Noticing Beauty in Ordinary Endings

My webcam died last weekend.

Writing about a broken piece of tech feels somewhat silly. And that piece of tech and I have been on quite a journey since 2020. My first reaction was frustration — entirely unreasonable in that the webcam had a hard life.

I carried it on planes. Tossed it into bags.

Used it to coach all over the US and Canada.

I brought in and out of my yoga studio and office regularly. It was probably plugged and unplugged over a thousand times.
It lasted for six years, which isn’t really failing. It simply reached the end of a "full life."

I bought it right after I resigned from my pediatric practice.

It was super hard to find a webcam during the pandemic. My husband spent a long time researching and finding this exact webcam for me.

It was there at the beginning of Pause & Presence, supported more than 300 yoga classes, more than 300 podcast episodes and thousands of coaching hours, grand rounds, and guest podcasts. It connected me to so many wonderful humans across the world.

I was surprised by the tenderness I felt when it died. It wasn’t really about the webcam. It was about the life that happened through it.

I taught yoga on Monday with a new webcam. These days, you can get one in 48 hours. There are no shortages. It’s technologically better, but it doesn't have “the experience” of the other one — yet.

The theme I chose for yoga today was “Notice the beauty within and around you.” The beauty in the ordinary and the extraordinary. The beauty that’s there when we slow down enough to notice it.
The death of my webcam turned out to be a beautiful thing.

That little piece of tech helped launch a new career and a whole season of my life. It held so many connections and supported so much growth for me and others.

It moved with me to Nicasio and outlasted reasonable expectations despite my frequent disregard for its well-being.

The most unremarkable things, even a webcam, can become beautiful.