A joke went around social media recently about how the temperature went from 90 to 55 like it saw a state trooper. It made me laugh, back when if still felt like late summer. A week into running the heater daily and noticing the sun set earlier and earlier, I’m no longer chuckling. Autumn. Not a huge fan. Fall colors? Yeah, they’re nice. That magical feeling when you can go outside without being suffocated by stifling, humid air or being bundled up as if en route to the South Pole? Love all 15 minutes of it. The inevitable weeks and weeks of darkness and cold? Nope. I accept that change is inevitable, but I doubt that I’ll ever celebrate the cold and darkness of fall and winter. No matter how much I whine, though, there hasn’t been a single instance where my complaining stopped the darkness from getting longer until that glorious. . . .Read more . . .
I used to think I had a problem with bridges. Then I learned that we can talk ourselves into panic when we’re safe and into calm when we’re in real danger. I live in Pennsylvania, close to Delaware, where I can easily enjoy proximity to tax-free shopping, Philadelphia, and my beloved Jersey shore. I love my view of the bridge to New Jersey from my neighborhood and the opportunities to proclaim, “I can see New Jersey from my windshield,” throughout my area. So it’s ironic that I made crossing the bridge to New Jersey a source of so much anxiety for so long. Anxiety Amid Calm I have no clue what prompted it, but after several years of driving to the shore every weekend for work, I started to become anxious as I crossed the bridge, but only on the way home. I was never truly unsafe on the bridge, but the. . . .Read more . . .
I suspect that, as a kid, I was a little excited about Labor Day, the start of the school year and time to reconnect with friends I hadn’t seen all summer. When I was a corporate drone in workplaces so intense I noticed little of the world outside of the office, I barely had the energy to notice, let alone celebrate, Labor Day As a teacher with the luxury of spending the whole summer at my beloved Jersey shore, Labor Day weekend was not a happy time. I cried so hard – sobbing, ugly cry – during the entire 75-mile drive home one year, I’m still not sure how I made it safely across the Delaware River. Labor Day was different this year. In the words of the prophet story teller Jimmy Buffett, “it’s been quite a summer.” After spending the last three months caring for my mom through her final. . . .Read more . . .
I don’t know what I want. The more I work with people who say they don’t know their heart’s desires, the more clear it becomes that they know more than they admit. Wait, so you’re calling your clients liars? Absolutely not. The problem isn’t that they don’t know what they want. It’s that they either think they don’t know what they want or that they think they don’t deserve it. They’ve either forgotten how to use their internal GPS system or they think they’re not even allowed to want what their heart’s desires let alone fulfill them. Or both. Rusty navigational equipment plus limiting thinking equals stuck. So how do you get clear about what you want and start getting more of it in your life? Trust. Trust Your Knowing There was a time when you knew. There was a time when you did things you were naturally drawn to,. . . .Read more . . .
What I really want is to find my purpose. That sentence, uttered by a potential client, used to be my personal kryptonite. I could help them for sure, in spite of a story in my head telling me I wasn’t very good at it. Working with – and helping – enough purpose seekers finally helped me to see that story for the lie that it was. Mr. Rogers helped, too. Missing the Trolley I never watched Mister Rogers Neighborhood as a kid. I don’t have kids, and the middle schoolers I taught were too cool to admit that they watched when they were little. Fred Rogers spoke at commencement at my alma mater – the year before I graduated – so I missed him there, too. But I know enough about him to predict this with confidence: Fred Rogers didn’t find his purpose by sitting around and thinking about it.. . . .Read more . . .