I’m a Chrome girl.

Pretty loyal.

I have all the websites I regularly use bookmarked in neat folders titled by subject matter. 

Struggling with the craziness that is happening out there in the world right now?

Longing for an intervention?

Are you like me, desperate for someone to step in and change the direction of where we appear to be going as a human race?

“Sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.”

This quote by Robert Tew was framed in a doctor’s office I was in recently.

I have two minds about this.

Ever say that?

I was just reminded of this in a recent training: Humans can hold two diametrically opposing ideas at once. 

I marched in a parade last week. 

I haven’t been in a parade since my son marched in one 20 years ago for Little League. And then it was 20 years before that when I was a Girl Scout and marching on Memorial Day.

Consider someone from your life—present or past—who you do not trust.

Write their initials on a Post-it.

Colleagues and I did this exercise with Cory Scheer. He frequently speaks to organizations on this topic of trust.

I sometimes dream about grizzly bears.

In these dreams, one is usually trying to get into my house. It stands up on the other side of a door, clawing against the wood, breaking glass panes, as I try to lock the deadbolt and keep it out.

People sometimes ask where ideas for this blog come from.

I tell them that they arrive in a moment.

It’s like a blustery eastern wind is tossing a pile of leaves, and once they quiet, a single stunning thing lands in front.

How many uber responsible people are out there?

Raise your hands.

I’m the same way. 

I was born that way. I’m convinced I was a responsible baby.

Galway Kinnell said once that poetry is somebody standing up and saying as openly as possible what it is for him or her to be on Earth at this moment. 

What’s it like for you to be on this Earth at this moment? 

It’s a new year.

Have you identified yet what you want to be different in this coming year?

I don’t mean some fancy new resolution. Or some thin pledge to yourself.

Art first. Muggle sh*t later.

These five words made me catch my breath. It came from one of my favorite Instagram feeds about writing.

Can you hear that? 

It’s a blissful sound.

Silence. 

I used to be super uncomfortable with quiet—especially in groups. I thought silence was awkward. And that somebody needed to fill it. 

I asked some friends recently if they had ever witnessed a miracle. 

The question came from a Table Topics card—a game that poses compelling prompts to start a dialogue in a group.

So many things to let go of as we get older.

For example, I used to pass by a particular Dunkin Donuts every day. 

Back when my son was young, after I dropped him off at day care, I stopped at that Dunkin’s to pick up a quick cup of coffee on my way to work downtown—as I headed in to a job that was bigger than I had any business doing. 

I wish I were brave enough to ________. 

How would you complete this sentence? 

I wish I were brave enough to sole trek sacred sites in Tibet.

Can you think of a time when you were really angry? 

Eyes, forehead-vein-popping, voice-raising mad? 

Think back to that moment. 

I’ve been singing lately.

I love to sing. 

Sang in school choirs my whole life and in chamber chorus in high school.

On a podcast I was listening to once, the host asked a question as they discussed navigating the noise of the modern world.

They asked, What is the deepest silence you have ever known?

Our bodies are always communicating. 

What is your body saying to you right now?

Is it saying, “I’m tired, go back to bed!”