Inner Path

In Stephen Covey’s book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, he shares a story of a woodcutter struggling for hours to saw down a tree in the forest. Another man comes along and suggests that he stop awhile to take a break and sharpen his saw. Perhaps then the process will be much faster and easier. “I can’t take a break,” the woodcutter says, “I’m too busy cutting down this tree.” This story resonated with me when I first read it. For years I neglected my own self-c

I almost let it stop me. I almost let it stop from a lot of things, including starting my business and writing this blog each week. “It” was the fear of disappointing or offending people, the fear of being judged or criticized. Years ago when I first read The Artist’s Way, there was a section on fame, on learning to be ok even if you never gain notoriety as an artist. I practically skipped that section. That section didn’t apply to me. I had no desire for fame. I much pr

On a beautiful day several years ago, I was walking my favorite labyrinth in the quaint little town of New Harmony, Indiana. My experience with the labyrinth was fairly new and each walk seemed magical. Very intentionally I placed my foot, step by step, on the marble path slowly, thoughtfully, meditatively. The gated-in area that held the labyrinth was surrounded by trees whose leaves were gently fluttering in the wind, flowers scattered here and there, the tranquil sound o

Seven years ago after leading an Artist’s Way Series based on Julia Cameron’s book, I decided to test her ideas on luxury. She claimed that all creative types, and really people in general, need a little “authentic luxury” in their lives. She wasn’t talking about high-priced cars or penthouse views. She was talking about the little ways we can pamper ourselves each day and most importantly the luxury of time and space to create and care for ourselves. So I reserved a room

Recently my church lost its beloved pianist, Jack Kennedy. He was one the most talented gentle spirits I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Before his death, I don’t remember a Sunday that he was not there, sharing his gift of music with all of us, seeking no notice or praise, pouring himself onto the keys. At his memorial service, a woman stood up and shared her regret that she had never told him how much she appreciated him. A sick feeling crawled up into my throat. I ha