Reflections from Wimbledon & the Capricorn Full Moon

This past week, as the Capricorn Full Moon illuminated the sky and the Wimbledon fortnight is coming to a close, sports and the game of life collided again for about the millionth time in for me. Thoughts about me and my kids, what we observe in each other, how we have to separate, and hopefully circle back to each other in deeper, more authentic ways rose to the surface. My tangential thoughts came through in conversations with them as I realized the radical stages of change we are all in, adulthood calling to each of them in so many different ways, and through the TV, as I caught as much tennis as I could during the week, and woke up with excitement for a Saturday morning Women’s Final that ended in heartbreak for American Amanda Anisimova.

Being the creature of habit that I am, I like to publish my blog on Sunday’s, so on the men’s side, my inspiration and insight only reach as far as the semifinals where Novak fell to the current world #1 Jannik Sinner, in the semifinal. It’s painful to watch the changing of the guard. After what feels almost like a lifetime watching Federer, Nadal and Djokovic, dominate, Novak is the last one standing and I’m still holding out that he will get his 25th Grand Slam title before he retires but the young talent playing in the final tomorrow poises a great threat to my hope.

Watching him age, display not just his athleticim but a superhuman mental game and a dedication to his health that made him a controversial figure in tennis and the world through the pandemic, will forever make him one of my favorite players of all time. But it wasn’t the match itself that moved me most this time. It was the looks of quiet concern and love on his children’s faces as they watched him struggle against Sinner. To see our parents as human is a right of passage and even Novak faces the same fate.

It reminded me of something I’m continuing to learn: We are so much more to our children than what we do. It’s who we are and our ability to show up as our authentic selves, bumps, bruises and all, and still be present to love, even on the hard days, that imprints on their hearts and builds a legacy of real connection.

The Capricorn Full Moon roared in on Thursday night, knocked me for a loop and brought a deep reckoning. I saw all the places I have abandoned myself (I talked about this a little last week too) choosing safety, comfort, and predictability instead of radical self-honesty. I saw how, in the name of stability, which was actually comfort in disguise, I had neglected parts of my own true experience, done things to preserve a path that was no longer mine to walk, or seek approval that my ego hadn’t outgrown.

That’s the thing about the mind, it can process theories that we claim to know so well, like shadow or inner child work that we need to do, or the dark night of the soul that we believe we have experienced, but until these concepts drop into your heart, we can’t embody them, and that’s what this moon did for me…painful and worth it.

I like to think that life isn’t all about healing, it’s more about growth and the path forward. Growth doesn’t ask us to win, it calls us to wake up, have the courage to look inward and recognize that the fear we feel in those raw moments isn’t weakness, it’s the call to rise and face the very thing that makes us scared - for me that is some confusing combination of not being enough or being entirely too much. But when we get quiet and can sit with ourselves, without the million distractions that are at our fingertips, we learn that we aren’t here to rise for others, or meet every demand laid at our feet, but to find the clarity of what is truly ours to carry and know how to ask for help to share the rest.

(Full Moon over St. George, UT - thanks for capturing and sending to me E, love your pictures always)

When our children are small, they need our protection and nurturing to help them survive. But as they grow, the call shifts from holding their hand to letting go, trusting that is the way they find their path to thrive. As they get older, letting them figure things out for themselves is where we all find our autonomy, and I’m feeling equal parts excitement, joy, and grief as it all unfolds. Yes, there is some disorientation of purpose, as this parenting journey has been the favorite of my life, and although it’s never over, the house is a lot quieter than it used to be.

I can’t help but come back to tennis. Another moment that stopped me in my tracks came during the women’s final as Amanda Anisimova, after a devastating 6–0, 6–0 loss, looked up into the stands and gave her mom a beautiful shout out filled with so much love. She had flown in just that morning to watch her daughter play in the final, a place she reached by beating the world #1, back in the game only eight months after taking a mental health break.

Amanda's story was born from her immigrant parent’s sacrifice, risk, and and dream to give their daughters greater opportunity in sports and life. The sudden loss of her father in 2019 to a heart attack shows us that today is all we have. The emotion in her voice and her connection to her mom, reminded me that it’s never just the titles, the trophies, or the highlight reels that define legacy. It’s the love that shows up after the loss and the roots that hold strong when the world feels shaky. It’s the present moment, one and then the next, that builds a life worth remembering.

Sports, for me, has always circled back to the hero’s journey. I've been watching it unfold across so many different fields, tracks, and pools since I was two years old on my grandpa’s lap. The rise, fall, and resurrection of athletes will always draw me in. Wimbledon delivered it again this year. not just in athleticism, but with the backstories that unfolded on and off the court and inspired me to tears again.

Thank you Wimbledon and the full moon for the continued teachings this week, I’m listening:) Nothing great is forged in comfort, we just have to trust our intuition on the path, even if we don’t always know the how of getting there.

With optimism,

Wendy