I ate a cookie. After I resolved to cut sugar out of my diet less than a week ago, I ate a cookie. And it was good.

The problem with New Year’s resolutions is, they are easy to break. And I am weak. That’s the real problem. My resolve isn’t what it used to be.

Actually, my resolve was never what it used to be. Over the years, and going back as far as I can remember, I use the new year as a time to make all the changes to my perceived shortcomings. These usually include a long litany: lose weight, stop swearing, exercise more, work harder, sleep less, be nicer, spend more time with my kids, and pray more. I was exhausted, just trying to remember all the things I was going to do right. Within a month or so, I would have forgotten half the list and given up on the other half, dismayed at my lack of discipline and self-control.

Over the years, however, that list has evolved as I have grown up. I don’t really care about losing weight. I do care about being healthy, but I haven’t weighed myself in a very long time. I know I feel tired and worn out when I eat too much sugar, so my decision not to eat sugar was based more on feeling well. I don’t really make New Year’s resolutions anymore.

I have realized as I’ve grown older that I don’t need to wait for a certain day on the calendar in order to make a positive change. It’s nice to have a benchmark, and to see how far you’ve come over the past year, but most New Year’s resolutions are forgotten before the end of January.

Instead of creating a laundry list of improvements, I have decided to live each moment as it comes along. That way, if I need to make any changes, I don’t have to wait an entire year.

Right now is the perfect moment to be kinder. If, in the next moment, I fail to be kind, then there will be a moment right afterward during which I can change.

We can all make the changes we desire, in this instant. We don’t have to wait for a new year, or a new month, or a new day. There is a new moment coming along shortly. In that moment, you can choose to be exactly what you’d like.

If there is something you wish to change, then change it now. You have an opportunity to be exactly what you want, to live the exact life that reflects your values, your goals and your desires.

If in any particular moment, your thoughts, words or deeds don’t reflect who you really want to be, then you can change in an instant.

Our lives are meant to be lived as a reflection of who we really are and who we were created to be. When we live in such a way that magnifies who we are, we are filled with energy, joy and passion.

Too often, our lives are bereft of meaning, and we wonder why. I would suggest it is because we have lost sight of our purpose. We have lost sight of our passion. We have lost sight of the fire that burns inside.

Rather than try to change a long list of things during this new year, how about if we choose to embrace ourselves and live authentically?

It doesn’t take a lot of work. All it takes is a decision, a simple decision to listen to your heart, trust your gut and do what you know is right.

Once you begin living a life infused with joy and passion, you won’t ever want to look back.

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.

The last day of school: those words are pregnant with possibility and opportunity. An entire summer waits to unfold in endless sunny days. I remember the last day of fifth grade vividly. I learned two huge lessons that summer, and though I don’t always apply them, they remain a part of who I am.

In fifth grade, I was the marble champion of the school. I started out with a small Ziploc baggie of tiger-eye marbles purchased from K-Mart. By the end of the year, I had a fine velvet marble bag. Actually, it was a re-purposed Crown Royal bag, but at that tender, naïve age, I didn’t know the difference. My marble bag brimmed with clearies, steelies, tubbies and solids. Those were the names of the marbles I had won from everyone at school. I was the reigning queen of marbles at Sunset Elementary. On the last day of school, I brought my prized possession for one last day of marble conquest. Unfortunately, in the excitement of summer vacation, I left my marbles in my desk.

I went back to the school a week later and sought out the janitor, who insisted he had never seen my beloved purple bag. I cried for days. I knew exactly where I had left it. I figured someone had taken that awesome bag of marbles and would taunt me with it in middle school, insisting that he or she was the actual marble champion. Or that janitor; maybe he had given it to a thankless grandchild, who could never appreciate the hard work that went into winning all those awesome marbles. I lost sleep thinking about my favorite tubby, a clear, light purple beauty, scarred with the nicks of battles won. I remembered every marble in that bag, and mourned the loss of every one.

But the thing is, when I got to sixth grade, no one cared anymore about marbles. I had figured there would be a big marble showdown on the first day of school, as kids from different elementary schools competed to prove their worth. Wrong. There were no marbles in middle school. I was a little relieved that I didn’t bring that purple bag to sixth grade and seal my identity as a nerd.

The second lesson I learned that year also kept me awake nights. At the end of fifth grade, the math unit we worked on dealt with telling time. I could not quite get the hang of telling time, and I struggled with it throughout the month of May.

At the end of the year, I still couldn’t quite tell time, I am now embarrassed to say. All summer long, I worried that there would be a big test on the first day of sixth grade. I imagined all the sixth graders in the lunchroom, poring over the time-telling test.

I imagined all summer long, that those of us who failed the test would be sent back to Mr. Arnold at the fifth grade building. I dreaded returning to Mr. Arnold’s class. Not only because of the time telling thing, but Mr. Arnold and I did not end the year on a happy note. I made fun of his bald head, while swinging on the swings, and he sent me to the principal’s office. Apparently, not all bald people share my sense of humor about the advertising revenue possible on such a large, smooth surface.

Anyway, much to my relief, there was no test on the first day of middle school. No one even cared whether I could tell time. It took me about a week to realize that I wasn’t being sent back to Mr. Arnold’s class. After that first week of school, I finally relaxed enough to enjoy being in middle school.

The lessons I learned are these: First, don’t waste your summer vacation — or any day of your life, or even a moment of time — worrying about stupid stuff. Most of the stuff we worry about never happens. I lay awake all those summer nights, worrying about a test that never came. That pattern has continued throughout most of my life, but as I get older, I realize what a waste of time all that worry is. So relax. Don’t worry. Everything will work out.

The second lesson I learned: Don’t take yourself or your accomplishments too seriously. Oh. You’re the reigning marble champion of fifth grade? Wow. Everyone in middle school will be really impressed with that. Actually, we are all just people doing the best we can, getting through life. Whether you are the president of this, or the champion of that, it doesn’t matter. Everyone is due equal respect. We all have successes and failures.

Don’t try to make yourself better than other people, and don’t try to make everyone better than you. Everyone you meet has his or her own hard battle to fight. The best thing you can do is to be kind.

My advice to everyone about to enjoy summer vacation: Don’t worry, everything will work out in the end, and be kind. Everyone is fighting a hard battle.

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.

I often wonder, what difference does it all make anyway? What difference if we go to work, if we raise our kids right, or go to church? What’s the difference if we are nice, mean, angry or kind? Does it even matter? Does anyone even notice?

Actually, your life makes a huge difference to the people around you.

Each one of us has the power to change the world, even if it’s just our own small corner. To change the world takes only small acts of a large number of people. It is possible to make a difference wherever you find yourself. You can leave your corner of the world better than you found it, and in that way, you make a difference.

Begin by making a positive change in yourself. It doesn’t have to be huge. Just a small positive change will have a ripple effect as it moves outward to those around you. You can decide to eat a healthy breakfast, or to drink one less cup of coffee, or walk an extra lap around the block. Positive change doesn’t have to be huge.

Another way to have a positive impact on those around you is to come from a place of love. When you are tempted to be judgmental, angry or harsh, take just a moment and reflect on the person before you. They are probably doing the best they can, at this moment in their life, just as you are. Take a deep breath and accept that whatever they have said or done has nothing to do with you, and is simply a reflection of where they are. Without saying anything, you can mentally extend feelings of kindness, forgiveness, and acceptance. While you don’t have to like everyone you meet, you can still be kind and accepting of who they really are. In that small way, you will make a difference to them.

Kindness goes a long way toward making a difference and changing the world. If you start with being kind to yourself, the ripple effect will again move outward, affecting those around you. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Simply do your best, and move forward. There is no need to berate or condemn yourself. Be kind and keep moving on.

Another way to make a difference in the world is to just show up. Be where you are. You might not like the place you find yourself, but if you show up to your day with a commitment to doing your best and extending kindness, you can change your world.

Show up every day. Do your best. Eventually you will find that you are changing not only yourself, but those around you as well. Show up and show those around you how much you care about them and about their lives. People want to be noticed. They want a chance to tell you about themselves. Just show up. Sometimes you don’t have to do anything more.

You are making a difference today to every person you meet. Show up and do your best. Extend kindness and forgiveness. Even if no one ever notices, your own life will be greatly enriched. And don’t forget to smile.

Namaste, friends

Life is short. And then you die. Many of us fear death, but there is something much greater we should fear every day of our lives.

Fearing death is futile. It creeps upon you, unawares, snatching life when least expected. And even when you are expecting it, or wanting it, or longing for it, death still shocks those left behind.

We fear the unknown. We fear what we cannot control. We fear being all alone. Yet the specter of death comes for each of us, ready or not.

My job requires me to type up obituaries for the newspaper. Sometimes this job is rewarding, as in the case of Thelma Davis, who passed away after living 105 years. She touched countless lives, and leaves a legacy that will continue for generations.

At the other end of the spectrum, I was grieved to write the obituary for the niece of a friend. She lived only hours. Her tiny life was cut short, for reasons we will never know.

And between the two, the death of a young man in the prime of his life saddened and dismayed me. The sudden and abrupt snatching away of these three left me wondering, what could be worse than death?

What greater fear ought we face?

Whether your life lasts only hours, or stretches beyond a century, living a life without meaning is the most tragic thing of all. Wasting this precious gift ought to be our greatest fear.

Each one of us has only a short time here. The time may be really short, or it may be relatively short, but we have just a blip to make our mark. Whether we are given hours, decades or longer, when posted against the vastness of eternity, time is fleeting.

You are here for a purpose. You will not always be here. At some point in the future, your friends, family and acquaintances will be mourning the loss of your life. Between the time you are born and the time you pass on, you have a chance to make a difference. You can choose to impact other people in a positive manner, and leave a lasting impact, or you can choose to live in isolation, squandering your gifts until the end.

No matter how long your life, you can discover your purpose and live with intent. Creating a life of meaning, purpose and beauty starts first with your intent. Decide how you want to live, who you want to be and what you want to create.

Every moment you are here, let your life be an expression of your greatest desire. Don’t wait to make a difference. Today is the day. Now is the time. Seize the moment and let your life be a great expression of who you really are.

Every thought, every word, every deed can make a positive impact. You have such a short time to be who you were created to be. It is so easy to say, “When my kids grow up, then I will…”, or “When I lose weight, then I will…”, or “When I retire, then I will…”

There is no time to waste. Someday will always be out there. Today is here now. Take one step in the direction of your dreams, even if it is only a tiny step.

The hour is at hand. Once the moment has passed, there can be no recovering what was lost. Now is the time to live the life you are here for.

Once you are dead, it will be too late to make a lasting impact. Begin creating that life today. You never know when it will end.

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

It seems I have already lived many lives. I’m not talking about previous lives as a dog, or a goddess, or the president. I was recently talking with a friend about our grown children. As we looked back, into those early days, she commented that it seemed like someone else’s life. Although she remembers doing those things, it feels like someone else lived that life.

And then, another friend said last week, that he would do something in another lifetime. Why wait? You can begin a new life today.

I have lived many lives, and plan to live many more before I die at 111.

There was my nerdy high-school life, during which I wore old neckties from the thrift store, kept to myself and read a lot of books. I still read a lot of books, but now I wear hats, rather than peculiar ties.

There was the life, albeit quite brief, when I was a cheerleader. I thought I would like that life, but the nerd in me cried out in rebellion, and I had to leave that life behind. It didn’t really suit me.

For many years, I lived the life of a meek, mild mannered woman, barefoot and pregnant. I kept my eyes down, my mouth shut and my bible open. While I learned a lot about God and discovered much about myself, my soul was bereft and unexpressed.

There was a life I lived when I wore lots of make-up, fake nails, and high heels every day. That life was a lot of work. And it was not a lot of fun. Most of the lives I lived, before now, were not fun. They were hard.

Henry David Thoreau said, “Most men live lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

You don’t have just one life. You live one lifetime with many different lives. You are not the same now as you were years ago. And you will be different again. There is one lifetime, during which you can express the song in your heart. Leave the quiet desperation and break free.

You can create the life you want. You can live the song. You can choose a different life.

In this life, I am a writer. That is something I only dreamed of in previous lives. During those lives, I struggled against the quiet desperation that threatened to stifle me. I sought my hearts desire. And one day, I remembered that little girl I had been, who was plucky and brave. That girl wrote a letter to Stephen King. That girl said she would be an author. And when Stephen King wrote back, do you want to know what he said? He said, “If you want to be a writer, then you have to write.”

I finally decided that if I would really be a writer, then I must write. And so I write because it makes my heart sing.

Each of us has a song in our heart. There is something out there, in this world that will make you smile. Seek it out. Your soul longs to express the fullness of itself. You can do this: you can express who you were created to be.

Life is more than quietly waiting. Life is grand. The song must be sung. We each have a different song, a different calling, and a fuller life.

Today you can decide to start a new life. Listen for the song, and let it play. Leave behind the quiet desperation and for a moment listen to your heart. You will know exactly what to do.

Namaste, friends.