Messages & Channelings

Ever since I was twelve years old I've called myself a writer.  The title felt legit.  I didn't need to publish a book or have a byline in a magazine.  As far as I was concerned, the fact that I kept a journal and wrote in it nearly every day gave me license to call myself a writer.

We’ve all heard it a bazillion times, that a practice of gratitude can heal and transform. But it’s so easy to forget how powerful it is until we stumble upon these moments.

I wasn't planning on writing a blog about Father's Day today.  But I changed my mind after watching a music video by Peter Gabriel about his father.

Cheryl Richardson > Who's leading the Dance of your Life?

This morning I sat in my living room with a cup of tea and Poupon nestled on my lap ready to watch Super Soul Sunday on OWN.

I woke this morning feeling a bit tender. It's Mother's Day here in the states and as I got out of bed to face the day, I was hit with an unexpected wave of sadness at not having had children. 

Cheryl Richardson > Are You Serving The Wrong Master?

Yesterday, after a long walk on a cold, windy day here in Toronto, I did something kind for myself. I was sitting in my hotel room, answering email and finishing up some work, when I looked over at the end of the bed and noticed the sun had cast a pool of light across the comforter. 

Yesterday I had a shame attack. I woke up after a long night's sleep, recovering from leading a five-day retreat, and found a post on Facebook from an angry participant who called me rude and suggested that I was a fraud.

In this moment I’m reminded, once again, that so much of my time has been spent trying to make things happen – pushing and prodding my way to a better life.

 

My friend Max gave me an awesome gift for Christmas this year that I've been using this afternoon. It's a thermal laminator. I know, pretty strange, right? Who gives a thermal laminator as a gift? 

Cheryl Richardson > Here’s What to Do When You Can’t Forgive

Yesterday, during a break from the nonstop snowstorms here in the Northeast, I strapped on snowshoes and went outside for a walk.  As I trudged through the powdery, fresh snow, I made a spontaneous decision to dedicate my walk to forgiveness.  

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