I'm quoting author Jeff Brown for Part 2 of my To Fight or Not series, which began in yesterday's post : We are powerful beyond measure, and so deeply vulnerable at the same time. This may seem like a dichotomy, but it isn't. We have misunderstood real power. It has been something assertive, . . .
To fight or not to fight, that is the question. How tightly do we want to hold on to life? What are we willing to suffer to do that? Is having hope delusional? Should everyone be told the truth about their condition? I've seen some social media discussions about what is and is not encouraging . . .
Safe shelter. That's all any of us are looking for in another. Being seen. I mean, really being seen. It's the beauty of our relationship with our pets, isn't it? Because they have no judgment. Nothing gets in the way of our pets seeing us at our core. Knowing us. Knowing exactly who we are. Riley . . .
A 1940s version of a California Icon: the precursor to a woody. But without wood. All of these photos were taken a week ago at a 1945 festival in my city, San Jose, Calif. Timing is coincidental, if you believe in coincidences. I'm not going to make the obvious political connection to this era. . . .
Few things are more frustrating, but this is a tried and true technique for insomnia. I know, because I've used it. The idea of being aware of your breath comes out of meditation and counting exhales instead of inhales takes you out of what you'd normally do. It's not intuitive to count out-breaths . . .
Have you ever struggled with giving condolences? Me, too. Grief is intimidating to see. Part of it is that we know we'll feel it one day for someone we love--or we've already felt it--and that reminder can be painful. Well-meaning friends and relatives can often trip on themselves when trying to . . .
Do we choose? Years ago when I first heard the concept that we choose our family, I was horrified. "No way!" I thought. And then never gave it another thought. Why should I have? It isn't true, I thought. It's B.S. Until years later, when my spiritual path became clearer. Or, shall I say, my . . .
My life has had more than its share of momentous events and while none can top Michael and I remarrying, others rank right up there. A man I dated more than a dozen years ago called out of the blue the other day and we talked for almost an hour. I always feel lucky when someone I had a connection . . .
I've been sorting through boxes of artifacts of my life, the things that I assumed I'd use for writing fodder in my senior years. As the years passed, I envisioned my senior years spent finishing the memoir I've worked on in fits and starts. Well, my senior years are here and writing has taken a . . .
She was raised on a ranch in Alberta and I would have never encountered her in my day to day life. But social media connect us with a broad range of people and that’s how I met Diane Stringam Tolley. I began reading her blog, On The Border, referring to ranching life on the Alberta/Montana . . .