My son, Matt, and I found ourselves on the bustling streets of Manhattan last week. My boy sticks around no matter where I am. Sometimes he just quietly goes along for the ride, but this particular day was one of those times I felt his whisper in my heart. When I sense him there I know it’s time for me to become intentional, more aware of even the smallest sights, sounds and bits of information around me. And that’s when Mother Teresa entered my day. 

My cousin and I were browsing the Julliard Bookstore – she, looking for a theory book to help one of her piano students, an...

I gave my blog a title this past year because it seemed like that was what all serious bloggers did. Honestly, I suppose I thought I would take the work of sharing my ideas more seriously if I named the place they were going to live. Perhaps a specific title would assure everyone that I was serious about the ideas that had caught my mind in their soulful webs . . . and maybe even catch the eye of a new reader or two. And along the way, I discovered the perfect reason for giving title to my words; it has served to relentlessly remind me of the purpose for my writing. In th...

Yep, that’s how the latest email began . . . all in shouty, bold letters. 

I tried digesting the phrase, rolled it around in my head a bit and then just sat with it. It became probable truth as my old nemesis, perfectionism, joined forces with the insecurities that survive, alive and kicking, within my introverted self. And through their critical lenses the actions of my last several months started to play across the landscape of my writer’s life. My mind generated a well full of questions, each bubbling up to ask what more I could have accomplished. I supposed it must be...

My story, with Judy at its center, is just a slice of my amazing cousin’s life. Her full story will always remain big and bold, colorful, generous and loving . . . and valiant.

Judy, both cousin and friend, was falling more deeply into the morass of Alzheimer’s. So, I decided to travel the miles necessary to spend time with her, to remember with her, to say hello again to some longtime, well-loved memories we had shared. At the same time, I knew I might need to face the truth that this visit could also hold our goodbye. That delicate time together flooded back to me this s...

I looked out over my audience – the circle of people who were so obviously carrying, physically and emotionally, the varied weights of their different losses. And I knew right away that how I had originally planned to begin our time together needed to shift quickly. We needed to become storytellers.

A few weeks ago I presented a workshop for BPUSA – a national organization, coordinated by, supportive of, and designed for bereaved parents. This opportunity played out in ways that were uniquely challenging, surprisingly educational and sweetly inspiring. As I welcomed people...

As you may have realized, and I hope you have, I’ve been absent from the website for a while.

But I’m back! 

The summer has been a full one . . . full of stuff that led me to lose track of myself – the happily busy self – because I was engaged with my other self – the overextended, discontented, analytical introvert self. Though it hasn’t been great fun being me lately, I only have myself to blame.

Honestly, it seems as if things should be clearer at my advanced age . . . but life will do as it must, and continues to let me tangle all my selves up in its opportunities.

It's g...

Life, by its very nature is an interestingly bittersweet proposition.

We are the travelers – each walking our own, unique life pathway, each living within our own, particular variety of the sweet and the bitter. At our core, we understand that the bitter is inevitable. Life weaves it into our days and nights through the ongoing changes and losses that mark each of our journeys, regardless of who we are or where we’ve arrived on the marked and unmarked paths of our travels. Likewise, the sweet joins us as celebrations while we journey on. The pundits tell us we can’t have o...