Red Dress Day

"Red has more personal associations than any other color. Recognized as a stimulant, red is inherently exciting and the amount of red is directly related to the level of energy perceived. Red draws attention and a keen use of red as an accent can immediately focus attention on a particular element." ~ From "Sensational Color"

My 15 year old daughter has a major complaint about my wardrobe. She'll walk into my closet and look around, shaking her head and grumbling to herself, as she's devising an outfit for me to wear to an event. "What exactly do you have against COLOR, Mom?", she'll ask, "Everything in here is brown, gray and black!". Her thoughts aren't off base. I have an unreasonable fear of color in my clothing. Every time I try to wear something outside of my comfort area, I find myself feeling uncentered, lacking focus and nervous. In my limited palate of clothing, navy blue is my color of reckless abandon. My mother and my daughter are both colorful...in wardrobe and personality. They love to joke that they are monkeys; attracted to bright, shiny objects. My mother looks amazing in turquoise and my daughter shines in vivid purple. In their world of zest and spice in the use of color, I'm afraid that I'm the drab pigeon to their peacocks. I can appreciate how lovely and vibrant they both look....but when dressing myself, I'm far more likely to shrug off those same colors, despite the fact that we all have the same coloring.

When I first read about "The Red Dress Project" a few years ago, I was enchanted. What a delightful idea about spreading the message of women's risks for heart disease! This program has grown from one fashion show to a global awareness event. Because heart disease kills more women every year than any other cause, I was intrigued. As a survivor of women's cancer, I had always assumed that cancer would be the leading cause of death in women. How wrong I was! Heart disease kills 18 more women than cancer does every year. I became involved in the charity thanks to a good friend, who raised my awareness. Thanks to her, our local community is passionately involved in not only increasing perception to this crucial health risk, but also in helping those already effected by the disease. Women are not only encouraged to wear red dresses, but skirts, shoes, sweaters and scarves. Gentlemen are implored to wear red ties, shirts and hats to help create an atmosphere of compassion for the women in their families.

The first Friday in February, the Red Dress day becomes an international event, garnering attention for this exceptional cause. First begun here in the United States, the project has spread to a dozen countries. Will I participate? I most certainly will. I own one red dress, and I plan on wearing it to a charity event this evening. Will I feel out of place? Absolutely not...this is the one evening each year I can shake off my charcoal gray-ness and know that my clothes will speak for something larger than myself. When we only look to our own comfort areas, it's very difficult to help make the world a better, more loving place. When we step outside those areas of black and white, we find there is a whole rainbow of color, just waiting for us to experience them.

Won't you join me in this endeavor?

Red Dress Day

Beauty and the Inner Beast

You can take no credit for beauty at sixteen. But if you are beautiful at sixty, it will be your soul's own doing. ~Marie Stopes

Several weeks ago, I was listening to news on the radio in the car. Most of the time, I spend my hours driving in a half aware state about what's playing. I do try to pay attention to the road, given my less than stellar auto skills. However, one report caught my attention; in a recent survey, 1000 women, age 40-55, were asked if they would rather be 20 years younger, 1 million dollars richer or 20 pounds thinner. An overwhelming majority, over 70%, stated that their wish would be youth. Initially, I was surprised. After all, I'm both happy and proud to be 44. I would never chose to be another age. I'm far more comfortable in my skin than I was in my teens or twenties. Still, the survey caught my attention and drew me to think more deeply about the idea of aging women in our society. Apparently the same survey was given to men, and over 90% would choose to be 1 million dollars richer. So, why are women more concerned about youth than men, in the same age category, are?

Part of this is due to our current society. Hollywood glamorizes young girls, as does the modeling industry. How many women over 40, no matter how stunning, are picked to walk the runway by designers? How many fabulously talented and gorgeous women find their acting careers to be derailed once they reach "a certain age"? Women do not see images of female characters who physically resemble them often. The good roles seem to be few and far between, and women over 40 are relegated to playing mothers...often to men who aren't much younger than they are themselves. This double standard of embracing maturing, handsome men while tossing charismatic, passionate women is unnerving. When a woman in her 40's is sexually aware, she's considered a "Cougar". A man of the same age is simply considered a man. Women are predatory, whereas men are "normal". It's insulting and unfair. A man who marries a much younger woman gets a 'trophy wife'....as a prize. A woman in the same life circumstances is teased about 'robbing the cradle' and having a Boy Toy. For men, it's to be applauded. For women, it's embarrassing. Of course, our society is telling us nothing new in the devaluation of middle aged women. For centuries, men married, and fathered children well into their upper years.

Rather than be angry at this scenario, I find it's simply not worth the anger. What this situation has done has been to teach me to find what beauty means to me, at this point in my life. I wouldn't want to be 18 again. When I think of the anguish, the heartbreak, the lack of wisdom and my own insecurities, I shudder with regret. I think of how often I allowed other people's opinion's of me to shape how I felt about myself. I remember how helpless I felt when confronted with unsettling relationships. I cringe when I realize how much of my own happiness was based upon how I allowed others to treat me. My self-worth was changeable as the weather, and my confidence only seemed to be in place when someone else was praising me. To give up the knowledge I've worked so hard for would be unthinkable. Every gray hair reminds me of a battle I've fought and won. Each wrinkle represents a day spent laughing. To give those up would be to walk backwards, forgetting the extraordinary beauty in life that can only come with experience, with pain and with passion.

Rather than cosmetic surgery, or fad products, I try to encourage my yoga students to look within. I know that many of them roll their eyes at me. Yet, the most beautiful women of any age are those who exude confidence, charisma and wit. This doesn't happen overnight. A woman's inner beauty isn't something that she's born with. It's a gift that she earns by working through her demons. Obviously, if a woman is blessed with wonderful DNA for gorgeous legs or flawless skin, it's a huge benefit. However, if she's bitter, hostile, jealous or selfish, those natural gifts aren't going to go very far. My theology class is taught by a lovely woman in her late 60's. Her long gray hair is pulled back in a pony tail and her clothes are those of an Episcopal priest. However, her melodious voice, her brilliant comments and her zest for life make this woman absolutely breathtaking. Her love for life, and those around her, radiates and although she doesn't look like any of the girls from High School Musical, Reverend Glass becomes captivating. When I ask myself if I'd rather be my theology teacher when I grow up, or to age backwards to be a Disney creation, there is no contest....my reverend would win out every time. Beauty comes from the way a woman speaks, the way she carries herself, her zest for learning new things and her own sense of who she is. A woman who knows herself well, who doesn't depend upon the opinions of others, is beautiful at any age.

I wasted decades of my life worried about my weight, my hair and my clothes. I wish I'd spent a tenth of that time working on 'esteemable acts' to boost my skills in practical areas. Interestingly, I may be twenty pounds heavier than I was on my wedding day, but I've never felt more beautiful. It's nothing whatsoever about the woman who gazes back at me in the mirror. If I relied on that image, I'm sure I'd be back into my pit of despair. Rather, my confidence comes from doing what I love to do, being with the people I adore and feeling proud of the life I've tried to build. Have I fallen short in some areas? Of course. But, have I walked towards my dreams? Absolutely. I find that, even just working towards those goals in life leaves me with an air of fearlessness. It took me more than forty years to discover that fortitude, courage and self-possession are what makes a woman beautiful. Like Moses leading the Israelites through the wilderness, it took me that long to reach my own "promised land".

Take a look in the mirror and ask yourself what you see? Do you see wrinkles, age spots or thinning hair? Or, do you see a person who is traveling on a journey and has gained beauty-increasing wisdom along the way? Slay the inner beast of being self-critical and look for the beauty. It's there.

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?