I’ve long been an active dreamer. My dreams are lengthy, plot-driven and very detailed. I nearly always remember them when I wake up.
It’s that time of year again: the time when we make resolutions. A few years back, I decided that rather than set specific, time-bound goals for myself each year, I would embrace an annual concept. One year it was slow living. Another year it was authenticity.
This year my concept is gratitude.
I did a lot of acting when I was a child. Early family productions of the Nativity story featured me, as Mary, screaming “The Baby is Coming! The Baby is Coming!” while my brother dropped a Baby Tenderlove doll onto my lap from the top of the staircase.
Ah, the elevator pitch. That magically concise statement of your background, experience and ambition, all neatly trimmed down to 30 seconds, which can, rendered persuasively, land you your next job.
Not long ago I got an email from a reader of my blog, RealDelia. She shared a poem that she’d seen posted elsewhere on the Internet which used the metaphor of the butterfly’s chrysalis to describe those periods when we need to go inside ourselves to grow.
Recently, I spent a week at the house of my 86-year-old mother. I was there to help her to clear out her home in preparation for an imminent move to an independent living facility.
I was laid off recently. It was something that I both wanted – and welcomed. But now that it’s here, I’m struggling a bit. You can read my story here.
I’m about to lose my job. It’s a long story, but the Reader’s Digest version is that I work for a large, British NGO in London that just lost a big chunk of its government funding.
As a result of that decision, my entire department is being shut down at the end of July.
I had lunch with a friend recently who I only see now and again. After many years of being married – and then dating a series of different men – she feels that she might have finally found “the one.”