Upon the death of a dear friend, I began thinking about the nature of life and death. Death brings my feet back to earth. My mom has often accused me of having my head in the clouds, and I readily admit it.

But losing my friend brought me crashing back down. I’ll admit that I’ve been a bit morbid over the past few weeks, since her passing, because it has come to my attention that we are all going to die. There is no other way out of here.

During the celebration of life for my friend, several people spoke of her generosity, her love of animals, her quirky nature. Many kind things were spoken then, and I thought what a beautiful tribute.

But wouldn’t it be better if we could share those kind thoughts with our friends before they die? Wouldn’t it be better to tell our loved ones how much we appreciate them, while they are still living?

Kind words are like a soothing balm to the soul. No matter what a person is going through, the kind words of friends and loved ones can calm the fires of rage, anger, or fear.

So why wait? I have said, on numerous occasions, that I plan to live to 111. I realize that by then, many of my friends and family will likely be gone. They will have gone on before me, to whatever awaits our physical death.

By then, I wonder who will eulogize me. I wonder who will be present to remember the remarkable life of an old woman, who outlived those who could speak of her life. So, the way I see it, I have two choices. I can live a remarkable life for the following 64 1/3 years, and make sure to make an impression on everyone I meet, hoping that someone will live long enough to remember me.

That is Plan B. That plan involves a lot of work, a lot of community involvement, and making friends of all ages. While that does seem like a fun way to progress through life, it also seems like a lot of work. Of course, I plan to do it anyway. Far be it from me to shy away from hard work and perseverance.

But, I have a better plan. My go to plan is to throw a big party. I’m not waiting until I’m dead to have a party. I’m going to have a party and invite all of my friends, and we will gather and talk about the beauty of life, the beauty of love and friendship. I plan to have that party when I am 55. I’m going to call it my “halfway there” party.

I plan to invite everyone I have ever known, to celebrate the gift of their presence in my life. I want to celebrate while I am still alive and cognizant. I want to thank people for their kindnesses and love, which have buoyed me through my life.

And my point, in all of this, is lets not wait. Let’s not wait to tell the people in our lives how much they mean, how much they bring, and how much they give us.

Tell them while there is still time. Once your friends are gone, it becomes too late to tell them how much you cherish them.

Of course, once people pass on, we can still speak of their goodness and kindness. It brings us together, it unites us when we face death, and it helps us heal from loss.

But so much better, is the idea of telling people of their impact and influence while it can help them.

It is never too late to tell someone how much they mean to you. If you don’t feel like saying it, then write them a note. You could even send an email. But don’t let the kind words go unspoken. Today is the perfect day to tell someone how much they mean.

Namaste, friends

In the aftermath of chaos and holiday madness, I lost my phone. It wasn’t such a bad thing, really. I spent all of Christmas Day enjoying peace and quiet, unable to text and call. I even found time to take a nap.

As we began to filter through empty stockings, piles of paper and the remnants of Christmas, I discovered my forgotten phone, buried under the cheery rubble.

It was so nice not having it, I decided on the following day to just put the phone away.

Most of us are attached to our stuff. Our phones are always nearby. Our computers are nearby, ready to answer emails, check Facebook, and immerse us in online escapism.

Besides the electronic madness that controls our daily lives, we are surrounded by stuff. We are buried by more stuff than we can ever use in our lifetime, and our children will suffer after our passing, as they sort through all the stuff, wondering why we kept so much.

I was caring recently for a dear friend who has become quite ill. While sitting by her side, holding her hand, massaging her feet and reassuring her, I noticed that she was surrounded by stuff. Piles and piles of clothes, papers, knick-knacks and tchotchke. It was overwhelming, to think about her imminent passing and the responsibility of wading through all of that stuff.

When I got home after one particularly stressful day, I began sorting through my file drawers. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but I decided to look through every single piece of paper, and honestly assess the value and necessity of each.

Although I’m not a hoarder, I tend to hold on to special notes from people I love, as well as clippings and pictures from magazines. After a couple of hours, I was astonished at the pile of papers headed to the recycle bin. When I honestly looked at all those papers, it turned out that most of them were not essential to my daily life. Most of them had no real purpose, other than to keep my file cabinets brimming with paper.

With a proud sense of accomplishment, I closed the mostly empty file drawers and wondered for a moment why I need such a large file cabinet anyway. Now that it’s empty, it seems redundant. However, it does make a good television stand.

Although it was getting late, I was energized by all that purging and I began cleaning out my drawers.

It is amazing, how attached we can become to things like clothes. I had a closet full of clothes of a variety of different sizes. Some are too small, waiting in vain for me to lose just enough weight. Some are way too big, just in case I get fat. Some are from long ago, with emotional baggage attached. I began yanking clothes out of drawers, off of hangers and throwing them into a bag with reckless abandon.

It was freeing, to release so much stuff. Now, when I walk through the house, one eye is on what I can get rid of next.

I don’t want to die at 111, surrounded by junk. I want to be surrounded by people who love me. Most of the stuff we accumulate and refuse to part with has some emotional significance to us, but to no one else.

Instead of filling our lives with more and more stuff, perhaps we should acquire experiences. We don’t need more stuff. What we need is more love, more passion and more fun. When we fill our lives with experience, our need to be surrounded by belongings will diminish.

Namaste, friends

A lot of people suggest that the holidays have become too commercialized. They complain, as they walk down the crowded aisles of the local department store, talking on their cell phones, and filling their carts with unnecessary piles of stuff.

They complain as they turn up the television and shush their children. They complain on Facebook about how no one remembers the reason for the season.

Honestly, if you gathered a room full of people, you would likely be hard pressed to get them to agree on the actual reason for the season, because it is different for everyone.

For some, it is a religious holiday; a celebration to acknowledge the birth of a savior.

For others, it is the beginning of the winter solstice; the beginning of winter, starting with the shortest day of the year.

For others, it is a celebration of light and the miracles of God; a time when lamps burned miraculously.

For others, it is a time to share gifts with those you love, as an expression of your love, friendship and devotion.

Regardless of your personal reason behind celebrating the Christmas or holiday season, there are things you can do to make this time of year more meaningful and more personal.

Often times, people confuse spending extraordinary amounts of money with a meaningful experience. The truth is that you don’t have to spend any money to enjoy the fullness of the holiday season.

Think about the people closest to you. That list might include your partner, your children, family and friends. Now, think about what you like best about them and what you like to do with them. What do they enjoy doing? Put some thought into the important people in your life. What do they really like?

How can you invest in the people closest to you, without spending any money?

My son loves to play with Legos. We have thousands of them, strung from one end of the house to the other. I have learned to walk with a light step, lest I should stumble in the dark over an intricate Lego helicopter. I once destroyed a Lego McDonalds with one ill-placed step in the dark hallway.

Although I’m sure my son would love me to buy him more Legos for Christmas, there are other ways I can pour into his life. I could spend some time on the floor, actually playing with him. I could stop and listen to him when he speaks, and look directly at him, rather than continuing to type, as if my work is more important than what he has to say.

To fully experience the holidays, I could spend some time with my teen-aged daughters, truly listening to what they are going through, instead of nodding absent-mindedly while I make dinner.

I could actually involve the kids in the meal making process, rather than getting irritated with them as I make dinner and wash the dishes for the millionth time.

With my friends, I could offer support and encouragement over a cup of hot tea. It only takes a moment to truly listen to someone. 

Life is what you make of it, and that includes the Christmas season. If you are distracted and irritated in your life, chances are you will be distracted and irritated during the holidays.

When you take a moment to be fully present for yourself and those around you, you give the best present of all. You become part of the experience. You get to feel what is happening now. You get to release stress, irritation and judgment and just enjoy whatever moment you are in.

Christmas is the perfect time to remind yourself to stay here now. Breathe deeply of the cold, crisp air. Appreciate the deep clear blue sky. Don’t fret about things. Instead, invest in the people around you and immerse yourself in the holiday experience.

Namaste, friends

A turkey skeleton is lurking in my refrigerator. It is a stark reminder of the recent Thanksgiving holiday. The carcass begs to be cooked into a delicious broth and adorned with homemade noodles.

But everyone in my house has moved on. They were done with Thanksgiving and turkey by early Friday morning. Honestly, by the time we finished the turkey on Thursday, my kids were ready to go shopping.

Although I don’t like the idea of shopping on Thursday or Friday of Thanksgiving, it was impossible to keep my kids, along with hundreds (thousands, millions) of others, out of Wal-Mart on Thursday evening.

Who would have guessed that a simple holiday could be turned into madness and mayhem with a frenzy of early Christmas activity? It’s as if people have completely bypassed the Thanksgiving holiday in favor of one more day of potential savings on a bunch of stuff that no one needs.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. It is simple. Family, food, and football: what else does one need to really celebrate a holiday? When I was in the fourth grade, I won a school-wide poetry contest for my poem about Thanksgiving:

“What about that poor old turkey, being stuffed?

Don’t you think he’s had enough?

Poor old thing needs some rest,

So he can look his very best.”

Lame, I know, but for a fourth grader, I think that’s pretty good. Besides, I wanted to celebrate my favorite holiday. I’ve always loved getting together with my family, even though the outcome is always unpredictable.

You never know who will drop the pie and splatter pumpkin all over grandma’s kitchen. You could never guess which relative will pass out in front of the TV, from too much spiked eggnog. It’s impossible to tell which relatives will not speak for the entire next year, following an argument about stuffing.  Yes, it’s definitely my favorite holiday, with all that family togetherness.

Somehow, though, Thanksgiving has taken a back seat to Christmas. It’s not as though Thanksgiving ever took a front seat. It’s always been the humble holiday, sandwiched between the two best kid-holidays ever. Halloween, with costumes, candy and late night wandering is a perennial favorite for kids and adults. And Christmas. What holiday could ever compare with Christmas? Presents, Santa Claus, food, decorations; these things make Christmas the ultimate in celebrations. And somewhere, nearly forgotten like the middle child of a large family, sits Thanksgiving. There isn’t much to say about Thanksgiving, other than people eat a lot of food. And many of us watch a lot of football.

Besides the food, family and football, though, what is the purpose of Thanksgiving? It has become the kick-off to the holiday shopping season, and retailers are capitalizing on that by opening earlier and earlier, until they interrupt holiday dinner with shopping madness.

Underneath all the pre-Christmas preparations, it is easy to forget why we have a Thanksgiving feast. Remember the history lessons about the pilgrims and the Indians? Remember how two groups of people came together to celebrate the bounty of the earth, to put aside their differences and share a meal? Those are the things we think about when we think about Thanksgiving.

Giving thanks. That is the true reason we celebrate Thanksgiving, and perhaps it is a good idea to take a moment to be thankful before the glutinous spending that will happen in December.

Let us pause, as December unfolds, to remember those things for which we are truly thankful.

Every life is different, every circumstance is different, and every family is different, but there are still things we can find to be grateful for every day. Take a moment each morning to focus on something you are thankful for, even if it seems tiny and insignificant.

Regardless of who your family is, or who your friends are, there are people on this earth who love you. You are not alone, and you are not forgotten. You are valuable to someone, just as people are valuable to you, and for that, we can each be thankful.

Ease into the holiday madness slowly, and try to remember to give thanks in all things. It will make help you appreciate the blessings you have today, and perhaps fill a void that you might otherwise seek to fill with stuff.

Namaste, friends

I often wonder if my kids ever listen to what I say. My lengthy lectures are usually met with rolled eyes. My angry outbursts bring glares of disapproval. When I try to share life lessons, I find my kids dozing in the back seat, lolled to a peaceful nap by the droning of my voice.

Occasionally, however, I am surprised by the wisdom of my children. In a fit of sorrow, as I cried inconsolably, my daughter patted my back and said, “Don’t worry mom, everything always works out.”

Although I continued crying, I was touched to hear my own words coming back to haunt me. Funny, they seem so much more conciliatory when I’m saying them, rather than receiving them.

My son recently began moving his Lego’s to our garage attic. He had previously used a small empty room in our basement for his Lego City, but found the confines of the room to be too containing. Often I would find myself tripping in the dark over helicopters, fire trucks and villains forgotten in the hallway.

During a momentary epiphany, I realized that we have an entire attic over our garage, mostly unused. There are a few boxes of Christmas decorations and some camping gear, but the bulk of space sits unused.

The older girls decided to make a craft room out of part of the attic, and hauled up tables, stickers, and craft supplies of all sorts. I think they finally realized that I am no help when it comes to things of a crafty nature, so they decided to find a place where I wouldn’t constantly hover over them, asking irrelevant “mom” questions.

Gunnar decided to recreate his Lego City in the attic, and to help him out, I swept all the Lego’s into a box. Much to Gunnar’s dismay, not all of his creations survived the sweeping.

I admit to being a little overly zealous in my endeavor. I am thrilled to get the Lego’s out of the hallway. I may have swept them just a little more vigorously than necessary. Some of the Lego creations may have come apart as I tossed them carelessly into the box. I’m not sure that had anything to do with it, but I am admitting to my part in the destruction of Lego City.

When Gunnar discovered his millions of Lego’s thrown haplessly into a plastic storage bin, he was less than enthusiastic about my help. He stormed out to the garage, insisting that he could get the work done himself.

About an hour later, he came into the kitchen, looking somewhat abashed.

He told me he was pretty mad when he found all his stuff broken. And he tried to devise a pulley system to pull the enormous box of toys up the attic stairs. As he hoisted the box overhead, he watched in alarm as it began to slant. Then, the box crashed to the ground, thousands of Lego’s covering the garage floor.

Gunnar said, “I was so mad when all my stuff broke. Then I thought that everything happens for a reason. So I figured I could make a bigger and better Lego City in the garage.”

With that, he happily bounded back out to the garage to begin the daunting task of sweeping up thousands of Lego’s.

I stood in wonder at the brief conversation. My eleven-year old son just repeated and applied something I preach to my kids every day. And he applied it much more quickly and cheerfully than I ever have.

Everything does happen for a reason. Whether it’s Lego’s crashing to the ground, a car breaking down, or your sweetheart breaking your heart. It is a waste of time to ask ‘why’ something happens. Instead, like Gunnar, ask yourself what you are going to create out of the situation.

You can’t control everything that happens in life. What you can control is your own response to situations. Your response is your responsibility. What can you make of the things that life throws your way?

Try looking for opportunity in the situations facing you. You might just find yourself with the biggest and best Lego City ever created.

Namaste, friends.

Busy as a Bee

Just a Thought

By Deborah Demander

Everyone I meet has a busy life. It seems like everyone is bustling around working, volunteering, and running non-stop.

Most days, I’m up by 5 a.m. and I don’t stop running until after 10 p.m. I’m not complaining, just noticing that everyone around me is as busy as I am.

At an early morning breakfast meeting, I asked a friend how he was doing.

“I’m really busy,” he replied. “Sometimes I wonder if every day is going to be a grind for the rest of my life.”

I agreed with him, but as I thought about it later, I realized that life doesn’t have to be a grind. We all have choices. We choose where to work, where to live, who to marry, what church to attend, what activities to be involved in.

Everything in your life is there as a result of choices you have made. If you don’t like where you are or what you’re doing, make a different decision. The effects of a decision stay in place until you make a different decision.

If you have made a decision and find that you don’t like where its taking you, perhaps it’s time to reevaluate.

I like having a busy life. I enjoy volunteering my time to make the community a better place, and I like my work, which generally casts me far and wide throughout the region. Last Wednesday found me driving to Kemmerer for an early morning meeting with the Governor,  attending the Kemmerer Rotary Club meeting, then driving like a crazy woman down the interstate in my Subaru (yes, the same pig-mobile) to attend another meeting with the Governor and Uinta County officials. Once that was finished, I took pictures of an event in town, then attended a parking meeting.

But I didn’t complain, because I like to be busy. Well. I may have complained a little the next morning when my alarm went off, but overall it was a fun day. If I didn’t like to be busy, I would do something else.

Many people, when I ask how they are doing, reply with a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes, “I’m sooo busy.”

We are all busy. If you don’t like being busy, do something different. It is okay to say no to things you don’t want to do, or things that don’t match your priorities. We often loose sight of what is important in our lives, and fill our days with things we hate doing.

Stop. Don’t fill your life with things you don’t like. Life is too short to be dismal. Your day ought to be an outward expression of who you really are. If your activities don’t accurately reflect who you are, then do something different. Life is a series of choices. Choose who you will be and how you will represent yourself by the activities you participate in and the people you surround yourself with.

If those things aren’t an accurate representation, then change them.

I know. Change is hard. We all have decisions to make about the kind of life we want to have. You can decide today who you want to be, what you want to do, and what you want to have.

If you don’t want to be busy, then do something else. Say no. Stay home. Relax. There are lots of people out there willing to step in and fill the void. Although change is difficult, it’s not as hard as living a disingenuous life.

Any decision you made can be changed. You don’t have to do something drastic, such as quit your job, but you can look first for smaller changes that feel better, and more in line with your priorities. Sometimes a small shift is all it takes to feel better about life.

Deborah, in Hebrew, means bee. I like to stay busy, like the bees in the garden working. But bees still take time to smell the flowers.

When you are inundated with work and activity, don’t get frustrated. Enjoy. And if you don’t enjoy, then stop and do something else. And whatever you are doing, wherever you are, take a hint from the bees, and pause in your busyness to smell the flowers.

Namaste friends

I was having a philosophical discussion with a good friend recently. It was the kind of conversation that could go on for hours, with no real resolution.

He wondered aloud whether we are born with certain characteristics, and whether we should surrender to them or strive to overcome our weaknesses.

I tend to be the kind of person who makes the best of things, whether it’s a job, a relationship, or my personality quirks. I don’t like to focus on my weaknesses, or the weaknesses of others. I try to encourage people to excel at what they are good at.

My friend argued that perhaps we should strive to be better at the things we aren’t good at, work harder at the things that don’t come naturally, and overcome our shortcomings.

While I do strive to improve on areas in my life that could use some work, I really believe we are all blessed with different gifts, talents, and abilities. I like to run, but I’m not very fast, so I’m not going to kill myself trying to be an Olympian. I do try to overcome my innate desire to curl up with a book by interspersing small bursts of activity into my reading time. I’m not much of a cleaner, so I exert great effort in maintaining a presentable abode. But I love to work in my garden and I could do it for hours.

This is the reason fish don’t fly.

We all have things we are good at. Fish are good at swimming. Flying? Not so much. If fish worked hard all day to fly, they would end up exhausted and frustrated. A few might get airborne, but they would be the exception rather than the rule.

We are like fish, trying to fly. We exhaust ourselves trying to force ourselves to complete tasks we hate because we think we should. Rather than try to force yourself to do something you aren’t good at, embrace those talents and gifts you have, and practice them with wild abandon. Birds fly! They love it. They soar high in the air, letting the wind carry them hither and yon. Birds don’t worry about the fish. They don’t worry about swimming, unless they want to. They execute their flight with vigor and enthusiasm. So too, we ought embrace our gifts. Rather than straining and struggling to do things that don’t suit you, discover those things that bring you joy and fulfillment. Do those things. We are here for such a short time. What is the point is trudging through life, dreading the morning. We could dance and sing our way through each day, energized by the things we love.

Of course, the house must still be cleaned. And I will clean it. But I will not let that ruin my day. I will clean it to suit myself, and then I will play in the garden. I will read and write, and sing. Those are the things that make me happy. Dishes must be done, but I don’t have to spend my life washing them. Clothes must be folded. Books must be balanced. The mundane tasks wait for attention. But what I find mundane, others derive great pleasure from doing. Some people clean houses because they like it. For all the tasks, there are people well suited to them, who enjoy the work they do.

Today, I encourage each one of you to find those things that make your heart sing. Look for the things that bring you joy and leave you feeling energized, rather than drained. If you can’t do it for a job, then do it for a moment. Our lives mustn’t be consumed by drudgery. There is fun to be had, if you know where to look.

Fish don’t fly, because their fun is in the water. Discover where your hope lies, then do things to bring you a step closer to that today. A small step, followed by another and another will lead you to the path of your greatest joy and heart’s desire.

You are a bird, so fly high!

Namaste, friends.

The New Year is upon us, replete with promises that we will try harder, do better, be more this and less that. How often do we each face the fresh new calendar and promise ourselves that this year will be different?

I know I’ve made my share of resolutions in the past. I usually resolve to lose weight, to get up earlier, to be nicer, to stop swearing, save more money, give more to others…

The list goes on and on. The first week of the New Year usually finds me sleep deprived and hungry, swearing like a sailor and exhausted from the effort of trying to remember everything that I promised myself I would do.

This year, however, will be different.

I am not resolving to be more or less of anything for the entire year. Instead, I am choosing in each moment to be the person that I want to be. As I walk through my day, I will examine my thoughts, words and actions and I will ask myself, “Is this who I want to be?”

If the answer is no, then I hope to stop midstream and change course. It is never too late to change, and now is the perfect moment to be exactly what you’d like to be.

This, of course, is easier said than done. This weekend, I got a trial run when I drove the kids to Park City for a movie and some shopping. First of all, there were about a million people in Park City for Olympic trials. But, I wasn’t going to let a little California traffic ruin my Zen mood. I don’t know how they learn to drive in California, but after being cut off half a dozen times, I silently blessed each driver, hoping their day was brighter after nearly killing me.

Then, at the movie theater, the guy selling tickets said, “There is no showing of  “The Hobbit” at 1 p.m. The internet was wrong.”

Fortunately, I didn’t have to open up a can of crazy on him, because the people in line ahead of me did. I stood by serenely, watching the tourists go bananas. Coincidentally, they decided to show “The Hobbit” at 1 p.m.

I wasn’t fazed when I chose the slowest popcorn line, nor was I perturbed when the clerk dropped my giant cup of diet coke on the floor. When the popcorn burned, because the kid was cleaning up the diet coke, the guy behind me muttered, “I’m not eating burned popcorn.”

I peacefully replied, “I like burned popcorn.”

Surprised he said, “Really? You like that?”

“No”, I answered from my happy place, “I just tell myself I do, so I won’t hate it.”

He looked at me as though I were some crazy hippy chick. As if.

All was well until the car ride home. And then, after an hour in the car, two hours in the theater, and a ride back to Wyoming, my kids opened up a can of crazy on me. They started poking, prodding, arguing, whining, and making the trip as miserable as possible.

And the drivers tailgating the entire way did not help my irritation.

I tried talking nicely. I tried distracting them with conversation.

Me: “Wasn’t that a great movie?”

Gunnar (with his headphones turned up all the way): “WHAT?!”

Lexi (jabbing him in the ribs): “Be in the present Gunnar. Mom isn’t going to keep repeating herself.”

Gunnar (louder): “WHAT??!!”

Lexi (yelling): “I SAID, BE IN THE PRESENT. We aren’t going to keep going to the past just because you aren’t listening.”

Gunnar: “WHAT?”

And so it continued for an hour. By the time we reached Evanston, my Zen was gone, my irritation had peaked and my jaw was clenched tight with the effort of not screaming like an insane woman.

Life can be trying. Most days, especially during Christmas vacation, we are challenged from all sides.

We don’t have to resolve to be better parents, to stop yelling, or even to lose weight. We don’t have to commit for a whole year. It just takes a decision in the moment to have things be different. And in some moments, that might take a little longer.

The good news is we always get a chance to start again. We don’t have to wait for a new year, a new week or a new day. We can start today, being the person we want to be.

So, when the kids are yelling, the dogs are barking and the fudge is calling your name, take just a moment to breathe deeply. Pause. Wait. And then be the person you really want to be.

Happy New Year and Namaste, Friends

I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl. Admittedly, I don’t really know what that means, but lately I’ve been pretty darn happy. Lots happier than usual.

Candy canes, mistletoe and snowmen: what’s not to love about December? And tomorrow is the first day of winter. I have decided that now is the time to start having fun. I was waiting until I got older, but I decided this week that I will start having fun now.

It all started with the Twelve Days of Christmas. Some good friends invited the kids and I along to deliver gifts to area residents, alone on the holidays. Somewhere between watching the kids sneak up to one door, all eight of them trying to be quiet, and driving off without them, I started laughing. Watching them chase the Suburban down the snowy road, slipping and sliding and tumbling into the open door, it was just too funny. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe I’m just crazy, but the sight of those kids running in the snow, with Lexi losing her shoe halfway to the car, trying to avoid being caught by the elderly woman standing befuddled on her front porch, I couldn’t help but laugh. And this was no fake laugh, no weak chuckle, not a titter, but a full-on belly laugh that had me red-faced and coughing.

I decided right then that I need to start having more fun. And then I decided to take piano lessons. I’ve always wanted to. So when we got home, I dragged out the piano books, dusted off the keys and began tickling the ivories. It was delightful. I didn’t mind the fact that I had to step over a zombie army of Lego’s to get to the keyboard. Nor did I mind the spaniel howling his protest. I was having more fun than I have had in a while.

The next day, I remembered that I want to be an artist. So I searched high and low for my tubes of watercolor paints and paint brushes, found an empty art book and started painting. I’m certainly no Gisele Robinson, but after watching a few videos on You Tube, I was splashing water and paint around the page. It was fulfilling and fun. The kids chided me for getting paint on the table, but watercolors clean pretty easily. Again, I was having more fun, and I’m glad I decided not to wait until I get old.

I have been putting off a lot of things, waiting for just the right time. Well, now is the right time. It’s time for me to sing. It’s time to finish my next book. It’s time to go sledding on the buffalo hill. It is not, however, time to ice skate. I’m not completely crazy. It is time to get some stamps in my new passport.

After deciding weeks ago to stop worrying about inconsequential matters, I have been enjoying every day. Now, I am having fun. There are so many fun things I want to do, if I wait any longer, they might never get done. I’m not getting any younger. A friend recently reminded me on Facebook that every year, we pass the anniversary of our death, unawares. Well, it’s coming folks. There’s no getting out of this world alive. So now is the time to have fun. By my calculations, I have only got 65 more years left to have fun. I will wait no longer. I’m starting now.

Singing in the shower? Check. Playing with the dogs? Check. Having fun with my kids? Check. All the fun I’ve put off for so long will be experienced with great enthusiasm, until I am 111.

Usually by this time of year, I am tired. Exhausted, actually. But after deciding to stop worrying and have fun, I feel energized. I feel ready to take on the world. It’s not that I’m not tired. I live a life of chronic sleep deprivation. But what I am is excited, energized and ready to live my life.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year to start having fun, to start celebrating this journey we call life, and to meet the day with unbridled enthusiasm. Every day is full of unlimited possibility. Don’t wait, have fun. And I wish every one of you a Merry Christmas and a blessed and prosperous New Year.

Namaste, friends

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Yes, I will admit, I love Christmas music, and can’t wait for the first of November, so that I can listen to joyful music with abandon. But my delight in listening to uplifting music is only compounded by Thanksgiving. I love the fact that Thanksgiving is a holiday that hasn’t become too commercial. There aren’t big, fat,  fake turkeys lurking on every corner, the decorations are more fall-like than “Thanksgiving” in nature and holiday stress hasn’t quite settled in.

Even more than that, I love what Thanksgiving represents for me. First, the pilgrims, people just like the rest of us, who were trying to survive in a new land. I can imagine their fears and frustrations with the New World, which was so foreign to them. Trying to eke a living from the unforgiving land must have seemed an impossible task, and facing unknown enemies made the challenge nearly insurmountable. So, I first acknowledge and am thankful for all of us, who are working against all odds to raise our families, to put food on the table and to survive in a world that seems hostile at times. I am thankful for a job I love, and people who support and encourage me every day. I am so blessed to make a living doing something I love.

Another thing I love about Thanksgiving is family. My childhood memories of Thanksgiving include lots of cousins, aunts and uncles who gathered together to gossip, argue and eat too much. By the end of Thanksgiving weekend, the cousins had pummeled each other until they established the proper pecking order. Fortunately, as the eldest cousin, I was typically on the top of the heap, bleeding slightly in the snow. I won’t lie. Another vivid memory is of one or more uncles passed out in the living room, in front of the television, watching a blurry game of football. Back in the day, we didn’t have a hundred cable channels. We had rabbit ears with aluminum foil, and college football, and lots of beer, wine and other beverages for adult consumption only. By the end of the weekend, some aunts and uncles were no longer on speaking terms. Once again, I think they were establishing their pecking order, in a different manner than the cousins. Personally, I believe the fisticuffs was a more direct way to determine honor than arguing.

Now days, I am thankful for family. Not just for my eight children, who are flung far and wide across the country, but for my friends and their families, who so warmly welcome us to participate in their lives. Spending time with family is one of my treasured holiday traditions, and though I likely won’t be passed out in front of the T.V., you can bet that the younger kids and I will be watching more than our share of holiday movies. I will start with “A Wonderful Life”, which brings tears to my eyes every time I realize how blessed I really am.

One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is that we can eat what we want, usually guilt free. One of the hallmarks of my life has been my tremendous capacity to carry around guilt. Not all of it is deserved, but I burden myself none-the-less. I have a lot of food related guilt, about what I should or should not be eating, whether something is on my diet, whether something will make me fat. You know the routine. I’m sure many of you are in the same food-deprivation mindset. But during Thanksgiving, I allow myself to enjoy culinary pleasures without the nagging voice telling me I shouldn’t. I am so thankful for the bounty and variety of food available to us in this country. Even in the middle of Wyoming, in the middle of winter (technically in the middle of fall), we have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, meat and bread to an extent unimagined in other countries. We are so blessed to live here and now.

Finally, Thanksgiving is a time to relax and be grateful and that is one of my favorite things. I like having a day to reflect on the many blessings in my life. I appreciate an entire day dedicated to giving thanks.

Meister Eckhart, a German theologian, philosopher and mystic said, “If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough.”

I try to live my life remembering those simple words. Thank you. I am grateful for a town that I can call home, for the kindness of friends and strangers, and for the love of the people around me.

Life is beautiful and Thanksgiving provides us an opportunity to pause just a moment, look around and utter the simple prayer, “Thank you”.