A few months after my dad died, I visited my mom. It was a difficult time as she opened up her heart and shared her grief. I wanted to take away her pain. My natural reaction was to offer advice to help her get through it. If I'm honest, I was uncomfortable with intense emotions and wanted to flee; however, my fledging mindful self remembered to breath. I realized my mom wasn't asking me to do anything. She wasn't asking me to fix anything. She just needed my presence. The be

In this series on mindfulness reflections and practices, we've already focused on several actions: sitting, noticing and residing. The one action that is echoes through all of the individual steps is returning . I've encouraged you to return to the breath, return to the body, and return to the present moment. I get so busy doing stuff, I forget why I'm doing whatever it is most times. I love my habits and routines but if I'm not careful, I live my life on automatic pilot and

​​Sage, the word, the color, and the herb is associated with wisdom and healing. It is also the name of one of the newest beings to arrive on this planet. Sage, my grandson, was born yesterday. I am so grateful for this new life and this promise of hope. My heart is bursting with joy. I've been on retreat for the past week. I thought of Sage being carried in Grace's womb. I thought how she was breathing for him. We all come into this world connected to another human being. We

This week I'm on silent retreat at Pendle Hill , a quaker retreat center. Remember me and I'll remember you. As you recall, I'm sharing a series of reflections on how to grow a daily meditation practice. So far, we've: defined a space in our home and in our inner world established time to practice set an intention practiced by noticing the breath, thoughts, or another object, returning to the present moment again and again released the practice and relaxed into being journeye

Ice covered trees at sunset, glowing with the beauty of the day. Let's keep building our daily meditation practice. Beginning - Find a place , dedicate time , set an intention Middle - Follow the breath, notice thoughts, let it all go Ending - Honor yourself for showing up This week I'll focus on concluding a meditation. I like to think of my intention as bookends for the practice. At the start, I used my intention as a way to guide my heart to be more loving, more open, mor

Mindfulness is a misnomer. The word implies it is mostly about thoughts. Exactly where is the mind? Is it the same thing as the brain? Too many of us feel trapped in our heads. Mindfulness is not a head trip but something altogether different. Maybe consciousness is a better word. Where does consciousness reside? In our heads? In our cells? In our soul? That's a debate for scientists, doctors, and theologians. For me, meditation starts out as a concentration practice where I

I love cycling. There's nothing better than working hard to pedal uphill and then just let go. Momentum carries me forward and there's nothing left to do but enjoy the ride. There's a sweet spot when there's no more doing but simply being in the moment. The same thing can happen in meditation. If you've been keeping up with me these past few weeks, you'll recall we've been building our mindfulness practice step by step. We've carved out time and found a quiet place . We've s

Photo of Lake Worth sky by Eve Soldinger , my friend and wisdom teacher. I kicked off this year of mindfulness by giving instruction on how to build a daily meditation practice. Establish a physical space within your home and your body Dedicate time to developing your mindfulness muscles Set an intention to direct your thoughts and actions Pay attention on purpose to the present moment nonjudgmentally Almost as soon as I sit down to meditate, the mental channel surfing beg

Mindfulness is the remedy to feeling adrift in these times of uncertainty. Enlightenment is an accident and mindfulness makes us accident prone. Tim Burkett I'm currently studying with Jonathan Foust in a program called a Year of Living Mindfully. Jonathan shared this quote to illustrate while enlightenment (or transcendence or grace) isn't something we can make happen, we do have the ability to cultivate the conditions for it. I think of this as agency, the theme for this we

Last week, I wrote about creating a home base, a place to collect our scattered selves, a place to listen to the quiet wisdom of the heart. This week's building block focuses on time. Meditation is a skill just like cooking or writing. While some people have an innate ability, most of us need to invest time and energy to develop our capacity. I meditate for 20 minutes each morning. Why? Because my best energy is in the hours after I first wake up and 20 minutes is my sweet

My Imaginary Meditation Space I'm heading into my fourth year of mindful blogging. At the start of a new year, I like to revisit the building blocks of a daily meditation practice. Let's start with establishing a mindful home. Abiding in the here and now happens on 3 dimensions: 1. Physical space 2. Inner landscape 3. Home base Physical space means creating a peaceful spot within your dwelling. This could be a quiet corner in a room with natural light, a comfortable ch

This was a hard year! I am so grateful for mindfulness. It was my steady refuge. These are the images I shared week after week. Thank you for coming along for the journey. We need each other more than ever. Practice If you click on an image, you can revisit the reflection for that week. Take a moment to scroll through them all. Select an image that captures your attention and let me know if the corresponding reflection speaks to you. Come back tomorrow and the day after and t

Usually I think of a moment as lasting but a breath. But as we reflect on this closing season of mindfulness, a moment could be an hour, a year, or a lifetime. Today, let's think of 2025 as a passing moment. In today's practice, we'll follow the guidance of Jack Kornfield and reflect on this year using these questions: Did I live fully? Did I love whole-heartedly? Did I learn to let go? Practice You may want a paper and pen, a journal, or something to capture your thoughts. S

The season repeats and is not the same.  The day repeats and is not the same.  The breath repeats and is not the same. Beginnings and endings appear like opposites  and yet one is needed for the other.  Each contains the other.  Sometimes there are moments of insight and clarity  and probably more often uncertainty and unknowing. Even in the midst of terrible disaster,  there is the calm before the storm  and stillness in the eye of the hurricane,  places of refuge in the cle

I take my breath for granted. Maybe because it is so close to me, I don't even notice it most of the time. But if I stop long enough to think about it just for a moment, I realize it is a mystery. I breathe all day long but I don't really know how my lungs and my diaphragm oxygenate my body. Sometimes in meditation I follow my breath, hold my breath, count my breaths. I act like it is something I control and am in charge of, but in reality, my breath holds me. It carries me t

My holiday cactus is in full bloom. Beauty filled my week as I connected with family and friends. Each day I set an intention to let others know how much I valued their presence in my life. Mindfulness helped me to show up more fully, listen more deeply, and appreciate time shared together. Here's the prayer by Christina Baldwin, we used to bless our table and all those around it. Dear and beloved stranger, Please eat this food with us, that we may all be nourished. Please s

I tend to meditate in the morning. I begin by sitting upright in a chair, with feet on the floor, shoulders pulled back slightly to open my chest, hands resting in my lap or one hand on my heart, and eyes closed. I then tune into my listening self and pay attention to whatever is showing up in the moment. I sense the breath. It tells me I am alive. My weight in the chair and the pressure of my feet on the floor tell me that I'm physically here and part of creation. My open he

I took this aerial photo of an archipelago when flying over the Bahamas. I love the play of water, light and sand. Lately it feels like I've been caught in an unending storm. Dark days continue to appear on the horizon. It leaves me wondering if we'll ever regain what we've lost. It is easy to give way to despair and pessimism. None of us can survive day in and day out, if all we see is doom. I've been feeling it. How about you? I believe the antidote is joy. We each need to

I'm doing an awful lot of waiting these days: Waiting for the Government to open up Waiting at the airport for a flight to leave Waiting for a buyer to make an offer on our DC house Waiting for a baby to be born Waiting for the next season Waiting for the other shoe to drop And I don't like it at all. I suppose I'm not alone in this. Mindfulness encourages me to reframe these days of waiting into something different. When I want answers today, can I allow myself to abide in t

I'm leaning into the season and taking a lesson from the Autumn leaves. In these times of uncertainty, my natural inclination is to cling to my side of the story, the security of my job, my long held beliefs, in search of a solid place to stand. Unfortunately, everything feels like shifting sand. Maybe it's time for a change in perspective. The leaves are so beautiful, so brilliant, so temporary. They teach us that everything changes. In autumn, nature says to let go of what