A Write or Die session is like having someone (well, two people: you and me together) clean both your windshield and your rearview mirror. It’s easier to move forward with a project or a plan or a dream when you can see both where you are going and where you have been and, as you check your look in the mirror, where you are now.

I massaged a Navy Seal once and forgot to charge him because I was so thrown off my game by his body.

1. This is serious business. Buckle up. If you don’t want to throw your whole self into this endeavor, do both of you a favor and get back on Match.com.

If you are in the Bay Area, please join us on April 14th from 1-4 p.m. in downtown Willow Glen to play with us, surprise yourself, and leap into your dreams.

I was talking to my Uncle Clint about the process of packing up house and figuring out what to take and what to give away or sell, and he said something along the lines of, “You’re dealing with the impedimenta of life.”

We were born to be wild. Hum a few bars. Remember?

Recently I figured out that many things in my life which frightened me were actually flaming doorways to opportunity.

I know my mother could not fully exist as herself with me in the room because I read my mother’s journals after she died and I saw what I had always suspected: she was not presenting the real story of herself and her life to me.

Icarus’s father warned him not to fly too close to the sun, but he also warned him not to fly too close to the water. There is a middle ground, a place of wonder and freedom. Let’s meet there. 

I want to tell you something. I don’t understand my body and my mind. It seems the older I get, the more I am morphing into an infant who just lost her mother.

I never imagined that working on a book about money would lead me to writing about chewing my food, but that’s one reason I write: to find connections where none existed before.

I have been thinking about fatigue and why I am tired much of the time. It’s not that I walk around with my head hanging, gasping for air—it’s that I’ll be fine and happy and suddenly, out of nowhere it seems, I’m so tired I can barely finish a sentence, never mind read a book or answer emails or have a thought that feels important. This kind of fatigue is exhausting. It’s like: how can I keep going?