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Thank You for. . .Vs. I’m Sorry. . . Women, we say “I’m sorry” too much. Yes, I know it is nice to hear sometimes, and some people can’t forgive until they hear those words. However, it can also be the words that heighten a situation, grow tension, and even makes the other person feel bad. For instance. I show up late to an appointment. Nevermind the reason. The fact is, I’m late, and the other person has been needlessly waiting and wasting valuable time. Me - “I’m so sorry I’m late.” - I feel repentitive and “less than”. I’m on the defensive, and not sure how much I need to share about the WHY of the lateness. Other person – Now, they have to either say something to ‘forgive’ my lateness, which they may not feel. Or, they may be nudged into snarkyness or passive aggressiveness. It may not have been a big deal to them, but if it is a business relationship, I’ve said something huge about my reliability, and “I’m sorry” can’t fix it. They are on the side of having to be t...
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Compliments from a stranger.

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I’ve been thinking about this for awhile actually. We all love a good sincere compliment, but I’ve noticed, that the ones from family, and good friends, while appreciated and helpful, don’t hold the same weight as ones from complete strangers. Not that they are less important, we all need support from our inner circle, but there is just something so concrete and organic about a complete stranger going out of their way to tell you that they noticed something good about you. Here is an example I shared on THREADS. Never mind the comments and the tangents they went on, that is a whole other post, about people who hijack the spirit of one’s words, and make it their own sounding-board or soapbox.) Anyway, back from my own tangent! I am getting older. In fact that was part of what sent me onto this topic. When a woman begins to age, they pretty much become invisible. In my experience anyway, and since I am the expert of my experience, that is what I know. Lack of the previous le...
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Blogs, Flogs, Files, Forgetting and Remembering

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 Blog... What does that mean anyway?  Wlog I'd get.  (Writing Log) - Thog?  (Thought Log) - and the lovely Flog (files logged) - Or I know, Jlog (Journaling log) but what is the B?  I digress.    I have files.  I'm old, I admit it, finally.  When I was cautioned to signed up for Medicare, it crashed in on my poor, perpetually 42 years old brain.  What? Medicare?  Me?  But, but. . . I'm not OLD!  Ahem.  I also used to be a redhead.  (We won't go into the 'once a redhead, always a redhead rant. . . today. . . ).  Silver seems to be the new red.  I did (tangent alert) have a cute young thing stop me on the street to tell me I had 'princess hair'.  I'll take it.      Anyway, files.  I have filing cabinets.  Yes, metal ones with drawers, even a lock.  This was my computer.  My organization, my google, my encyclopedia and my memory.  I don't think I've op...
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Location: 6916 Vaughn Rd, Dixon, CA 95620, USA
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 While this had been neglected for far too long, I do believe it still has some very important principles and some great ideas to become more still, more aware, and more who you would wish to become.   No one much improves, in stasis.   No one looks back at an improvement, be it gigantic or tiny, and regrets it.  We are who we believe the deepest.   If you wish for change, look inward, not outward.  Almost no one changes for the better, because someone else desired it; shamed them for it; yelled, belittled, lectured, bribed, trolled or berated.   Be kind to yourself.    M
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Are you What you Wear?

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I've been listening / watching/ reading Carol Tuttle's "Dress your Truth" free program.  She is a bubbly, energetic woman who makes me smile and think.  Her system however so far has be baffled.  I am one who loves tests.  I know I'm strange.  I do though, I like the feedback I guess of knowing that I actually know what I think I know.  . . or not. Anyway, she has all of this delicious visual (I'm an extremely visual girl) material that she asks you to respond to, to understand what reaches your basic 'energy'.  Her system is linked to Fire/ Air/ Water/ Earth energies.  So I watch, I enjoy, and I find in every one of them, parts of who I am and parts of 'definitely not me'~  Eventually she expects you to classify yourself as one of them for a primary energy type.  I can't.  I fluctuate so much that I can't come to a solid, "oh yes, that is me" determination.  Some are closer than others, I definitely know which are NOT me....
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Reconsiderations and Ministrations

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As I said, life gets crazy.  But only when we allow it to.  What will I allow in my life?  I've often said that I think best when I'm on my feet putting out metaphorical fires.  Perhaps it i s the adrenalin, or just the deadline, other or self-appointed.  At any rate, if there is not a certain moment that 'finished' must be cleanly mentally stamped on a project (finished or not), I tend to move it to the "good" column rather than the "best" one.  One of the good things, is this blog.  I began it believing that I wanted to use my life-coaching tools to help others with pitfalls and problems that I'd already slipped into and found a life-like out of.  I was attempting professionalism, a step-back intimacy and the added burden of editing and reediting content and language.  This left me with a distaste (I'm not an editor) for evening beginning the next idea, because it would take much more time out of my priority box than I had allotted. ...
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Fluid time; static time and flow.

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Time is a fluid thing.  It washes through our cupped palm like water.  No matter how we try to hold on to it, it still escapes us a drop at a time.  Yet. . . it also sticks like pulled taffy, lengthening when we most want it to snap and sticking greedily to precision when we wish it would last. I just read one of my favorite author, Mitch Albom's, "The TimeKeeper".  This very principle was keenly expressed through the vivid tale of Father Time himself.  I doubt I'll ever look at my own hourglass in the same way. I remember when I was a child, I dreampt that I could stop the world for just one night.  What could I do to make a difference?  I was fast asleep, but I remember the dream as if it was a Hollywood Academy Award winner with sets, scenery, costumes and special effects that weren't even in existence in the 60's.  (I'm dating myself aren't I?)  I remember the longing I felt when I realized that I had the power to do anything, change ...
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