One of the more obvious and trying aspects of this pandemic we’re floundering in is all the things we can’t do. This horrid little virus has spurred limitations the likes of which most of us have never seen.

Are you as tired of hearing and reading about this horrid virus as I am? It’s like hearing about the hurricane that’s brewing off-shore: we hear report after report, we prepare, we hoard, we hunker down and we wait and worry and watch the news and wonder if it will really hit, and when, and whether it will hit us, or just those other unfortunate people.

Chinese medicine calls viruses “Pernicious Evil Influences,” which sums it up pretty perfectly. They are all three of those things. But while viruses are nasty, the anxiety they generate is worse … much worse.

For most of my life, I have been a seeker: a seeker of truth, understanding, and also happiness. Seeking understanding and wisdom is honorable enough, but the happiness bit has been somewhat challenging.

On this Valentine's Day, I thought a little education on the heart and on the origin of the holiday might be of interest. An alternative, if you will, to the sentimentality imposed by Hallmark & Florist’s Day, February 14.

A long time ago, just out of graduate school and some 2,500 hours into a five-year process of becoming a counselor, I sat down with my supervisor and announced that, while I enjoyed working with clients, there was something more pulling at me.

I’m not in sync with this Christmas ho-ho. There are reasons. I have issues with the consumer crush. While I enjoy gift-giving as much as the next person and am a big fan of the cute shops in my quaint, historic town, the capitalist push of Christmas leaves me, well, I’d say cold, except that it’s warm.

I know exactly one person who loves getting together with family for the holidays. She tells of wonderful parents and siblings and spouses who actually like one another and who sit around laughing and drinking cider and playing Yahtzee. I don’t buy this story for one minute, but I nod and smile.

Two weeks ago, I was about to get to writing a little something about gratitude for this newsletter when the unexpected randomness of Life happened. My companion, Baci (whom you may recall from his recent celebrity appearance in this column) had a disc rupture, leaving his back legs paralyzed.

A famous lyric from Gilbert and Sullivan says, “Things are seldom what they seem.” I’m going to bump that up that a notch and say that things are never what they seem. There’s always more to the story. 

I’ve been having a week filled with messages: Message after message, all on the same topic. It’s as if someone up there is trying to deal with a lousy cell phone connection. Can you hear me now? Can you hear me NOW??

I am an incredible parent. I know this because there are moments in my parenting life where I stop and think, “Man, these kids are darned lucky.” One of these moments happened this week. During a meeting at my children’s school my son was reminded of the school’s philosophy regarding course selection

A number of years ago I read a little book titled, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating. In it, the author tells the story of being struck by a mysterious condition that left her completely incapacitated, unable even to sit up.

One of the (few) perks of getting older is having a longer view of life. Being a newly-minted mother of two teens, I’m remembering just how inwardly awkward and stressful adolescence is. Figuring out who you are and how to navigate life is rough on rats. And parents.

“It is what it is.” My husband introduced me to this phrase. He uses it all the time and to be honest, it used to annoy the bejesus out of me. I’d get all snarky and retort, “What does that mean? It means nothing! And then what often happens, happened.

I recently went through some old letters and belongings of my parents saved over many years. In them, I found an airmail letter, typed on thin, onion skin paper and dated March 20, 1973, from one Rafael Icaza.

I’ve been dealing with some big issues lately, things that hurt my brain and stir my emotional pot; things that if not kept on a tight rein release a toxic tsunami of anxiety. So I picked up Eckhardt Tolle’s A New Earth to try to get some perspective.

The following is an excellent and most helpful list, perfect for cutting out and sending to your children or taping to the fridge. It’s the eight best pieces of advice, ever.

For being so cold and bleak, February is a pretty darned happy month. There’s the lunar new year — with its joyful celebration of new beginnings and opportunities for success — and Valentine’s Day, stirring thoughts of the heart. It all has me thinking about the heart of success.

The solstice is almost here! I always count the days to Solstice because at that point, the light will begin to grow again. Even though it won’t be obvious that the light is returning for many weeks, I know it in my heart, and that makes all the difference.