I used to love Bugs Bunny. One of my favorites was Marvin the Martian. He had an Acme Ray Gun, with which he would vaporize Daffy Duck. A classic line from Marvin the Martian, “Resistance is futile, earthling.”

During Tuesday’s snowstorm, I thought of those words often. I dressed for spring on Tuesday, in sandals and a skirt. Wrong outfit, wrong day.

Of course, I was too busy to run home and change as the day grew colder and the drizzle turned to snow. I decided to accept the weather and be thankful for the moisture. Resistance to the weather, or to just about anything else, is futile.

It never ceases to amaze me, how people will complain about things that cannot be changed, such as the weather.

Complaining never changed anything for the better. In fact, it never changed anything at all. It is futile to resist those things we can’t change. I would include the weather in that category, as well as the past, other people, and dogs.

You can’t change anything by complaining, and resisting what you can’t change is a waste of time and energy.

I had a friend who used to say, “You can’t teach a pig to sing. You only waste your time and upset the pig.” Complaining about the weather, fretting over the past, or trying to change someone else’s behavior is a lot like trying to teach a pig to sing. You don’t achieve your goal, and you usually irritate somebody.

Why resist things? Life is too short to be frustrated and angry over things that can’t be changed. When I hear people griping about the weather, I wonder what they think it could possibly accomplish. Yes, it is snowing. Yes, it is cold. Yes, we all wish summer would hurry up and get here. Will complaining about the cold make the weather any warmer? Will Mother Nature suddenly say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all of you Evanston residents were expecting sunshine and blue skies. Let me fix that.”

No. She will not bend to our will.

Rather than resist what is, I have found it is much easier to accept circumstances and make the best of them. Surrender to what is, rather than resist with futility.

Surrendering has such a negative connotation. It brings to mind weakness, giving up and giving in. In fact, I would argue that the opposite is true. It takes determination and strength to accept the things we cannot change. It takes character to submit our will to something greater. It takes humility and grace to be thankful for the snow, when you really wish to see the sun.

Most of our suffering has its roots in resistance. We suffer as we agonize over mistakes, misspoken words, and things we have done wrong. You can’t change the past. It has already happened. You can accept the past and move on, working to correct the mistakes of yesterday.

We suffer as we worry about what will happen tomorrow. We have no control over tomorrow. Of course, you can make plans, but as the good book says, we are not guaranteed tomorrow. It is foolish to say, “Tomorrow I will do this, and tomorrow I will do that.” We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Worrying about it, resisting internally, will not change a moment. 

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.

Have you ever gotten a rude email from a coworker, a snotty text from a teenager, or read an aggravating post on Facebook? Welcome to the information superhighway. We are bombarded daily with messages from so many different directions, it’s hard to know which way is up.

I have learned the hard way, that the way to deal with messages that make me mad, whether they are from my children, coworkers, friends or acquaintances, is to not hit send.

When I receive a message that rubs me the wrong way, my initial response is usually disbelief. “What?” I think. “How could they say such a thing to me, or about me? I’ve never done anything wrong! I am an innocent bystander.”

My disbelief usually gives way quickly to righteous indignation. “I’m going to set them straight. They obviously don’t know what they are talking about,” I think as my fingers quickly type out a biting response.

Those responses, fired off in the heat of passion, rarely produce the desired result. What I want is a broken and contrite teenager. What I get is a back and forth of nasty that leaves me feeling drained, defeated and dirty.

Fortunately, with eight kids, I get lots of practice. And I have learned that, while a witty and hard-hitting retort may satisfy my need to be right, it is usually not in my best interest. Wait. I exaggerate. It is never in my best interest to cut people to the quick.

I work with words. I love words. I pride myself on being able to eviscerate a person with just a few quick key-strokes. The written word is a powerful tool. Much like our spoken words, what we say has the power to lift someone up, or tear them down. When attacked, I often choose to come back with greater force, to teach them a much-needed lesson.

There is a better way. When you see something that hurts you, or is untrue about you, or just makes you mad, you can write the meanest response you like. The secret is to not hit send.

Once you have written your rebuttal, don’t hit send. Wait a while. Reread it. Consider if this is truly how you want to present yourself.

Who we are is a result of what we think, say and do. The things we do and say are evident to everyone around us. As a mom, as a friend, and as a person, I want to be kind, gentle and loving to those around me. Even when I get mad, or feel unjustly attacked, my response should reflect who I want to be. Each moment is an opportunity to decide again, who you want to be.

Go ahead and write that scathing response. Even better than typing it, write it by hand on a piece of paper. You can really let them have it on paper. Once you have written your meanest, self-justifying letter, read it again. Consider for a moment that what the other person said or wrote really had nothing to do with you. Although they sent that text or email, or made that comment, it is really a reflection of who they are, and where they were at that moment. It has nothing to do with you. Really.

Now that you’ve reread your response, consider if this is really who you are. Is this how you want that person to perceive you? If you are on social media, is this how you want everyone else to perceive you? Do you really want your kids, your coworkers and your friends to feel the full brunt of your ire?

Now is the time to hit delete. You’ve written your response, vented your anger, and had your say. Now, don’t hit send. Let it sit awhile. Chances are, when you come back around to your response in a few minutes, or an hour, or a day, you will feel differently.

I rarely regret holding my tongue. I always regret the unkind words I have spoken. The sharp sword of my words brings regret and sadness and the satisfaction I long for is elusive.

A kind word is never wasted or regretted. If you are ever in doubt, don’t hit send.

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

My good friend and I were recently discussing the value of the middle of the road. He had just returned from a trip to Florida, where the politics, like the weather, can be heated and extreme.

The middle of the road is the place for me. You can see both directions pretty clearly, and there’s plenty of time to get out of the way when something big comes hurtling toward you.

Extremism in politics, religion, weight loss philosophy and just about anything else, is disruptive and causes a lot of unnecessary anger, angst and frustration. When I was a homeschool mom, I saw many extremes.

One group I discovered early on called themselves “HELM”, Home Educators Like Me. This group believed in an unschooled approach, in which they trusted that their kids would naturally pick up whatever knowledge they needed in their lives, without formal instruction.

When I realized that some of the teenage boys in the group couldn’t read, but could play video games for hours at a time, I decided the group wasn’t for me.

Then I discovered “HUG”, which sounded nice. Who doesn’t like a hug? Hugs are good, especially when you are trying to teach a houseful of kids how to read. In this instance, HUG stood for Homeschoolers Under God.

Don’t get me wrong, I like God. And I believe a strong spiritual background is important for everyone. But this group went to the opposite extreme. Those kids had to call their parent’s ma’am and sir. I think they wore hand made uniforms, too. They spent a lot of time on rote memorization of everything from the U,S. Constitution, to the Bill of Rights, to the multiplication tables (all the way up to 20x20) and bible verses in the original Hebrew.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. I’m sure both groups had a lot to offer, but their extremism was a turn-off for the average Joe. Back in the day before computers, I opted for a mix of educational materials from a variety of sources. And I’m glad to say that four of my eight children are in college, while the other four are still finishing various levels of elementary, middle and high school. The middle of the road served us well, in a number of aspects.

I consider myself a pretty average Joe. The middle ground offers compromise, negotiation and cooperation. These are all things I can get behind, and they are all skills I want my children to learn. Extremism from either end of the spectrum rarely produces tangible results. Instead, it is often divisive, disruptive and contentious. Life is too short for so much anger.

I understand that many may view the middle of the road as a cowardly place, where wishy-washy new age thinkers hang out — and maybe it is. But, the good news is, we have chocolate here, and coffee and wine. And we have conversations in which both sides of an argument are evaluated for their validity.

Here in the middle of the road, you will find a compromising group of people who may not believe as you do, but who will defend your right to believe as you wish.

And here in the middle of the road, we let the voices of the masses be heard, not drowned out by anger. In the middle of the road, you are free to speak without fear of being drowned out by an angry mob.

Wyoming is the perfect place to be in the middle of the road. There isn’t too much traffic here, so you can see for miles. And as the Equality State, people are theoretically inclined to engage in intelligent discourse.  I think we ought to start a middle of the road political movement. We could call it common sense.

Common sense works for Wyoming and it could work for the rest of the country too. And if you’d like to join me for some chocolate and a glass of wine, I’ll meet you in the middle of the road.

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”. 

Most of us will never do great things. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean you aren’t great. You are. I appreciate you. What I mean to say is that most of us will never do that one great thing.

Unfortunately, we put off living, because of that one elusive great thing. Can’t cure cancer? Well, I guess I won’t be a doctor then. Can’t change lives? Then forget teaching. If I can’t get straight A’s, then I might as well not bother with college. I suppose you get the gist. It seems easier to give up, than to be less than great. The perfectionist tendency has led to the abrupt ending of a lot of small things.

Although you are capable of great things, real life is lived amid the small things, and it is those things we can do well.

As we look at our lives, it can become discouraging and disheartening to realize that great things will eternally elude us. What I have discovered, and want to pass on to you, is that each and every one of us can do small things with great love.

Now, don’t roll your eyes. It’s true. Small things surround us on a daily basis. Our lives are defined by the small things we do each day. When you add love to those small things, they become, dare I say, great. Each act can be infused with a great deal of kindness and love. Every act done with intention becomes great in itself.

You don’t have to change the world. It is enough to change where you are. Serve those around you with kindness. Extend forgiveness instead of harshness. Small things done with kindness make a difference in every life.

I’ll share a recent experience to illustrate the power of intention, or the lack thereof.

A friend and I went to lunch together. As we entered the establishment, the person behind the counter was shouting to or at a person in the back.

She didn’t acknowledge us or greet us. She continued her loud, angry conversation and headed toward the back.

When she finally came out, she demanded to know what we wanted. I sheepishly placed my order, feeling like an intruder into a private conversation. The air was alive with their negative energy.

As we found our seats, I said, “I hope that angry girl isn’t making our food.”  Alas and alack. It was meant to be. The angry energy that permeated the restaurant found its way into my lunch, as the girl threw the ingredients together.

I always enjoy the food I eat at this particular restaurant. It is usually pretty tasty. This time, however, I had the worst meal I have ever eaten there. It was bland and tasteless. Although I order the same thing every time I go there, this time was different. It tasted different. And it sat in my stomach all day, a constant reminder of someone else’s anger.

A study in the journal Social Psychological and Personality Science suggests that physical events are influenced by the intentions of those involved.

When you set about your daily tasks, filling yourself with good intentions, or good energy will not only benefit you, but it will also benefit those you serve.

Mother Teresa said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

The small things you accomplish with great love reflect in your life to magnify and lighten it. Life is lived in the small moments, done with love.

Namaste, friends

I have seen multiple studies, which claim that to offset the effects of old age and Alzheimer’s disease, it is important to engage in new activities. I find that trying new things can be exciting, but for me, also very stressful. Adventure, while full of benefits, can also be beset by obstacles. And this will keep us young at heart.

After a week of camping in the Teton Mountains, I am here to say that I shall never grow old. It all began innocently, with an invitation to join two good friends on their annual pilgrimage to the Tetons. After mulling over the invitation, I loaded up the tent and the kids, filled the car with gas and headed north.

Obstacle number one: I have never been to Jackson. Fortunately my phone is equipped with a map app that tells me how to get where I need to go. Without that app, I could still be driving around, lost in the mountains. When I finally reached our campground, I felt elated by my success.

Obstacle number two: Slalom skiing. I have water skied in the past. The very distant past, when I was much younger, much fitter, and much crazier. The passing years have made me protective of my body. I don’t want to get hurt. After much cajoling by my friends, and much whining by me, I agreed to try getting up on one ski. And I did it. Once again, the brain synapses began firing in new directions and I felt young and adventurous. The next day, as my shoulders, hips and back ached in pain, I felt neither young nor adventurous.

On the third day of adventuring, as my kids fondly called our trip, I encountered the largest obstacle of all, and it was much worse than getting lost in the mountains or slalom skiing. My dear friend challenged me to ride a stand-up paddleboard down the Snake River. In a wet suit. Panic filled my chest all afternoon, as I contemplated her suggestion. I was already far outside my comfort zone, and felt panicky at the thought of heading into the unknown on a small floating board, while dressed in a ridiculously tight garment.

Eventually I capitulated, but only after being mocked by several small children who clucked loudly like chickens. As she handed me the wetsuit, I immediately regretted that decision. Although the label said “men’s large”, no man I know would fit into this contraption. I squeezed myself into the springy material, grabbed my phone for pictures, steeled my nerves and stepped onto the board.

My legs were shaky but I headed down the river. It actually seemed fun. Then I decided to take a picture of a beaver swimming near me. I pulled my iPhone out of the wetsuit and began fiddling with it. In a brief moment of clarity, I realized that this might not be a good idea, just as I saw the paddleboard slip from beneath my feet.

A wet suit does not keep you dry. Nor does a wet suit protect an iPhone. I grabbed my phone before it sank, and then endeavored to climb aboard the floating piece of fiberglass. The beaver was long gone. For a moment, I lay on the board, humble in my fall. Then I got back up and finished my ride. Gunnar, my ten-year old son did not fall from his paddleboard, and he encouraged me the entire time. He didn’t even laugh when I fell. At the Cattleman’s Bridge, we pulled out of the river, cold, wet and happy.

Climbing out of a damp wet suit is harder than climbing into a dry one. By the time we got back to camp, the sun had set. I was chilled to the bone, but elated. I had conquered the river and my fear of the unknown. At this rate, I really will live to 111.

Namaste Friends

It’s easy to be optimistic when life runs smoothly.  When things flow, everything seems to work together. Stressors come along, but you handle them calmly. Problems arise, but you work through them. Conflicts seem to dissipate fairly, when life is in the flow.

But what about when everything falls apart? How do you handle your life then? The philosophical answer is that you remain in the moment, unperturbed. You remember to breathe deeply and calmly. You focus on only the things you can change in the moment. The spiritual answer: you ask God for strength. You focus on God as the source of your comfort, and of all things in your life. On a physical level, when things around you fall apart, you maintain your disciplined schedule of rising early, studying and meditating, exercising, strict eating. You avoid those foods that are known to increase your anxiety, and you eschew alcohol.

All of those answers exist in an ideal world. But what about in real life, when things fall apart? What about when you can’t make it through the day without a glass of wine or two, and before bedtime you realize the bottle is empty again? What about when you lose your job? Even though it was a stressful job that didn’t pay nearly enough, and you never felt acknowledged for your work, it was still a job. It still gave some purpose to your day.  What about when someone you love leaves you? Although you fought a lot, and were getting tired of them anyway, you still miss the idea of being in a relationship.

When things fall apart in real life, what does a normal person do? We aren’t all spiritual gurus or disciplined yogis, or fit athletes, able to roll with the punches, no matter the circumstance. In real life, real people handle stress in a myriad of ways. When life caves in all around you, there are some things you can do, that don’t require you to be enormously disciplined, that will help shore up the walls of your sanity.

When things fall apart, the first step is to ask for help. You don’t have to ask anyone specifically. The Universe will hear your request, whether it is out loud or just in your heart. Ask for help and believe that it is on its way. When you ask the universe for help, remember to release the form it takes. When help comes your way, be sure to take advantage of it, rather than reject it based on looks alone. Just because your help doesn’t come packaged the way you’d expected, don’t dismiss it out of hand.

After asking for help, it is important to remember to breath. Often when you are in the midst of mind numbing crisis, one of the things you forget to do is breathe. Of course, you are breathing. It’s an automatic function. But during crisis or panic mode, the breathing often becomes rapid and shallow. You forget to breathe deeply, and you neglect a full exhale. Breathing properly is an extremely important part of healing. Breathe in deeply, fully oxygenating your blood, filling your lungs to capacity. Hold it for a moment, and then breathe out fully, cleansing your lungs and your body of stale air. A few deep breaths will help clear and calm your mind, and will release some of the stress you’ve been carrying.

The main thing to keep in mind when things fall apart is this: everything always changes. Regardless of the situation you are in now, this too shall pass. Everything is in a constant state of change. The good times will pass into hard times. The hard times will flow into good times. The cycle will continue throughout your life. So even when things fall apart, the best thing you can do for yourself is to realize that things will come together, and they will fall apart again.

I have always expressed a fondness for the quiet spaces between the notes. The interlude. Not only in music, but also in life the calm between moments of frenzied activity offers a chance to breathe and take in the beauty of life.

And now, I am enjoying an interlude of my own. Some of you may have noticed that I am no longer with Evanston’s radio station, Cook Brother’s Broadcasting. And some of you may have never noticed that I left the Uinta County Herald. Let me bring you up to date, and share a little of what’s happening in my life.

I enjoyed working at the Herald for nearly two years. Then, an exciting opportunity opened up for me at K-9 and KADQ radio stations. While working at the newspaper offered me a chance to hone my writing skills, and meet many wonderful community members, the radio station offered a chance to develop some different skill sets. Both environments were fun, challenging, and not without their own different stresses.

I have always been a writer. From my youngest days as a middle school student, the burning desire to create with the written word has always been with me. About ten years ago, I felt inspired to write a book about marriage. The actual writing of the book took only about a month of concerted effort. And then, like many other well-intentioned ideas, it sat on the wayside while life interrupted my plans.

Following many life changes, including moving to Evanston and working at the aforementioned jobs, I felt the time had come for me to complete that long ago abandoned project. I decided at the end of April that to really finish my book and get started on other books that have been churning in my head, I would need to focus my attention and intention on that goal.

After leaving the radio station at the end of April, I completed the long-delayed process of writing my first book. On May 10, 2013, The Married Girls Guide to Great Sex was published on Amazon.

Don’t get too bent out of shape now. It is a book about marriage, with a catchy title. Books live and die by their covers and by their titles. The Married Girls Guide to Great Sex is not of the 50 Shades of Gray genre of books. Rather, it is designed to improve your marriage, no matter how long you’ve been married.

In addition, I am currently working on two more non-fiction books, The Married Girls Guide to Daily Devotion, and The Married Girls Guide to Practical Spirituality. I anticipate both of those books will be available by the end of the year. I am also writing a fictitious work, which seems to grow by the day and take on a life of its own.

While I’m not on the radio, nor in the newspaper, you can still find my work in the Market Mailer, on my website, deborahdemander.com, and of course on Amazon.

In addition, I offer motivational seminars, not only on my book, but on a variety of other topics.

I look forward to seeing or hearing from you.

Namaste Friends.