Last December I wrote a post titled "Death as an Ally" about the preciousness of each fleeting moment. In the past year, I've come to appreciate this sentiment even more.

As you move into the month of December with its accompanying demands on your time--the cards, parties, family visits, joys and conflicts--maybe take a moment each day (oftener if you're willing) to stop and notice this moment, this...ki... moment, a moment that will not come again. Find ways to reinforce presence....

My last two posts in September and October gave some context on the next steps I'm taking into the unknown. It's weird. I don't know how not to be busy, how not to be engaged in an endeavor that gives back so much. I'm not sure what that's going to be like. 

You may ask, "Then why stop?" And I'm not totally sure of the answer. I love what I do - I still have some work as I write this - and I also have a sense that this is a good time to bring this part of my worklife to a close. It's an interesting, thought-provoking, exciting place to be.

I sometimes listen to the Calm app when I'm meditating. Recently Jeff Warren, one of their authors and a meditator, said...

When I left Queens my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes – what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows – what new landscapes – what new beauties – what curves and hills and valleys further on.

I recently listened to the audiobook, Anne of Green Gables, by L.M. Montgomery, written in 1908. The quote that leads this post is from the book, and it literally gave me pause. I was walking and listening, and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk...

In July, I wrote about how I'd been "Wobbling" and beginning to re-identify myself to myself. Who am I when I'm visited by emotional overwhelm? Where is my purpose when those I love are struggling? What am I meant to do "with this one wild and precious life?"

When I think about it, this re-identification has been going on for some time. Then Covid happened, and work and life, and world, were transformed, and I began spending more time on these bigger questions...

Have you ever tried to resolve a conflict where one of the parties wasn't all that interested in resolution? Maybe it was you.

Perhaps you acted as if you wanted to find resolution and said all the right things: 

• “Let’s find a way to move forward”
• “I know we can work this out.” 

Maybe you did your best to adopt an inquiring stance, saying things like,

• “Please tell me how you see it.”

But nothing seemed to work because you weren’t really that interested if it meant you had to change—and so you didn’t commit to the process.

When life was easier, I would sometimes look around and wonder how I would manage the things life might throw my way--if and when--life being what it is. "I teach this stuff," I would say. Will I practice it in times that are not so easy? Recently, I found out...

When I watch aikido students in action, I always learn. At a recent seminar at Portsmouth Aikido, the dojo I founded in 1995, I had another opportunity to reinforce an awareness I've written about before.

I'm not often on the mat these days, and it's always an experience in discovery to sit on the sidelines.

For example, as I watched two beginners struggling to get the technique just right, their focus and commitment was intense, and I began to notice my own body tightening. I sensed the tension in the students' bodies as they practiced the technique, and I could feel it in my own as I observed...

It seems that "difficult" conversations are par for the course these days. And even the conversation that starts out easy can turn on a dime. We're all a little on guard, a little careful, in our choice of words, timing, and topics we agree to talk about.

A popular download from my website is an article I wrote 15 years ago called "We Have to Talk: A Step-by-Step Checklist for Difficult Conversations". The Checklist is popular, and I realize after reading it again that I could have added a few more helpful tips, such as setting up the conversation for success, respecting time, and choosing a supportive location. I hope the following will help you hold a conversation that perhaps you've been putting off in a way that supports all parties.

Indeed.

I visit curiosity often in these posts. Curiosity--a key communication skill that helps us manage our ki (energy) in times of stress, struggle, and conflict.

One of my favorite curiosity stories was written back in August, 2013: "I'd Actually Have to Be Curious!" I was reminded of the story recently when my husband said: "I'm just curious," and asked me a question like, "What makes you want to do it that way?" 

Recently, I was playing with my niece and nephews, 4-year-old triplets full--really full--of rambunctious energy. It was total fun, and they wore me out. At one point, as I saw them headed my way for more playtime, I suggested we all take a breath.

I demonstrated what I meant by breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. After a few conscious breaths, I invited them to "play" along.

There was an immediate change...