On this St. Patrick’s Day, I’m remembering my Irish family. Only one generation removed from Ireland, my dad and his siblings were fun-loving, storytelling, literature-quoting and thoroughly lovable. When I think of them today, my heart expands.
You write it: Are there Irish in your lineage? What do you remember?
In today’s Washington Post (3/9/25) is an insightful guest column by Ken Budd. His story is that on the day before he was set to fly to the Himalayas for a retreat in a monastery, he was struck with appendicitis—with complications that kept him in the hospital for awhile. “Yet,” in his words, “something unexpected happened. I discovered more about mindfulness, kindness and joy while trapped in a hospital bed than I probably would have in a Himalayan monastery.” Here’s what he learned:
Be in the moment (It can reduce pain).
Give kindness, receive kindness.
Embrace impermanence.
Find joy in broth. (i.e., savor the small things)
Read the whole article here:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/2025/03/09/meditation-pain-hospital-kindness-heal
Sometimes my mind thinks life in days gone by were better. That trail of thought leads to sadness, a place where I do not want to be.
God, turn my sadness into gratitude for the good experiences that are in my past and give me the grace to find the gifts in this day.
Allergies have distracted me lately, so I did not see the ground cracking in my berm, or the green spears piercing their way to the light. But I didn’t miss the brilliant yellow jonquils, harbinger of spring, which seems to be coming earlier this year.
You write it: What changes in nature are you noticing?
Failure to set an intention every day puts us adrift in the sea of thoughts and emotions that surround us, but when we set an intention, life unfolds before us and gives us the lives we truly want to live.
For a few days, family is visiting. Before they arrived, I wrote this intention: “We have relaxation and peace during their entire stay.”
I haven’t even felt my body tensing. Try it.
You write it: What is your intention for today?
The Serenity Prayer goes like this: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In this time of upheaval, I suggest making these words our mantra.
After more than two years of grieving and healing, I have begun to feel moments of pure happiness. As soon as a moment comes, though, I say to myself, “I can’t be happy; Harlan isn’t here to share it.”
This morning a friend told me about the sheer bliss she is in from the realization of a dream. I am so happy for her that my whole body is vibrating. I thought to myself, “I wish Harlan were here to share this moment.” As I entertained this thought, I looked up to the shelves above my computer. Harlan’s photograph is there, and he is smiling broadly. Then I realized, “He IS here sharing this moment with me.”
I believe our souls are immortal. I believe those in the afterlife communicate with us in various ways—sometimes directly. This morning’s experience took that belief to a new level, and I’m so grateful. I am free to be happy, knowing that Harlan is sharing those moments with me.
An old fear recently seized me in the evening when I looked at my investment balance, which was lower than I expected. Longevity is a hallmark in my family, and this money is supposed to last for at least two more decades.
I took this fear to bed with me and did not sleep soundly.
But in the early morning, a friend sent an encouraging text. Then I looked at the numbers again and realized there is plenty. I promised myself not to look at numbers in the evening ever again.
You write it: What do you do to get out of fear?
A couple of days ago, a friend told me about a book club that had chosen my book, Simple Serenity, to study. When these women realized she knew me, they asked my friend if I might participate in a Zoom call to talk about the book.
I was deeply moved. Of course I will do a Zoom call. Then I wondered how many other book groups are reading and sharing my work? Then I was deeply humbled and hopeful.
You write it: When have you felt deeply humbled and hopeful?
Quite a few years ago I learned that we have four sources of energy: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Keeping them in balance is important to our well being, as well as the well being of those close to us.
Right now extraordinary wildfires are burning in California. Thousands of people have lost homes and businesses. Seeing the devastation and hearing the despair of the people whose possessions have burned depletes our mental and emotional—even our physical—energy, from the tension of our empathy. Easily, we could despair and become depleted.
But our spiritual energy has the power to lift us above these losses and have faith that—eventually—all will be well. Until these fires are out, try repeating this mantra: “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isaiah 41:10).
You write it: What do you do to keep yourself out of despair?
“Who in your life . . . has helped you love the good that grows within you? Let’s take just 10 seconds to think of some of those people who have loved us and wanted what was best for us in life—those who have encouraged us to become who we are. . . .
“No matter where they are—either here or in heaven—imagine how pleased those people must be to know that you thought of them right now.” —Fred Rogers
When I first read this quotation, I began thinking of people who had loved and encouraged me, especially as a child and teenager. But then I read it again. The core question is “Who has helped YOU love the good that grows within you?” That’s a more challenging question. I encourage you to answer it.
May 2025 be filled with love for the good that grows within you.
Slowly, one day at a time, I’m removing and storing Christmas decorations. This morning I packed away the angels and nativity scene. Only the tree is still up, and I’m not ready to take it down.
Solitude is my companion today. I was warned both by a dear friend and by a stranger on Next Door that flu, Covid, and viruses are rampant in this area right now. For once, I am heeding their good advice to stay in and be safe.
This time of year always feels like a lull to me, awaiting the New Year. But this year, it’s more—it’s choosing—even embracing—solitude.
You write it: How is this time of year for you?
My coaching is listening deeply, all the way to the bottom. Then, it’s saying what I hear, to verify its authenticity. Finally, it’s offering a tool or a story with a different perspective, to lift my client into a new way of being.
Someone did it for me, and I pass it on.
Somehow during this season it feels right to focus on the gifts we have to give—to bring them into our conscious awareness.
I’m having a quiet Christmas, enjoying the occasional company of friends in small numbers. As I look back over all the Christmases of my life, I realize the best ones have been quiet. Maybe it’s because I can be still and listen, savoring the presence of love.
You write it: What have been your best Christmases?
It’s here. Thanksgiving. The day we have set aside to be consciously grateful for what we have and, maybe, for what we don’t have.
I’ve had two very tough years, in many ways. My husband died. I became ill. Then I was injured. Yet, through all of it, helpers came. I experienced love and commitment and healing. I am reassured that, whatever happens, people will come to help, and my world will expand.
That’s what I’m grateful for this Thanksgiving. How about you?
From my early morning window, I see trees of yellow, orange, and red. As the sun rises, the colors become ever more vibrant. Beauty and peace: How I start my day.
You write it: How do you start your day?
My candidate lost the election. To cope, I’ve used several slogans of a 12-step program: ”Be where my feet are.” “Accept the things I cannot change.” “This, too, shall pass.”
Everything helped, for a few days. Then I caught myself looking suspiciously at other people, wondering, “Did they vote for him?” I didn’t like where my mind was heading.
This morning, in a meditation with a friend, an image came to me. I was in a very narrow spotlight. Very narrow. The clear message was, “Stay in the light.”
You write it: How are you coping with loss of what you wanted?
A friend posted this story from Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk: You are holding a cup of coffee when someone comes along and bumps into you or shakes your arm, making you spill your coffee everywhere. Why did you spill the coffee?
“Because someone bumped into me!!!”
Wrong answer. You spilled the coffee because there was coffee in your cup. Had there been tea in the cup, you would have spilled tea. Whatever is inside the cup is what will spill out.
Therefore, when life comes along and shakes you (which WILL happen), whatever is inside you will come out. It’s easy to fake it, until you get rattled.
So we have to ask ourselves, “What’s in my cup?” When life gets tough, what spills over?
Joy, gratitude, peace and humility?
Anger, bitterness, victim mentality and quitting tendencies?
Life provides the cup. YOU choose how to fill it.
A friend from many years ago has reappeared recently. He was an elementary school principal in his career. Never do I remember any problem from his school. That’s the kind of leader he was—kind, compassionate, gently soft spoken. He still has those characteristics. Add to those a very long memory and empathy.
Recently he sent me videos of Dewitt Jones, National Geographic photographer whose words made a big difference in my life. In fact, I wrote about his impact in my first book, which my friend had read and quoted to me. I am deeply touched by this friend’s kind gift and the long memory it suggests—that he would remember Dewitt Jones’ impact on me and send a reminder of it.
I wanted to do something special in return for him and his wife. All I could think of was flowers. (Is that ever a bad choice?) But to make the delivery special, I asked my son, who lives in the area, to deliver them and express my heartfelt appreciation for his kindness. In other words, I sent my precious son to deliver the message.
Then I realized I was experiencing one of the great lessons of Christianity.
Yesterday I spoke with an old friend—someone I heard from recently with a reminder of the work of Dewitt Jones, National Geographic photographer who taught me a great lesson many years ago. My conversation with my friend led me to google Dewitt Jones, and I found this UTUBE video of his Ted Talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD_1Eh6rqf8
The title of the talk is “Celebrate What’s Right with the World.” Yes. Watch it.
