cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“I’ve never told anyone this,” she whispered and leaned across the cafe table. She proceeded to share the harder, truer side of her birth story–the story of when she felt powerless, voiceless, and ignored while laboring with her first child. Two years later, she still felt confused. Her baby was healthy. Her body physically recovered…
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I have had an ambivalent relationship with practice. The word alone conjures up many feelings. First, my eleven years of piano lessons were wrought with more pain than pleasure. Many hours my body yearned to have been running, bicycling, or playing sports, but I was living in an era when piano lessons were more common…
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In September 2022, a year-and-a-half after Mom’s death, I stood in the basement that housed my business, Heart Path Story Coaching, from its opening in April 2019 until now. It is where Mom confessed she should have never made me president of the family. It is where I met with my earliest clients and art…
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At a very young age I learned that anger was bad and led to destruction and disconnection. When my dad’s anger turned toward me, I froze and drifted away to a place far away from that terrifying reality and that terror got stuck inside me. I remember coming home from teaching after having my second…
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I turned 50 this year. Can I share that there is a lot of pressure to be awesome by 50? You should take a monumental trip, have a huge party, have your children rise up and call you blessed. Good Lord! The pressure! My 40s were hard. In the last ten years, I have sat…
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With a plastered-on smile, I faced a rowdy class of Chinese preschoolers and reached down to the tips of my toes to muster up my maximum volume: “If you’re happy and you know it…” I clapped my hands. I stomped my feet. And I turned myself around. “That’s what it’s all about, hey?” But those…
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It was one of those Saturday morning moments for which I long. Both of my girls were in their playroom, happily occupying themselves (without screens!). There were no sounds of whining, fighting, or Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles. It was blissfully quiet. And it was that exact quietness that allowed me to more quickly…
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“I don’t think you’ve ever experienced a good ending,” my therapist said, as we once again discussed ending our work together. As usual, I had become weepy at the mere suggestion that it was time. A good ending? What was that? How was it even possible? He kindly assured me that we could explore my…
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The funeral home came to remove Mom’s body a few hours after death. As they wheeled her out, maneuvering through the dining room, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered. I also thought, “If you sit up right now and say, ‘Just kidding!’ I will yell and say, ‘Just leave already!’” …
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Cold January rain pelted the windshield of my red Ford Expedition as I drove toward Barnes and Noble. I parked and swiftly exited the car, retrieving the stroller. I deftly popped it open with one hand, a finely honed skill. Unfastening Elly from her seat behind me, I securely strapped her into the stroller, tucking…
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