future to-do for myself.

What do you think? Could this approach work for you?

This week, I wish you thin slices of efficient action.

Week of September 09, 2024:

Near the end of Founder’s Talk 003: Integrating Work and Motherhood, I reference Moon Song by Kate Baer.

This poem has carried me since the moment I became a mother—a mother who deeply loves and wants her children and a meaningful, family-rooted career.

Moon Song

You are not an evergreen, unchanged
by the pitiless snow.
You are not a photo,
a brand, a character written for sex or house or
show. You do not have to choose
one or the other: a dream or a dreamer, the
bird or the birder.
You may be a woman of
commotion and quiet. Magic and brain.

You can be a mother and a poet. A wife and
a lover. You can dance on the graves you dug
on Tuesday, pulling out the bones of yourself
you began to miss.
You can be the sun and the
moon. The dance a victory song.

This week, I wish you thin slices of victory.

Week of August 26, 2024:

I have read Cup of Jo for years. In fact, this subscriber-only segment of the Wiley Weekly Newsletter, Thin Slices, is inspired by this article.

Last week, Cup of Jo founder Joanna Goddard hosted an event with poet Kate Baer in Seattle, Washington in celebration of her poetry. Through words that will make you laugh, cry, sigh, and forgive, Kate explores day-to-day motherhood, marriage, friendship, and womanhood.

As Joanna interviewed Kate, she asked, “What is the best advice you’ve received as a mother?” Kate‘s full response was very charming, but she ultimately shared the following:

“Children are not a problem to be solved.”

As parents and caregivers, we are often told, “This is how your child should eat. Sleep. Move. Speak.”

We often try to figure out how to…fill in the blank. However, Kate’s advice resonates deeply with me. While we can work intentionally to set our children up for success, they are not a problem to be solved.

We, as parents and caregivers, are not problems to be solved.

We, as humans, are not problems to be solved.

We, and our children, are each on our own path—inclusive of endless, unique, and personal triumphs and struggles—and we will find our way.

This week, I wish you thin slices of surrender. You are not a problem to be solved.

Week of August 19, 2024:

Yesterday, I flew alone from Nashville to Salt Lake City, where I rented a car and drove four hours southeast to Moab. I am here to celebrate the marriage of a dear friend, Lauren, and her soon-to-be husband, Patrick.

As I was driving from Salt Lake City to Moab, I began to feel a very specific nostalgia—a longing—for my family. This is a familiar sentiment; I experience it any time I travel without Jared and Sullivan, especially to a place as beautiful and otherworldly as Moab.

The way I move through this sentiment is by stating what is true, as simple as this sounds.

“I am driving through mesmerizing red rock formations.”

“Sullivan is so excited to have concentrated time with his dad.”

“I am 31 weeks pregnant, and I feel strong. I have a weekend alone with my second baby to rest and process.”

“I am here to celebrate committed partnership.”

“Everyone I love is safe and healthy.”

“This trip is a gift.”

Oftentimes, stating what is true is what we need to bring us into the present—to move us through nostalgia (or fear, anxiety, and more) and into a state of comfort or wholeness.

For example, I absolutely love to teach Wiley Workshops. Teaching is, by far, one of my favorite aspects of Wiley Canning Company. It is also true, to this day, I get incredibly nervous before every workshop. The way I move through my nerves is by stating what is true.

“I love to teach Wiley Workshops.”

“I am nervous right now, but as soon as our workshop starts, my nerves will melt away, as they always do.”

“My students want to learn about home food preservation.”

“I deeply understand and value the concepts and practices I teach.”

If you, too, find yourself in a scenario that causes feelings of nostalgia or fear, can you ask yourself, “What is currently true?”

I predict we will each find, most of the time, everything is indeed okay. Not only are we safe, but we are also experiencing abundance and fortune.

This week, I wish you thin slices of stating what is true.

Week of August 05, 2024:

Yesterday, I was in conversation with someone I deeply admire. We were discussing the role social media plays when running a small business.

We acknowledged how the pressure to produce content—in a specific way to appease the algorithm—can very easily feel manipulative. It can very easily take us away from ourselves—causing us to feel like we are part of a reward-based machine instead of grounded within ourselves. It can very easily distract us from our primary mission to create genuine, lasting connection as business owners.

Then, she said the following, and it stopped me in my tracks:

“We can be in the world [of social media], but we do not have to be of the world.”

In other words, we can participate in social media, but with intentional boundaries, we do not have to allow it to become a part of our incentive and worth.

I began applying this sentiment to additional parts of my life. For example, I am in the world of a polarized political culture, but I do not have to be of this world. My resistance can be my compassion, openness to others’ perspectives, and insatiable curiosity. I am in the world of bounce-back culture when newly postpartum, but I do not have to be of this world. My resistance can be a slow return to physical movement and consistent routine.

When we find ourselves immersed in an online or in-person culture that does not sit well with us, may we remind ourselves, “We can be in this world, but we do not have to be of this world.”

This week, I wish you thin slices of connection to yourself.

Week of July 29, 2024:

The past two weeks were full of preparation for Wiley Workshops, and my presence on Instagram was quieter than normal. As I experienced this shift in my daily priorities, I felt a strong urge to write, “I’m still here, everyone! I have been quiet on Instagram, but I’m here.”

This urge reminded me of several past experiences—moments when I wanted others to know I was here when I was not as visible.

I was reminded of my early postpartum months. I was reminded of a feeling I experience when traveling without my family. I was reminded of moving away from close friends.

When we are not physically present, we often still desire to be emotionally present. We wish to remain connected in the ways we can.

More than any other, my takeaway from this lesson is this:

When I am less physically present, I can still welcome, digest, and feel nourished by emotional support. When a colleague, family member, or close friend is less physically present, I can still offer emotional support.

Without a doubt, it is normal and okay for our daily priorities (as well as our weekly and monthly priorities) to shift as time passes. When our priorities inevitably shift, may we be reminded the support we both receive and give may also shift.

Internal growth requires consistent, small pivots, one after another. By nature, consistent, small pivots require adaptation of support—support of oneself and support of others.

This week, I wish you thin slices of healthy prioritization and aligned support.

Week of July 22, 2024:

The following segment of Thin Slices was written the week of February 12, 2024. It is a lesson I have applied this week.

Can I send you into a new week with three mantras?

They are each about time, and they have helped ground me in moments when I feel as though time is slipping away.

01: Life is long.

02: I have all the time that I need.

03: Things of quality have no fear of time.

When I dream about the future of Wiley Canning Company, I remind myself: life is long. I have time to bring my dreams to life with intention.

When the day seems to be moving too quickly, I remind myself: I have all the time that I need. This was taught to me by Carissa Shapiro.

When I feel eager to release new content into the world, I remind myself: things of quality of have no fear of time. This was shared with me by Elise Joseph.

We have time, dear friends. We have time.

This week, I wish you thin slices of slowness.

Week of July 15, 2024:

I subscribe to Daphne Javitch’s Doing Well Monthly. Recently, she shared the following observation:

We tend to overestimate what we can do in one year, and we tend to underestimate what we can do in ten years.

In other words, we often plan too much for one year, an amount of time that speeds by us. However, we cannot imagine what is in store for us—and for our lives—throughout the next ten years.

Although it is only July 19, 2024, I am beginning to consider my goals for 2025. What if I plan fewer, more gentle goals and find refuge in the idea that so much is meant for me throughout the next decade? What if I slow down and believe in a future that is more enriched than I can imagine in this moment?

This week, I wish you thin slices of gentleness and hope.

Week of July 08, 2024:

When considering a change, it’s critical to be aware of when and where we are considering that change.

Below is one example.

I was struck by an idea for the Wiley Subscription when I was sitting quietly in Nice, France last week. I was gazing toward the Mediterranean Sea, taking stock of the Wiley Subscription, and I felt compelled to evolve its offerings in a very specific way.

However, it is very easy to feel inspired—to feel an urge for change—when I am in such a magnificent setting.

Does this urge persist once I am home, grounded in my day-to-day life, and present with my work? This is a critical question to explore.

While inspiration itself ought not ever be dampened, the action we take on that inspiration must remain considered.

Did the inspiration strike because I was in Nice, France? Did the inspiration strike because I was sitting quietly for the first time in several weeks, and I happened to be in Nice, France? Time will inevitably tell. Giving time to this inspiration—this idea for the Wiley Subscription—is critical when making a final decision that is valuable, aligned, and sustainable.

This week, I wish you thin slices of inspiration coupled with awareness.

Week of June 24, 2024:

In the absence of information, do you typically assume criticism exists? Neutrality? Praise?

Jared, my husband, has a more reserved personality. When we first began dating, nearly 13 years ago, I was not yet comfortable with his private nature, and I created stories about his quietness.

“He hasn’t said much. He must be bored.”

“He hasn’t commented on a specific topic. It must not interest him.”

“He hasn’t praised my achievement. He must not be impressed.”

In the absence of information, I assumed criticism existed.

When I approached him about this, he was quite surprised. His one key ask of me was ultimately this:

“In the absence of information, can you assume the best?”

If he hasn’t said much, he is likely deliberating, and his deliberation is one of my favorite traits he possesses.

If he hasn’t commented on a specific topic, he likely believes the topic deserves a deeper, extended conversation, and sharing comments without context would not do the topic justice. His commitment to nuance and complexity is one of my favorite traits he possesses.

If he hasn’t praised my achievement, he likely did not know it was important to me, and he is, of course, impressed by my work ethic and drive. His admiration for my self-discipline (and others’) is one of my favorite traits he possesses.

Luckily, I learned this lesson years ago. In the absence of information, I can assume the best. I consistently apply this to my work at Wiley Canning Company.

If a Wiley Workshop attendee does not ask a follow-up question throughout our time together, this attendee must be processing the wealth of information I have shared.

If a Wiley subscriber cancels or pauses payment, this subscriber must be paying careful attention to recurring financial priorities, an endeavor I highly encourage as a business owner.

If a summertime Wiley Workshop did not reach capacity, Wiley community members must be spending more time with their loved ones beneath the sunshine, enjoying a well-deserved vacation, or tending to their growing gardens.

More often than not, when there is an absence of information, the best case scenario (or a neutral case scenario) is true. We can assume the best in ourselves and each other.

This week, I wish you thin slices of healthy, generous assumption.

Week of June 03, 2024:

Growing up, when someone treated me poorly, one piece of advice my parents would share is, “Kill them with kindness.” Then, they knew one’s behavior was not always representative of their true character. They knew others, children especially, often treated someone poorly due to their own fear, misunderstanding, or pain. This is why the best response was not cruelty, but rather, it was gentleness, kindness, and possible friendship.

As a 33-year-old woman, I think about this concept often, one of responding with an equal and opposite emotion, behavior, or virtue.

What if, in response to poor treatment, we returned a genuine benefit of doubt?

What if, in response to feeling insecure about a recent project, we gave the next project the entirety of our unique gifts, minds, and hearts?

What if, in response to a friend experiencing chaos or drama, we met them with stability and a lack of judgement?

What if, in response to our child throwing an illogical tantrum, we wrapped our arms around them and reminded them we are, alongside one another, learning about ourselves and our boundaries in real time?

What if, when we doubt ourselves most, we put on a favorite outfit, make a delicious cup of coffee, and sit confidently in our desk chairs?

What if we respond to an external behavior by unveiling our kindness? What if we respond to an internal insecurity by pursuing our confidence?

If you are unsure of how to handle a behavior or insecurity, sometimes it’s best to think: equal and opposite.

This week, I wish you thin slices of kindness and confidence.

Week of May 27, 2024:

There is so much good in the world. There is so much compassion, progression, and hope.

There is also so much devastation and heartbreak in the world. As we continue to witness this devastation and heartbreak, I would love to share this poem with you, written by Kristine Claghorn.

In addition, below is a short list of gentle reminders for us.

“No idea is above scrutiny, and no people are beneath dignity.” — Maajid Nawaz

I first read this quote in Maajid Nawaz’s book, one he co-authored with Sam Harris, entitled Islam and The Future of Tolerance. This is a mantra I practice as I move forward as an American.

Deeyah Kahn reminds us our outer dialogue begins with our inner dialogue. How we speak to ourselves is reflected in how we speak to others.

This week, I wish you thin slices of compassion and intention.

Week of May 20, 2024:

How often do you experience true urgency?

On occasion, I recognize how few actions in my life are truly urgent. In other words, very few actions require urgency. This is an immense privilege.

I recently received an email that, at first, seemed to require urgent action. However, after pausing for a moment, I recognized how this was untrue. I could absolutely let this email rest for a couple of days.

A cicada recently made its way down my son’s shirt. The removal of it felt urgent, but in very prompt hindsight, I recognized how this was also untrue. Cicadas are incredibly non-predatory creatures. This experience was startling, but it was not urgent.

When an action is indeed urgent, we can trust our instincts and discernment. If we doubt ourselves, we can trust who we feel led to call whose instincts and discernment we deeply value.

When experiencing a moment of abrupt discomfort, I encourage us to ask the following questions:

Is this urgent, or is this startling?

Does this require urgent action, or can I let this rest a couple of minutes, hours, or days?

Is this urgent, and if so, what is the next most important step? Who is the next most important phone call?

This week, I wish you thin slices of pause.

Week of May 13, 2024:

Last week, I finished writing Thank You cards to close friends and family who gave Sullivan a birthday gift in December.

Yesterday, I reached out to a friend who I haven’t spoken to in several months.

Today, I plan to send an email to a past collaborator that I intended to send weeks ago.

It is never too late to take action on what is meaningful to us.

Is it embarrassing to have sent Thank You cards nearly five months after Sullivan’s birthday? A bit. But, it’s never too late to express gratitude.

Did I hesitate to reach out to this friend because it had been so long? Absolutely. But, we picked up right where we left off.

Will my email come as a surprise to this past collaborator? Perhaps. But, I would rather create a bit of surprise if it means I also create an expression of appreciation and excitement for all that is to come.

It is never too late to take action on what is meaningful to us.

This week, I wish you thin slices of action toward what is meaningful to you.

Week of May 06, 2024:

My dear friend, Kylie Nadeau, began her monthly book club in April. Last night, we gathered for the second time at her welcoming East Nashville home. Each month, before diving into a discussion of our chosen book, Kylie begins with a prompt to bring us into a shared headspace.

Last night, she asked, “What inspires you right now?” Nearly twenty people shared their current source of inspiration—ranging from their children to alone time to cannabis. It was a joy to hear what came to mind for fellow readers.

As always, one of my unfailing sources of inspiration is my friendships. I glean constant motivation, beauty, intimacy, and wisdom from them. Not only am I inspired by the friendships themselves, but I am also deeply inspired by the pursuits of my friends.

One close friend recently showed me patience and compassion when I made a scheduling error.

One close friend recently produced a beautiful photoshoot of timeless clothing.

One close friend recently made a mother-watering cheesecake recipe.

One close friend recently sent me photos of activities she created for her daughters.

One close friend recently released her first book, Disarray, a workbook that combines word search puzzles, photographs, and text designs.

My friends are my mood board. My daydream. My inspiration.

What inspires you right now?

This week, I wish you thin slices of inspiration.

Week of April 29, 2024:

A simple gratitude practice is an integral part of my day-to-day and well being. My practice is nothing fancy.

Each day, I acknowledge three things for which I feel thankful. I typically do this with Sullivan and Jared, as a part of Sullivan’s bedtime routine. We call this our Three Thankfuls. As I said, it’s nothing fancy.

Aside from acknowledging thin slices of joy with my son and husband, I’m often reminded of this truth:

There was a time in my life when I wanted the things I have right now.

There was a time in my life when Wiley Canning Company was merely an idea, one I shared and excitedly explored with family and friends.

There was a time in my life when I was newly pregnant with Sullivan, hoping and praying for a safe birth and healthy baby.

There was a time in my life when I was new to Nashville and longed for rich friendships, hoping I would soon cultivate deep, life-giving relationships.

So often, we’re focused on our futures as goal-oriented humans, parents, and business owners. It’s absolutely important to dream, and it’s important to acknowledge the gifts of our reality.

What was once a part of your daydream that is now a part of your reality? It is possible there was a time in your life when you wanted the things you have right now. Well done.

This week, I wish you thin slices of gratitude.

Week of April 22, 2024:

Tomorrow, I am running Nashville’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half-Marathon with three close friends. Running amongst tens of thousands of fellow runners puts me in touch with my inner power in an indescribable way. This post on Instagram couldn’t ring more true.

What puts you in touch with your inner power? In other words, what are you doing when you feel most powerful?

Together, let’s explore this curiosity as we enter a new week.

This week, I wish you thin slices of inner power.

Week of April 15, 2024:

This week, I’ve been in a bit of a funk. The strange part is that I’m in a funk for no particular reason. Does this happen to you?

When I find myself in a funk, I remember a few pieces of wisdom I’ve learned during past spells of self-doubt or general unease.

01: Let the funk be.

When we are in a funk, what we need most is time.

02: Sift through your feelings with someone close to you.

Who might you call to say, “Hey. It’s been one those weeks. Can I think aloud with you about a few things?” Connection is healing. It can help normalize emotions that feel isolating or deactivate emotions that feel charged.

03: Do your best to identify the precise emotions you’re feeling.

This week, I’ve had numerous topics on my mind related to Wiley Canning Company, Chelsea J. O’Leary, and my family. At first glance, I thought I may be feeling overwhelm, but I believe what I’m actually feeling is loneliness. Carl Jung said, “Loneliness does not come from being alone, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important.” Identifying my precise emotions helps guide what happens next, which brings me to my next tidbit…

04: Ask yourself if any nurturing action can be taken.

Most days, for example, I deeply enjoy being a one-woman team at Wiley Canning Company. However, at times, I crave the partnership of a co-owner or the camaraderie of a team. Being in a position of leadership and autonomy can feel profoundly empowering, and it can feel unexpectedly lonely. To support this aspect of business ownership, I recently initiated monthly meetings with two business advisors. Each month, we meet to review the past month’s accomplishments, challenges, and finances. We plan for the month ahead, and we track where I am in relation to my annual goals. Inviting two people into Wiley Canning Company in this way, once per month, has helped nurture me and build my confidence as a business owner.

05: Move your body in any way, shape, or form.

Sometimes, when a moment in time feels mentally difficult, the solution is to get physical. Go for a long walk. Initate intimacy with your partner. Sing (or scream!) loudly in the car. Shake your hands in the air as if you’re drying them off. Go for a swim.

If you, too, find yourself in a funk, please remember there is nothing wrong with you, and there is likely nothing wrong with your circumstances. Please remember you are human, and funks, here and there, are inevitable.

Let the funk be.

Sift through your feelings with someone close to you.

Do your best to identify the precise emotions you’re feeling.

Ask yourself if any nurturing action can be taken.

Move your body in any way, shape, or form.

This week, I wish you thin slices of connection and ease, my friends. This too shall pass. Got it?

Week of April 01, 2024:

Recently, I read a conversation between two of my very dear friends, Elise Joseph and Zachary Gray.

As you might know, Elise has been a part of Wiley Canning Company in invaluable ways, including helping bring the Wiley Dinner Series to life in 2023.

Zachary has photographed several projects for Wiley, including my cookbook portraits, the Wiley Dinner Series in Charleston, the Wiley Dinner Series in Nashville, and more.

During their conversation, Elise asks Zachary, “What does success mean to you?”

He answers, “Being comfortable.”

Zachary’s answer stood out to me because it does not include references to a salary, audience size, or quantitive goal. He simply communicates, “I feel successful when I feel comfortable.”

This sentiment reminds me of my most successful days as a mother and business owner. My best days as a mom are spent allowing myself to be comfortable. When I think of my most successful Wiley Workshops, I think about how comfortable I felt when teaching.

I feel most comfortable when I am confident in what I can uniquely bring to the table.

What can I bring to Sullivan, as his mother, that Jared cannot? I can be confident in this.

What experiences can I specifically bring to people who are interested in home food preservation? I can be confident in this.

What can I personally bring to this particular friendship?

What special touch can I give my home?

How can I specifically connect with this customer?

When we remain aware of what we uniquely bring to our relationships and our work, we can feel more confident in ourselves. When we feel more confident in ourselves, we can move forward more comfortably.

This week, I wish you thin slices of confidence and comfort.

Week of March 25, 2024:

Next week, we begin.

We begin a new week.

We begin a new month.

We begin a new quarter.

At any time, but especially right now, you may begin.

Is there a goal you’ve recently considered that can begin this Monday? Write it down. Hang it up. How long will your goal realistically take to accomplish? Once you decide, can you work backward? Break your goal down into weekly steps. Break your weekly steps down into daily steps.

Is there an activity you’ve recently wanted to pursue with your partner, parent, or child? Can it be booked in advance? What might you wear? Let’s get it scheduled.

Is it time to forgive yourself for a past commitment that fell short? Everything is okay. You are still you, and you are still good, even though you do not have to be. Can you begin to let it go? You can.

Is there someone who has been on your mind recently? Can you schedule a dinner date or phone date in April or May? (I’ve been dying to return to Lou for dinner on their patio.) Connection, and reconnection, tends to come easily once we see each other or hear each other’s voices.

It is often true that beginning is the hardest part of any task, habit, or change. This moment in time creates satisfying clarity for us. This Monday is April 01, the beginning of a new week, month, and quarter. May we begin.

This week, I’m wishing you thin slices of beginnings.

Week of March 11, 2024:

Can we try something together this week?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about comparison and my relationship with comparison.

Comparison is inevitable. Don’t you think?

I believe it can, at times, be beneficial. It can also, at times, be incredibly discouraging.

This past week, I decided to pay extra close attention to moments when I was comparing myself to someone. For me, this is typically another woman. She’s typically a mother, partner, and business owner. In other words, I often compare myself to fellow humans on parallel life paths. What about you? When I became aware of my feelings of comparison, I immediately asked myself, “In this moment, how does 2024 Chelsea O’Leary compare to 2020 Chelsea O’Leary?”

Have I moved in a direction of which I feel proud?

Do I feel more aligned with my heart’s deepest desires?

What might 2020 Chelsea O’Leary think of 2024 Chelsea O’Leary?

When we accept that comparison is inevitable, we are better able to play with it, to healthily live among it. We are better able to use it as a tool to self-reflect.

This week, when you become aware of feelings of comparison, will you join me in asking, “How does 2024 me compare to 2020 me?”

I hope you think to yourself, “Look how far I’ve come.”

“I’ve moved in a direction of which I feel proud.”

“I feel more aligned with my heart’s deepest desires.”

I also wish to leave us with this question:

What might I continue, begin, or leave behind in 2024 in order to feel proud and aligned in 2028?

This week, I wish you thin slices of healthy self-comparison.

Plus, here is an essay I wrote in 2020 about comparison. It rings true today.

Week of March 04, 2024:

My all-time favorite work of fiction is Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. When I finished this book, I felt so much grief it had ended. So, I immediately restarted it.

It follows the lives and work of three main characters: Sam Masur, Sadie Green, and Marx Watanabe.

Marx, in particular, is universally beloved by readers. Aside from being born into wealth and charm, Marx seems to experience genuine joy, love, generosity, and luck throughout his young life.

Below is a passage from Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow that has remained with me about Marx. (Warning: spoilers are ahead.)

“Sadie, do you see this? This is a persimmon tree! This is my favorite fruit.” Marx picked a fat orange persimmon from the tree, and he sat down on the now termite-free wooden deck, and he ate it, juice running down his chin.

“Can you believe our luck?” Marx said. “We bought a house with a tree that has my actual favorite fruit.”

Sam used to say that Marx was the most fortunate person he had ever met. He was lucky with lovers, in business, in looks, and in life. But the longer Sadie knew Marx, the more she thought Sam hadn’t truly understood the nature of Marx’s good fortune. Marx was fortunate because he saw everything as if it were a fortuitous bounty. It was impossible to know—were persimmons his favorite fruit, or had they just now become his favorite fruit because there they were growing in his own backyard?

Week of February 12, 2024:

Can I send you into a new week with three mantras?

They are each about time, and they have helped ground me in moments when I feel as though time is slipping away.

01: Life is long.

02: I have all the time that I need.

03: Things of quality have no fear of time.

When I dream about the future of Wiley Canning Company, I remind myself: life is long. I have time to bring my dreams to life with intention.

When the day seems to be moving too quickly, I remind myself: I have all the time that I need. This was taught to me by Carissa Shapiro.

When I feel eager to release new content into the world, I remind myself: things of quality of have no fear of time. This was shared with me by Elise Joseph.

We have time, dear friends. We have time.

This week, I wish you thin slices of slowness.

Week of February 05, 2024:

Recently, in this portion of my newsletter, I’ve invited you into my daily and weekly routines. This seems to have been incredibly useful to many of you. If there is anything else (truly, anything!) you would like to know about how I structure my time, you can ask me by replying to this email. I will compile my answers and share them through the subscription next week.

Now, let’s move on to what I’m dying to share with you this week.

Last August, I wrote the following:

”You set your sights on something, you speak about it and ask for it, and the algorithm of your mind will spot every thing that brings it closer, and grab onto it.”

Allow the algorithm of your mind to work. Speak your dreams aloud, my friends.

This week, I wish you thin slices of manifestation.

Week of January 22, 2024:

Do you consider yourself someone who prefers to have a routine?

I certainly do.

I prioritize a weekly routine knowing my week will inevitably require pivots due to the unexpected. My routine allows me to feel more flexible, as counterintuitive as this may sound.

Having a routine is like having a home base; I know where to return if I venture astray. Furthermore, I am more encouraged to venture astray because I know exactly where to return.

My routine works beautifully for me. I have followed a weekly routine for well over one year now, and it has proven successful. This weekly structure helps me set realistic goals, organize my time in a consistent way, and nearly eliminates decision fatigue when scheduling.

My weekly routine is below.

Monday:
Personal / Chelsea J. O’Leary

Tuesday:
Wiley Canning Company

Wednesday:
Wiley Canning Company

Thursday:
Personal / Chelsea J. O’Leary

Friday:
Wiley Canning Company

Mondays and Thursdays are dedicated to personal tasks and any work related to my personal brand, Chelsea J. O’Leary. They include errands, extracurriculars for Sullivan, appointments, long runs, and more. They also include completing partnerships and dedicated time to write, manage my print shop (coming soon!), and create and edit photos.

Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are dedicated to Wiley Canning Company. They include meetings, shipping orders, teaching Wiley Workshops, planning upcoming events, writing my newsletter, and more. If the task is related to Wiley, I do my absolute best to pursue and complete it on a Tuesday, Wednesday, or Friday.

There are, of course, caveats and exceptions. My weekly routine applies only to the days and timeframes I have childcare. Our beloved nanny works from 8:00am to 4:00pm, Monday through Friday. My first two orders of business each day, once she arrives and settles in, are moving my body and updating my financial spreadsheets. I aim to move my body, and I manually track my personal and work-related finances, on a daily basis.

During evenings and on weekends and holidays, I am, of course, with Sullivan full time, and I do my best to remain fully present with him and avoid multi-tasking. More often than not, I open my laptop to work once Sullivan is in bed, and my late working hours are almost exclusively dedicated to Wiley, no matter the day.

It is likely clear how this structure helps me compartmentalize my time. For example, when I know it’s time to schedule a doctor’s appointment, I know to schedule it on a Monday or Thursday. When I know it’s time to schedule an interview for In Dialogue, I know to schedule it on a Tuesday, Wednesday, or Friday. This structure gives me a template, and this template saves me time and energy.

What do you think?

Do you follow a similar weekly routine? If so, does it feel helpful for you? If not, are you interested in creating one? I would, as always, love to hear.

This week, I wish you thin slices of routine and consistency.