My life looks completely different than it did a year ago, two years ago. Five years ago. This thought came to mind early one recent morning on the pickleball court. It was just after my birthday, the time of year when I love to pause and reflect on things, what I’ve learned that I might share, nuggets of wisdom, or introspective questions I’m leaning into. Life does look so different now – new home, a new state, new gig, more creative freedom, exciting clients and partnerships, new stories, new friendships, deepened old friendships, a lot more family time, pickleball! – that my annual birthday post kept getting pushed. There was just too much to talk about. My mind whirled, unable to settle. Life is fleeting. Things are temporary. You don’t realize it at the time because you’re in it, dealing with daily decisions, tasks, and plots toward goals. But, looking... Read more →

Here's how to notice them. A faint tap on my window roused my attention. In truth, it made me jump, mostly because the window would not be a window a person on the outside could reach without a ladder. There, hovering outside the glass like a fairy, was a hummingbird. Its wings were copper-lined from the midafternoon sun. It seemed to want my attention, enough so that I laughed at myself as I sucked in my gut, because of course I was sitting in that person-living-alone slouched-on-the-couch position that no one ever sees. It appeared she was window shopping. Or perhaps she was seeking knowledge that she would carry along on her way. Or maybe, just maybe she dropped by to deliver a message of some sort. Hummingbirds are, after all, nature’s gossipmongers. She didn’t stay long, a few, maybe ten, seconds, but long enough that I felt a connection... Read more →

The calm lake beckoned. The house was still sleeping as I fixed my coffee, wrapped in a blanket against the early morning chill, and found a perfect spot in an Adirondack chair on the dock over Lake LBJ. Not a ripple. The houses across the lake reflected in perfect mirror images on the water's surface. Ah. Exhale. I took a sip of coffee and started the guided meditation in my favorite app. Then... A leaf blower with the whirr of a foghorn on a freight train blasted onto the scene. And. It. Echoed. Tenfold across the lake. I tried to stay zen, to focus on the muddled voice of the meditation guide only catching every few words. I turned it up but it was useless, the noise drowned everything out. I plugged my ears with my fingers in hopes it would reduce the noise. I so wanted to enjoy these... Read more →

The sunrise is a clean slate. That was the thought, the inkling, that popped into my head while meditating in front of the morning's sunrise (the photo is the sunrise off my patio). It got me thinking how, even as daily tasks and to-do's can at times feel like Groundhog's Day, the fresh perspective of a clean slate at the dawn of each day provides an opportunity to create a more satisfying and expansive experience. Each day. A clean slate. It rejuvenates the status quo. It changes the more-of-the-same game. It's a shift in energy. It can give our big continuing projects, our most important WIP's, new life. Just the notion of a clean slate feels like a cool breath. In fact, just uttering the phrase feels fresh. Give it a shot. Today is a clean slate. Each day is its own opportunity, its own time capsule. So, then the... Read more →

When is it you become a person of a certain age? As I was drifting off to sleep on the eve of my recent birthday, I recalled a comment I’ve heard so often in conversation with friends in Hollywood. “If you’re a woman of a certain age you can’t get arrested in this town.” Everyone nodded, like it was a given, a looming sentence we all should prepare for, a label slapped on our foreheads without our say. The history of the label, which could be put on a man or a woman (most often placed on women), doesn’t have a flattering origin either. It dates back to the 1700’s when Lord Byron coined the phrase to refer to “spinsters” and “unfortunate women” without many prospects. Today it calls to reference an age range or place in life that’s unspeakable, as in too old to mention the number as it... Read more →

It's about time for the midyear check-in on my word theme for the year: to record ahas about how things are going and if any shifts have taken place. And, then I share them with you. Well, I've been stuck around the sharing part. Stuck. Ironically, my word this year is Motion. I've been stuck in motion. The truth is I've been in the midst of massive motion lately, lots going on in my work life, and changing locations, from LA to Austin, to be near family for the foreseeable future. So, massive motion swirling - physical, energetic, mental, material, emotional. All in about a three-month span. So how did that lead to a feeling of being stuck in motion? I haven't been writing. As a creative being in a mad love affair with words, not writing regularly feels like a piece is missing; a big enough piece that it... Read more →

“We’re moving into plank.” I’ve never been a fan of the plank. The minute my yoga teacher, Johanna McClain, says those words, “we’re moving into plank,” my mind and body freeze with a preconceived notion that it’s going to be hard - body stretched flat like a plank, arms strong, abs, and core stitched tight. Breathe. But, after many months of practicing yoga and meditation consistently, an interesting thing happened. A click. Recently, we were in a sequence of flowing between the plank and downward dog, back and forth, plank and downward dog, moving with the breath, plank, down dog. My mind and body started down the same pattern of oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-hard, when Johanna said, “find the place between effort and ease.” and something clicked. It wasn't the first time she used the phrase, but it was the first time it clicked into my mind and then my body. Find the... Read more →

My word and theme for 2020 was Connection. Ironic, considering. I went back over my intentions from a year ago and laughed out loud at what was at the top of the list: more mingling, less isolation. It almost feels like a cosmic joke after spending most of the last few months in more isolation than ever. But, the wisdom that rose up while reflecting on it is that it was a gift rather than a joke. The connecting that did take place, virtually and in small pods, was profound and real and set the stage for more, deeper, lasting relationships. It just looked different than what I'd visualized. The stagnancy that permeated for me during the pandemic was also very real, often stuck in place in a perpetual pause while wondering, like everyone else, when things are going to get moving again, when projects can go into production, when... Read more →

I’ve been thinking of putting 2020 in a box and storing it in the attic. I know so many others feel the same way. With all the year's suffering, fear, angst and frustration I was going to say 'let's burn it' but I found myself asking: what if I need something from that box? Well, what would be in that box that you would possibly need? Hmm. Good question… Deep breathing. I did that a lot, through stress and angst, all year long. Okay, deep breathing. take it out of the box now. Good idea. What else? I guess when I think about it there were things in 2020 that I appreciated and want to keep: I focused on getting healthier, got into yoga, lost 30 pounds, relished deeper connections with people, tried to help where I could, prayed and meditated a lot, loved on my fur family, and wrote... Read more →

I looked down at my hand which was draped palm-down on the book I was reading. What I saw was crepe-like skin gathered at the base of my thumb and soft wrinkles pooling around my knuckles. What I saw was my mother’s hand. What I saw was the merging of my mother’s and father’s hand. What I saw was my grandmother’s hand. My nose stung and my eyes watered. I blinked back a tear. What I saw was, again, my own hand. What are the tears? I asked. Yeah, that surprised me too, I said. Are you sad when look at your hand? No. Afraid? No. I looked again at my hand. My strong, long, lined, graceful, feminine, aging hand. I perused the corrugated map of lines on my palm and marveled at the deep life there. The tears are acknowledgment, I said. Appreciation. Love. All of that from looking... Read more →