The K Factor

Synonyms for Klutz: 1. clumsy, ungraceful, ungainly, lumbering, lubberly. 2. unhandy, unskillful, maladroit, inexpert, bungling, bumbling, heavy-handed, inept.

There are skills I'm actually quite proud to possess. I'm pleased that, although I happen to be tone deaf, I can read music very well. I'm happy with my ability to read intricate and complex material, and to derive meaning from it. I'm awfully glad I'm learning how to balance the check book. It feels superb to have the ability to speak in several other languages...even if it's only conversational phrases. I can bake bread from scratch, teach a large dog to eat delicately from a fork and also have perfect recall of every film I've seen since I went to Mary Poppins. I'm not completely inefficient in the way I run my home, or lax in the I brought up my children. I hope that I'm a good friend, a loving mother and a kind daughter. I can dozens of hats in my life and feel incredibly blessed wearing any of them. I am confident I can meet most challenges with bravery. However, when it comes to walking a flight of stairs or trying to hit a moving ball, I'm a lost cause.

I happen to be a Klutz...capital K, not small. My ability to injure myself and those around me is legendary. My method of seeking out the one item to trip over in a room is without failure. My prowess at dropping my tray so often, in my college's cafeteria, was so adept that dropping any tray became known as an Ellen. There is no glass I cannot break, no surface I can't bump into. I am the least coordinated person I have ever met. When I play tennis, people at neighboring courts take cover.When I'm pulling out the garage, I just feel my husband's anxiety in fear that I just might take off another mirror. I'm one of the only people I've ever met that manages to trip going UP the stairs with alarming regularity. When I was in high school, I had a gym teacher pull me aside and ask me to confide in her why I was so bruised. She refused to take "I'm a klutz" for an answer and begged me to be honest if someone was mistreating me. Once she saw my attempt to play soccer, however, she no longer worried that I was in an abusive home. She saw me fall over when there was no one near me. Not even the ball.

As a yoga teacher, I find myself wrestling with my clumsy nature every day. Yet, while I'm practicing yoga, I seem to have an effortless way of moving. It's just off the mat that I struggle. Because this lack of coordination has plagued me my whole life, I've gotten used to being teased about it. I could laugh when my daughter, then at age 8, could ski backwards in front of me, trying to encourage me to get off the baby hill. I could grin the fifth time I fell stepping out of my car....in less than a week. I could even get a good natured chuckle over the times I'd simply drop dinner, not only splattering it all over the kitchen, but smashing my dishes to bits. That said, there times that I've felt truly awful to be such a drain on those around me because of my propensity towards disaster. I felt badly for my teenagers when I've face planted trying to get into bleachers at hockey rinks. I could my husband's ire when I backed through the garage door...and his complete frustration with me over it. I'm sure my mother constantly had to explain to other children why softball was simply not my sport. I've born the utter disgust of people who been forced to play on a team I was on, or to see me humiliate myself in any number of ways. I always seem to find new ones....just to keep life interesting. No one could have predicted that I'd hit my head with a falling iron, as reached down to pick up a shirt that had fallen.

When people are patient with me about my obvious shortcoming, I am eternally grateful. When someone sees me fall, and they offer a hand, rather than stepping over me, I feel slightly less horrified. When, instead of laughing, someone actually asks if I need stitches, I feel touched by their kindness. Why? Because it happens so rarely. As a clumsy person, I am deeply aware of my faults. I seem to find no end to the damage I can inflict. So, when someone is patient, understanding and caring towards me, it comes as a surprise...and a welcome one. I'm always convinced that my accidentally flinging my phone across the room, and hitting someone with it, is going to make enemies for me. My blushing and stammering generally don't help matters much. The kindness that I've been shown, by those who have been hit in the head with said cell phone, is both embarrassing and yet, comforting.

I've learned, as a result of my challenges just standing upright, to look past the challenges other people face. I try to look past the obvious faults and into the heart of the person standing before me. My experience in embarrassment has been life lesson in looking into the way people wish they could be. It is in my own heart to look for the home run a person wishes she could hit or the casual way of giving a speech he hoped he possessed. I try very hard to look past the errors, the fear, the nervousness and the defense mechanisms. I try, for those I meet and those I care about, to see them as their best possible selves. Why? I've been there...curled up at the bottom of the stairs, just hoping no one will notice my misstep. It's with that sense of humility that I try to envision the successes, not the failures, of those around me.

I am still a wretched driver. I constantly worry about slipping on the ice..or on the non-ice surfaces. But, I also try to look past other people's crashes...and into where they hope they will go. Just like my clumsiness, I can't promise that I'll be perfect in my efforts...but I can try.

Never Say Never

Never say never, for if you live long enough, chances are you will not be able to abide by its restrictions. Never is a long, undependable time, and life is too full of rich possibilities to have restrictions placed upon it. ~ Gloria Swanson

When I was younger, I had highly defined pronouncements of what I would and wouldn't do. I had exceptionally high standards for myself and for those around me. There was no wiggle room for error. I believed that this gave me a feeling of striving for excellence. I believed that, the more clear cut my determining factors are, the greater chance I had at achieving my 'goals in the clouds'. While I can attest to the fact that this way of looking at my life kept me out of trouble and intensely focused, I can also see how this view of the world led to lack of flexibility and compassion. When my plans did go awry, I had no way of readjusting. Because my impressions of success were black and white, I missed all the magnificent shades of gray that there are. I also believe I gave up on projects too soon...truly believing that, if I was unable to do a task to my own standards of perfection, I was a failure in this area. These situations cropped up time and time again. I began to view my own pursuits of excellence with a filter of failure. My only failure was failing to see each attempt as a color off of my black and white grid of ideal vs. worthlessness.

My mother, always far wiser than I, told me "Never say never...and never say forever", when I'd pronounce a situation impossible or irrevocable on one these counts. Between Mom's insight and the quote from Gloria Swanson, I have slowly tempered my judgments. I realize that using words like "never" I'm limiting my own possibilities, and I'm placing harsh, subjective convictions on other people's lives. I have come to understand how many chances for grace I've missed out on by using the word "never". I've withheld understanding when someone else has made choices that are far different from my own. I've fallen short in my own chances for sublime discovery. I've allowed conviction to overtake openness. Thankfully, I've been blessed with a long and forgiving life. I've been able to see my rash verdicts clearly, and I've been able to overturn, to walk back and right wrongs I have done. When I saw the world in black and white, I believed it was for the best. Not only did I miss out on all the shades of gray, but I missed out on enjoying my life, rather than perfecting it.

One silly example of this is the "Twilight" series of books. I had made disparaging comments about them to all who would listen. Being a literary perfectionist, I've long held myself to the highest standards where books are concerned. I've made fun of "Chick Lit" for years. I have remained true to my great literary works standards since I could first read my own chapter books. Never one to read pulp or popular fiction, I began my pursuit of excellence in literature in grade school. While other girls were caught up in reading Judy Blume books, I perused quickly and then passed them over for "Anne of Green Gables" novels. Even in high school and college, I was far more likely to read Tennyson or the Bronte sisters for pure enjoyment, rather than Stephen King. Everyone else I knew was reading "Cujo" and I was ankle deep in the north country Moors of England. My friends had fun passing around books by Mario Puzo and Lawrence Saunders...bookmarking the best chapters for each other. I was too deep into Jane Austen and Charles Dickens to even notice. The fact is, I missed out on a lot of great reads because I was too much of a snob to take notice that not all books have to classics to be entertaining.

A week ago, I had never read any of Stephanie Meyer's famous and popular "Vampire" series books. I had looked down on them, not only for being rubbish, but also for being too young. I stand here with big plate of crow set on my table. With the stress of the past week, I decided to watch the first "Twilight" movie. I was hooked within the first ten minutes. I sheepishly told my friends how much I'd enjoyed watching the movie (I am sorry to say that I'm also a movie snob), and was told that I simply NEEDED to read the books. I've been unable to put them down since. I'm already onto the 3rd in a series of four. I have discovered these books are highly entertaining, quick reading and simply engrossing.

Because of this experience, I'm looking back at many other areas of my life and am wondering if I was too quick to judge in the past. Perhaps I've been too rigid in my views on other subjects? Maybe I've pronounced something else to be rubbish, when it really bears another look? I've discovered than I can do no harm in being more open minded, especially where entertainment is concerned. I can look at some novels, and some movies as well, as pure entertainment, without worrying about my own level of intellectualism at that very moment. It's tough for me. I still have incredibly high standards. Perhaps I can learn to be a little less black and white...and allow a little more color into my experiences. My rigid voice says I will still never eat junk food. But, one never knows? I may just discover that I've had a long dormant desire for Cheeto's....and that's okay.

With the angels...

“May we live in peace without weeping. May our joy outline the lives we touch without ceasing. And may our love fill the world, angel wings tenderly beating.” ~ Irish Blessing

Have you ever blown out a candle? Have you noticed that the flame flickers, goes out and then smoke rises in sweeping, arching, twirling wisps upwards? When my children were very small, and we'd blow out candles, they would say "Bye bye Angels!" and wave goodbye as the smoke would dissipate towards the ceiling. It was an endearing habit and one that I just let them outgrow on their own. Unlike biting and swiping each other's toys, this innocent acknowledgement of the divine was so precious, I never had the heart to rob them of this imagery. As a matter of fact, I smile each time I blow out a candle, thinking the very same thing, turning my face up to the sky, and bidding the angels a silent "Au Revoir". Although my children have long since forgotten this ritual, it's stayed with me more than a decade later.

Here in my small town in Maine, a flame has gone out, as well. My beautiful friend, Molly, glowed like the most stunning candle possible. Molly was the type of woman whose company made you smile. When we'd meet for coffee, her beautiful face and her warm laugh would naturally draw all eyes to her in our little coffee house. Yet, it was her inner beauty that made Molly sparkle. She had a way of encouraging everyone around her. Molly inspired me. In her presence I felt dynamic, fun loving and enthusiastic. When she took my yoga classes, the room sparkled with her presence. I felt as if I was a better teacher with her as my student. Outside of class, Molly and I had more laughs over remembering Newport, Rhode Island in the "old days", realizing that we shared some favorite haunts in common. We were goofy during our conversations that made no sense whatsoever....that would require translation. Molly made me feel as if I could be the woman I was meant to be when I was with her. She was one part mischievous imp, and another part Mother Earth. She was both wise woman and harlequin. She never shied away from her ability to laugh at herself but also strove to continually improve her life and skills. Molly was a believer in lifelong learning, and she consistently amazed me at her ability to keep going on her quest for inspiration.

I did a great deal of research on angels the past evening. I know that angels, like human beings, have different gifts. I know that some encourage, while others protect....that some are messengers, while others offer quiet comfort. As I tried to find artwork depicting an angel that could represent Molly, I had an impossible feat; none were as beautiful. But, I know that Molly is radiant among them. I have full confidence that Molly is shining, that she is laughing and that she is dancing. I know that she will be a radiant presence in the already glowing ambiance in Heaven. And, I know that when I see her again someday, that she'll meet me with one of her characteristic big hugs and say, "Hey, girl! Where you been?". Molly was warm hearted, generous and talented. I'm positive that, even in Heaven, those gifts are always needed.

As I light my candle for Molly tonight, I miss mourn her, I will miss her, but I will know that the angels are surrounding her. I also have a feeling she'll teach them to heli-ski, to sail across the ocean and to climb a mountain. Her adventurous soul may even chart some new hills in Heaven. I hope she'll show them to me someday.

12/21/2012

I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. ~ Winston Churchill

There has been a great deal of discussion about the Mayan Doomsday prediction date of December 21, 2012 in the past few years. Every third program on the History Channel, the Discovery Channel and other cable networks seem to feature a marrying together of the 'end' of the Mayan calendar, coupled with Nostradamus' predictions of the end of the world. A major movie's teasers have left audience reeling their seats in fear, trepidation and a bit of nervous excitement. My 17 year old son, among many others, has a concern about this; and justifiably so. The idea that all things, as we know them, will cease to exist is petrifying. To come to terms with our existence on this planet, and to become fully aware of our potential as human beings, only to have it snatched away, is both hideous and alarming.

There are as many opinions as to how this Doomsday Apocalypse will happen; some say a world war, others natural disasters striking all at once. There are those who believe massive solar flares will reverse the polarity of the Earth. Still more believe that an immense meteor will strike the planet, as is the theory regarding the end of the dinosaur age. There are as many theories about "the End of Days" as there are peoples' opinions. There are those who believe this event heralds religious connotations, and scientists who are certain this is purely seismic and natural fact. There is even a smaller, but growing, school of thought that none of these ideas are true: that the end of the age will not signal our planet's destruction but, rather, will herald the coming of a 'change' in the frequencies of the universe. Quite literally, these people are confident that the date will ring in "The Age of Aquarius", to bring us to greater 'harmony and understanding'.

This post isn't about how the world is, or is not, coming to an end. When doing a little research about Doomsday predictions, I learned that literally hundreds of them have been predicted in my own lifetime alone. Thousands have been forecast since people have recorded time. Cults, religious sects, and scientists have had dates come and go without the demise of humanity. Does this mean we shouldn't be concerned? Of course it does. We should not be worried about an arbitrary date that might mean absolutely nothing at all. There are so many events that happen every day in the world around us....terrible tragedies like the horrific Haitian earthquake, Hurricane Katrina and the Tsunami in Thailand...that we waste our energies fretting about a possibility when we have a call to action to assist those who are suffering right now. Yes, we can barracade our homes, stockpile bottled water and batteries. Or, we can help our friends, neighbors and global brothers and sisters by doing what we can to improve life in our world right this very moment.

I'm far more concerned about how I choose to live than how I will die someday. Will I die from a natural disaster, a solar flare, an earthquake or a flood? Will a massive storm rip apart my home? I don't know the answer to that question, any more than the 'experts' do. I may have a recurrence of the cancer I have beaten. I may have a traffic accident. I may contract a disease. I might be attacked by a group of wild boars. Anything can happen and life is fleeting. Therefore, instead of wasting time worrying about what might be the reason my heart stops beating I want to make a difference in the world with every single beat my heart does have. I want to be kinder, more helpful, more generous, more open minded and more tolerant. I want to offer my meager talents and gifts to be of service to others. We are given every day we are alive to use wisely. George Lucas once said, "Everybody has talent, it's just a matter of moving around until you've discovered what it is." I would like to add that, even if we don't know yet where our talents lie, we still have hands to help pick up, a mind to evaluate a situation and figure out how best to help, a heart to love and show compassion and ears to listen to where the needs in our communities lie.

It's my humble and simple opinion that the Doomsday predictions we see on television, bumper stickers and movies doesn't really matter. It's our response about how we choose to live that does. We can create bunkers and hunker down in fear and panic. Or, we can put ourselves out into the world, to love and help others, to do our best to relieve the suffering that already exists and to use each and every heartbeat wisely. We don't know what the future holds for any of us. But, I do know what I want to do with mine in the meantime: I want to make a difference in brightening the day of those around me, and around the world. I would rather walk in the rain, looking for patches of sunlight, than hide from the rain, never knowing when the sun would come out.

Direction

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.” -- Lao Tsu

There is a famous road sign, here in Maine, that has been photographed more than any other attraction. It has had more pictures published than either Mount Katahdin or Cadillac Mountain, more than the famous Kittery Lighthouse and more than the picturesque harbors dotting the Maine coast. On this sign, on a rural road in inland, non-touristy Maine, lists the destinations of many of Maine's creatively named towns. From Norway to China and Sweden to Mexico, the sign post is legendary in its level of fame. People travel from all over just to have their picture taken next to it. It's appeared on magazine covers, in movies, on book jackets and used metaphorically by philosophers from all over New England. Why? Because, despite its campy, almost burlesque, appeal, it still represents a fixed point between many destinations. The goofiness of the names aside, this sign shows what direction you need to go, very clearly, to reach your destination.

At one time or another, I believe we've all wanted a road sign like this one. We have come to a place in our lives in which we haven't known which path to take. We have been confused over a possible move, a potential new direction in our careers, a relationship that might (or might not) be going to the next level. We have wondered if this is the right time to have or adopt a child, to purchase a home or to sell one. We have sat the crossroads, legs folded underneath us, and gazed in both directions...or in some cases, down multiple avenues. We have paused, uncertain, not knowing which route is the one that's best for us.

There are two schools on thought about these moments of intersection and turning point: the first is that, whichever road you find yourself taking, it will ultimately lead you to towards your fate, your karma, your destination that you are meant to have. In this mindset, the road we take doesn't matter. We will still learn the lessons whether we take the lane by the beach, or the hiking trail through the mountains...that both roads will eventually end up at the same end spot. We can choose to backpack around Europe for a few years, and then go to graduate school. Or, we can apply right away. But, with the passage of time, we'll be where our destiny lies at the end of the 'game'.

The other philosophy, when we find ourselves standing still and staring up at the signpost that points in multiple directions, is that every decision comes with it a consequence. Through that consequence, you will be proceeding, not in a linear fashion, but one that resembles more of a spiderweb or maze. Each choice, even the tiny ones such as, where to go for coffee, represent forks, diversions and can forever change the way our life unfolds. We will never truly understand that 'what might have been' end points because the forks aren't massive and arbitrary, they are small and our course changes every moment. The consequence that follows each decision will change our fate, change our direction and change our life. This isn't to say that we are unable to make course corrections, but even the correction itself can lead us on a completely new, untrod path. This philosophy leaves more to the journey's importance itself....rather than coming to the destination. In this way of thinking, the journey itself can take any number of twists, turns, sidesteps, backwards leaps, forward lunges. The end destination will be different based upon any of these diversions. But, that end isn't important....it what you do along the way that matters.

As for me, my own beliefs lie somewhere in the middle. I have had moments in which I've felt shivers down spine, simply understanding that no matter where I made have made enormous mistakes in my life, I'm still working the road that I'm meant to traverse. I look at the times I've chosen the easy route---with sunshine and roses, and this has led me straight into the dark, gloomy, rocky places that I've tried to avoid. On the other hand, I've seen what small, random chance can do to changing how I feel about my place in the world. I can see how unimportant goals I'd set for myself years ago are now. I can see how serendipity has played a role in my own path changes; I was at a dinner party, 12 years ago, when a girlfriend asked me to please join her in going to a yoga class the next day. I couldn't imagine doing yoga. I was more of an aerobics junkie at the time. But I chose to join my friend, Tammie in a class that would change the direction of my life. I fell in love with yoga, and ultimately went through yoga instructor training. Tammie went back to running marathons. What wasn't even a blip on Tammie's radar of her life journey, turned mine upside down in a wonderful way. It's difficult for me to imagine my ending up on the same path, without the consequence following a small change of plan.

As I stand at yet another crossroads, looking down the wide, but dark, road of having both of my children out of the house, I can't help but wonder about the future. I worry about all the actions I've taken up to this point. I have anxiety about if the choices I've made, and the curve balls life has thrown, have prepared me for the next turn up ahead. I debate endlessly if there are parts of my life I should have done differently. I know, however, that none of this internal conflict is going to make a difference in the way the future unfolds. I don't have a sign post that says "Empty nest: Left 4 miles" or "Next career: Right 26 miles". I can't plunk myself down in a fork in the road and try to peek out into the future. I can't climb a hill and then decide which looks like the most fortuitous route. I just have to pick a path and get onto it...with my whole heart.

Rock, paper, scissors, anyone?

This little light of mine...

Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished. ~Michael Strassfeld

Back in the days before Ipods, Pandora music online, their interest in MTV and Sirius radio, my children thought the entertainer, Raffi, was Elvis Presley, Snoop Dogg and Pavarotti all rolled into one. We never left the house without a Raffi cassette tape in my dashboard, and a trip to the park or the grocery store usually included all of us singing "Joshua Giraffe", "The Wheels on the Bus", and that solid gold favorite, "Baby Beluga". If you have had children within the last 24 years, you know about Raffi. His live shows sold out faster in every area than U2 concerts. Now that my children are older teens, they only have vague and hazy memories of this chapter in their lives. They don't remember making the whole family sit in the living room, so that they could put on a Raffi cover band "concert"; my son strumming a Ukulele, pretending it was a guitar, and my daughter holding up a hairbrush microphone. They took these matinees very seriously and expected all of us to sing along with them. Although they were only about 2 and 4 at the time, they would set the stage, have 'shout out' moments in which the audience would have to sing parts and would expect rapt attention. I look back on these precious preschool days with a mother's heart and a mother's memory. But, I also realize what a tremendous lesson these experiences were for them. My children learned how to 'shine' in a safe, joyful and loving environment.

The one song that I remember beyond all of the others wasn't a Raffi original, but was his take on an old gospel song. "This little light of mine" is one I find myself humming constantly. It was written by Harry Dixon Loes in 1920. It first became popular during the Christian tent revival movement during that time. Later, "This little light of mine" became a resounding anthem for the Civil Rights movement of the 1950's and 1960's. It's had political histories from many different groups. It's been recorded by current artists, such as Bruce Springsteen and Joss Stone, as well as in numerous movie scores. It's a catchy, upbeat and uplifting little hymn, that's just as appealing to liberal leaning folks as it is to conservatives. The universal message of allowing our inner light, God's light, to shine within us is a powerful image.

The inspiring second verse of the hymn uses the words "Don't let anyone blow it out, I'm going to let it shine...." takes the lesson even further. In addition to allowing our inner gifts, our beauty, our strength and our courage to emanate from within, we are also implored to remain powerful in the presence of opposition. I've learned a great deal from this second part of the song. Why? For too long, I allowed outside influences to effect my happiness, my self-confidence, my beliefs and my abilities. I acquiesced to the leanings of other people. It's a wonderful thing to be able to learn from others, to share information and to be partners. It's quite another to allow them to steam-roll over you to change your opinion into theirs. No one should have the authority, or ability, to snuff out the light that shines in another person's heart. No one should be so demoralized that their feelings, their gifts and their very essence should be demeaned and vanquished. We should all be safe enough in our lives to shine in the way we were meant to.

What area of your own life could use a light to shine upon it? Could it be your relationships....do you need to see, with true awareness what is, and isn't, working in them? Is it, possibly, your ability to contribute valuable ideas? Far too many organizations and workplaces stifle creative, lateral thinking...but do you have an idea you can share to make work more successful, happy and streamlined? What about your faith traditions....are the ones you grew up with working for you, or do you need to seek out a path that speaks to your heart? What will it take, in every area of your life's journey, to kindle the flame of light within you? How can you fan the flames of love, confidence, success, passion, joyfulness and determination? Conversely, how can you keep that light burning, when others try to 'blow it out'?

When you need to, hum "This little light of mine". Don't worry about what the people around think. Sing away. Dance. Dream. Be in the light. Keep the light going. And, pass it on.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Lessons in Writing and Living

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. ~ Anaïs Nin

Twenty five years ago, I was a student at Wheaton College, and sitting in a creative writing class with Professor Lichtenstein. Professor Lichtenstein was one of my favorite teachers. She was beautiful, smart, intuitive and had an enthusiasm for her subject unsurpassed by other instructors. She taught us about life beyond the traditional New England campus, and encouraged us to find our life's purposes, regardless if they had anything to do with her class. Professor Lichtenstein told us that there were three vital elements to a meaningful paper, as well as to a meaningful life:

1. Always be aware of your voice. Hear your voice in your work, in your conversations and your passions. Listen carefully if your voice becomes a parrot for someone else's opinions, thoughts or ideals. These augmenting meditations are helpful in forming a complete picture of our own reflections but should not overshadow them. Our thoughts should be intrinsically our own.
2. Always be aware of the present moment. Understand that the past is over and the future is yet to be. Heed being aware of your surroundings, how you feel and what your experience is as it happens. It's far more elusive to try to recapture moments after they're gone, especially when our minds were elsewhere. There is nothing more vital that paying attention, with rapt absorption, to the life you're living now. Once those feelings are gone, it's impossible to reclaim them. If you never had ownership to begin with, you cannot recreate a sentiment that never existed.
3. Always keep childlike enthusiasm and spirit alive in your heart. When we're young, we feel things with a depth of emotion that we lose later on in life. When we hear the ice cream truck's sing-song music, our youthful hearts skip a beat and we want to run outside, quarter in hand, to buy a Good Humor Strawberry Eclair bar. The lightness of being a child gets squashed down by loss, by hurt, by failure, by fear, by anxiety. The more you can rekindle that spark of tender fervor, the more likely you are to appreciate the little things in both life and writing.

I have to admit that, at the time of these lectures (of which I've paraphrased a year's worth here), I was already struggling with all three of these areas in my life. At 19, I didn't have a clue as to what my voice was. I was daydreaming of a young marriage, a Volvo wagon and three children before I was 30. I would shift gears and think I'd want to be a career woman, living in the city in a fabulous apartment. My thoughts would change again, and I'd picture myself as a world traveler, never resting one place for long. I didn't know my political leanings, my personal style or even my favorite foods. I tended to like whatever was in front of me at the moment. I wasn't trying to be irresolute. I simply couldn't 'hear' my voice yet because the opinions all around me seemed to carry far more weight. As I matured and discovered that I did have tastes that were exclusively my own, I began to understand Professor Lichtenstein's motive in this comment; it's languid to change opinions based on what's going on around you. It's a simple thing to be easily led. It takes character to know who you are, and to express that in words, both on paper and in speech. It also means that you will have a greater sense of self-awareness.

Living in the present moment was also a tough area for me to work on. I've always had my head in the clouds. I could never wait for the next weekend, the next chapter in a book, the sequel to a movie. I spent years wasting time just to get to the next stage of life, in which I'd waste more time. And yet, during my Yoga Instructor training, this was one of the most powerful areas to explore. In setting the tone for my classes, I've had to learn to suspend time outside the door, not only for myself, but also for my students. During the 75 minutes of our class time, our focus is exclusively on where we are physically, emotionally and spiritually at the present moment. There is no wiggle room for daydreaming and mental list making. As my Yoga style and skills have developed over the past decade, I've discovered that I've been able to translate this to the rest of my life. It's had a profound effect on my writing, as well as on my enjoyment of each moment that I'm given in this life. What a sad existence it would be if we arrived to the conclusion of our lives never having truly felt the twinkling junctures that punctuate our journey. The trip is far richer if you take notice of it.

The third area, as Dorothy said upon leaving Oz, is the one I'll miss the most. Childhood's captivating magic is far more elusive than the first two points of Dr. Lichtenstein's lectures. In a way, I've discovered that it actually combines the first two principles. When you're a child, you know who you are. You may know, without hesitation that you live in a white house on a street that's lined with trees, and that your best friend lives around the corner.You know that you love your Grandma but aren't too crazy about the mean neighbor that refuses to let you Christmas carol at his house. You love pizza with your own favorite toppings and like having sleepovers. Within each defining characteristic, that makes you understand yourself with full awareness, is the enjoyment of time passing around you but not touching you. I can recall whole days spent at the beach with my friends, or riding my horse in the Santa Barbara foothills or biking around the harbor in summer time Maine with exceptional clarity. I wasn't thinking about what I'd do next. I did not consult a day planner or check my voice mail. I was simply living the splendor of life, as it presented itself to me, without wondering about the next step. That alchemical process of letting life unfold around you, rather than forcing it to happen in particular way, is an area of childhood I miss deeply. As a writer, it's important to consider a predetermined outline, form, structure and style. But, if I leave out that conjuring metamorphosis of allowing the words to 'will themselves to be told', my work will be shallow and lacking in passion. I need to find the balance to create a structurally sound, and still emotionally evocative, piece of work. I also need to feel the same balance in my everyday life; paying my bills on time, being a responsible community member and showing sound judgement, while still finding freedom to just allow unplanned experiences wash over me, charming me and inspiring me to continue to grow.

I have no idea where Professor Lichtenstein is today. I know that she's no longer at Wheaton, but I don't remember her first name to Google her. The lessons she taught me, however, have stayed with me ever since. I believe that I'm a better writer, and a far better human being, because of talks we'd have. She inspired me to continue writing, and although I'm not a bestselling author as she'd once predicted, I can't imagine experiencing my life without using the words she encouraged me to find. So, Professor Lichtenstein, wherever you are, thank you....thank you from the silly, preppy girl who wore an awful lot of pink, far too much Laura Ashley and carried a floral tote instead of a backpack. Thank you for teaching me to be my own person, living in and appreciating today's gifts. I am a stronger, kinder, and more intelligent person because of you.