It’s happened again. I’m at yet another crossroads, uncertain which direction to go. The genesis of my most recent ambivalence was the kind suggestion from an editor that I “put aside” my memoir and try my hand at fiction. Reading her letter, I felt all the energy ooze out of my body and onto the floor. Surprisingly, I wasn’t upset, but I was disappointed. Deflated. Now what?

The season of celebration is upon us; lots of Happy Hanukkahs, Merry Christmases, and Happy New Years flying about.  It sets me to wondering about this happiness business, and it IS a business, as I am sure you very well know.  Equally obvious is the fact that all the stuff being foisted upon us at every turn contributes not one iota to our happiness.

I recently wrote on the importance of being present in the unfolding moments and opportunities of Life.  As I wrote, it became very clear that it is almost impossible to discuss presence without also addressing awareness: they belong and resonate together

I was walking on the trails with my retriever, Tucker, the other day, happy to be out alone with him and to enjoy some tranquility. At one point on my walk, I realized that I had completely missed the last hundred yards of the trail, having become lost in my numerous thoughts, and I was struck, once again, by how very easily that happens; how we can blot out our current experience by drifting into busyness.

As I write this, thousands of people are gathering for Michael Jackson’s memorial.  Although I do not listen to or watch much news, I did not miss the deluge of commentary on the former pop star.