"It matters to me that the thing I do for work is the least interesting thing about me." (*insert flabbergasted face*) A friend said this to me recently, and I knew she knew a thing or two about letting work play the dominant role in her life. She had lived a one-dimensional life for decades...

Last week I wrote a post called Are You a Dream Weaver or a Dream Leaver and I stirred some dream dust up out there. I love to rankle, because it’s the poke in the ribs that gets us moving towards our sizzley-but-scary goals… not so much the warm hug from a well-meant friend who...

What is a Dream Weaver? Dream Weaver is a great song, obviously. Possibly about psychedelics, now that I’ve looked up the lyrics? Dream Weavers—despite the cheese-ball name—are people who fathom dreams and goals and ideas and plans and futures and don’t just sit there and take a bunch of psychedelics… they go to their loom...

Welcome to the Dead Cat Club. Dog lover? That’s fine. We’ll accept your membership application, but it might take longer to process. Here it is, the Monday after putting our dear, sweet, 18-year-old of a baby cat Andy down this past Friday. It wasn’t a great weekend. (We are going to have a discussion here...

They're real and they're spectacular. I love hearing from people like you who’ve read my posts about loving life (or maybe just liking life/ loathing life less) before we’re (*snap fingers*) gonzo—and then thought, “ooh! I want to share what I do to make this wild ride of life astonishing/ a little less nauseating.” Your...

Standing in the offices of an impossibly cool Chicago interior design firm, about six years ago (back when we used to do hideous things like go to people’s offices to meet in person—remember those dumb days?), I stumbled across these words tacked up on my client Aimee’s wall: “All I Ever Wanted Was Everything.” The...

I haven’t been liking myself too much lately, and I think you might already know that. I’ve alluded to this Disdain for Self in other posts, on Instagram, ad nauseum to The Husband, again to The Husband, to friends, to The Husband again (how am I still married?), to my dental hygienist, to anyone who...

Here is a real snippet from a conversation I had with my new friend Marjorie the other day (and although I am prone to embellishment, this is kind of a word-for-word situation): "As my car was spinning out of control, I said to myself, today is a good day to die." (*Insert record scratch sound*)...

Anybody here like things to be under control? Like to be seen as “on top of things”? Like things to go predictably as planned? Of course you prefer control—and if you don’t, you’re quite possibly an un-housebroken puppy peeing all over the couch: wildly careening out of control (but still cute while squatting—points for that)....

The Trobriand people, living on an archipelago far off the toasty east coast of Papua New Guinea, are highly attuned to bullshit. I assume this because they have a word—native to their spoken language of Kilivila—that describes the things that are known to be true, but definitely not spoken about. So I guess what they...

Life! Sometimes it’s an indefatigable hoot… what with its curve balls and ups n' downs and strokes of bad luck and “resilience testers” and all sorts of other passive-aggressive ways to assert that LIFE CAN BE A CACOPHONY OF UNRELENTING CALAMITY—sometimes of the three-ring-circus kind, and others of the all-hell-broken-loose sort. But it’s what we...

Life—in addition to being fleetingly terminal (HAD TO TOSS THAT IN THERE, YOU SWEET LITTLE TICKING TIME BOMB, YOU)—is remarkably responsive to tweaks and hacks and rejiggerations. Thank goodness. Sometimes the difference between an average/ squanderous/ ho-hum existence and a life that feels decidedly alive/ full of vitality/ like “things are getting lived around here...