Carving New Paths: How Young Adults with Disabilities Are Thriving in Business by Jillian Day

Image: Freepik

Carving New Paths: How Young Adults with Disabilities Are Thriving in Business

By Jillian Day

[Editor’s note: Jillian Day created 508Assist.org to help people all across the web make their sites accessible to individuals with disabilities. A close family member, who has a visual impairment, had trouble finding a dinner recipe online that he could read easily. This inspired her to start 508Assist.org.When she’s not chasing after her little ones, Jillian enjoys being outside, whether she’s fishing, hiking, or geocaching with her family.]

The business world is often portrayed as fast-paced, cutthroat, and unforgiving—but that’s only one version of the story. For young adults with disabilities, the landscape comes with its own unique set of barriers, yet also a rising tide of possibilities. We’re living in an era where entrepreneurship is becoming more accessible, remote work is redefining the workplace, and diverse thinking is increasingly celebrated. What this means is that there’s never been a better time for young adults with disabilities to not just get by, but to thrive and lead with purpose.

Rewriting the Rules with Entrepreneurial Spirit
You don’t have to wait for someone to hand you a seat at the table when you can build your own. More and more young adults with disabilities are doing exactly that—starting businesses that align with their values, needs, and strengths. Entrepreneurship allows for flexibility, autonomy, and the chance to challenge the way traditional workplaces operate. Instead of adapting to outdated systems, they’re creating new models that are inclusive from the ground up.

Tech Is Leveling the Playing Field
If you’ve ever felt like the business world wasn’t designed with you in mind, technology is slowly flipping that script. Assistive tools, accessible software, and communication platforms make it easier to run meetings, collaborate globally, and work from just about anywhere. You can start a marketing agency from your kitchen table or manage a drop-shipping store without ever setting foot in a physical office. The tools are out there—you just need to find the ones that let you move the way you move.

Online Learning for Business Skills Advancement
Gaining a sharper understanding of how business works doesn’t always mean stepping away from your life to sit in a classroom. Enrolling in an online Master of Business Administration program gives you the tools to lead with purpose, from mastering strategic planning to making smart, data-backed decisions that move organizations forward. These programs are built with working professionals in mind, so you can grow your expertise without pausing your paycheck. With the right coursework and commitment, you’ll walk away equipped to navigate complex business landscapes with confidence.

Remote Work Isn’t a Trend—It’s a Game Changer
The pandemic forced a lot of companies to reevaluate what “workplace” really means, and that opened doors which were previously bolted shut. Remote work gives young adults with disabilities a chance to control their environments, limit unnecessary challenges, and focus on doing great work rather than performing for appearances. You can work in a hoodie, take breaks when you need them, and show your value based on results—not just face time.

Mentorship Can Be a Lifeline
No one should have to navigate the business world alone, especially when the map was never drawn with you in mind. Mentorship from someone who gets it—someone who’s lived experience mirrors your own in even the smallest ways—can be the difference between feeling stuck and moving forward. Whether it’s a fellow entrepreneur with a similar disability or an advocate who understands how to cut through red tape, the right mentor can help you avoid landmines and keep you focused on your goals.

Authenticity Is Your Advantage
Here’s the thing: pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting and unsustainable. Your lived experiences bring a perspective to the table that most people don’t have, and that’s powerful. Whether you’re pitching an idea, building a brand, or applying for a position, leaning into who you are isn’t just the right thing to do—it’s your competitive edge. Authenticity resonates. People remember it. Businesses are finally catching on to the fact that different doesn’t mean less—it often means better.

Finding the Right Communities Makes All the Difference
You don’t have to brave this road solo. There are thriving communities—online and off—that are built around support, shared experiences, and opportunity. From Slack groups for disabled freelancers to LinkedIn circles centered on inclusive entrepreneurship, these spaces exist to uplift and connect. You can ask for advice, share wins, learn new skills, or even find your next collaborator. Tapping into the right circles can take your career from isolated to inspired.

Taking Up Your Own Space
Maybe you’ve been taught to be quiet, to stay small, to wait your turn. Forget that. You’re not here to be grateful for scraps—you’re here to bring something original and necessary to the table. Whether that’s through launching your own business, leading within an existing company, or just doing your job in a way only you can, you have every right to take up space in this world. Own your story. Use your voice. Let the business world bend toward you for once.


There’s no one-size-fits-all approach to thriving in business, especially if you’re navigating a disability. But here’s what’s true: the world is shifting. Accessibility is no longer a side note—it’s becoming central to innovation, leadership, and culture. That means your presence isn’t just valid, it’s valuable. Keep pushing. Keep building. Because you don’t just belong in the business world—you’re helping redefine what it means to succeed in it.

Discover the transformative power of support and empowerment at Whispers of Hope, where Karen Lynn-Chlup inspires individuals with disabilities and their families to embrace a world of possibilities.

 

Reflections of My Heart: Spring Delights

Photo of spring flowers

I wrote this poem because I love nature, not just flowers, but the beauty of it all, and what it does to me.

When I was very little, I noticed when I was outside observing, I would make little or no noise. My soul quieted. I slowed down and listened. Everything else faded away. I stood or sat and listened, listened to the birds, the trees, the sounds of planes overhead or cars driving by. People talking, and me watching people. Then, all of a sudden, I was alone with myself. Not a care in the world.

I found this peace, this peace, ‘this thing’ that used to, and still does, come over me. Relaxing into that moment of stillness, I forgot everything. I simply was, existing in the here and now, happily observing in the moment, joyously free.

Now that I’m writing this, I can tell you my breathing quiets. I feel this soothing sensation consoling me. All my anxiety and tension dissolve while sitting, watching, only to be.

Back one spring day in the 1970s, I put this experience into these words.

Spring Delights

Oh, how lovely spring’s time is,
Flowers blooming,
Sycamore trees swaying,
Shades of light splattering the sky

So I sit and ponder,
Seeking nature’s unique sanctuary.

Butterfly wings, and crawly things,
Birds that fly far, far away.

But you know what?
If I could choose anything…
I would choose to be
Spring delight!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.


Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Ann Burgess via Wikimedia.

The Job Hunt with a Disability: Real Tips, No Fluff by Jillian Day

Image: Freepik

[Editor’s note: Jillian Day created 508Assist.org to help people all across the web make their sites accessible to individuals with disabilities. A close family member, who has a visual impairment, had trouble finding a dinner recipe online that he could read easily. This inspired her to start 508Assist.org. When she’s not chasing after her little ones, Jillian enjoys being outside, whether she’s fishing, hiking, or geocaching with her family.]

The Job Hunt with a Disability: Real Tips, No Fluff

There’s nothing easy about the job search in general—but throw a disability into the mix, and suddenly you’re playing the game on hard mode without a rulebook. Whether you’re fresh out of college, re-entering the workforce, or pivoting careers, you’re probably juggling more than the average applicant. You’re not just looking for a job—you’re looking for a place that understands what you bring to the table and has actually made room for it. Here’s some practical advice that’s been earned, learned, and passed along by folks who’ve been in your shoes.

Start With Employers Who Get It
Not every company is on the same page when it comes to accessibility, and that’s putting it politely. Rather than burn energy convincing someone that inclusive hiring is worth their time, focus your search on organizations that already walk that walk. Check out job boards like AbilityJobs or Inclusively, or go through workforce development programs that have relationships with disability-friendly employers. And if you’re ever unsure about a company, stalk their website—look at their diversity statements, benefits, and leadership bios. The truth is usually buried somewhere in plain sight.

Remember Your Story Is Your Superpower
You’ve probably been told to “frame your disability as a strength,” which can sound like branding nonsense when all you’re trying to do is be taken seriously. But here’s the twist: you’ve been solving problems, adapting, and negotiating with the world in ways that most people never have to think about. That’s resilience, creativity, and patience all rolled into one. You don’t need to perform inspiration, but if you can talk authentically about what you’ve learned from your experience—and how that shows up in your work ethic or approach—you’re already setting yourself apart.

Open a Business of Your Own
Sometimes the best move isn’t finding the right employer—it’s becoming your own. Starting a business when you have a disability comes with its own set of considerations, but it also means building a space that works for you from the ground up. You’ll need to map out your business idea, register it with your state, apply for an EIN, and set up a proper business bank account. Forming an LLC can protect your personal assets while adding legitimacy to your venture, and you can cut costs by self-filing or using a highly rated online formation service—learn how to start an LLC in California with ZenBusiness.

Know When (and If) to Disclose
This one’s tricky. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer when it comes to disclosing a disability. Some folks prefer to be upfront during the application process to advocate for accommodations early. Others wait until there’s a job offer or onboarding. The right move depends on your comfort level, the nature of your disability, and whether you need immediate accommodations to get through interviews. Just remember: you’re never legally required to disclose unless you’re requesting specific support. And if a company reacts poorly? That’s data. Better to find out early than six months into the job.

Get Real About the Application Game
The job application process wasn’t built for nuance. Automated systems screen resumes, recruiters skim for keywords, and nobody’s reading between the lines. So play the game, but play it on your terms. Tailor your resume with words straight from the job posting, keep your cover letters sharp and specific, and don’t over-explain gaps unless it’s helpful. If you use assistive tech, make sure your resume is formatted in a way that won’t confuse applicant tracking systems—clean fonts, no columns, and standard file types go a long way.

Interview on Your Terms
Interviews can be weird for anyone, but if you need accommodations—extra time, a specific format, an interpreter—it adds another layer. Ask for what you need in writing beforehand, and don’t feel like you’re “asking for special treatment.” You’re requesting access, not a favor. Also, don’t be afraid to flip the script in the interview. Ask them how they support employees with disabilities. If their answer is vague or defensive, that’s a red flag, not your cue to shrink yourself.

Tap Into Community Wisdom
You don’t have to go through this alone. Online communities, local advocacy groups, and professional networks specifically for people with disabilities are goldmines of support. These are the folks who can tip you off to which companies are actually inclusive, share hacks for navigating annoying parts of the process, or just remind you that your frustration is valid. Follow disabled professionals on social media, join career forums, and attend webinars or job fairs tailored to your experience. Sometimes the best career coach is someone who’s just a few steps ahead of you on the path.

Don’t Let Rejection Rewrite Your Worth
Here’s the hardest part: you’re probably going to hear “no” more than you’d like. It’s not always about you—it’s often about bias, ignorance, or systems that aren’t built for real inclusion. Don’t internalize that. You are not the rejection emails. You are the persistence, the hustle, the skill set, and the perspective that can’t be replicated. And when it finally clicks—when the right employer sees all of that—it’s going to make every ounce of effort worth it.


The job search for people with disabilities isn’t just about finding work—it’s about finding dignity, autonomy, and a workplace that actually understands inclusion beyond the buzzwords. It’s tiring, yes. It’s unfair sometimes. But it’s also filled with possibility, especially when you start steering the process instead of being pushed through it. Keep showing up, keep asking questions, and don’t apologize for demanding more from the world of work. You’re not just trying to get in the door—you’re trying to reshape what the room looks like. And that matters more than most people realize.

Discover the transformative power of support and empowerment at Whispers of Hope, where Karen Lynn-Chlup inspires individuals with disabilities and their families to embrace a world of possibilities.

 

Reflections of My Heart: Splash

Photo of flight of butterflies filling the sky.

I wrote this poem one glorious spring day in April 1979. At the time, I was young, and things seemed to be looking up for me. I had just won the Civil Rights case that guaranteed access to higher education for Californians with disabilities. I was full of excitement, energy and enthusiasm—and relief because my lawsuit had not been a sure thing. With a great sense of happiness and joy, I felt free, like a kid running in the sand on the beach. I wanted to spread my wings and fly like a butterfly. So I drove to beautiful Rancho Park, in Los Angeles, so I could be outside.

Along from my earlier trip alone to San Francisco, this was one of my first ventures into unfamiliar territory without my mother at my side. I was definitely spreading my wings and building my confidence.

This trip to Rancho Park was a continuation of my commitment to proving I could do things by myself and rejoicing, not only in taking action, but in saying I would do something, and then doing what I said. Even today, after a lifetime of achievements and doing things for myself, some people (I won’t say who) still doubt me and my abilities. But I can do for myself, and I do.

After arriving in Rancho Park, I put down my blanket, while watching all the delights of spring that the moment offered, like the gray stone and the moon drop that used to be there.

I took everything in, and was in the presence of my true self, listening, breathing, looking up and around, hearing all the sounds around me—children, running, screaming, joyously moving about, and the sights of mothers on the look-out, and couples hugging and kissing, sighing in romantic love.

Fully focused and engaged, I was fully there. It was not like being present when I think about what I’m going to write next in a story or poem. It was being in that moment, fully present, not thinking about anything else, except what was there surrounding me.

I inhaled the sweet, gentle breeze blowing through the sycamores. Seeing shades of light splattering through the powerful trees, the breath-taking beauty of being, I was awed and inspired by nature. And the flowers, the birds, the bees, and the butterfly wings springing up into the air, much to my delight.

Being free in that moment allowed me to feel my feelings deeper than ever before. And if I can do it, you can do it, too.

PS: News Flash: Jillian Day of 508assist.org has contributed another useful new article to this blog, “The Job Hunt with a Disability_ Real Tips, No Fluff.” And it’s the real deal. Don’t miss it, when it goes live next Wednesday, April 9th.   

Splash

A splash of water
Sprinkles upon a gray stone
Like a soft moon drop!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.


Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Luna sin Estrella courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. 

Reflections of My Heart: Snapshot of Long Ago

Karen Lynn at Venice Beach in Late 1950s

One day in 1979, as feelings from my past reminded me of who and what I was, I wrote this poem. The day I wrote it was not ordinary, not like every other day. That day, for some reason, memory took me back to when I was eight years old, back to a troubling point in my life when I was more than uncomfortable.

Even now, after almost seven decades, I remember it as if today were sixty-six years ago. The thoughts and feelings of that day marked the juncture when I began to think seriously about myself. And the memory of it was so painful that I had to take breaks while putting my feelings into poetry.

I will always remember that day in the late 1950s. I was eight years old, a child old enough to be aware of my body, yet young enough for such an experience to leave a permanent imprint on my mind.

The school bus had picked up my mother and me, along with all the other children from my class, as well as some from other grades. Everyone wanted to go swimming, and the school did this for us only twice each summer, so it was a big treat. The school took us to Venice Beach because it had an Olympic-sized pool.

We all got off the bus and walked down the boardwalk. It was a glorious day, and at the pool, we swam to reach the other end. A few of the kids could go three-fourths of the way, but many could not do more than wade in the shallow end. I made it halfway, then turned back and stayed there playing, where the water was not too deep, and I felt safe.

Of course, there were teachers with us to make sure everyone had fun and stayed safe, but they were all busy, so I was on my own, and I did what I knew, practicing the techniques I had learned. And I didn’t have a care in the world until Mama got me out of the pool and helped me dress. That was when, out of nowhere, I became aware of a sound I had heard before, a sound I had barely noticed.

At first, I wondered what focused my interest on the sound, so I sharpened my concentration and honed in on what I heard, trying to both recall and gather information.

I stood there, dressed, leg brace on. Ready to go. Then I heard it again as I took a step forward—a CLINKING, a vibration.

It was me. It was the way I walked. I zoomed into that sound—my brace buckle. With each step, my left foot took, the buckle tapped the metal of the brace.

My limp was clear, pronounced. When walking without the brace, my left foot slapped down on the cement with every step. You would know it was me coming. Without the brace—the rattle.

Numb, flustered, I stared down at my foot and asked myself, “Why can’t I be normal?”

Keeping silent, not trying to answer, for the first time in my young life, I took mental notes about myself.

With my brace on, my foot did not slap. My steps made a completely different sound, the clang of my brace strap’s buckle, plus the dull thud of my hushed limp.

This realization shook me to my core. I didn’t want to be this way. Still, I knew I was. And I knew I had to give special regard to who I was.

This feeling made me uncomfortable, vulnerable, and unsteady emotionally. When I hear this sound today, I relive those moments and am immersed in them, and they show up spontaneously.

Throughout the years, even today, when I go for a walk, it’s with me. My constant companion, it’s by my side. The remembrance of those sounds is always with me, even though I have not worn a brace since childhood.

This makes me feel inferior, and brings back the doubts I used to suffer, even though I worked through those emotions years ago. I reel in the feelings and nurture my being, knowing I must come to terms with myself.

I say, “Accept honey, accept.”

Every time I hear that sound, it triggers this experience, but I immediately recognize what’s happening. I acknowledge my thoughts, redirect and change my thinking, and move forward with positive affirmations.

There is no hiding from my thoughts or feelings, or how I’d like to be. But I can rein them in. I make myself think only good thoughts—love, acceptance, and telling myself that I am beautiful just the way I am, affirming it over and over again until the hurtful thoughts disappear and I believe what I’m saying to myself.

During these moments, I gaze into the blue sky and visualize the ocean. I send peace and love to the disabled parts of my body and think about taking action, about giving myself whatever I need to heal. I have to be honest and accept my imperfections and my disabilities. I must give myself my own approval and recognition because I have to validate myself. No one else can. Only I can give this to myself, and complete healing will come when I have done all the work.

Not only do I need to nurture and care for myself unconditionally, but to surround myself with people who love me and tell me the truth. While turning to the power of love and forgiveness, I think about all the years of my life and all the letting go. I know, even more now, that I must dig deeper. I must gently recognize, release, grasp, and understand so I can let go more completely.

Thinking back, I gaze at that picture from a day long past.

Snapshot Of Long Ago

On that day,
That glorious day
Where I
Had not a care

I reminisce
And I remember
The warm water
Rinsing through my hair,
As I tried splashing and swimming
To reach the other side.

I remember
Dressing and
Looking down
At my heavy bars
That buckled my
Paralyzed left leg

And, I remember
Sitting near mother dear,
Singing songs
With a childish flair

On that summer’s day,
I remember
My syncopated rhythm
As I began prancing at play,

Those snapshots
Have come and gone,
As they ring through my soul,

Only now,
They drift back
My way,
As I gaze
Into that same
Peaceful pond
Upon where I stood,
Long time past,
Remembering the picture
That fills my memories
Of my life’s past!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.


Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image from Karen Lynn-Chlup’s personal collection and not to be reproduced without permission.

Reflections of My Heart: Smile

I wrote this poem back in 2004. I remember it being summer. My husband, Chris, wanted to go windsurfing, so we prepared. We packed food, his windsurfing board with its sail, and clothes to layer in the sun. I also put together some things I could enjoy my time alone time with as I don’t windsurf. 

The next morning, six-thirty came. We dressed, ate, and drove down to San Diego. 

What a beautiful day with a clear blue sky and a sparkling beach! On the sand, Chris and I set up our area for his gear, and a little while later, he waded into the surf. I sat watching from one of my cozy quilts and took home videos of my man having a blast. 

I love watching people, and one little girl was having a joyful time running back and forth with her blue bucket and tiny shovel. 

As I observed her from the shade of a tall tree, my mind drifted back to my own childhood and memories of my dance teacher, Al Gilbert. 

Al had said to me, “I saw you dance and smile.” 

Deep in my thoughts, I sighed. He was the one. He was the one who gave me his love, his all, and his confidence, the confidence I grew up to have, and comfort in being myself around everyone and anyone. 

Al did what he loved the most, and how he loved me while understanding the essence of my soul. You can find out more about Al and how he helped me here.

Smile

Under the heavens’ green canopy,
I see you smile
And dance
As the sun filters
Through the gentle wistfulness
Of a summer’s breeze.

I look from a distance upon
Your gentle glow,
Watching the smile in your eyes,
The singing of the soul in your face,
The happiness in your heart

Capturing life’s simple pleasures,
The fulfillment of your happy heart!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.


Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image from Karen Lynn-Chlup’s personal collection. This is her with Al Gilbert performing in her first dance recital.

Reflections of My Heart: Silent Voice

Photo of menacing cumulus cloud

This poem was written in 2020, about a friend who disappeared from my life. It was during the COVID-19 pandemic, and I had fallen. Broke my wrist. The doctor could not set it in a cast. It was that serious a break. So, seven days later, I saw an orthopedist for surgery.

Weeks went by. I recovered. And within three months, I was pretty much back to myself. I got one phone call from my friend. He told me he was sorry. Days went by. Nothing. Not one word. So, in the fullness of time, I went on with my life. Five years have passed. Once a carefree friendship. Now, silence. An absence of sound. Muffled.

Your voice stayed with me through turbulent times. Presently, your voice has stilled. It’s in a state of being alone. Staying away from me. Yet, I hear you. I hear you with my sixth sense. I listen. Carefully. I hear all the sweet nothings. All the words that didn’t hold up. Then you told me you didn’t want to be part of my life.

Even after this, I bless you. I hold you up to the light, and I forgive. I know I’ll never hear from you again. Still, it would be nice to hear that you are all right. It would be nice to hear my friend’s kind voice—the way you used to be.

Silent Voice

As the days go by,
Your silent voice grows thicker,
Thick like a cumulus cloud
Ready to erupt.

Your once carefree soul
Now stands in the mist
Of turbulent thoughts,
Seeking silent stillness.

Day by day you retreat
Further into solitude.

Your muted murmur
Says not a word.
It has no sound.
It speaks without a voice.

Yet, I hear you anyway
With my subtle sixth sense.

I listen carefully and clearly.
You tell me with your own
Sweet sealed lips

That you are leaving my life.

You tell me
That you love me,
That you care about me,
And that you are concerned
About my happiness and me.

However, you urge me to go.
You urge me to move on with my life.
You urge me to be happy in my journey ahead.
And urge me to remember always,
Never to forget!

Yet, all I want
Is to hear your sweet, loving voice.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by GerritR via Wikimedia.

Reflections of My Heart: Sipping Your Sweetness

Karen Lynn-Chlup at the Self Realization Fellowship Shrine

Karen Lynn-Chlup at the Self-Realization Fellowship Shrine

I wrote this poem in mid-May 1977 as I sat on a stone bench at the Self Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine in Pacific Palisades. Fortunately, it survived the fires of January 2025, but back to my story…

Sitting on the shore, I looked into the water of the lake. Closing my eyes, I turned inward. Peace flowed. The quieter I got, the more it flowed. It flowed through my veins, and through my entire body. I felt its natural beauty surrounding me. I asked. And I received. I encompassed my wholeness as a person with a disability. I felt a calmness and a cleansing, as if I were sipping sweetness. The Southern California breeze cleansed and calmed me. I didn’t want to leave, not wanting my time there to end. But I knew it would. And I knew I could come back whenever I wanted.

That day, I had a whole new way of looking at myself, my life, and my disabilities.

Sipping Your Sweetness

I sit
Amongst your glorious garden,
Turning towards
Your natural beauties
For peace and quiet.

I ask you to soothe my wounded soul,
And as I sip the sweetness
From your nectar,
I feel your soothing, gentle breeze
Calming and cleansing my tattered heart.

At once, I feel
A delicate delight
And a whispering touch of wisdom
That sings out to my soul!

I gain comfort and
An abundant bounty,
Which mends
My clipped wing.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image is from Karen Lynn-Chlup’s personal collection. 

Reflections of My Heart: Silver Birch

Photo of dropping silver birch tree with sunset in background

In 1983, after years of walking with a sound imprinted on my mind, a sound that only I heard, I wrote this poem.

Again, the clanking of the steel clasp against its brace, beating on it, over and over. With every step my left leg took, my brace buckle banging against the steel rang in my mind. I wished the sound would disappear. But it wouldn’t. With each step, it went off, loud as a siren, triggering this signal in my mind, an imprint.

Every time I took a step with my left foot, a syncopated beat went off, and I wished it weren’t mine. I wished it would cease or fade into the distance. But it was mine, even after all the years of hard work, therapy, and dance.

In my mind, I hid, running for cover, behind the birch tree. But its branches were unable to support me. Delicate, like me, it desperately needed its own special care to breathe and grow.

On a cul-de-sac, where I used to live in L.A., in a beautiful location on a street that is now exclusively for the rich, stood a brick home built in the 1950s. I stood in awe before it. Above the flowering bushes, a silver birch towered. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, but one of its limbs drooped, wilted and weak. How could the owners not care for it? Something connected within me.

I listened—closely. Again, I heard my own syncopated rhythm—my leg and the way I was. Almost falling to the ground, the birch needed its own support. It didn’t get enough water or care to stand in the hot California sun. But it helped me recognize that I needed to love and care for myself as well as nature’s plants, even more than I already did. It taught me to stay strong in adversity and keep my smile, no matter what. Because if I smiled, my heart would stay strong and keep smiling, too.

So I yielded to my heart and accepted—loving my leg and myself unconditionally.

Silver Birch

As I walked down the winding path,
I limped like a cat with a wounded paw.
I listened,
And the only sound I heard
Was a didactic hand clap, clapping
In a syncopated rhythm.

Noticing this,
I ran to hide under a silver birch,
But it was thin and its leaves
Unstable as my imperfect paw.

Wanting and waiting to cover its bare trunk,
I took another step.
I saw a trembling branch
Unable to accept its own problem,

Its leaves fallen to the ground,
Powerless to raise itself up again;
Desiring only
The lessons, which were never learned.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Roman Eisele, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Reflections of My Heart: Showers

Painting of a red sunset

In 1985, at the end of a long day, I wrote this poem as that long day settled into dusk.

I had been searching for calm and balance my whole life, and in the hours before me, I prayed and searched for balance. Something to remain upright and steady within me, where the elements are equal or in the correct proportions. A oneness. A harmony. A truth I could lean on, its stillness to quiet my hurt, to take away my emotional pain. I wanted to make peace with my anguish. I wanted to understand balance that cannot be forced.

The red rainfall keeps pouring, pounding down upon me. Yet, I keep my mind ajar. Patience. Looking for the light. Why? I ask with an open heart. Because I know I’m not on the other side yet.

I keep mindful, exploring, with a mindful attention. It hurts though. It hurts to be still and quiet and face all my unhealthy behaviors. But maybe, just maybe, I can do it a little at a time. Maybe I can do it gradually and piecemeal. Maybe I can breathe through it with a consciousness or an awareness while looking and moving forward toward the answer. Together, with the light. With a balance clearly from the divine.

Tonight, maybe I can dig deeper to accept more and let go of my haunting issues about the way my body responds to the foods I eat and its allergies.

I give myself the permission to heal with love and care.

Showers

In the hours before me,
I see no balance.
No sense of oneness.
No acceptance.
No stillness.

I see only extremes
In the afternoon’s
Crimson showers

They encompass my every thought
Its cerise rainfall fails to bring bright
Light even when I look that way
I keep looking for that lit sky,
Which others often find!

But I,
I keep searching and waiting
For that one special day
When balance will become mine!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Arkhip Kuindzhi, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.