There are several people I follow who talk about “choosing your pain”.  Which, in its essence, boils down decision-making to choosing which outcome and its consequences that you can best live with.  Every decision we make has an outcome, and every kind of outcome has pros and cons (and those cons include pain).  Hence…whatever choice you make, with the expected associated outcome, has pain.  So we are, therefore, choosing our pain with any given choice we make.

So I started to wonder – why do we think there is some choice that avoids pain entirely?...

Remember the days of “book reports”?  I love to read, and have since I was probably mid-elementary school, but I remember the days of having to give reports on books, and often they weren’t ones I was all that interested in.

Nowadays, though, I usually can’t shut up about whatever I am reading and what I’m learning from it.  Oh, how times have changed.

Last month, I read a philosophical book about time and how we regard it called Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman.  There are dozens of nuggets throughout the book that have kept me thinking since I read it, but one of them was top of mind on a recent Friday as things were winding down for the week...

You know that moment when you’re thinking about a project and you get a flash of energy, curiosity, and inspiration?  It’s what happens right before you run to your computer or your workspace or your notebook and dive in, losing time into the flow of the thing that has captured your focus.

And it’s so delicious when that happens.

But oddly, I have noticed this other weird phenomenon that can happen right after that flash.  It’s when I talk myself out of it.  When I think, “Oh, that’s a great idea, I should work on that later when I have a proper amount of time to sit down and really get into it for as long as I need or want to.”

And nothing kills the mood like procrastinative pragmatism (my new made-up phrase)...

Many moons ago, a mentor of mine asked me a simple question about an issue I had brought to her for counsel:

Is it a skill issue or a will issue?

I had never considered this lens before in first defining the core of an issue before problem-solving for it.

A skill issue means there is a deficit in our actual ability to do something.  A will issue means there is a deficit in our desire to do something.  Figuring out the true deficit is the most crucial first step in working through something because treating one issue like the other is not only setting us up for failure but also inviting a LOT of frustration...

I went to an event last month where we welcomed in the new year with things we were shedding and were invited to write ourselves “love notes” that would be sent to us later on.

Like a good little participant, I did as I was invited.

I decided I would write myself a note the way I would write one to a friend, telling them the wonderful things about themself that I would want them to know that they might not hear otherwise.  I decided to think as clearly and honestly about myself as I could – not overly critical and not overly humble.  But about the things that define me, the ways I consistently show up, the things that matter to me.

And I wrote myself my first love note...

In our culture, we make a big deal about goals.  Setting goals, monitoring goals, achieving goals.  Goals can be a great way to keep our eyes on the horizon, to focus our gaze and direction.

Goals also get all the glory.

But do you know what gets little to no recognition as they work quietly, consistently, fastidiously in the background?...

Back when I started my business and created my website (yes, I designed and built the very first version myself!), I made a space for a blog and I thought, oh good, a place to put all my big, important thoughts about things! 😂

And in the first five years I wrote about a dozen posts.

(When were all those big important thoughts gonna show up??!)

Five years ago, I decided to commit to posting once a week.  Given my track record, this seems rather ridiculous in hindsight.

But here I am, five years later and, aside from summer and winter breaks, I have posted every single week of those five years.  And it feels like a real milestone...

I love to travel.  Always have.  I love the feel of a new place, the different smells, the different signs, the different currencies and languages (when you travel abroad).

What I’ve never cared for was the transit.  The to-and-from required to be in those new places.  And yet those are the unavoidable parts.

I get antsy on the way to the airport.  I am itchy at the airport when checking the departure boards for gate assignments and flight status. I hate figuring out how to get out of the airport and to where I’m going - where the adventure awaits me! - once I’ve landed.

But therein lies the missing link...

I was on a walk last week in my neighborhood when I saw the saddest sight:  two (still delicious smelling!) Christmas trees out by the sidewalk, awaiting their transport to what I hope is a big, happy Christmas tree farm in the sky.

It almost brought me to tears!

As you might remember from prior posts, fall and the Christmas season make up my favorite time of the year.  So you can imagine that, in the dark and cold that is the winter season immediately following all that joy and light, it can be a little hard for me to let go of Christmas and adjust.

But ironically, this is what happens, all the time, in all facets of our lives...

I’ve been having issues with my hamstring for a while now.  Nothing specific happened (no distinct injury event), it has just been hurting for weeks.  I’ve been stretching, taking it easy on my jogs, icing, rolling on a tennis ball…nothing (yet) has turned things around.

The other day I thought, “Is this going to last forever?!” and “If only I knew it would be over by some specific date, I could just relax.”

And there is the rub...

There are new beginnings all around us.  And the most infamous one is a new year.  That seems to be the time when folks envision big changes – a new job, a new relationship, improved health …everything will change with a turn of the calendar page.

New year, new me!

It’s so easy to sit down and write out all the things we wish were different.  And all those heroic steps we’ll take to make all those things happen.  All at once.  Starting in January.

But the irony here is thick.  January 1 rolls around and often those ambitions and plans fall to the curb like last month’s Christmas tree...

As the winter solstice approaches, the darkest day of the year, I feel the weight of the darkness.  Light barely breaks by 7am and it’s almost fully dark by 5pm. The days feel short and the nights long and heavy.

This is the time of year I feel most compelled to retreat.  To hibernate.  To be quiet and think and plan and rest.

As the seasons go, winter is the time that things die.  What falls away makes room for what is yet to bloom in the spring.  From my warm hibernation spot, I like to think about what to plant and grow as the weather, and the energy, warm again.

This can feel like a big deal…and yet it happens every year...

It seems like we’re always on a quest to understand ourselves. Or to figure ourselves out. Or to know ourselves better.

But maybe this has never been the problem.

Maybe we have always known exactly who we are...

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays each year (Christmas is the top, but I tell you what…Thanksgiving really gives it a run for its money).  My parents have hosted as long as I can remember (with maybe a dozen exceptions over the past 40 years) and we used to have 25 people lining multiple tables pushed together.  Even now, as many in the family are no longer with us, we still have a sweet little crew that comes together every year.

Interestingly, each year the same conversation comes up at the Thanksgiving table:  “We should do this more often!  It’s so wonderful to see you, let’s not wait until Thanksgiving next year!”

And yet, for many years, it is indeed only at the following year’s Thanksgiving that we reunite with the family over that big delicious meal.

Which makes me think…why do we wait for holidays (or specific occasions) to gather and connect with the most important people in our life?...

It never ceases to amaze me the power and addictive properties of those mini computers we carry around with us everywhere.  Even though we know they trap us, hoard our attention away from the things we care about, ruin conversations, and leave us feeling massive FOMO, most of us still just can’t seem to put them down.

Last week I was driving home from dinner with a friend and saw an unnervingly common sight – someone walking across the street staring at their phone, no attention at all to traffic in any direction. We’ve probably all seen that video by now, from years ago, of that person looking so intently at their cell phone as they walked through the mall that they tripped over the edge and fell right into a fountain.

How do we stop the madness??!...

I was reading an email newsletter the other day and the writer posed a great question – what is your “rich” life?

What an interesting question, I thought; I wonder what that is for me beyond the knee-jerk responses that would probably come up first.

I contemplated the question for a few minutes and wrote the question in my notes app to save for journaling later.

That was probably a month ago.  I still have yet to sit down and define it thoughtfully...

I’ve been surprised by how many people are already feeling the pinch of burnout from the year, overwhelm about the upcoming holidays, and dread for the hustle and bustle of a new year.  Here it is, barely the start of November and people are ready to throw in the town.

As Ali Wong says in her Netflix comedy special, “I don’t want to lean in.  I want to lie down.”

This time of year can be joyful and also fraught.  It’s full of demands on our time, whether family obligations, the push to finish work strong, celebrations, reflections, travel…it feels hard to say no or to set boundaries.

But that might be just what is needed to to move gently (or rambunctiously, or however you might like) through the holidays and the close of 2025...

I’ve been recovering from a small surgical procedure on my abdomen, which has made it uncomfortable to do basic things like roll over in bed or bend over to tie my shoes.  It’s funny to me how we generally have no sense of how our bodies work at everyday routine actions until something is off and then we realize how much is going on at any given time.

While this recovery process is totally normal, I’ve been finding myself quite frustrated and annoyed.  Why is there any pain at all?!  What’s with this discomfort?!  When will this be over??!?!?!!

Contrary to what most people would have done, I didn’t do any up-front research or prep on what the recovery would be so I naively assumed it would be easy-peesy, mac-n-cheesy.

HA.  Joke’s on me...

I recently became inadvertently addicted to a show on a platform I don’t subscribe to (a devastating reality of these modern times):  Couples Therapy.

First of all, humans are fascinating.  Full stop.

Second of all, it’s amazing to see the loops and spirals we get trapped in when we’re ignited (which happens often when two humans interact, no matter their relationship).

The reason I think Orna is a leadership superstar is the way she interacts with and holds her clients – it transcends the therapy arena.  While the show is aptly named and about couples therapy, I think what she does with her clients is applicable for all leaders, from wherever they lead.

Here’s what we can learn from Orna...

When I was young, my uncle taught me to play blackjack.  He would get down on the floor with me, pull a bunch of dimes out of his pocket, and teach me when to hit and when to stand.  I was ready for Vegas before I turned 10.  He also taught me to balance a spoon on my nose and make fart noises with my armpits.

I’m sure my parents were thrilled 😊

(Just kidding, they probably WERE thrilled that someone was holding my attention!)

My uncle died in June after his final (of many) battles with cancer, the last of which was just one time too many.  He kept his same spirit and humor right up to the end...