Enduring Change Through Three Breaths [with Guest, Lindsay Swoboda]

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Summer has been a whirlwind, pulling me away from my writing. As I’ve been recovering from an unexpected surgery, traveling, and helping my kids get back to school, I am so thankful that my writing friend and fellow military spouse, Lindsay Swoboda, has generously offered to step into this space with us. It’s my pleasure to welcome Lindsay as our first-ever guest contributor and invite you into her writing, her story, and her invitations for reflection.

—Kristin

Lindsay Swoboda is the author of Holding On & Letting Go: A Life in Motion. Her Substack, The Eleven O’Clock Number, explores the art of what matters most. Lindsay believes in the power of storytelling and loves encouraging and connecting with fellow creatives.

The filmed production of Hadestown: The Musical kicks off with a slow pan across an audience humming with anticipation. Short backstage snippets float onto the screen next, and I watch as the performers apply makeup, the stage crew moves fluidly behind the scenes, and the pre-performance energy escalates. In a final moment before showtime, the cast gathers in a huddle, and someone says:

“Let’s take three breaths. One breath for the community. Another breath for being in the moment. Our final breath…” The cast draws in closer to each other, “...is for love.”

After that, the lights rise on stage and the actors and actresses, musicians, and crew take their places. I know nothing of the plot to come, only that I promised myself I would try to see more musicals and plays this year. I settle deeper into my movie theater chair, grateful for this opportunity on a random Wednesday to slip away and immerse myself in story, song, and dance. Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, would call my current seat an “Artist’s Date,” or dedicated time to honor and nourish my inner muse. I would agree that this qualifies, and thank goodness, because I’ve been trying to rekindle my creative spark again for over a year now.

It turns out Hadestown is an exciting twist on timeless tales told fresh. It melds together the ancient Greek myths of Persephone and Hades with Orpheus and Eurydice. Last year, I launched an important tale of my own into the world, my book Holding On and Letting Go: A Life in Motion. The kindest repeated review I’ve received (and I hereby admit to working diligently to receive said reviews without wincing or dodging) has been that the themes I tried to uncover are timeless. I wrote to explore the duality present in change, exploring life as a creative and military spouse while our family was swept across the globe due to my spouse’s service. We’ve been to every continent save Antarctica.

The changes we experienced during active military life were nuanced. While our boxes were unpacked around the world, so also were questions about purpose, identity, friendship, and belonging. This past year, our family has faced challenges and change yet again. My husband retired from 21 years in the Marine Corps in September 2025, and the gap year that has followed has presented similar life themes for us. I felt the familiar twisting of both/and following us through months of grief and goodness, sorrow and celebration, highs and lows all jostled together in tandem. There are still more questions than answers that follow us.

I think that is why the theme of enduring change resonated with readers. Life is layered. It is not one thing/emotion/success/person/problem/you-name-it that we carry and deal with on a daily basis…but many, all together, all at once. I also believe we look for anchors along the way, be it people, places, crafts, or dreams (and often a wondrous combination of all) that serve to tether us to a fine strand of hope that we can, we will, we must keep going. This year, I found myself reaching back to find an anchor in my past writing. Perhaps that sounds pompous; I don’t mean it that way. Reading how we made it through trials and recognizing that creativity helped me persevere through hard times provided a needed perspective in the present.

So as I watched the Hadestown cast take those three deep breaths, I took a breath of my own. I thought of three lines I often return to in my book, and how they still fill me with the continued oxygen of presence, community, and love. I’d like to reflect and share them with you, as well as offer a few prompts to honor your creative practice.

What does a well-lived life look like after military service? Even though we are glad to have the “mission accomplished” at last, it also has a hollow aspect to it. I understand now that a job like active-duty military service is not a job at all— it is a lifestyle. It has a language, rituals, and pace of its own. Stepping away from it has felt less like a “transition,” and more like pouring a whole new foundation to stand upon as a family.

I stepped away from public writing completely after autumn 2025, addressing my own burnout from years of a high-alert nervous system dealing with global moves, weathering deployments, and re-establishing my career every few years. Stepping away might not have been the wisest decision coming off of a book launch, but it was a necessary one. I felt myself notice all the micro-shifts we needed to make, including actually resting. For the first time, every choice could be our own. This is exciting and daunting, and I’m glad I have slowed down enough to accept the invitation to question what we want to build next in our lives, and what I want to do next, creatively.

Having always been champions of building community where we are, we have said goodbye to three more dear families this summer. Two of them are still active-duty military, and orders swept them away, and the third retired like us, but is not staying put. I am thankful we are choosing to stay where we are, for now, and am allowing my heart to learn not just how to say goodbye, but learning how to lean into both the friendships we’ve established that are widespread and the delight of those close by.

People, and the relationships with them, are messy and complicated and hard at times, but I believe that people are also the point. Our stability in being in one place this year opened up a greater opportunity for us to commit to serving others well. Now the challenge is to continue to stay open, to remember how many times I have been the “new girl,” and to keep welcoming others into our lives, no matter how fleeting their time may be.

I’ve fallen back in love this year, in two beautiful ways. One with my spouse, and how he is growing outside of the uniform. The second heartbeat flutters for creativity once more. I felt drained months ago and faced a fear that I might not write anything of merit ever again. In that fear, I breathed through it and filled journals, sketchbooks, my countertops with bread, and my soul with good books.

After being on the runway that launches a work into the world, I am so grateful to step off for a time and fall back in love with the act and process of creating again, for no other purpose than the enjoyment it provides. Falling back in love with my actual life has given me the perseverance to live it thoughtfully, one small step at a time.

Will we make it through our current uncertainty? I believe we will. The rest of this year might continue to be uncomfortable, but it will also be unexpectedly joyous and full, too. I keep taking one breath at a time, for presence, for people, and for love.

Set aside 10-20 minutes to explore any prompts that interest you in your journal pages.