I studied piano from age 6 until about 13.

We were all expected to learn piano—and at least one other instrument.

My mother had studied to be an opera singer, and believed everyone should know how to read music. So, we learned.

I love summer.

It makes me not just happy, but ecstatic!

I’m sure it’s seasonal affective disorder.

(I have diagnosed myself.)

Without sunshine, I have a months-long case of the blahs.

Now that it’s summer, we’re biking a lot.

Exploring country back roads, rail trails on old railroad beds, hiking paths, and single-track trails in the woods.

Discovering a lot of things we did not know existed before.

It’s the most brilliant time of year—summer!

Happy Independence Day.

Not just to those in the U.S.—but to those around the world.

They say the basement is like the subconscious.

Whatever is stored there carries energy for that thing in your life.

Is it time to do a little cleaning?

Have you ever asked someone a question, but another question lurks behind that one?

And the second question is the bigger, deeper, more important one, but you don’t know that or don't have access to it in that moment? 

I’m slowly losing the ability to be 100 percent here.

Or 100 percent there.

Too used to being in multiple places at the same time.

For example, typing an email while on the phone with my partner.

Last weekend, my partner and I went biking near our house.

Woods and country roads. Fairly rural.

As we neared the top of a hill, we saw something in front of us.

A big black bear!

There’s an old Jewish saying: Walk so close to your rabbi that dust from his sandals is on your face.

In other words, follow closely in the footsteps of your revered spiritual leader.

What signals is the universe sending to you?

How is it trying to get your attention?

A red cardinal might show up in your yard just after you lost someone important to you. This happy, vibrant bird is a sign that you are being visited by a loved one who has passed.

It’s spring: Time for the annual Stick-Picking-Upping.

Winter is hard on those trees.

(Actually, it’s hard on all of us.)

I remember the day that my mother gave up.

She was exhausted.

She had weird rashes on her hands from chemo. She would get so sick to her stomach that she couldn’t eat for days. She was tired all the time.

What did you love to do when you were a kid?

You can probably name something that you once loved to do that you don't do today. What passion did you once have that you don’t pursue any longer?

Thanks to my Peloton, I’m finding my way to love.

Not love of the romantic kind.

The love that says, “I’m good with me as I am right now” kind.

This is not because my body is in better shape. Still a ways to go with that.

Are you counting the days?

Weeks?

Waiting for that new door to open before you?

Perhaps it’s the hope of a new job. A new relationship. Your next home. Or a new life.

I want to tell you about Moon. 

This is a sad story—one that has stayed on my mind since I heard it. 

Moon was a humpback whale that lived off the coast of British Columbia in the summer, Maui in the winter.

Does His Holiness the Dalai Lama have a small, jagged rock hidden in a tiny corner of his robe?

He must have at least one flaw in those maroon folds.

I mean, is it truly possible to hold unconditional positive regard for everyone—all the time?

Carl Rogers thought we could—he believed healing comes from unconditional acceptance of others we are in relationship with, regardless of what they say or do.

I saw a butterfly land on a man’s hat.

The hat was orange. The butterfly was yellow.

It was a tiger swallowtail.

This was at the Miami Open last weekend, when I was watching women’s doubles with some girlfriends.

There’s magic in them there woods!

Spring is here.

It’s warm enough that we are out hiking again. We’re working our way through the system of recreational trails, focusing on easy ones.

I don't have much left of my parents. But I still have my dad's Bean boots.

They are duck boots, the kind without laces. Size 10.

My son used to fit into them—when he was in high school, he would wear them to shovel the back steps when it snowed. 

But my son lives in Florida now.