Spring, in all her glory, dares the frosty air. Do we? Do we dare to shake off the wintry cold that hardens hearts and dampens dreams? Do we dare to bloom today, to become that which is best in our hearts, and that which most inspires our spirit? Do we dare?
You think you know what you want, but your feelings about men fluctuate like Ben Affleck's Boston accent. I communicate and behave based on my best guess: consolation when you're feeling down, dry humor when you're testing my wit.
If you find yourself flat-lining today, anxious, or recently lacking joy in how you are investing time and energy, it is possible to shift. Why wait? If we do not enjoy the moment to the degree we wish, let us consult our desire and re-imagine.
When we were given Athena's photo from her orphanage in the same week that you discovered your pregnancy, we crossed the Rubicon. Yes, of course (says every parent in America), having children changes you in a ways that are so unpredictable as to be surreal.
Place yourself in whatever atmosphere allows you to feel centered. Bring your awareness to the faces of the people to whom you have hardened your heart. Imagine sending each person kindness, love and compassion.
We are here to create. But we cannot create from the soul of who we are unless we cultivate an awe and faith in something larger and more powerful than our contempt for our own imperfect self-expression and our fear of ridicule.
Expanding love gets down to appreciating that love must be current, electric, pulsating, fresh, flowing, spontaneous. Hard to have it this way when you believe you "know all" about that person who is "numero uno" in your heart.
The essential question is: What kind of investment do we make with the life we are given between the day we are born, and the day our "marching papers" come? Are we good stewards of life force flowing through our veins? Could we do better?
When it comes to expressing the truth in our heart, love cannot be commissioned. Love cannot be purchased. Love must have an open space, a safe place in which to land, tell its truth, and have room to breathe without demands or the need for defense.
I have just published a collection of love letters from a Norwegian Nobel Peace Prize winner to the writer Brenda Ueland. There have been literally tens of thousands of tweets, blog posts, and letters to the editor flying through cyberspace debating the decision.