The Season of Cycles and Subtle Grace Fall has always been a special time of year for me. The air feels softer, the light more golden, and everything seems to whisper, “Slow down, reflect, and begin again.”  The colors of the season—burnt orange, deep gold, russet, and amber—carry with them a quiet prosperity, reminding us that abundance and endings often arrive hand in hand. This week, I found myself thinking deeply about the cycles of life.  The falling leaves, the cool mor

Faith and Focus This week was an exercise in grounding—faith and focus walking hand in hand. The world feels noisy, full of unpredictable turns, global unease, and moments that challenge one’s sense of peace. I found myself pulled again and again into the storm of current events. But each time, I reminded myself that faith is not blindness—it is balance. Faith steadies us when the outer world trembles. Focus helps us move forward, step by step, through the uncertainty. Toget

The Discipline of Focus This week was a wonderful return—to movement, to mindfulness, and to myself. After days filled with obligations and emotional tides, I finally found the space to reconnect with my physical wellness routine  and inner clarity . But even as I moved in the right direction, the theme that emerged loud and clear was: Distraction. Not the kind that comes with laziness or neglect, but the more deceptive kind—the kind that feels productive  but pulls you away

Theme: Kindness Begins Within This past week, the word kindness  followed me like a gentle whisper. Not the grand, performative kind, but the quiet, restorative kind—especially the kind I so often forget to offer myself. I have always considered myself a kind person. I go out of my way to be thoughtful to others. But this week, I noticed a gap: I am kinder to others than I am to myself. And that realization stopped me in my tracks. In Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Bein

This week has been a whirlwind of political intrigue and a much-needed period of personal refreshment. As the dust settles from the headlines and the world continues to spin, I have found myself more dedicated than ever to taking care of my mental well-being, especially now that I am a year older. I have realized that dwelling on the past and reflecting on all the wrong things only creates more negativity, leading to a profound sense of sadness and apathy . It is an easy trap

As I stand on the cusp of a new decade, preparing to celebrate a milestone birthday, my heart is overflowing with gratitude. I am so thankful to be alive, healthy, and prosperous, surrounded by the love of my family. I've been reflecting on the lessons learned along the way, and I can honestly say that the one I wish I had embraced years ago is the art of living one day at a time. The perpetual race against the clock, worrying about the future, and dwelling on the past only s

This week was a struggle. An issue with my gums persisted far longer than it should have. Despite discomfort and the urgings of my family and a doctor friend, I was determined to wait until September, when my new insurance would kick in. The fear of an unknown cost loomed larger than the physical pain. I imagined a bill of thousands of dollars, a financial burden that seemed insurmountable without insurance. It was only when I could no longer endure the discomfort that I fina

What a week to feel truly alive—free and prosperous in spirit. Once again, it was my grandchildren who taught me the most profound lessons. Their world is filled with educational toys, electronic gadgets, and a whirlwind of creative and athletic activities. My granddaughter, who seems destined for the Olympics, has a particular passion for rock wall climbing. At just six years old, she's already mastering this challenge. Last year, her attempts were met with frustration. But

What an amazing week. It was full of much-needed rest , leaving me with an overall feeling of peace. Amidst this tranquility, a profound moment of insight came to me while watching my granddaughter play a video game. As she created a world and a home for herself, her words were a window into a philosophical lesson. She used the term “biodome” to describe her creations, explaining how her first home in the game had no walls and was full of holes. It was a fragile and exposed p

Some moments feel like they arrive carrying a quiet knock on the soul. A neighbor of mine recently passed away. Within two weeks, her home was buzzing with repair crews, tools, and conversation. The gutters were fixed, the fence was mended, and the garden was trimmed. I could not help but wonder: how many of these repairs had been “someday” plans in her mind? How many things did she want to see done, touch, or enjoy—yet never quite reached the top of her list while she was al

This week I encountered many beautiful reminders that second chances are real—and often transformative. I witnessed individuals who were once counted out rise and flourish when someone simply believed in their ability to change. It made me pause and give thanks for the times I have been given another opportunity to try again, grow, and get it right. Sometimes the timing is off, and the soil is too dry for our seeds to take root. But then—oh, sometimes—the time is just right ,

This week reminded me of one of my favorite thinkers, Florence Scovel Shinn, and the path to success she so clearly illuminated. Her classic work The Game of Life and How to Play It  continues to speak truth to my journey. Life truly is a game—complete with wins and losses, strategy and alignments, surprise moves and hidden lessons. We are winners not by avoiding challenges, but by choosing to play life on our own terms. There is a certain wisdom in celebrating our wins, yes—

This week seemed to exude fear  from every corner—news headlines, public discourse, and even private conversations. It was not just the usual background noise; it felt coordinated, visceral, and almost suffocating. I found myself practicing deep breathing several times a day, sometimes just to anchor myself in the moment. Fear is a powerful emotion. It can alert us to danger, yes, but unchecked, it can paralyze and distort. I want to speak to anyone who may be feeling emotion

The last two weeks have felt like an avalanche—issues at work, unexpected disruptions, emotional turbulence. In one word? EXTRA . The kind of “extra” that blurs the lines between what is manageable and what is just too much. In Stephen King’s 11/22/63 , the protagonist refers to “interesting” as a kind of euphemism for EXTRAORDINARY , and not always in a good way. It is a perfect metaphor for what I have been living: days filled with news that is too loud, responsibilities to

What a week. The world feels like it is shifting underfoot—news of war, whispers of sleeper cells, random acts of violence, mass deportations. In the blink of an eye, the familiar feels foreign. And through it all, I found myself leaning hard on the tools that keep me centered: affirmations, resilience meditations, and grace. Still, even with all that support, something felt off. My memory was foggy, my thoughts disjointed. I could feel the stress clenching my mind. That was

This past week was saturated with uncertainty. So often I found myself asking aloud, “What is going on?”  The world seemed to unravel—political power plays, mass protests, the show of militarized force, and the unrelenting noise of conflict. I could not predict the future, nor control how others might behave. I could only manage my inner world: my thoughts, my actions, my peace of mind. I turned inward. I walked. I brewed tea with quiet reverence. I journaled. I read. I remem

My mother used to say, “Man proposes and God disposes.”  These past two weeks have been gentle reminders of that wisdom. I had plans—structured days and predictable rhythms—but life delivered unexpected gifts that disrupted my Sunday routine. For the first time in many weeks, I missed a Sunday post in my business. And yet, I have learned that disruption is not always destruction. Sometimes, it is divine redirection. Carolyn Myss, in her book Sacred Contracts , speaks about th

Today’s date— 5/25/25 —is a palindrome that invites reflection. There is something poetic about symmetry, about things aligning in unexpected harmony. And this week, life did just that: it unfolded without drama, chaos, or disruption. It was, quite simply, a beautiful, peaceful week. In the stillness, I found joy. I rediscovered a book tucked on my shelf— Everyday Spirit  by Mary Davis. To my surprise, it was signed by the author. I have no memory of acquiring this book, and

Such a glorious week. I spent long hours with my hands in the soil—gardening, planting, preparing. There is something sacred about nurturing life from seed to bloom. As I worked, I imagined the rewards ahead: the joy of sitting in my garden, sipping tea, watching flowers sway in rhythm with the wind, and listening to birds weave music into the air. Even the rainy days were a gift. The soft rhythm of rain felt like a blessing—heaven’s way of nourishing the life I am helping to

This was a week of il dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing nothing. Ironically, it came during one of the busiest weeks I’ve had in months. Some days were a blur, consumed by to-do lists, emails, and back-to-back obligations. And yet, somewhere in the middle of the noise, I remembered to pause. To do nothing. And let me tell you, doing nothing is not  easy. It’s an act of intentional resistance against a world that glorifies productivity. But as I leaned into thes