I laid my book on the counter and opened my purse to pay for the car repair. The man behind the counter glanced down and said “How’s the book?” I was in the middle of reading Bruce Springsteen’s memoir. “It’s a great read,” I replied, “Did you see the movie?”  “No, but I heard it wasn’t that great,” he responded with a bit of disappointment. “Well,” I said with a long pause, “I think you have to be a fan; I liked it, but I’m a Jersey Girl. “ “Me too! Not a girl, but from Jers

I was fumbling through photos on my lap top, trying to figure out how to open them. My computer update rearranged all of my pics into a new format to make it easier to navigate. Can you spell AGGRAVATION? Finally, I accidentally clicked on something that opened a slew of pictures. Mindlessly scrolling through random images, I came across one that made me stop and linger. The captured image pulled my heart strings triggering a memory that was bittersweet. It was a photo of me

“This was harder than any football practice I ever had…and I’ve had a lot,” said the man whose face was beaded with sweat as he picked up his yoga mat. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, he cracked me up! He was probably in his late 60’s early 70’s, no doubt a Boomer, geared in yellow yoga leggings under a pair of shorts and t-shirt. I don’t know about football practice, but clearly this hot power yoga class was a challenge. The constant flow moved us through a steady pace o

It’s easy to be a spectator, to watch things happen from afar. We cheer, we boo, we criticize, analyze; we watch and listen with judgmental eyes and ears. Spectators have nothing to lose; there’s no personal stake in it. But when you’re all in, down in the trenches sweating in an on your knee’s  moment, using every last shred of strength to overcome, just trying to keep your head above water so you can take your next breath, you know you’re in the game. You’re walking that ti

Holiday cards, not many people send them these days. I suppose they don’t hold much meaning anymore living in this digital world. But I received one the other day that brought a smile to my face. It was from a former student. The card had a montage of pictures taken of him over the past year. The last time I saw him he was probably around thirteen. The photos now looking back at me was the face of a young man who seemed very happy. When I looked at the envelope return address

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I entered the yoga studio and rolled out my mat in between two others in the back of the room. So many came to this Yoga Nidra New Year’s...

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I don’t remember learning about the Great Depression in school, but I do remember the stories my father told about growing up during that...

Dear parents, A huge heart of compassion goes out to you this Valentine’s Day. For your endless attempts over and over again to attain...

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I wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, it just seemed different. Instead of Crosby’s White Christmas, I resonated more with the...

My first car was a ’65 Pontiac station wagon that I shared with my brother, not stylish, but functional (sort of). Gray in color and...

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I snapped this pic during my son’s recent home visit. He was so happy to be home. Just a day ago he was in the ER after what was clearly...

I recently commented on a favorite writer’s blog, the topic: point of surrender. People were generously commenting, sharing their...