Between Panic and Presence

(a summer's invitation)

“You are not a broken machine to be fixed. You are a living garden to be tended.” (Esther Joy Goetz)

Last week, I found myself in the middle of a panic attack.

My blood pressure shot up at the doctor’s office—170/110—and my heart rate crossed into triple digits. My body, my tender animal body, was in full panic, my “white coat syndrome” on full display.

The prescription (based on medical protocol): more blood work in a few months. A heart CT scan. A prescription for an ambulatory blood pressure monitor. A tightly wound ribbon of urgency wrapped around it all.

But here’s the thing:

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When I got home, my heart rate dropped.
My blood pressure normalized.
I exhaled.
And a quiet, gentle voice inside me whispered,
“You’re okay. You’re not in danger here.”

That whisper? It didn’t come from fear.
It came from wisdom.
My own.

So I brought it all to my journal—not to sort it or fix it, but to be with it. What unfolded was less of a diagnosis and more of a dialogue. Less about numbers and more about naming what’s true.

Here’s what I uncovered:
I am caught—like so many of us—between obedience and sovereignty.
Between outer authority and inner knowing.
Between “follow the rules or else” and “follow your wisdom and see what unfolds.”

Maybe you’ve been there, too.
Maybe you’re there now.

I realized I didn’t want to reject the doctor’s care.
But I also didn’t want to abandon my own sense of what felt loving and right.

So I made a plan—NOT from panic, but from peace.
Not from protocol, but from presence.

Here’s what I chose:

• I’ll monitor my blood pressure two times a day for three months with a brand-new, fancy-shmancy Bluetooth monitor that syncs with my phone.

• I’ll do my own research and pay attention to what I’m eating and drinking—without shame, without extremes.

• I’ll check in with my own spiritual director about what my body, soul, and the Spirit of Glove (you know, my name for God) are trying to communicate.

• I’ll move my body—gently, joyfully. Stretch. Walk. Play pickleball. Garden.

• I’ll stay connected to people I love and practices that nourish me.

• I’ll get new labs in the fall.

• I’ll breathe.

You see, spring had been so complicated:
Travel. Grandchild care. Not sleeping in my own bed.
Heavy family stuff. Big work deadlines.
My nervous system has been running a marathon in sandals.
No wonder my white coat syndrome showed up in all her glory.

I knew something needed to shift.

So as I looked ahead to this season, I named it:

Simple Summer.

And when I asked my soul, “What kind of simple summer do you long for?” these two themes repeated themselves over and over:

Structure and Breath.

Isn’t that what so many of us need?
A rhythm to anchor us, but not constrict us.
A framework we can lean on—but that still lets the light and air through.

As I dug a bit deeper, these words emerged:

“Let your plan be a garden trellis, not a prison cell.
Something your vine can grow on,
but still reach for the sun in unexpected directions.”

Me being me, I slammed my journal shut, slipped on my flip flops, and headed outside. I stood in my yard, among the plants I’ve been tending all season—my little altar of dirt and green.

And then I saw it:
The lattice.
The wooden crisscross holding up the clematis.

Yes.
This is my metaphor. Lattice.
This is the embodiment of my prayer. Lattice.

Because a lattice holds things gently but firmly.
It breathes.
It supports growth without controlling it.
It offers shape without shame.

So now, when my fear rises up (and oh, it does and will again), I’lll be asking myself:

“Am I still on the lattice?
Or am I tying myself to something that no longer lets me breathe?”

This summer, I offer you that same question.

And maybe a gentle invitation to find your own lattice.
Something that holds you, but doesn’t hem you in.
Something that reminds you:
You are not a broken machine to be fixed.
You are a living garden to be tended.

So let me ask:

What does your Summer want to be called?
What title does your soul want to give it—whispered like a secret between you and the wind of the Spirit that lives within you?
What helps you hold both structure and breath?

I’d love to hear what blooms.

From my heart to yours,
Esther
🌀 Spiritual Director, Companion, and Garden-Tender

P.S. I started my summer at the beach. Nothing more breath-giving and taking than that.

P.P.S. Would love to hear the immediate things that touched your heart as you read this, even the prickly ones.

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If this has touched you and you want to invite others into this space, I would feel so honored if you would connect them with me. It’s really how I get my words and my resources available.

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I am committed to being a compassionate companion on your journey to care for your soul, offering a supportive and non-judgmental space for reflection, contemplation, and exploration.

Whether you're seeking clarity in times of uncertainty, navigating life transitions, or simply desiring a deeper connection with your soul, I am dedicated to walk alongside you.

Your sacred path awaits.

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If you need to know more before booking your free consultation, check out all the information about what it is and why it might be just the right fit for you.

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FOUR BOOKS I BROUGHT WITH ME TO THE BEACH (and a little description of why):

Hagitude has been on my list since the beginning of 2025. This is what I’ve been told about it and why I sense my soul craving it:

If you’re drawn to soul care, or the deep wisdom of the feminine, I can’t recommend Hagitude by Sharon Blackie enough. This isn’t just a book—it’s an invitation. With myth, story, and fierce tenderness, Blackie reclaims the power and purpose of the second half of life, especially for women who are no longer interested in disappearing quietly.

Hagitude is a call back to our own inner wild—an honoring of cycles, crone wisdom, and the sacred unfolding of aging not as decline, but as deepening.

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Every so often, a book comes along that feels more like a companion than a read. The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron is just that—a twelve-week journey of reclaiming creativity as a spiritual path. I am on Week Three and walking through it with a friend.

Whether or not you identify as an artist, this book is about waking up the parts of you that have gone quiet… the ones that long to play, express, trust, and begin again. With simple practices like Morning Pages and Artist Dates, The Artist’s Way gently nudges you back into communion with your truest self.

As a spiritual director, I often recommend it to those feeling disconnected from their inner voice. Because soul care isn’t only about stillness—it’s also about making, imagining, and remembering who you are beneath the noise.

P.S. Stay tuned for more on this in the coming months as I will be offering a group spiritual direction course using this book as our base.

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“There is a land that exists
not too far beyond the limits
of our wild imagination
within the reach of our desperate grasp…

this elusive space of blessed belonging
for everyone to gather together
and discover their heart’s holy home.”

-Karen Kaiser, Beyond

This collection of poetry offers you an invitation to reflect on what it means to move Beyond. Beyond fear, beyond insecurity, beyond isolation, beyond complacency…what would it look like for you to truly move Beyond?

Need I say more? This book of poetry is feeding my soul right now!!

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This last one is the latest in my dead body at the beginning crime-solving novels, a genre I have loved since I was a little girl. Somehow, murder mysteries help me to fall asleep quickly at night. I know. I know. The irony is not lost on me.

Here is the blurb to catch your eye:

Eve Renner loved Cole Dennis--until the moment he tried to kill her. That was three months ago, when Eve was lured to a cabin where she found an old friend brutally murdered. Eve is almost positive it was Cole's face she saw right before she was shot. But her memories were too shaky to stand up to trial. Cole is a free man again. And a new string of killings has begun.

Read Absolute Fear to find out what’s going on.

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