Asides

Embracing the Cracks: The Grace of Wabi-Sabi

Some mornings don’t go as expected. The coffee spills, a fragile item shatters, and the day feels just a bit off. It might be something small, like forgetting the house keys, that sets everything off balance. These disruptions may seem insignificant, but wabi-sabi invites a pause to appreciate the imperfect moments (Juniper, 2003). Rather than viewing these moments as signs of a day gone wrong, consider how a brief pause can shift perspective.

Take the chipped mug on the counter. At first, it seems like just another damaged object, a reminder of an old accident. The chip carries a story of rushed mornings, tired hands reaching for it, and moments now gone. The mug, like those who use it, shows the marks of daily life and resilience (Koren, 2008; Delorie, 2018).

This is the core of wabi-sabi. Rooted in Japanese philosophy, wabi-sabi finds beauty in imperfection (Juniper, 2003). It doesn’t hide flaws but invites a deeper appreciation of them. Imperfections are not faults; they are the traces left by life’s experiences, much like resilience, which is the ability to adapt and recover from difficulties, showing strength through challenges (Delorie, 2018).

When Things Don’t Go as Planned

Expectations often shape daily life: a project should unfold as planned, a meal should match the recipe, and mornings should go smoothly. However, life rarely aligns with these ideals. As Koren (2008) suggests, things seldom go as expected.

The chipped paint on the wall, the cluttered desk, and the laundry waiting to be folded all mark the ongoing, unpolished nature of life. Moments pass, priorities shift, and things remain unfinished (Juniper, 2003). Wabi-sabi offers a gentler perspective. It finds beauty in what already is, as it is.

Take kintsugi, for example, a practice related to wabi-sabi, which mends broken pottery by celebrating its flaws rather than hiding them (Koren, 2008). Kintsugi teaches a powerful lesson: imperfections, whether in objects or people, should not be concealed.

When a bowl cracks, the cracks are filled with gold, transforming flaws into a form of beauty. These golden seams do not mask the damage but highlight it, making the object’s history a visible part of its beauty (Koren, 2008). Cracks, whether physical or emotional, are not signs of failure.

They are marks of resilience, proof of the ability to withstand and rise above challenges. Each crack tells a story of moments that tested and reshaped a person (Delorie, 2018). Like the gold in kintsugi, these imperfections reflect growth and transformation. The beauty in mended cracks mirrors the strength that emerges from overcoming hardship (Koren, 2008; Juniper, 2003).

Looking Closer at the Little Things

A spilled coffee cup or a scar may seem like everyday occurrences, but they carry profound meaning (Delorie, 2018). A scar is not just a mark. It is a powerful symbol of survival, a record of the body’s resilience and ability to heal. Similarly, the worn cover of a favorite book shows the marks of use—how it’s been read, carried, and revisited time and again (Juniper, 2003). Even a coffee spill, frustrating as it may be, serves as a reminder that everything is fleeting (Delorie, 2018).

Juniper (2003) describes wabi-sabi as finding beauty in the “transient and incomplete.” In this context, transient refers to the temporary, ever-changing nature of things, moments, or people—recognizing that nothing lasts forever. Incomplete refers to the idea that things do not need to be perfect or finished to be valuable. Instead, wabi-sabi embraces the beauty found in imperfection and the unfinished, accepting them as part of what makes something or someone real (Koren, 2008). This philosophy encourages embracing life’s natural imperfection and change, rather than striving for perfection.

Appreciating the Everyday

Wabi-sabi draws attention to details that often go unnoticed. They remain in the background until something brings them into focus (Juniper, 2003). Imagine a wooden table, scarred by time and the marks of shared meals. Similarly, a sweater with thinning elbows still offers the same comfort it did when it was first worn.

Then there’s the mug with a chipped edge, worn down by countless mornings. These objects are not valued for meeting a standard of beauty. Their value comes from the experiences they have been part of and the connections they represent (Delorie, 2018).

This is the core of wabi-sabi. Delorie (2018) describes it as “releasing control, embracing what is, and finding gratitude in the moment.” Gratitude doesn’t need to come from something extraordinary. It can arise from something as simple as the warmth of sunlight through a smudged window or the quiet comfort of something well-used (Koren, 2008).

The Things That Hold It Together

When things don’t go as expected, frustration can take over. Wabi-sabi, however, shows there is value even in these moments, even when they seem imperfect. The chipped mug still holds coffee, and the crooked plant continues to grow. Life moves forward, despite the flaws (Juniper, 2003).

The worn mug doesn’t lose its purpose because of its imperfections. The chip is part of its story, what makes it familiar and unique. The same is true for people; the cracks and marks don’t diminish their worth. They are reminders of lessons learned, of how time has shaped them. As Koren (2008) reflects, imperfections are not flaws to hide, but parts of a story to embrace.

Life doesn’t need to be flawless to feel complete. It is the imperfections—the cracks, the disruptions—that make things meaningful and memorable.

References

  • Juniper, A. (2003). Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence. Tuttle Publishing.
  • Koren, L. (2008). Wabi-sabi for artists, designers, poets & philosophers (Illustrated ed.). Stone Bridge Press.
  • Delorie, O. L. (2018). Wabi Sabi: Finding Beauty in Imperfection. Sterling Publishing.

Why Yoga Might Be the Exercise You’ve Been Avoiding (And Why It Works)

A common question from readers of Wiley’s Walk is how to make movement accessible to everyone, regardless of their physical abilities or experience level. For many, exercise can feel more like a burden than a benefit.

The pressure to keep up with intense routines, the discomfort of unfamiliar movements, or simply the lack of motivation often turns exercise into something to avoid. Yet, what if there was a way to move that didn’t require pushing past physical limits or enduring discomfort? Yoga may offer a refreshing alternative to conventional forms of exercise.

Unlike many traditional workouts, yoga is a practice that adapts to the body, helping to calm the mind and foster a sense of balance. Whether you are looking to relieve stress, build strength, or simply feel more at ease in your own body, yoga provides a unique and welcoming approach. It makes movement more accessible and maybe even enjoyable. Let’s explore why yoga might be the perfect solution.

What Is Yoga?

Yoga is about balance—physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is a practice that nurtures both the body and the mind, no matter where you begin. At its core, yoga integrates three key elements:

  1. Movement (Asanas)
    Poses like Downward Dog and Child’s Pose are central to yoga, helping to build strength, flexibility, and a sense of inner calm. These poses are both foundational and accessible, making yoga adaptable to all levels.
    • Downward Dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana): This pose strengthens the arms and legs while stretching the spine and hamstrings. It is both energizing and soothing, grounding the body while lifting the hips upward.
      • Child’s Pose (Balasana): A resting posture, this pose encourages relaxation and allows for a moment to release tension. It’s a chance to pause and breathe.
      Together, these poses highlight how yoga blends effort and rest, promoting physical stability and mental ease (National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, n.d.).
  2. Breathing (Pranayama)
    Focused breathing techniques, known as pranayama, helps calm the nervous system, enhance energy, and promote a sense of balance. Whether it’s slow, deep breaths to relax or invigorating techniques to energize, pranayama connects the breath to the mind and body.
  3. Mindfulness (Meditation)
    At its core, yoga is all about mindfulness. Mindfulness is the practice of staying present in the moment.

Through meditation, we can calm our minds and create a break from mental distractions. By cultivating heightened awareness and focus, meditation improves mental clarity, which allows us to think clearly and stay present.

It also enhances emotional stability, helping us remain calm and balanced even during stressful situations. Together, these benefits leave us feeling more centered and at peace (Harvard Health Publishing, n.d.-b; National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, n.d.).

By combining movement, breath, and mindfulness, yoga provides a way to build physical strength, emotional balance, and mental calm. Whether you’re new to yoga or have years of experience, it grows with you, offering benefits for both your body and mind.

Yoga for People Without Disabilities

For individuals without disabilities, yoga offers an excellent way to build strength, relieve stress, and develop a stronger connection with the body. Its low-impact design is gentle on the joints while still delivering a challenging and rewarding experience.

Here are some of the physical benefits yoga can offer:

  • Flexibility and Strength: Poses like forward folds and warrior stretches help improve flexibility and gradually build muscle strength.
  • Stress Reduction: Yoga reduces cortisol levels—the stress hormone—helping to create a sense of calm and relaxation (Goyal et al., 2014).
  • Enhanced Balance: Yoga improves body awareness, boosts coordination, and lowers the risk of injury. Many athletes also practice yoga to enhance performance and support recovery (Harvard Health Publishing, 2019).

Yoga isn’t just about how the body moves—it’s about how movement makes you feel. It’s about building confidence, developing self-awareness, and understanding the body’s needs.

Yoga for People with Disabilities

Yoga’s adaptability makes it a great option for individuals with disabilities. Whether dealing with limited mobility, chronic pain, or other physical challenges, yoga can meet you exactly where you are. Here’s how yoga adapts:

  • Chair Yoga: Designed for those who have difficulty standing or balancing, chair yoga features seated poses that emphasize controlled breathing, gentle stretches, and strengthening the upper body.
  • Supportive Props: Tools like yoga blocks, straps, and bolsters make poses more accessible and comfortable by adding stability and support.
  • Breath and Mindfulness Practices: Even with minimal movement, yoga’s focus on breathing techniques and mindfulness offers significant benefits, promoting relaxation, reducing stress, and enhancing mental well-being.

For individuals with conditions like Cerebral Palsy, Multiple Sclerosis, or Spinal Cord Injuries, yoga can improve range of motion, reduce muscle tension, and help manage chronic pain (Smith et al., 2019). Yoga is about moving in ways that feel right, not about achieving perfection.

The Benefits of Yoga for All

Yoga is more than just stretching or exercise—it’s a holistic practice that strengthens the body, calms the mind, and fosters a deeper sense of ease and connection within oneself. Its benefits extend across both physical and mental well-being, offering a transformative experience for practitioners.

Physical Benefits

Yoga supports the body in numerous ways, improving both strength and mobility:

  • Stronger Core and Improved Balance: Poses like tree pose or seated twists target muscles that stabilize the body, enhancing strength and coordination.
  • Increased Flexibility: With consistent practice, yoga helps release tension in tight muscles and joints, offering relief for conditions such as arthritis.
  • Pain Management: Research shows that yoga can alleviate chronic pain, including back pain and joint discomfort (National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, 2020).

Mental Benefits

Beyond the physical, yoga provides powerful mental and emotional support:

  • Reduced Stress and Enhanced Calm: Yoga’s breathing techniques and mindfulness practices are effective in lowering anxiety and promoting a grounded state of mind (Goyal et al., 2014).
  • Improved Sleep: By encouraging relaxation, yoga helps individuals fall asleep more easily and enjoy deeper, more restful sleep.
  • Boosted Confidence: Through a focus on self-awareness, yoga nurtures a positive relationship with the body, fostering appreciation for its abilities and enhancing overall confidence.

How Much Exercise Is Enough?

While yoga offers a wide range of benefits for both the body and mind, you may wonder how often it is necessary to practice to experience these effects. The good news is that yoga is highly flexible and accessible, with even short, 10–20 minute sessions yielding noticeable improvements.

Whether practiced a few times a week or daily, yoga’s regular incorporation into your routine can amplify its physical and mental benefits, promoting long-term health and balance.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recommends that adults aim for at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity activity per week, plus muscle-strengthening exercises on two or more days (CDC, 2022). For individuals with disabilities, these guidelines are the same, but activities should be adapted to personal abilities.

Yoga is an excellent choice for meeting fitness goals, as it can serve as both an aerobic workout and a strength-building exercise, depending on the style and intensity. Even a 30-minute session of gentle yoga can contribute to your weekly activity targets.

Starting small is key. Even a few minutes of yoga a day can build momentum toward a more active lifestyle.

Making Yoga a Part of Your Life

Yoga doesn’t need to be complicated to be effective. Whether practiced at home, in a class, or with an adaptive instructor, getting started is simple.

Here’s how to make yoga work for you:

  • Start Small: Even 5–10 minutes a day can make noticeable improvements. Consistency is key.
  • Choose the Right Class: If you are new to yoga, look for beginner or adaptive classes online or locally.
  • Use Props: Don’t hesitate to use yoga blocks, straps, or chairs to make poses more accessible.
  • Go at Your Own Pace: Yoga is a practice, not a performance. Modify or skip poses as needed.
  • Focus on how yoga makes you feel, not on how it looks or how “good” you are at it.

Final Thoughts: Yoga for Every Body

Yoga isn’t about perfecting poses or comparing yourself to others. It’s about tuning into your body and finding what works best for you. Adding yoga to your routine can help build strength, reduce stress, and make your day feel more manageable.

Yoga meets you where you are, adjusting as your needs and abilities evolve. At its core, yoga is about more than just movement. It is about creating space to breathe, connect with your body, and move in ways that support your overall well-being.

References

Echoes of the Drive

Growing up with MTV, cassette tapes, and neon signs, music was always there, subtly shaping the moments of adolescence. Each beat and lyric seemed to find its place, adding meaning to the disarray of growing up. Those songs quietly shaped who I was becoming.

Some songs felt like more than just music. Tracks like Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” or U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” spoke directly to the restless energy of youth in the ’80s. When those chords began, the radio’s volume surged, daring the speakers to hold up. Car windows slid down, the wind rushed in, voices rose to meet the chorus, and hands tapped rhythms on the dashboard.

But it wasn’t just the sound—it was what the words did. “Here I go again on my own… down the only road I’ve ever known.” Or Bono’s searching confession: “I have climbed the highest mountains… I have run through the fields…” These weren’t just lyrics; they were invitations—to wander, to step beyond the predictable, to chase something bigger that hadn’t yet taken shape but felt essential to find.

The car became more than a way to get from one place to another. It was a haven, a space where everything else faded away. Whether it was my best friend Rabia’s sticky-dash Toyota Corolla or my brother’s gasoline-scented Nissan Z, the car felt like its own small universe. The music was always loud, filling the air and pushing everything else to the background. In those moments, it wasn’t just about the drive—it was about freedom, wrapped in a beat.

When “Here I Go Again” played, it wasn’t David Coverdale’s song anymore. It was Rabia’s. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her voice brimming with confidence as she sang, “Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone.” She wasn’t just driving; she was commanding the moment, guiding us through a world that felt both too big and somehow not big enough. The destination never really mattered. The music provided its own direction, replacing uncertainty with rhythm and offering an escape that didn’t need permission.

One Saturday, parked at the edge of an unfamiliar field, the opening chords of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” spilled from the speakers. For a moment, it was just the music—Bono’s voice, raw and searching, stretching the moment. “I have climbed the highest mountains… I have run through the fields.” Those lyrics bridged the stillness of where we were to everything that felt just out of reach. They didn’t provide answers, but they gave us space to breathe. Restlessness became curiosity, longing transformed into hope, and the weight of questions felt lighter in the music.

There were heavier days too, when everything felt overwhelming—school, fragile friendships, the looming uncertainty of the future. Rebellion didn’t always wear black eyeliner or punk clothes; sometimes, it was quieter, hiding in the corners of songs that refused to offer easy resolutions. “Though I keep searching for an answer…” didn’t promise clarity, but it reminded me to hold on and keep moving. Progress wasn’t about figuring it all out—it was about staying in the search. The music became a companion, grounding me while still pushing me forward.

Years later, those songs still find their way back to me. Whenever “Here I Go Again” plays, I’m reminded of those restless drives and the open-ended possibility they carried. The music doesn’t just bring back the past. It threads through who I am now, a quiet reminder that life has never been about finding the perfect destination. It’s about the moments that carry us forward. It’s about the spaces in between, where we discover who we are becoming. The music was never just a soundtrack. It was the journey itself.

Noticing the Good: The Power of Seeing What’s Been Overlooked

As the sun sets below the horizon, the sky undergoes a stunning change. Fiery oranges, deep magentas, violet blues, and rich indigos merge, filling the sky with breathtaking hues.

In those few moments, the world feels different—lighter, somehow. The burst of color cuts through the heaviness of the day, reminding anyone who looks that even in overwhelming moments, beauty finds a way to break through. The glow is brief, but its impact lingers.

The evening air was sharp with cold, the kind that nips at the edges of awareness. In the midst of a restless walk, questions looped relentlessly: What’s next? What if this doesn’t work? What if it does, but it’s still not enough?

In that moment, the sky, with its raw and vibrant colors, held everything still. The weight of everything else faded, if only for a brief pause. It was in that pause that something shifted. A sense of presence emerged, reminding me and any other spectators of a truth often forgotten: the importance of noticing.

Why Noticing Matters

In times of uncertainty, it is easy to focus on what’s wrong or what’s missing, falling into a spiral of negativity. This response, known as negativity bias, helped our ancestors stay alert to danger. However, today, it often increases stress and prevents people from noticing the small moments of good around them (Baumeister et al., 2001).

Barbara Fredrickson’s broaden-and-build theory introduces a different perspective. She argues that emotions like awe, gratitude, and joy do more than enhance well-being—they expand thinking. These emotions play a key role in building resilience, helping individuals bounce back from challenges and stay steady through adversity. In moments of awe, strength surfaces, and a sense of equilibrium is regained, shifting focus from what is missing to what is already in place.

The sunset didn’t erase the doubts or fears, but it stirred something deeper. It served as a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, good things remain.

Where the Good Hides

The good isn’t gone; it’s hidden in the small, often overlooked moments of life. It is there in the steam rising from a cup of coffee, the crisp crunch of leaves beneath footsteps, or the brief wave from a passing neighbor. When stress takes over, these moments slip into the background, unnoticed and undervalued. Yet they persist, reminding us of what truly matters.

A few weeks ago, the weight of endless emails, looming deadlines, and unspoken expectations felt overwhelming. While walking outside, sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering golden light across the sidewalk. It didn’t resolve the chaos, but in that brief moment, it provided a much-needed pause. The weight of the day, still present, shifted.

Research supports this. Sonja Lyubomirsky’s (2007) studies reveal that lasting joy often emerges not from major accomplishments, but from small, everyday moments: sinking into a favorite chair, hearing a familiar laugh, or feeling the rush of a song that stirs a memory.

A friend once shared how, during a tough year, she began writing down three things she was grateful for each night: her dog’s wagging tail, the scent of rain, sunlight warming the kitchen floor. Initially, it felt forced, but gradually, those small moments of appreciation began to shift her perspective. What had once seemed ordinary started to hold deeper meaning. Gratitude doesn’t erase life’s struggles, but it changes how they are carried. It shifts the focus, making the weight feel a little lighter.

How to Practice Noticing

Noticing the good takes time and effort. At first, it’s not easy. With practice and consistency, especially during tough times, it begins to grow. The more it’s practiced, the easier it becomes. Start small—step outside, even for just a moment.

Focus on the details around you: the way the wind moves through the trees, the rhythm of your steps, or the scent in the air. When something stands out, take a moment. Let it settle, even if it seems fleeting.

Some days, noticing can feel impossible. The goal isn’t to force it, but to develop a habit of paying attention. Over time, those small pauses build, offering a sense of perspective when it is needed the most.

The Joy of Sharing

One of the unexpected gifts of noticing is the joy of sharing it with others. A friend once sent me a photo of a sunrise—soft streaks of pink and orange stretching across rooftops. Her message was simple: “Thought you’d like this.” She was right. That small gesture served as a reminder that the good is still here, even when it is easy to forget.

Since then, sending these moments has become a practice—whether it is a photo of changing leaves or the way light falls just so on the pavement. A small act, but one filled with meaning. Sharing it is a way of saying, “This mattered to me, and I thought it might matter to you, too.”

Noticing doesn’t just ground—it connects.

An Invitation

The good is already here, waiting to be noticed. It won’t erase the weight of challenges, but it can shift how they are carried. Step outside. Look around. Notice the sunlight filtering through leaves, the distant hum of a lawnmower, or the way rain dots a window. These moments won’t fix everything, but they can provide a sense of steadiness, offering the strength needed to move forward.

References

  • Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Finkenauer, C., & Vohs, K. D. (2001). Bad is stronger than good. Review of General Psychology, 5(4), 323–370. https://doi.org/10.1037/1089-2680.5.4.323
  • Emmons, R. A., & McCullough, M. E. (2003). Counting blessings versus burdens: An experimental investigation of gratitude and subjective well-being in daily life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84(2), 377–389. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.84.2.377
  • Fredrickson, B. L. (2004). The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 359(1449), 1367–1378. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2004.1512
  • Lyubomirsky, S. (2007). The how of happiness: A new approach to getting the life you want. Penguin Press.

Shifting the Stone

At some point, a stone appears—an obstacle so large it feels insurmountable. It might be a personal struggle, a difficult choice, or an unexpected challenge that feels unbeatable.

The common instinct is often to avoid, work around, or ignore it. It is seen as a barrier to progress. What if that stone isn’t something to sidestep? What if it’s something to reshape? Within its hardness, there could be something waiting to be uncovered—a path, a door, a new direction.

This question lies at the heart of Shifting the Stone. The poem challenges not to escape difficulties, but to transform them. The stone doesn’t vanish; it changes. What once felt like an insurmountable barrier now shifts into something more practical—something that can be used to move forward.

The poem speaks to anyone who has faced a challenge, encouraging a new perspective on obstacles. When the obstacle is observed from another angle, what seemed unmanageable becomes a tool for change, a catalyst for moving in a new direction.

Shifting the Stone: The Poem

By Kerry Ann Wiley

Within the stone, a door awaits,
Not by avoiding, but by reshaping.
Each jagged edge becomes a curve,
A channel for light to twist and fall.

A shift is small, yet vast,
In the new angle, a world unfolds—
Not what is missing,
But what can emerge
From the quiet center.

The question rises, “What else?”
Not from the visible,
But the hidden thread between—
Where walls blur,
And ideas break free.

No lines are straight,
Only bends and folds.
What is forward is all around,
A new beginning,
A thousand directions.

Through unfamiliar eyes,
The world exhales, and the dark dissolves.
Is it a boundary,
Or an opening to step into?
The ground beneath shifts,
And movement follows.

For those who learn to navigate difference,
The horizon extends, not in front,
But in all directions.
Where space becomes water,
And the flow is endless.

The voice that says “stop“
Is muted here.
The question rings out,
A collective hum of “Why not?”
Turning silence into possibility.

Words hang in the air,
Like vapor, heavy and light.
A single phrase,
A shift in the winds of thought.

A path appeared,
Not of steps, but of possibility,
A new language of ascent.

Independence is not a place to land,
But a current that moves, quiet, unseen.
Measured not in miles,
But in the grace of moving at all.

In the spaces of doubt,
A question takes root:
“What else exists here?”
And the asking itself
Becomes the answer.

The questions asked become the frame,
Each hand that reaches builds the shape.

Every challenge holds its own answer,
Not in the damage,
But in the making of something new—
When leaning toward each other.

The shift isn’t in the space between,
But in the pulse,
In the hands that weave,
In the hearts that merge.
Together, the unseen is created.

In each gesture, a spark.
A word that rises,
A touch that begins again,
Each moment an echo
Of a thousand moments before.

What if it could shift?
The thought flutters in,
A whisper gathering force.
And then, certain,
The pulse of “Why not?”

Not just for one, but for those yet to come—
What is moved today
Carves a path for others,
And in their footsteps,
The road finds its shape.

Not the limits, but the ways.
The question isn’t what can’t be done,
But what can be turned toward.

The Power of Perspective

The poem invites a reconsideration of what it means to face an obstacle. In a world that often prioritizes speed, challenges are frequently seen as hurdles to overcome quickly.

Yet Shifting the Stone offers a different perspective. It doesn’t encourage resistance but transformation. The stone does not vanish; it shifts, revealing hidden paths, fresh perspectives, and opportunities for growth—possibilities that might have otherwise gone unnoticed.

“Within the stone, a door awaits…” This opening line suggests that even the most unyielding obstacles hold untapped potential. Challenges are not just barriers. They are opportunities waiting to be discovered. Yet, unlocking this potential requires more than force—it calls for engagement, patience, and a fresh perspective.

Asking New Questions

One of the most striking themes in Shifting the Stone is the importance of curiosity. The poem suggests that transformation begins with small, powerful questions. Asking “What else?” shifts the focus away from limitations and toward possibilities. This simple, open-ended question becomes a catalyst for discovery, encouraging exploration of what lies beneath the surface of an obstacle.

Rather than asking, “Why is this happening?” the question shifts to “What can emerge here?” This change in perspective reshapes the narrative, turning barriers into opportunities and stillness into growth.

Transformation Beyond the Individual

The poem emphasizes the collective nature of change, illustrating that true transformation occurs when people join forces, rather than striving alone. Change is not solely a personal journey, but a shared process where the efforts of many extend far beyond the individual.

Through collaboration, obstacles are not only overcome for individuals, but also for others, forging paths that can be followed by many. This interconnected approach to transformation relies on the strength of the group, where each person’s contribution helps move what once seemed impossible.

The poem shows how collective action reshapes not just individual experiences, but also demonstrates how united efforts can achieve what was once thought unachievable.

Conclusion: A Shift Toward Possibility

Shifting the Stone reveals that challenges are not mere barriers but invitations to change. Instead of avoiding or resisting, the poem calls for reshaping obstacles into opportunities for growth.

A small shift in perspective—asking “What else?”—uncovers hidden paths and opens new possibilities, breaking through limitations. The collective power of collaboration strengthens this transformation, proving that change thrives when shared.

In the end, it is not the stone that defines the path, but the ability to reshape it. What could be achieved if every obstacle was seen as a chance to create something new?

The Language of Respect: How Thoughtful Choices Make a Difference

Have you ever paused mid-conversation, unsure of what to say next? It’s a moment many of us have experienced, whether due to uncertainty or fear of saying the wrong thing. Now, imagine this scenario with someone who has a disability. How do you approach the situation without inadvertently making things uncomfortable? If this resonates, you are not alone.

These moments happen more often than many realize. Disability isn’t something people often think about until they face it directly. In potential moments of uncertainty, they might freeze, stumble over their words, or even avoid the situation entirely. This happens frequently—someone talks to the person with me instead of me, or assumes they know what I need without asking.

A lot of this comes from good intentions. Most people genuinely want to show respect, but their uncertainty can make things feel awkward. What I—and many others with disabilities—really want isn’t pity or awkward praise. We simply want to be treated like anyone else.

Ultimately, it is not about following a set of rules. Instead, it is about making small and mindful choices: choosing to ask instead of assuming, and respecting personal space.

Embracing a “People First, Labels Second” approach ensures that we respect individuals for who they are, not by their disabilities. Here are some simple tips to help foster a more inclusive and respectful environment for everyone:

People First, Labels Second

Focus on the individual, not their disability.

Treat people as individuals—not as their disability. Focus on the person, not their condition, recognizing their identity beyond their disability. For example, if you’re a chef, you wouldn’t want to be called “that cooking person,” as if your job defined your entire identity. Similarly, referring to someone as “a person with a disability” focuses on them as individuals rather than on their condition.

Ask, Don’t Assume

Respect unique abilities by seeking understanding.

Each person’s abilities are different, and assumptions based on limited information can be misleading. For example, if someone assumed you couldn’t swim simply because they’ve never seen you in the water, it would feel unfair. Disabilities vary greatly, and everyone has their own individual experience with them.

Disabilities come in many different forms, and each person’s experience is unique. To better understand and support others, consider asking open-ended questions like, “What works best for you?” or “How can I make this easier for you?”

Always Ask Before Offering Help

Respect independence by seeking consent.

Honor independence by requesting permission before offering assistance. Offering help is thoughtful. However, taking action without asking first can sometimes cause unintended harm. For instance, imagine someone with a mobility challenge trying to open a door. If another person steps in to push the door without checking first, it could throw them off balance or disrupt their efforts. While the intention is kind, this unexpected assistance might startle or unsteady them. Asking first ensures that your support is both wanted and genuinely helpful.

Respect Personal Space

Treat assistive devices as personal belongings.

Please respect assistive devices as personal items and only touch them if invited. Assistive devices are part of someone’s personal space, similar to a purse or backpack, and should not be touched without permission.

Avoid leaning on a wheelchair, handling a cane, or interacting with a service animal unless invited. These devices should be respected as extensions of the person’s autonomy.

Speak Directly to the Person

Engage with individuals, not their companions.

Speak directly to the individual, not their companion or interpreter. This demonstrates respect and ensures the person feels included in the conversation. At a restaurant, for example, it is dismissive and isolating when the server talks only to a friend about the meal.

Whether someone uses a communication device, sign language, or support from a caregiver, making eye contact and speaking directly to them shows respect, consideration, and inclusion.

Be Patient with Communication

Allow time for individuals to express themselves fully.

Give individuals time to express themselves and ask for clarification if needed. Communication takes many forms, and it’s important to give people the time they need to express themselves without rushing or interrupting.

Resist the urge to finish sentences or fill in pauses. If something isn’t clear, it’s okay to politely ask for clarification—asking is always better than making assumptions.

Don’t Overpraise or Patronize

Celebrate achievements genuinely without overemphasis.

Celebrate achievements sincerely, but avoid overemphasizing everyday tasks to keep things respectful and natural. Everyday actions don’t typically call for applause.

For example, imagine clapping for making a cup of coffee or answering the phone—it might feel out of place. Or consider applauding someone for picking up groceries—it would seem more awkward than supportive.

While celebrating milestones is meaningful, treating routine tasks as part of daily life helps maintain respect and avoids making someone feel singled out.

Avoid Pity

Promote equity by avoiding pitying remarks.

Foster equity by showing recognition and appreciation, rather than pity. Pity doesn’t create empowerment; equity does. For instance, telling someone, “You’re so brave to be here today,” can sometimes feel unintentionally uncomfortable. A more supportive approach might be recognizing their presence with a simple, “I’m glad to see you today.”

Instead of focusing on courage, you might say, “It’s great to see you so engaged.” Acknowledging their efforts by saying, “I admire how you’re always prepared,” fosters empowerment without making them feel singled out.

Be Aware of Accessible Environments

Ensure spaces are inclusive and accessible to all.

Accessibility ensures everyone can participate by providing easy access. Imagine being invited to a party but finding the only entrance is locked, with no way in—that’s how inaccessible spaces can feel.

Check for features like ramps, wide pathways, and accessible seating to ensure everyone can comfortably enter and move around. Also, be mindful not to block parking spaces or restrooms designated for accessibility, as they play a crucial role in helping others feel included.

Respect Service Animals

Understand that service animals are working, not pets.


Service animals are on duty, so please ask the owner before interacting with them. Service animals aren’t pets—they are working. Distracting them is like interrupting someone on the job.

Avoid petting, feeding, or calling out to a service animal. If you want to interact, always ask the owner first.

Mind Your Words

Use respectful and appropriate language at all times.

Language can uplift or harm, so using respectful terms and asking for preferences shows thoughtfulness and respect. Terms like “accessible parking” are respectful, while outdated ones like “crippled” or “suffering from” are not.

If you’re unsure, simply ask, “What terms do you prefer?” Thoughtful word choices are key to showing respect.

Don’t Stare or Ask Intrusive Questions

Maintain privacy and respect personal boundaries.

Respect privacy by avoiding intrusive questions and treating others with the consideration you would expect yourself. Curiosity is natural, but it’s important to express it with respect. For example, imagine someone staring at your shoes or asking, “Why is your hair like that?”—it can and would be uncomfortable.

Consider someone inquiring about your personal challenges in a way that feels too intrusive, like asking, “What’s wrong with you?” Focus on meaningful, respectful conversations that don’t invade personal space. Treating others with the same consideration and respect one would expect for themselves helps foster a more positive and inclusive atmosphere.

Don’t Assume All Disabilities Are Visible

Acknowledge that many disabilities are hidden yet significant.

Not all disabilities are visible, so it’s important to be thoughtful, support accommodations, and avoid dismissive comments. Disabilities, such as chronic pain or mental health conditions, aren’t always visible. Think of an iceberg—most of it is hidden, yet it’s still significant.

Avoid comments like “You don’t look disabled,” as they can feel dismissive of someone’s experience. Similarly, never question someone’s need for accommodations, as those adjustments are important for supporting their full participation.

Educate Yourself

Commit to continuous learning to support and foster inclusion.

Support inclusion by continuously learning through resources that expand knowledge and awareness. Learning about disabilities is like mastering a new skill—the more knowledge you gain, the better prepared you become.

For instance, you might read books or articles written by individuals with disabilities to gain insight into their experiences. Listening to podcasts, attending panels, or even taking courses on accessibility and inclusion can broaden your perspective and help you support others as an empathetic and effective ally.

Conclusion: The Small Things Matter

Meaningful interaction relies on empathy, respect, and clear communication. A “People First, Labels Second” approach shifts the focus to the individual, recognizing their unique experiences. Simple actions—asking rather than assuming, respecting boundaries, speaking directly, and listening with intention, can make conversations and interactions more natural and respectful.

Ensuring accessibility, understanding the role of service animals, and being open to learning are practical ways to promote equity and show respect. Small, intentional choices build stronger connections and create an environment where everyone feels valued.

Resources

Blue Like That: A Shade of What Lingers

Blue is often a color that lives in the silence—the spaces between words, actions, and intentions. It is present in the hesitation after “I didn’t mean to,” or the pause following “I’m fine.”

It isn’t the sharp ache of something breaking, but the softer strain of something unfinished. It is the weight of a breath held too long, a question left unasked, time slipping by unnoticed until it is already gone.

The poem encourages us to reflect on the spaces that shape our lives. It urges us to consider what lingers when words fail or when time has slipped away. Blue, in this context, is no longer just a color. It surpasses its ordinary definition and becomes a feeling, an atmosphere, a subtle presence that weaves through the everyday.

It suggests something unspoken, something deeply felt yet difficult to articulate. This presence exists in the pauses and silences that frame our experiences. In these still moments, we are invited to confront the weight of what we carry—our memories, our emotions, and the ineffable truths that define us.

Blue Like That
By Kerry Ann Wiley

Sky blue, azure, violet blue,
a bruise stretched across too much time.
A blue that never heals but learns to fade,
replaced by colors that sting differently:
amber, a taste of regret,
gray, like the sound of rain hitting a window never opened,
pale green, the almost-forgiveness.

Sky blue. Azure. Violet blue.
Not the blue of oceans or eyes, those blues are too eager, too visible.
This blue lingers in the corner of a room,
unnoticed until shadows stretch.

It stains the underside of clouds
after the sun fades,
when the air lies too still, too heavy.

It is the blue of a breath held too long,
ribs aching for the exhale that never comes.

The blue of something breaking,
not loud enough to call it shattered.
It waits in the silence,
soft but cold,
like the last light slipping off a glacier.

Blue like that.

A shade that doesn’t ask to be named but lingers anyway.
In the space between voices, where nothing is said as it should be.
In the pause after “I’m fine,” or “I didn’t mean to.”

Not a blue that washes out,
though scrubbed with reasons, good intentions, and forgetting.
It stays in the stitching of a shirt,
in the corners of photographs,
in the sharp edges of a name.

Sky blue. Azure. Violet blue.
It is the color of a door left half-closed,
a question no one dares to ask.
The shade of words swallowed down,
of things left undone.

Did it grow slowly,
creeping through the cracks, waiting for its moment?
Or did it strike all at once—a flash, a spark, a spill?

No answers.
Only the weight of it.
The heavy, hollow, endless blue.

Blue like that.


This blue settles into life’s unspoken moments, lingering where words are left unsaid, actions undone. Instead, it waits—persistent, a subtle ache woven into the fabric of a day, a year, a lifetime.

The Weight of the Unfinished

What makes this blue so familiar is its connection to the everyday. It isn’t tied to a single event or loss. It is the accumulation of all those things left unresolved: a conversation that drifts off before it finds its end, an apology that gets stuck in the throat, a goodbye that didn’t feel like a goodbye until much later.

This blue doesn’t arrive suddenly, nor does it take your breath away. Instead, it creeps into unnoticed spaces, lingering where vulnerability hides. At times, it settles in all at once, not as a wound, but as a bruise that fades yet never fully fades away.


While blue anchors the poem, it isn’t the only hue. Regret takes on the warmth of amber. It feels like something once full of potential, is now altered by what might have been. Amber doesn’t burn. It simmers—a quiet reminder that some mistakes grow heavier the longer we carry them.

The Shades of What We Carry

Gray is softer. It’s the sound of rain against a window left untouched, a reminder of something missed. Not by choice, but because the moment passed too quickly. Gray doesn’t sting. It lingers quietly in the background, steady and unyielding.

Then there is the hue of forgiveness. Not quite forgiveness, but something close—softer, easier to hold. It lingers on the edge, just out of reach, never fully materializing. It doesn’t promise resolution; it simply waits, uncertain yet hopeful, as if it might one day take form.

These colors blend, not perfectly or neatly, but in the messy way emotions do. Regret bleeds into longing. Longing shifts into hope, and then back again. The mix of these colors mirrors how emotions are never simple or separate. Regret, longing, hope, and forgiveness overlap, intertwining and changing. They reflect how our feelings are layered, complex, and connected. This complexity is what makes them feel so real.


What makes Blue Like That so powerful is its honesty. It doesn’t try to fix what’s unfinished or resolve the silences. It doesn’t promise that the empty spaces will be filled or that time will undo what has been left undone. Instead, it lets the weight of the unsaid and unresolved simply exist.

Why It Stays

This blue isn’t about despair. It is a subtle burden, the kind that comes with living alongside what can’t be undone. It is about accepting that life moves forward, even when something still lingers behind.

Blue Like That doesn’t push us to find answers. Instead, it encourages us to sit with our emotions, acknowledging their value without the need for justification. It reminds us that the unfinished, the unspoken, and the lingering spaces are not flaws or failures. They don’t define us, but they shape how we see, feel, and remember. This blue doesn’t need a name or a solution. It exists as it is—not to be resolved, but to be noticed and allowed to remain.

The poem leans into the power of the unspoken, recognizing the weight of what is left unresolved. The blue becomes a symbol of life’s unanswered questions, its pauses, and its incomplete stories. It is not about offering solutions but creating space to sit with the unfinished moments that shape us.

In Blue Like That, silence carries weight. Hesitations linger, and unspoken truths press into the gaps left behind. Blue becomes more than a color. It transforms into a feeling, settling gently into the spaces of what remains unresolved. It doesn’t ask for answers.It simply waits—asking only to be seen.

That is the gift of Blue Like That. It doesn’t tie things up neatly or offer closure. Instead, it opens a door. It invites us to step into the mess, to sit with the unanswered and the undone. To feel it—not to fix it—and let it become part of us.

Fragments of the Unspoken: A Reflection on Rediscovery

Have you ever found yourself at a loss for words when they mattered most? Perhaps you tried to explain, but the right words wouldn’t come. Or maybe it wasn’t about words at all—it was something deeper, a feeling you couldn’t quite shape or express. That disconnect leaves a frustrating gap between what you feel and what you can communicate, leaving you unsure how to close it.

This gap sits at the heart of Fragments of the Unspoken. The poem captures the fragmented process of rediscovering a voice that feels distant but not entirely gone. It explores the moments when expression feels out of reach and shows how, piece by piece, we can begin to find our way back.

Fragments of the Unspoken

By Kerry Ann Wiley

Even the horizon falters—
wavering between violet and ash,
its shape uncertain,
its edges undone.

And yet, beneath the murk,
something stirs—
a breath, faint but persistent.
Not sound, not silence,
but the space between:
a thread, twisting, fraying,
pulling itself to the surface.

Ocean blue—
it carries no answers,
only the rhythm of what is lost
returning in fragments.
A depth that does not hold,
but remembers.

Transformation in Fragments

At its core, Fragments of the Unspoken reflects on the process of losing and rediscovering aspects of oneself—be it voice, confidence, or connection.

The poem acknowledges that transformation is gradual and often fragmented. Through the imagery of shifting horizons and the rhythmic ocean, the poem shows how growth can emerge in small moments, rising from uncertainty.

Rather than presenting sudden clarity, the poem suggests that what feels lost lingers, waiting to resurface. When it does, it carries the weight of memory, the uncertainty of what was, and the strength shaped by change.

Navigating Uncertainty: The Horizon as a Symbol

The poem opens with a vivid image of a faltering horizon:

“Even the horizon falters—
wavering between violet and ash,
its shape uncertain,
its edges undone.”

The horizon, traditionally a symbol of clarity and stability, dissolves into ambiguity here. Its edges fray, wavering between colors and shapes. This imagery mirrors the disorientation experienced when something reliable—like one’s sense of self—becomes unclear.

Yet, the horizon doesn’t disappear completely. Even as it falters, it persists in a new form, suggesting that renewal is possible even in doubt. The horizon reflects uncertainty, reminding us that what feels lost can still remain, though in a different form.

Ocean Rhythms: Rediscovery in Pieces

Complementing the horizon’s symbolism, the ocean in the poem represents the process of rediscovery—fragmented, rhythmic, and deeply connected to memory:

“Ocean blue—
it carries no answers,
only the rhythm of what is lost
returning in fragments.
A depth that does not hold,
but remembers.”

The ocean provides no immediate clarity. Instead, it holds memories, mirroring the slow, rhythmic process of rediscovery. Like the tide, what is lost returns in fragments—pieces that slowly come together to form something new.

The references to ocean’s depth is particularly poignant because it doesn’t “hold,” implying impermanence, yet it “remembers,” preserving what was lost and returning it transformed. This suggests that rediscovery involves blending the past with the present, allowing what was lost to become something both familiar and new.

The portrayal is powerful because it reflects the complex nature of loss and change. The ocean’s inability to “hold” indicates that nothing is permanent, and what is lost can’t be fully kept. Yet, its “memory” shows that even without permanence, there’s a process of preservation and change. This evokes the emotional depth of rediscovery, where the past reshapes and returns, stirring feelings of nostalgia, change, and renewal.

Piecing Together the Fragments

Fragments of the Unspoken conveys that growth and rediscovery are not linear. The voice that once felt lost lingers beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rise. When it resurfaces, it is altered—carrying echoes of silence and uncertainty, tempered by the rhythm of change.

The closing lines reflect this:

“A depth that does not hold,
but remembers.”

These words suggest that transformation isn’t about regaining what was lost in its original form. It’s about finding fragments and embracing their evolution shaped by memory and time.

Conclusion: The Rhythm of Change

Fragments of the Unspoken captures the gradual process of rediscovery. Through the imagery of shifting horizons and the rhythmic ocean, the poem illustrates that what we lose doesn’t vanish entirely. It lingers, carried by memory and shaped by experience, waiting to resurface in fragments.

It is not about reclaiming what was lost, but about accepting the fragments that resurface, shaped by time and memory. These pieces help form a new understanding—one that is both familiar and altered.

Change unfolds gradually, carrying the weight of what has passed and the potential of what lies ahead. What once seemed lost isn’t gone; it lingers, waiting to return, reshaped. Rediscovery isn’t about regaining completeness, but about embracing what resurfaces. Over time, these fragments come together, offering a clearer sense of who we are and what we have become.

Seasons of the Pear Tree: A Reflection on Time and Change

There are times when everything slows down, and the pace of life becomes more deliberate. In these moments, the world feels simpler, steadier, and more meaningful.

Age Six: Sticky Hands, Open Skies

When I was six years old, the days felt endless, slow and steady. Time was a distant idea, something I barely noticed. In the yard, an old pear tree stood, its roots deep and firm. Every year, its branches sagged with heavy fruit, a quiet constant as the seasons came and went.

Picking pears was simple. My small hands reached for what I could, biting into the soft flesh. Juice ran down my wrist, sticking to my skin. I didn’t mind. The cores, half-eaten, were left on the ground, forgotten, or buried in the grass.

Afterward, I sat beneath the tree, the cool earth pressing against my legs. I watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky, always shifting. One moment, they were a whale; the next, a train. My thoughts followed their lead, light and free. The pear tree did not seem remarkable to me back then. It was just there—part of a world I had yet to understand.

Age Twenty-Two: The Pace Quickens

The ease of childhood gave way to the hurried, unrelenting pace of young adulthood. By twenty-two, life seemed to accelerate, leaving me to muddle through. The world grew louder, driven by a pace I couldn’t quite keep up with. Everything moved with purpose, though I often stumbled along, trying to make sense of it.

The pear tree stood where it always had, but it had faded into the background. It was a presence I noticed without truly seeing it. Picking the fruit had become second nature, almost mindless. Juice trickled down my wrist, though I hardly noticed. I wiped it away, my thoughts already on what came next.

Sitting beneath the tree no longer felt like a break from the world. I didn’t tilt my head back to watch the sky like I used to. My eyes stayed down, focused on the path ahead. The future wasn’t something to sit back and admire—it was something I had to chase.

Age Forty-Nine: What Remains

At 49, I no longer try to control life’s pace. The pear tree is still there, its branches thicker, its roots deeper. I still eat the fruit when it’s in season, but I take my time with it now. The juice from the pear runs down my wrist, and I let it.

Sitting under the tree doesn’t feel like searching anymore. The shade is enough. The clouds still drift by. Their shapes matter less now than the fact that they are there.

The questions that once pressed at 22—what I should do, who I should be—have softened over time. The questions don’t demand answers anymore. They just need space to exist.

The Thread That Ties It Together

At six, the world felt a little scattered—a sticky pear, a passing cloud. By twenty-two, I tried to make sense of it, searching for meaning. At forty-nine, I have learned to let things come together in their own time. They are what they are, shaped by time, without force.

The pear tree stands, its roots deeper, its shade still cool. The juice still runs down my wrist, and the years feel lighter when I take a moment to notice what has always been here.

Step into 2025: Share Your Thoughts with Wiley’s Walk

Greetings Wiley’s Walk Readers,

I hope 2025 is off to a great start for each of you. I am reaching out to gather your thoughts and feedback. What topics would you like to see explored on Wiley’s Walk (www.wileyswalk.com)?

Are there specific stories, challenges, or insights you’re interested in? Your input is invaluable in shaping content that resonates with our community.

To spark ideas, here are a few topics that might interest you:

  • Personal Narratives on Living with Cerebral Palsy (CP) and Other Disabilities: Sharing personal experiences and challenges faced while living with CP or other disabilities to foster understanding and connection.
  • Mental Health and Disability: Exploring the intersection of anxiety, stress, and living with a disability, along with strategies for building emotional well-being.
  • Inclusive Design and Accessibility: Discussing the importance of inclusive design—creating physical and digital spaces that everyone can use comfortably—and how it impacts daily life for people with disabilities.
  • Resilience and Adaptability: Resilience refers to the ability to recover from challenges, while adaptability is the capacity to adjust to new circumstances. Both are vital for overcoming daily obstacles and embracing change.
  • Advocacy and Awareness: Advocacy means actively supporting or promoting a cause, such as accessibility or disability rights, to inspire action and positive change. Awareness, while important, is about educating others to create understanding as a foundation for inclusion.
  • Navigating Social Perceptions: Examining how societal perceptions and stereotypes affect individuals with disabilities and sharing strategies to challenge and reshape these views.
  • Educational Insights: Sharing lessons and experiences from educating others about disabilities, inclusion, and how small changes can make a big difference in creating a more equitable world.

Do any of these resonate with you? Or is there something else you’d like us to focus on?

We value your feedback! You can share your thoughts and ideas in one of the following ways:

From personal narratives about living with disabilities to discussions on inclusive design and mental health, your voice is crucial in creating a more understanding and connected world. Engage with us on topics like resilience, advocacy, and the nuances of social perceptions that affect the daily lives of individuals with disabilities. Join the conversation at www.wileyswalk.com and help guide our content to inspire and educate—because every step on this journey counts. #WileysWalk

I look forward to hearing from you and creating meaningful content together.

Warm regards,
Kerry