I am about half-committed to mindfulness. I live in full enjoyment of my kids, my wife and nature. I love adventures, big and small, like exploring our local river for the 100th time, getting all dirty and throwing the kids and the dog in the bath immediately upon returning home. When it comes to joy, I can sink in.
In a pool, the “gutter” is the gateway to the filtration system. Water gets pulled into the gutter to be filtered, before being sent back in. In large pools, the gutter runs the entire length of a pool. The gutter lane is a fascinating lane. I am just learning about it, as I’ve only just occupied it. I joined a
We ‘ve had a series of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. My wife and I are both in the midst of major transitions at work, resulting in working after hours and several emotionally draining days. In the midst of a safety risk review meeting, which is an endless review of disease, diagnoses, and death in
My mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (M.S.) at the age of 21, long before I came into being. For a time, mom was healthy. She could walk and work and dance. Oh my, how she ever loved to dance. To this day, when I dream of her, I dream of her dancing. Her MS was
CTWorkingMoms has a fairly consistent “no politics” policy within our blogger team. There are several reasons for it, and one of them is that it’s difficult to talk about politics without judgment. It is also difficult to talk about politics without drawing judgment. As a group that believes non-judgment trumps, we avoid the political band wagons.
I am in one of those “riding on cloud nine” moods where I think, for a moment anyway, that I’ve found Shambala and the Holy Grail. Truth is, I’ve found nothing, except, it seems, a hefty dose of serenity on the other side of what has been several weeks filled with anxiety and overwhelm. In
I am slowly examining my relationship with perfectionism. What brought this issue to the forefront? First: I have children. Cleaning my house, washing finger prints (or paint or marker) off the walls is futile. The floors are never clean. I have a dog. Ditto the above, minus perhaps a little paint but throw in a decent
ISIS, the Boko Haram, a lynching in Mississippi, a hung jury in a domestic violence homicide, the war on the poor instead of poverty, or the war on drug addicts instead of drugs, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault, friends with Cancer, grief, a proposed bill to legalize killing gays in California: ENOUGH! Pain and
“What Dreams May Come” (1998) is perhaps the most powerful movie I’ve ever seen. Like for so many, the scene that still brings me to tears is when Robin Williams (Chris) says goodbye to his son, only to walk back to join his wife in hell for eternity. The act of joining his wife where
My wife and I share “that look” across the kitchen. You know the one, the one that says “I’m sorry, were you talking? I’m not sure, I can’t hear you over… EVERYTHING!” That look. Do we resign ourselves to yet another unfinished conversation, or insist, again, on some respect for the fact that every now and again