Dear Facebook friends ~
Do you want to know how I feel about your posts?
They make me seethingly jealous.
They lift my spirits.
They infuriate me. Read more…
Blog Posts
I’m going to say something distinctly un-American here.
I don’t think we always have to do our best.
Now, before you ship me off to live with the French, let me explain.
When you pick up a sword; I will pick up a plowshare.
When you speak with a bullhorn; I will speak with a whisper.
When you express yourself with a gun; I will express myself with my words.
When you bully; I will protect.
When you intimidate; I will stand with the strength of gentleness and resist you.
When you seek power; I will seek service.
When you breed intolerance; I will create unity.
When you feed on fear; I will provide assurance.
Where you sow suspicion; I will grow trust.
You can raise your voice; I will raise my argument.
I always fancied myself as one of those people who would smile in the face of adversity. You know the type: The Silver Lining Folks. The Lemonade from Lemons Brigade. If something bad happens, they find a way to think positively about it. I really did hope I could be that person. I practiced my generous, patient attitude when all was well; and I must say, I was pretty darn good at it.
But, I recently broke my arm, and turns out I’m more this type of person:
Every pose is a puzzle.
Every puzzle has a solution. It’s just about putting the pieces together. Read more…
So, there I was, driving back from yoga feeling quite zen and self-congratulatory. Sure, I had a bit of bumpy week, not really putting all the love and sunshine in the world as I had intended…sure I’d been nasty and dismissive to the kids a few times and watched television when I should have cleaned and maybe drank a little too much hard liquor, but I had been to Sunday morning yoga and was feeling cleansed and calm and ready to start a new week as a nice person.
To say I’m a “people person” is to put it….uh, lightly. I loooove them. In all shapes and sizes and forms and personalities. I depend on them: my husband, my kids, my friends, my mentors, my coaches. If I have a question or a problem or am happy about something, my first instinct is to reach out and share. Connect. Get advice. As one of my daughters likes to say, “More people, more power.”
You know what I hate about teenagers? Their honesty.
You know what I love about teenagers? Their honesty.
It’s like they haven’t learned to filter their emotions to please us, yet. Either that, or their feelings are too big to try to contain and manage.
On top of being teenagers, these were the walking wounded. I entered the room and I could just feel it. A cloud; a heaviness. Hurt. Anger. But there was also excitement and a good kind of nervous energy.
I was told last week that I have a “hot seat.” Normally, I would take this as a huge compliment; but as it relates to riding horses, I didn’t like it. To put it simply, it means I ride forcefully and sort of insist on my way, my pace, my rhythm. I was riding a horse new to me, and he didn’t particularly like my hot seat; we both were irritated and wound up by the end of the ride. Read more…
My thoughts have exploded into a million pieces and are floating flotsam above my head. I try to reach up and catch them and piece them back together, but they turn to dust on my fingertips. I let go and look up and they’ve formed back into broken bits of gravel, irritating my mind.
I arrive and sit on the mat, placed in my favorite spot where the sunlight filters through the window; and I begin to rein in my breath.