Pages from my notebook on the search for equanimity in the midst of a breast cancer diagnosis.
In the midst of rushing around during this joyous holiday season, there’s no better time than now to take pause and check in with what our bodies need.
Today is a mourning landmark for me because 16 years ago today, my uncle died.
Some days I just can’t take reading or hearing the news. I mean how many stories can a person take about #DWIJudge, or #dumb thingstrumpsays, or reality shows, or worse: reality.
Minutes before the start of my son’s soccer game, I cried. I gasped for breath when I read the news that Michael Patrick Lynch had died. Michael was the Irondequoit teen who was struck by a car while crossing the street on his way to school.
The last sip of summer is a lovely phrase that embraces the beautiful reluctance of letting go the final carefree days of summer.
What happens when you spend an evening with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in the pit (standing room only area directly in front of the stage) with 650 fans? You become friends, listen and tell stories and ultimately share an incredible experience with Bruce.
God gave me the bench in the park. He said to give my thoughts to it whenever I wanted. He explained that I am not built to carry so much anger, fear, guilt, sadness, resentment and shame. Crafted by the hands of boys hoping to earn a badge of honor, the bench is sturdy. It can bear …