My daughter is getting her college degree in acting in New York City, and it fills me with endless delight to hear about her curriculum.“How was school today?”“It was great! We went to the Central Park Zoo.”“The zoo? Why?”“To pick out an animal.”“To pick out
The boy has finally found a sport he likes. After years of trying football, basketball, and baseball, he tried Lacrosse a few weeks ago and has been happily running around the fields of Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachussetts for weeks now. When he played football
Can dancing actually change the brain? Make you smarter? Heal broken hearts and act as therapy for cancer patients? The research says YES!
“Belly dance is an excellent form of prenatal conditioning.”
Was I hearing correctly? Was my OB/GYN telling me that one of the most beneficial exercises I could do for my pregnancy was belly dance– an exercise done barefoot wearing shimmering silks and velvets; an exercise that is fun, sensual, toning, and inherently celebrates fertility and pregnancy? No sneakers, no scary metal equipment…sign me up!
I think it can be hard to know how to help those swimming in the sacred waters of grief.
In my own experience, I found that the best thing you can do is just show up. If they are home, sit with them, listen, hold them while they cry, make them laugh, (I do this by showing them how I’m practicing my skipping after hip surgery which is always a good laugh.).
It is far more helpful to show up than to say “Call me if you need anything.”
Drop off groceries, plant flowers, leave them a jar of honey or jam on their porch with a note that says “Thinking of you.”
These small acts of kindness are more powerful than you can imagine.
It always takes me by surprise when Mother’s Day rolls around and I feel melancholy. I love being a Mom, but as a daughter, I feel sad.
I want my Mom back.
It was a wild messy gorgeous terrifying journey, the journey of a new life heading into the world over 24 primal hours…
Tonight I started thinking about the night 18 years ago, when my life changed forever… the night I became a mother. Once the contractions started, I lit the fire and read my homemade goddess book full of inspiring thoughts, trying to hypnotize myself into pretending
Humor me if you will, and picture this: 1) a chicken trying to fly; 2) a dog doing a full body shake after a bath; 3) and an oompa loompa doing jumping jacks. Now, meld those three images together. Got it? If so, you have a pretty good idea of what I looked like at a samba class the other night.
My Mom could never understand why I felt compelled to jump into adventures in faraway lands, and she would say, “Oh Marci, how do you do that? How do you dare to go to these places by yourself? Aren’t you scared?” This perplexed me, because when I travel, I feel the opposite of scared. When I embark on an adventure into the unknown, I feel more at home than I do at home
