I created a project a few months ago. I was so excited about it, but only shared it in a half-hearted way, at best. One person – one stinkin’ person – responded. I became frustrated, angry, sad, scared, mired in self-disparaging perfectionism to the point that I pulled the offer. . . .

Without really understanding why, I felt compelled to start volunteering one morning a week at a vegetable garden this spring. Learning, being outdoors, exercising, connecting with lovely people, all while serving an organization I care deeply about. I absolutely love it all.  So many lessons, not just about gardening, but. . . .

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Spring, in all its loveliness, is in full bloom: warmer days, constant birdsong, countless blossoms. And pollen. So. Much. Pollen. Its effects nearly led me to re-route from the grocery store to the E.R. last week, in spite closed car windows and humming. . . .

I have a favorite five word phrase. Want to know what it is? That’s a really good question. No, really. That’s the phrase. I love it when a client says, “that’s a really good question.” Not for my ego. For their growth. When I ask powerful questions and hold space. . . .

This is the first summer in ten years that I’m happy, productive, and comfortable in my home office since I started using it – ten years ago. I complained for a decade that the insulation-free attic and southern exposure made my office freezing in the winter and stifling from late. . . .

If you’re like most people, you’re really good at noticing what’s wrong. We’re wired to take in the negative. And how can you problem-solve if you don’t start with what’s wrong, right? Nope. We do better when we start with what’s right. Whine, Moan, and Complain Anyone who overheard the. . . .

A key focus of my work in the world is helping people notice, celebrate, and grow the good without burning energy trying to pretend away the bad. Asking powerful questions is key to good coaching. Great for me, what with my tons of training and practice, as well as my. . . .

It’s funny how we tend to repeat the same patterns even after the circumstance that led to the pattern in the first place has ended. When I was teaching full-time, the first weekend of summer looked something like this: mostly passed out on the sofa for two days waking up. . . .

There’s a townhouse a few doors down from mine that’s been empty for nearly all of the 15 years I’ve lived here. It’s kind of creepy, except this time of year, when the cluster of daffodils next to the front step burst into bloom in spring. Robert Herrick used daffodils. . . .

I moved a single chair out of my kitchen over the weekend. I put it there to be a convenient perch for my handbag. It quickly became a clutter magnet. Basket of hats, tote bags, my coat. Too laden with stuff to move easily, it soon became a dust bunny. . . .