This morning I was reading a newsletter by Katie Hawkins-Gaar. She writes that a stranger recently told her that he loved how her shoes matched her earrings. She wrote that she must have seemed a little surprised by his compliment, so he told her, “It deserves recognition.“ I love that sentiment.
Who, what, where deserves recognition in your life? At the very least, give your focus of thought to those people and things and places and habits and rituals that deserve special recognition. This is a great way to fill your heart with gratitude this Thanksgiving week. What about you? What do you do for yourself that deserves recognition? Bring into your consciousness the banquet of all of the good in your life. Notice the good. Recognize the good. You deserve it.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
On Friday, on somewhat of a whim, I wrote two long, heartfelt letters to people (and their spouses) who have worked with my husband for a long, long time. Both of these men are retiring from their long, successful careers at the end of this year. And so I sent them each letters and a small gift and then I woke up on Saturday morning with a vulnerability hangover. I get vulnerability hangovers a lot, because I tend to get deep. I tend to get quite open with people whom I care about, and then afterwards I feel kind of exposed and embarrassed for sharing my deepest, heartfelt thoughts. It’s a really sick, scary feeling honestly.
But then this morning, I received a text from my husband whose colleague was “gushing” about my letter. He told my husband that receiving the letter made he and his wife’s day. And at that moment, any ounce of regret and terror I had felt from my vulnerability hangover, vanished with a feeling of happiness that I had risked my open heart, to add love and sincerity to my words.
Supposedly, so much of what we read on the internet is now being written by AI. Teachers have new tools to figure out what percentage of their students’ writings are being written by Chat GPT and others. Apparently, the percentages are quite high. All expectations are is that this is only going to increase.
Still, I strongly believe that as humans, we intuitively know the difference without any tools to tell us. Robots don’t have hearts. Sincerity is hard to fake, even for other humans. It takes two open hearts to feel a true connection. It takes gumption and feeling to be vulnerable with someone, and it takes strength and humility to be able to receive someone else’s message from the heart, and to believe it and to be grateful for it.
When AI started really coming into the news, I think that a lot of us writers/creative types felt a little panicky that we would become obsolete. We started to fear that a vocation that is already finicky, low-to-no paying, and not often highly valued, would become our own hungry ghost – putting our efforts (and honestly, our deep compulsion to write) into the darkest realm of oblivion and obsoletion. But then I remembered some of the most amazing lines I have ever read and they were all written by humans throughout the ages. These lines were all written by people desperate to get the story right. These incredible lines of poetry, lyrics, prose, created a picture for me that connected me to something deep within my own living experience, that only someone who has actually lived a life, can fully portray.
Robots aren’t messy. They aren’t confused. They aren’t sad nor elated. Robots aren’t fearful, because they don’t have hearts. Robots are imitators. They can imitate deep feelings (and some of them are excellent imitators) but they can’t have them. And sometimes, I envy them for that fact. Feeling our feelings is one of the most difficult things that we humans do. To get the best out of our writing, we writers have to open up our hearts and our feelings, and pour them out on pages, watching them bleed outside of us. This is something that a robot will never be able to do.
If you don’t want to be obsolete, don’t imitate the imitators. Be vulnerable enough to be yourself and to share it with the world, through your most intimate creations, whatever form they take. How ironic that soon human creation will be the rare form, as we give way to everything which we know, being engineered by robots. How ironic that we might be entering an age where human-made creations might end up being the most rare, exquisite and valuable conceptions on Earth. The thing that will clearly set your own creations apart is how much of your heart and your soul you are willing to pour into them. Risk the vulnerability. Robots can’t do this.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
“Make your own Bible. Select and collect all of the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like a blast of a trumpet.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Adulting – Second Half must be one of my bibles then, according to Emerson. During my entire life, I have collected words and sentences (and also paintings and pictures) that have touched me deeply, like my own “blasts of a trumpet”. I have pasted these words and sentences, on my mirrors. I have notebooks and scrapbooks full of them (and then cabinets full of these notebooks). I have a messy desk covered in them. And I also have my beloved “Adulting – Second Half“, one of my most sacred collections of words and sentences and readings and thoughts. Thank you for bringing your own beautiful energy and thoughts, here. Thank you for helping to make Adulting – Second Half one of my most sacred, precious extensions of myself. Thank you for blasting your own trumpets in resonation and validation and curiosity and extension to what I bring here to share. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Good morning and happy Friday! I am currently all alone (except my sweet dogs are with me) in one of my most sacred spaces. It’s one of those places in my life where I have found myself in a state of total exhale and peace of mind. We all have our various sacred spaces, and they are as unique to us, as we are to the world. (Our preferences are what makes us uniquely special and interesting. Make your own choices. You get to decide what YOU like and your appreciation, happiness and peace for loving what you love, leaks out into the atmosphere, on to all of us. Thank you.) I hope that this weekend you can take an exhale in one of your most sacred spaces and that this will sustain you for your next week’s adventures and escapades and experiences. I came back to the blog again today because I found some more quotes which I feel compelled to add to this precious thought museum, which I have named Adulting – Second Half.
+ This is from an interview with Jennifer Aniston (Elle Magazine) Jennifer says this:
“The good news is anybody can do a podcast, and the bad news is anybody can do a podcast.” We all need to listen to both sides. That’s what we’ve lost. We’ve lost communication, we’ve lost sitting across a table and having a discussion that is productive, learning from each other. It feels like everyone is sort of stuck in their positions and it’s my way or the highway, and that’s just not how the world works.“
+ ” You’re zero miles away from Your Truth. But sometimes you have to walk a thousand miles to realize it.” – cbmeditates
+ “Never take criticism from someone you wouldn’t take advice from.”
+ “Any good apology has 3 parts: 1. I’m sorry, 2. It’s my fault, 3. What can I do to make it right? ***most people forget the 3rd part”
And because I get feedback that my readers miss my Favorite Things on Favorite Things Friday posts, here are a couple of bonus favorites of mine, for old time’s sake:
I picked up this hilarious postcard book when we were visiting a quaint little bookstore in NYC this fall. It’s called Disappointing Affirmations by Dave Tarnowski. It’s snarky (perhaps a little mean), but hilarious and a reminder to not take things too seriously. There are 30 postcards in the book to send to friends who may share your off-color sense of humor. (or just keep them for yourself when you need a laugh) Here’s one example:
And for a bonus favorite today, I recently discovered Second Chance Bears in a little local gift shop. I’ve scoured the internet to find a website to share, but I can’t find one. I think that this is such a lovely idea! I bought a little bear whose name is Thomas (and according to his story, “Thomas seeks out joy in everything”), and I bought one for dear friends, who finally got their home completely and beautifully restored, after it was damaged terribly in last year’s hurricanes. They’re giving their lovely home a much-deserved second chance. This is the tag that is tied around the necks on all of the little saved teddy bears:
Who, what or where in your own life deserves a second chance? Is it a hobby? Is it a relationship? Is it a vocation? A restaurant? (Just make sure that whatever it is, it truly warrants a “second chance”, see apology exhibit above ^^^) Maybe you deserve to give yourself a second chance. May you deserve to give yourself some grace. Clean yourself up. Fluff yourself up and give yourself some love this weekend.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
“Culture The Moms Are Not Alright What’s going on: We’re still months away from Mother’s Day, but Hollywood can’t stop putting moms on the big screen right now — and they aren’t just supporting characters. Two movies are currently driving the conversation: Jennifer Lawrence’s Die My Love and Rose Byrne’s If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. As Glamour puts it, they’re all about the mom meltdown. Lawrence portrays a new mom battling postpartum depression, and Byrne plays a single mother caring for a sick child while trying to hold it together. The stories are wildly different, but the women do share this: valid crash-outs. And in each case, a frustrating partner helps push them there. (Because honestly, who gives a new mom a puppy?) What it means: Motherhood in America is a pressure cooker. Child care costs averaged $13,000 in 2024, according to one report. Nearly half of all mothers report symptoms of postpartum depression. Add the centuries-old demand to be the “perfect mom,” and it’s no wonder so many feel like they’re falling apart. These films don’t just tell that story — they confront it. Each one holds up a mirror to how society rushes to judge mothers for cracking under impossible expectations instead of asking what broke them in the first place. The result? A cultural moment that feels less like escapism and more like recognition. The only question now: Will people watch a movie that feels this close to real life?” – The Daily Skimm
I hadn’t planned on writing this morning. Lately, my inspirational “hits” have been more focused on my transforming “nest” and the upcoming holidays, but then I read the above blurb from the Daily Skimm. As a woman who is over the hump of raising her kids (my eldest son of our four “children” will be 30 in April, and our daughter, the youngest is 22) and as a mother, who has passed the threshold of the everyday duties of raising kids to become functioning adults, the words that I read above were still recognizable, and reverberating in my body. I ached with compassion for these fictional characters, and also for the many, many non-fictional women, over decades of generations, whom these characters represent. I ached with compassion for my younger self.
I intimately knew many fellow mothers throughout the years of raising my children. Despite our different theories, methods and choices in parenting, and despite our wildly different experiences and backgrounds, relationships, and nationalities and beliefs, these other mothers were my comrades and my compadres, my “sisters-in-arms”. I couldn’t have done it without them. Despite how vindictive, judgmental, catty and hard on each other, we women can be, it was the support of other mothers that kept it all afloat for me. It was the validation and the understanding and the quiet knowing of when to step in, and when to cheerlead, and when to send prayers and when to be a strong example (good examples and bad examples) that came from the other mothers (of all different ages) in my life – these are the things, all gifts from the other mothers, which got me to the threshold in one piece.
And so “crashing out”, “meltdowning”, “trying desperately to be perfect” mommy, let me be your compadre today. Let me be your sister-in-arms. You are okay. You are doing your best. You do not have to meet impossible expectations. You have many other women in your life who are mothers and who completely get it. Find the ones whom you feel safe enough to be vulnerable with, and let it all out. You love your kids. If there is one thing that all of us mothers understand is the undeniable strength that a mother carries every single day of her life until the day that she dies, because she allows her heart to walk far away from herself, into many unknown dangers and adventures and escapades, all apart from her, in all different directions, from the moment she experiences her first child’s first breath. A mother’s heart has pieces of itself scattered in many different directions, throughout the rest of her life. Understanding this, why would it not be hard to hold it all together? Sweet mother, answer me this, with the pieces of your heart scattering in the wind, how could you not have moments of crashing out and melting down? Why, in your unholy perfectionism, are you the hardest on yourself?
Movies are great for “escapism”, but people who actually intimately know what you are going through in life, are great for “recognition.” If you don’t need to see your life, dramatically splayed out on the big screen, that’s okay. But I guarantee you, in real life, you need someone who “sees” you. You need someone who can validate what you are experiencing, as a mother, externally and internally. Find those other mothers. Find the ones who are going through it with you, and also find those mothers, like me, who have graduated to a different level of holding up the scaffolding of a family that she has already built. Find those other mothers, and let them in. Throughout raising my children, I knew young mothers and older ones, working moms and stay-at-home ones, married moms and single ones, straight moms and gay ones, religious moms and non-religious ones, moms of huge broods and moms of onlies, rich moms and poor moms, and guess what? None of us were perfect. We all had our “crash out” moments (and we all still do). None of us cracked the “perfect mothering formula”, but the one thing that we all had in common is that we loved our children ferociously. I saw this meme the other day that stated it perfectly: “Mama Bear is such a sweet way to describe the fact that I’d tear you open and eat your insides if you hurt my child.”
Dear sweet mother, who is reading this right now, all of the while feeling like she may explode in her own pressure cooker of steamed, mixed-up feelings of anger, frustration, fear, guilt, resentment, loneliness, shame, doubt, unworthiness, hopelessness, worry and regret, let some of the air out. Let yourself breathe. Then take a look around. You aren’t doing this alone. Within blocks of you, within clicks on a computer, are other mothers who empathize with you so completely, and all that they are asking for, is just a little bit of your own empathy back. Dear sweet mother, as I continue to build the scaffolding of my own family and I continue to support my own life, and the lives whom I brought to this Earth (we mothers carry a load), I offer you tools from my own toolbox. I offer you a seat, where you can rest and wipe your brow. I offer you the wisdom of my experiences – what worked for me, and what did not. But mostly, I offer you my love and my reassurance. You already have all of the tools you need. You are doing a great job, working on that gorgeous building that so many generations of women behind you started, and added to, all the while doubting themselves, having crashout moments and many a meltdown, along the way. And yet, here we mothers are, still growing and still building away. There should be another word besides “other mother” which describe a different mother than you. In many ways, our mothering journey is the same. Our Mother Earth knows this intimately and ultimately. She knows in the end, we are all just truly One and that’s why we can rest so deeply in her compassionate and empathetic arms. Dear sweet mothers, give yourselves moments of resting in Her calming arms. See Her in the eyes of the “other mothers”. You are not alone. You never were alone.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I was driving around a lot yesterday and so I was listening to all sorts of music and podcasts. One podcast was discussing what constitutes a healthy group dynamic. In order to be in a healthy group, whether it be a work group, a social group, or even a family, the expert being interviewed said that you need to have two things: 1. The feeling that you can be your authentic self and 2. The feeling of belonging. If you are in an unhealthy group situation, you may feel that you only belong if you change yourself or your beliefs to “fit” what the group says is right or wrong. In that case, you belong at the expense of your own authenticity. Or, if you do behave in your own authenticity, and you are ostracized or derided or shamed or scapegoated for it, then you are being authentic at the expense of feeling like you belong. If you are experiencing healthy relationships in any community (professional or personal) which you belong to, you must feel that you can be your authentic self and also feel appreciated and welcomed for what your unique attributes bring to the group. In any relationship, ask yourself, do I feel like I can be my true self, and also feel that I belong in that relationship at the same time? If so, that is a healthy and nurturing relationship, workspace, community to call home. Anything else is not an acceptable, long-term situation for your own health, well-being and growth.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
A week ago, my daughter was having a terrible streak of aggravations and frustrations and she was finally at her limit. She called me and had an understandable meltdown, for which she immediately apologized for, in between her jagged sobs. I, of course, told her not to apologize. I said that that’s what relationships are all about, being there for each other. I also reminded her that just in the previous month, I had melted down to her about something that I couldn’t even recall what it was about now. She laughed and she said that I had cried to her about a couple we both know and love, breaking up (who are now happily back together and stronger than ever). We both smiled and in that moment I already felt the clouds starting to pass.
+ “Selfishness is not living as one wishes. It is asking others to live as one wishes.” – Oscar Wilde
We have a lot of control issues in today’s society, don’t we? At the same token, we are often admonished to “see” things the same way. There is little tolerance for different viewpoints. In my experience, I often see this from people who are screaming the loudest about other people’s horrible, terrible intolerances, yet obviously holding this same level of intolerance about the very people whom they are screaming about being intolerant. “Live and let live” seems a harder concept to come by these days. Perhaps it is difficult for people to realize they can live by their own ideals and values, even if others don’t embrace these same ideals and values. By accepting that others align with ideals and values which are different than yours, does not mean that you have to be best friends with these people. You don’t have to commune with them at all. But a free society means that if you are not committing a socially agreed upon crime (i.e. a nation’s laws), you have the right to live however you see fit. And you don’t want anybody else to tell you how to live, or how to think, or how to worship, or how to dress, or what music to listen to, so why should you try to control others’ ways of living? Control issues are usually about our own needs for safety and security. It makes us feel better if we believe that we are controlling everything outside of us. It makes us feel better if we believe that our narrative is the only “right” narrative. But once you hit middle age and beyond, it becomes more and more obvious that “control” is mostly an illusion. Ironically, we often have the most trouble with “self-control”, and our own self is the only thing which we really have any level of major control, if we are willing and open-eyed enough to take the wheel. Trying to control anything or anybody else outside of ourselves, is just distraction from self-awareness. It turns out that our “narrative” is the right story for us, and everyone else has the right to live out their own stories. And at the very least, doesn’t this make life all the more interesting?
+ “The moment you stop chasing, it comes.
The second you let go, it arrives.
The day you finally believe, it happens.
The Universe doesn’t work on desperation:
It works on alignment.” – Author Unknown
The hardest lesson in life is letting go, and yet we have to do it our entire lives in so many ways, almost daily. Letting go. Acceptance. Don’t those words feel like an exhale? Don’t those words evoke peace? After we have done everything in our power, why is it so hard for us to surrender and to let go when we know that acceptance and letting go, is what ultimately brings us to our truest nature – alignment with Life/Love/Peace/Faith/Hope? Usually it is the stage of utter exhaustion past our wildest desperation that we finally do “let go” and that’s when we finally witness the miracles starting to flow.
+ “You are the art.” – KTZ
You, your body, your daily rhythms, your surroundings, your community, your choices – these are the artwork in your little corner of the greater tapestry of Life, which we all share. You are an artist. Create with joy! You are a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
