Nicole Arnold's Adventures

My impressions as I boldly go where I have not gone before.

Starting with Wrongs is Wrong (and how to get it Right)

I’ve been doing the high holy days all wrong.  Okay, I know that holidays aren’t something we DO (except in the way they are) and that you can’t really do it WRONG. (At least I don’t believe you can.)  But, if high holy days are something we do and it IS possible to get it wrong, then I have.  The problem is that I’ve been focusing on my wrongs (and let’s be honest, others’ wrongs as well) It’s just plain wrong.

(Okay, I’m done with all the wrong word play now…more or less.)

In September, my family and friends jokingly remind each other that “the Book is open”.  We’re referring to this mystical place where God, in a Supreme Santa kind of role, is accounting for what we have done and balancing it against any repentance we’ve engaged in, when considering what our coming year will hold. (Despite this, there is no singing about being naughty and nice by any synagogue choir that I am aware of.) The story is that at the end of Yom Kippur, the Book closes and the peaks and valleys of our lives are inscribed for the next year. I don’t think most of us believe in a supernatural God or a Book. We don’t think that God will be writing up our year in the coming days and that if we do the work to account for our actions that God will provide a year for us full of joy and gladness. Yet, despite many of our atheist tendencies, we are taking on the charge of reflection and accounting as well as planning what our year might look like – so maybe we have an innate sense that we are made in a Godly image. Or maybe it’s just cultural.

It IS cultural. There’s no question about that. Millions of Jews all over the world will be attending a service or dinner over the next week where transgressions and atonement will be discussed and considered. So many of us are taking time in the coming week to think about what we did last year, make some repairs and consider what we want to be and do in the coming year.

I realized this year that I’ve been missing a step in the process. This is the step that can transform the kind of thinking that I’m doing over the holidays from brow beating, guilt rendering, demoralizing or paralyzing to the kind of thinking that will make me stronger and more capable.

How could I have missed this step?

The step is forgiveness and it has been right in front of me for years.

Selichot begins the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah. I’ve been attending Selichot services for the better part of a decade. It is a series of prayers asking God to forgive us.  That’s right – starting BEFORE erev Rosh Hashanah, there is a high holy day ritual focused on forgiveness.  Forgiveness first.  Before we begin to repent. Potentially, before we’ve even begun to confess.

I’ve missed the significance of Selichot falling before Rosh Hashanah every year. Maybe I missed it because the sequence seemed incongruent. Aren’t we inclined to think about forgiveness as something that follows rather than something that leads? You apologize to me and then I contemplate whether I forgive you.

Why is Judaism guiding us to forgive before we start accounting for actions?  I’m not sure what was intended when these rituals began but here’s my theory: I believe forgiveness comes first because it focuses our thinking on learning instead of threat.  This focus on learning engages our very best thinking.  In other words, it gives us the capacity to broaden and build our lives instead of to narrow them. Barbara Fredrickson has a large body of research demonstrating how positive emotions catalyze thinking characterized by broadening and building and negative emotions drive thinking that is characteristically narrow, missing great amounts of detail. I think it’s amazing that the sequence of rituals for the holidays can guide us to maximize our physiological potential.

I’ll explain how.

Placing forgiveness first engages our problem-solving parts of our brain versus the part of our brain that experiences threat. I confess (tis the season, after all) that before this past Saturday night, I wouldn’t have made a natural connection between forgiveness and problem solving.  But, I do now.

I learned on Saturday night that forgiveness is akin to recognizing one’s humanity. Maybe not everyone’s idea of a rockin’ Saturday night (my husband stayed home and watched a movie with the kids instead). I attended a Selichot program and listened to Rabbi Micah Streiffer and producer, actress and story-teller Jen Podemski speak about forgiveness from Jewish, Ojibway and personal perspectives at Kol Ami in Thornhill. Through these perspectives, they taught me the connection between forgiveness and humanity. It resonated with me so much that it inspired this blogpost.

I had never had the clear thought that forgiveness is an acknowledgement of another’s humanity before. But it makes such sense to me.  Forgiveness is synonymous with mercy and mercy is synonymous with humanity. I think we often focus on forgiveness as something we offer in exchange or response – usually to someone’s apology. When we do that, we’re placing practicing forgiveness after atonement, but Selichot comes first. Judaism is guiding us to think about forgiveness before we have even enumerated what we have done wrong (and before others have as well). So, what is it that we are forgiving?

The idea of “forgiving” is a limiting paradigm that we need to shift. Forgiveness isn’t an exchange. It’s an acknowledgement – a guiding principle.

We are acknowledging being human. We are acknowledging that we are flawed. That is our starting point.

Acknowledging that to be human is to be flawed means that we start with being right instead of being wrong. Every human is flawed.  The ‘right’ way is to be flawed. The flaws aren’t a sign of weakness, they’re a connection between all of us. That makes them something to manage – a problem to be solved.

When I start with right and wrong, I am engaging in binary, narrow thinking. It is hard to avoid blame and fear in this thinking arena. This kind of thinking engages the more fearful areas of my brain. It naturally narrows my perspective, reducing the number of options I might consider and increasing the amount of stress hormones I’m producing, making my body tired and my stomach hurt.

If I start with forgiveness, that is, if I start by acknowledging my humanity and others’ humanity, then I engage higher level thinking.  Kristin Neff’s research has demonstrated that practicing thinking about common humanity strengthens our relationships and increases our well-being. These kinds of thoughts increase my capacity to consider the problems to be solved. I am able to see people’s actions (including my own) as challenges instead of threats.  Challenges are problems to be solved. Threats are battles to be fought. This kind of thinking will enlarge my arteries and increase my memory capacity. I will feel more capable and actually be physically healthier for thinking this way. If I start with forgiveness, I can make goals and plans for the year that are guided by rational judgement.  If I start with threat I will miss a lot of information when making my plans and minimize the potential for positive connections with the people around me.

I regularly encounter the fear (in myself and others) that accepting that we are flawed will let us off the hook. I believe the opposite is true. We’re not letting ourselves off the hook by acknowledging that we and others aren’t perfect.  We’re saying there IS a hook. We’re taking responsibility and we’re doing it in such a way that we maximize our opportunities to learn from our situation. When we account for the possibility of flaws, when we expect them or better yet, search to identify them, then we can plan and problem solve effectively. In Creativity Inc., Ed Catmull, Co-Founder of Pixar Animation and Co-President of Disney and Pixar Animation Studios, says that strong organizations are built on this very principle – that we must acknowledge and seek the flaws that exist so we can begin the problem-solving process. Cultivating problem solving will lead to our very best selves – the best individuals and the best organizations. It is a model that works everywhere because it maximizes the natural capacity of our thinking.

I want to bring this kind of thinking to as many areas as I can. These Holidays are a handy place to start practicing.

I’m going to start with forgiveness and keep returning my focus to our humanity. I believe this practice will encourage the generation of thoughtful actions that I’ll be motivated to follow through. I’m excited about the possibilities – possibilities that broaden and build rather than narrow.  That’s the kind of work I want to do for myself this coming year and the work that I want to lead – at home and in the world.

I’m grateful that I’ve entered this period of reflection with the underpinning of forgiveness. Thank you to Rabbi Micah Streiffer and Jen Podemsky for providing an inspiring message of hope, reflection and kindness this past Saturday evening. You shifted me from being wrong to being human.






Was Hillel also referring to puppies and teens?

We brought a puppy into our family almost three weeks ago.  Her name is Lily and she is as cute and sweet as a puppy can be.

IMG_0138 Her presence in my life has already radically changed my days and my thinking.  Here’s the distilled version of what I’ve learned:

Respect sits at the centre of everything.

Most of this learning has been cultivated during walks with Lily. We walk together several times a day for 20-30 minutes.  Anyone who has had the pleasure of walking through Pomona Mills in Thornhill, will understand the all-seasons appeal of the landscape.  Right now, the greenery is barely holding on and Lily is distracted by the leaves that have fallen to tempt her on every surface.

When Lily isn’t encountering potential playmates and general puppy admirers she is examining everything that we pass – usually with her nose or her mouth, until she decides to lie down and scratch herself. Or simply flop down on the grass with the air of someone planning a long rest.  Then, there is the perennial dog owner favourite, when she starts to play tug of war with her leash, barking and snarling in the spirit of fun. Thus, in addition to the ways that being with Lily helps me engage with the world in ways that I wouldn’t without her, segments of our time together knock the crap out of me. (No dog walking pun intended.)

Doesn’t this also sound like raising children?  When I’m not completely charmed and entranced with my kids, I’m exhausted from power struggles or the sheer time and energy it takes to help keep them safe and assist in the organization of their lives. I’m happy to report that my children are seldom barking and snarling – but I am worried about what they’ll put in their mouths (even at 11, 14 and 16) and we do play tug of war on any number of issues – mostly because they don’t always want to do what I am asking them to do – so much so that sometimes they simply refuse.

These parenting challenges are not new for me (although they are taking new form as the kids get older) and I am regularly trying to “solve” them.  I’m beginning to understand that it’s all about respect.

This is not the respect that I was raised with.  This isn’t respect your manners.  Or respect your elders. Or respect the rules. The respect that I am referring to is mutual respect, but I think I’ve gotten ahead of myself.

I’m not usually thinking about the respect that I need to offer to Lily or my kids. I am usually thinking about the respect that I want them to give to me.

I’m reading one of Cesar Millan’s books about raising puppies.  Cesar gave me a great exercise to do yesterday.  He recommended that I make a list of my training expectations for Lily. Given my parallel children/puppy thinking, I decided to make a list for both puppy and kid expectations.

Here’s what I came up with:


Come when called.

Sit when asked.

Lie down when asked.

Get up when asked.

Behave well around other people.

Behave well around other dogs.


Come when called.

Sit when asked.

Lie down when asked.

Get up when asked.

Behave well around adults.

Behave well around their peers.

I confess, some of this is tongue and cheek and I originally had a different list for the kids that included generosity, kindness and compassion, but when I started listing out my puppy aspirations, I realized that I really want the same behavior from my children. Bottom line: I want the puppy and the kids to respect my authority.



That brought a realization for me. Part of the answer is their safety and laying a foundation for future success navigating their way through life with these important habits and skills.

The other part?

I don’t want to be tired out by debating with them. It’s tiring debating everything. I want the kids to do the chores – not aggravate me by arguing about the chores.  I want Lily to come when she’s called, not waste my time by sniffing around the backyard when I have other things to do. I want the kids to interact with my family at events, not be glued to their phones.

As I contemplated this I realized how I have been defining respect.

Respect = trusting that I know what’s best + taking care of my needs

There are two huge challenges with this view of respect. One is that I’m asking four beings who are invested in their own independence to follow my judgement (and ideally without questioning it, because you know, that’s tiring).  Secondly, I’m putting my self-care into the hands of children and a puppy.

You can see how problematic this is. Furthermore, it is really common thinking and acting.  Why did we need to be quiet in the lunch room in elementary school? Because we were giving the Lunch Lady a headache. Why does Lily need to move at my pace on our walks instead of hers’? Because I have work I need to get done and I didn’t allot time for her to sniff every blade of grass.

It wasn’t very compelling for me and my Grade Four peers to protect the Lunch Lady’s head (not least because her general request for us to be quiet was transmitted by telling us to “Sit down and Shut up”).  I realize this isn’t very different from me causing strain on Lily’s neck and her eardrums by pulling her away from the tantalizing beetle moving across the sidewalk. Lily didn’t learn very much (except that she can move away from an interesting object to relieve the discomfort I’m causing her) and maybe she didn’t learn anything at all if instead of giving into my pleading leash pull, she lay down on the ground. My method wasn’t very compelling for her.

It’s likely that the problem wasn’t in those moments of aggravation and power struggle. I have realized that power struggles can be transformed into learning moments.  It’s started to happen already and it feels so much better.

I’ll get to that in a moment, but first, I want to make clear that it’s not that I don’t understand the loftier ideals at work.  Lily needs to understand my authority so I can keep her safe, when necessary, and in elementary school, we rambunctious students needed to learn social conduct and generate sympathy for the Lunch Lady’s physical discomfort.

Yet, I don’t believe that’s Lily is understanding my authority in those moments that are so aggravating for both of us. I don’t believe that the kids are cultivating a sense of the importance of being a contributing part of our household when I’m expressing my aggravation for them not getting their chores done.

I believe there are two issues to be resolved. The first is redefining respect. It is not blind submission and accepting responsibility for other people’s needs. Who wouldn’t rebel against that? The second is making time to practice respect – for all of us to practice it.  Most especially me.

My new understanding of respect has valuing another’s authority and autonomy at the centre.  The way to teach this kind of respect to the kids and the puppy is to model it. I’m not thinking about the occasional moments when I’m protecting the kids and the puppy from danger. It’s about all the other moments that don’t warrant much force. Don’t we all thrive when others respect our authority and autonomy to the limits possible?

Emphasizing valuing another’s authority and autonomy is important. Value. Not submit. I believe that relationships that are spent (puppy and children alike) investing in mutual respect produce higher levels of compliance in the moments that I have been finding trying.  Valuing is the same as appreciating.  Appreciating takes time and effort.

These are the philosophical thoughts that I’ve had while pulling Lily back from diving head first into bushes of burrs; discouraging the consumption of goose poop or occasionally begging her to get up from the ground to walk the extra 10 feet to our driveway. Okay, I’m not having those thoughts in the actual moments that I’m struggling with Lily. My thoughts are more often turned to what the people who are walking by are thinking about my substandard puppy training. Other times I’m wondering if she’ll ever get up off the ground and what I will be forced to do if she doesn’t.  Yesterday, I wondered how much goose poop it might take to make her sick and if her consumption was going to have a negative impact on her health and my sleep. Mostly, I’m thinking that this isn’t a good time and I have other things to do.

I have the same kind of thoughts when my kids are texting at family events. Or refusing to shower and/or change out of the shirt they have worn for going on 36 hours.

My methods for both puppies and children so far have sometimes been sharp “No”s, sometimes followed by desperate pleading, often followed by aggravated sulkiness.

You won’t be surprised to hear that I have limited success with these methods.

Yesterday, Cesar instructed me that the puppy and I should be enjoying our training sessions. Am I enjoying my “training sessions” with the puppy and the kids? I believe I could be more and that if I do, then the enjoyment will extend to the kids’ and puppy’s experiences too.

It’s not that the puppy and kids don’t need to hear “No”.  They do.  It’s not even that I don’t want Lily and the kids to respect me and my authority. I really do. It’s that I’ve learned that if I want this to happen that I need to offer it to the kids and Lily.   I don’t think it’s possible to do all the time, but I think it’s possible to do it much, more and that the more I give the kids respect, the more likely it is that I will have receive it from them.

Easier said than done, right?

I believe I know the way how.  It requires practicing three things: patience, rest and play.

If I am to offer respect then I need to be patient. There needs to be room for error.  Room for trying methods that don’t work. Room for frustration, aggravation and rebellion. We’re all learning and very flawed.  Learning takes time.

It’s also so important to play. I feel good when I play with them.  They feel good when they play with me. We all need play time. Whatever it looks like – sometimes it’s playful words, sometimes a card game, sometimes throwing the Frisbee.  Playing is the best and builds up a tremendous amount of good will for everyone involved.

Here’s the challenge: exercising patience and engaging in play, take a ton of physical resources (although less physical resources than engaging in endless power struggles and feeling miserable about not getting needs met).

I need to have rest. Without rest, I don’t have the physical resources to be patient. Rest doesn’t just mean sleep. It also means time away from the puppy and the kids. Thoughtful time when I’m taking care of my needs. If I take care of my needs then I’m not relying on a puppy, two teenagers and an eleven-year-old to take care of my needs. Seems like a safer bet.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t think this is easy and I don’t think it’s new. It is the essence of what Hillel said over two thousand years ago, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.” (Pirkei Avot).  I’ve simply decided to start extending this principle to puppies and children.

Stopping to Smell the Roses (or What I did this Summer)


Do you remember returning to school from summer break? The first question on everyone’s tongues was, “What did you do this summer?” Years of following that ritual have hard wired the habit in my brain. Last week, as I prepared for the summer to end, I automatically asked myself what I did this summer. The short answer is: I practiced mindfulness and that practice has transformed me – but short answers don’t make for much of a blog post.

I’m going to digress briefly, because I had a wonderful experience as I walked to Starbucks to write. I’m grateful to report that my walk to Starbucks always contains something lovely. I live in an old neighborhood and walk through a beautiful cemetery that could be set in Avonlea.  The path is framed by tall, stately trees and weatherworn headstones that tell many stories. In all seasons, it is an engaging walk – whether I am taken with the scenery or exchanging pleasantries with other walkers and their dogs. Today, as I was leaving the cemetery, I noticed a woman who I had seen a few days ago.  When I encountered her over the weekend, I saw her bending over the roses at the entrance. It seemed like she was retrieving a jacket or a sweater from the bushes and I wondered why she had stored it there.  It reminded me of the winters that I stashed my shoes on the side of the house in defiance of my mother decreeing that I must wear winter boots.

This time, I was closer to my mystery woman as she bent down so I learned what she was doing. She was stopping to smell the roses. I’m still smiling about it. Maybe she is too.

That’s what I did this summer. I stopped to smell the roses. I stopped to smell the roses for six days a week, at least 30 minutes a day, for eight weeks straight. I got so much out of it, that in a thirst for more, I attended a day-long silent mindful meditation retreat. Silent. Can you imagine? I might need to share this event with my Grade Eight teacher, Mrs. Harris.  She’ll be astounded. She used to beg me to at least stop taking for “O Canada”. I rarely complied. Mrs. Harris would support the notion that that choosing an all-day silent retreat represents a radical departure from my previous behviour.

My mindful practice was guided and partially inspired by the 8-week Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) course.  I say inspired, because it was the research that Jon Kabat-Zinn designed and started evaluating over thirty years ago at the University Massachusetts Medical Centre that has been catching my attention for years. Both Kabat-Zinn’s research and the studies that Judson Brewer references in “The Craving Mind” build a compelling case for the benefits of mindfulness meditation practice.  It’s used for pain management; treatment of anxiety and depression; addiction treatment; insomnia relief and managing a host of other health conditions. From a positive psychology perspective, mindfulness meditation research is showing that practicing mindful meditation leads to higher levels of well-being all around. This means that as a result of practicing mindfulness meditation people often experience greater productivity, more happiness and an increase in satisfying meaningful moments. Seems appealing, right?

It was sufficient motivational fuel for me to commit to the eight week MBSR program. (If there are any Bourne addicts out there, you might now be thinking, “Will you commit to the program?” Or it might just be Pascal.  If so, this aside is just for him.)

I fully committed to prioritizing the 8-week program.  It was a big commitment. I needed to find at least 30-40 minutes, 6 days a week, for two months. I am always amazed at how easy it is to find the time to something once I feel firmly committed.

I finished up my 8th week on Sunday. Here’s my Top Five list of how the MBSR course transformed my world. After the list, I’ll explain my theory about the magic behind the curtain.

  1. I am no longer addicted to my phone. It’s not that I don’t use it anymore. It’s not that I’ve stopped texting. The difference is how much I put it down now. So much, that I have been accidentally leaving my phone at home. That can only mean that it’s not in my hand all the time anymore.
  2. I haven’t been as hard on myself. The judging, aggravated, frustrated or disappointed voice isn’t showing up as often. When it does, I often think, “Wow, I’m so hard on myself”. Side note: this hasn’t hindered my productivity in the slightest. I’ve had so much more energy and an increased ability to focus on individual tasks for extended periods of time.
  3. I haven’t been as critical/judgmental with others. Others include my husband, my children, my friends, person driving slowly in front of me; quickly behind me or the person who didn’t pick up after their dog. Instead of judging, I’m wondering what is distracting them, causing them to act the way they are, or I’m focused on something entirely different.
  4. I have been appreciating nature in a way feels new and yet also familiar, but out of practice. It feels like a child-like curiosity. I’m entranced by the movement of the trees with the wind. I get hypnotized looking at the different shades of green in my backyard. I enjoy taking the time to listen to the symphony of birds, squirrels and who knows what else, outside my bedroom window as I wake up in the morning. I feel like I’ve developed bionic senses.
  5. The realm of the possible has enlarged significantly. Instead of thinking that I can’t do something, I wonder what might be required to do it – whatever it is – learning something new, travelling somewhere, taking my business in new directions, making time for a new interest. I feel more courageous.

So, what is the magic behind all of this change?

I think it is this: what you practice in one area of your life automatically extends to the other areas of our lives. If you build biceps in the gym, those biceps will help lift many objects outside of the gym. Practicing thinking is like that too.  We practice in one place and then take that new strength into the world. The process is reinforcing, because practicing becomes easier with more practice and the better we get, we increase our sense of self-efficacy, so we enjoy the practice more. It’s no mistake that the last phrase referred to “practice” three times. I think practice sits at the centre of change. Mindfulness practice really maximizes our infrastructure because it encourages growth (through practice, of course) in the areas that align with key measures of wellness: curiosity, openness, patience and kindness.

The 8 weeks that I spent practicing curiosity; non-judgmental thinking; discipline and gentleness transformed my day to day (often hour to hour) experience by boosting my thinking capabilities. The regular practice increased my ability to observe with an open mind, judge less (or at least be aware when I am), focus for sustained periods of time and be kind to myself. I can only dream of what I will reap as I continue to sow the seeds of mindful meditation in the days to come.

I am so grateful for Jon Kabat-Zinn and the researchers at University of Massachusetts Medical Centre; Judson Brewer’s lab; Dave Potter and the Palouse Mindfulness community; Kristin Neff’s and Shawna Shapiro’s labs.  I’m inspired by the research and evaluation of mindfulness practicing that these researchers are delivering to us. I think they’re making the world is better for it. They’re motivating people to stop and smell the flowers, one person, one moment at a time.




How a mindfulness challenge led me to the USS Enterprise

I started a 30 day mindfulness challenge on Monday. My older (and periodically wiser) sister invited me to be her buddy for the challenge and I eagerly said yes. (Mindwell U’s 30 day mindfulness challenge)   Full disclosure: I’m a sucker for 30 day challenges. Clearly I’m not alone, since they’re everywhere. This particular challenge appealed to me for a) extra motivation to practice mindfulness, b) learning about a tool that I can bring into my coaching/consulting work and c) partnering with my older sister. Win-win-win.

I’m going to use my blog for the next four weeks to chronicle my physical and mental adventures as I increase my mindfulness. Three days in and I’m already reaping the benefits in comical and significant ways – some at the same time. Which brings me to my USS Enterprise encounter.

I was waiting in line at my neighbourhood Starbucks yesterday morning, as I do many mornings. Yesterday, I thought I would make the most of my few minutes in line and set myself up for successful work over the next few hours, so I used the tool called Take5 that I had learned the day before through the 30 day mindfulness challenge materials. The brief process involves 1) Identifying what I want the mindfulness break to bring me (e.g. engagement, focus, energy, etc.), 2) Grounding myself mentally by becoming aware of my surroundings, 3) Grounding myself physically by becoming aware of my feet and hands, 4) Regulating my breathing and then taking at least 5 breaths of approximately 10 seconds each and then 5) Opening my awareness up to the present moment.  Well, in that moment, as I looked around Starbucks, I found that the light fixture over the coffee bar bears a striking resemblance to the USS Enterprise.  (I don’t know which USS Enterprise, I’m geeky enough to see the USS Enterprise in light fixtures, but not geeky enough to be able to visualize all the USS Enterprise iterations.)  It was so fun when I realized that! I shared my insight with the nice guy who serves me coffee most mornings and we enjoyed the vision of it together. Then I turned myself to my work – energized and focused.

That kind of experience (minus the pop culture visions) has been replicated multiple times over the past two days. I have generated ideas that I’m really proud of. I’ve dialled into conversations in a more concentrated way than usual. I have met more of my encounters with intention than I remember ever doing before.  That is really the best part –  I am practicing thinking with intention and it is leading to productivity, lots of energy and very good feelings.

Stay tuned – who knows what I might find as I keep opening my eyes throughout the next 27 days.

Slumps (Toronto Blue Jays: Please Read – Time Sensitive)

It is tough to be in a slump.  The Jays know.  Painfully well.  I think of a slump as not performing to one’s regular capacity.  The Jays are thickly mired in a slump.  Collectively and individually.

I understand slumps all too well.  I have been in the middle of a writing slump for several weeks now.  I’ve sat down to write my blog post and then have walked away, for three weeks now,  without a blog post.  When I settled into my chair at Starbucks tonight, I encountered the same barrier that I have faced for the past few weeks.  Ideas came to mind, but then as I started to develop an article, a very critical voice started questioning how I had the authority to write about these ideas.  It suggested that people will think poor things about me as they read the post.  It asked me if maybe I would rather read a book or go shopping.   For the past three weeks, I chose to do something in response to that voice.  I decided to cut myself some slack.  Tonight, I feared that I was sliding into a deeper hole.  Then Dr. Harvey Skinner’s voice popped into my head.  (Let’s not spend too much time on the fact that I am contending with so many voices in my head.) When I worked with Dr. Skinner at York University’s Faculty of Health, he regularly asked, “Are we men or are we mice?”  This has been a tried and true slump buster for me over the years.  I need to get into a mice-enough like state to warrant it, but when I hear it, I snap to attention.  Sidestepping the sexist element of men/mice, I know that I do not want to be a mouse.  I want to be powerful.  I want to achieve.  I want to be productive.  Fuelled by the reminder of what I want and who I am, I started to type.  I knew that it was better to type than not type.  That whatever I wrote would be enough.  That’s because another voice that is regularly in my head is Brene Brown’s.  She tells me that shame is rooted in the thoughts “I’m not good enough” and “Who do you think you are?”  I don’t want to be blocked with shame.  So, here I am – still writing.  Slump broken.

I don’t know why slumps happen, but I do know that they ultimately serve me.  The kind of thinking that is required to move out of a slump is thinking that helps me perform at my highest levels.  It’s the thinking that leads me to dig in rather than shop or read.  It’s the thinking that leads me to understand that extra effort is required and that the extra effort will make a measurable difference.  There is not a lot of thinking that serves me more than this strain.   So, I’ll take the slump and reap the benefits for the next while.

What can the Blue Jays take from this?  Because, really, it’s all well and good that I’m writing my blog post, but what I would love the most is to give the Jays the help that they need.  I don’t pretend to be a sports psychologist, but I am a dedicated Blue Jay fan.   So, I will try to break the Jays’ slump and do my best to hit it out of the park (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Three Steps for the Jays to get Over Their Early Season Slump

  1. Think back to how you got out of a slump before – as individual players and as a team.  What strategies worked?  Know yourself.  Know what works.
  1. Think of your best self. Spend some time visualizing what it feels like – as an individual and as a team.  How do you think about yourself contributing?  Think about your technical strengths as well as your character strengths.  Are you an optimist?   Are you tenacious?  Build this picture of yourself.  Think about it as much as you can.  The more you practice thinking about it, the greater power it will have for you on the field.
  1. Support each other. As much as you can and then some more.  The power of what you can do together as a team is tremendous.  Barbara Fredrickson’s research has found that negative emotions narrow our outlook and positive emotions broaden our outlook.  There are few actions as powerful as helping someone to generate positive emotions.  A towering stack of research demonstrates that we perform at our best when we feel positive emotions.  So, support each other so you can all feel good and perform at your best.

I fear this might be the most presumptuous blog post I’ve written, but desperate times call for desperate measures – both from the perspective of breaking the Jays’ slump and crushing my own.  Really, the worst that can happen is that people think I’m really silly.  The best that can happen is that someone from the Blue Jays reads this, my method works and the Blue Jays hire me to help with thought management.  That has been my coaching dream from Day One, so this seems like as good a time to pursue it as any other.  Gibby, if you’re reading this, I’m happy to start working with the team as soon as you call.

The Top Ten Ways that Hot Yoga is Heating my Engine or Every Breath You Take, Every Move You Make


Ever since my teenage years when my older (and she claims wiser) sister and I stayed up to watch Late Night with David Letterman, I’ve wanted to formulate an excellent top ten list. Before you get your hopes up that this is going to a hilarious top ten list, the full disclosure is that the only thing this list will have in common with Dave’s gems is that there will be items listed from ten to one. If that didn’t make you give up reading, here’s my list:

10.  The experience of being in a bikram yoga studio, is literally heating my engine. I start to sweat from the moment I enter. For those who are familiar with my sweatiness, you might be surprised to learn that I still seem to associate sweat with exertion/hard work. The effect of the non-stop copious sweating? No matter what happens during the 70-80 odd minutes, as soon as it’s finished I feel like I ran a marathon in the summer in Athens. Uphill, both ways.

That sense of survival and accomplishment is the equivalent of practicing thinking that I persevere.  That’s what I think at the end of every class.  “Wow, I sweated SO much.  I worked so hard. I survived (sometimes barely).  Read Angela Duckworth’s Grit to understand in detail just how fundamental being perseverant is to having grit and just how much grit is related to high levels of satisfaction in life. Suffice to say, practicing gritty thoughts is a tremendous investment in realizing accomplishments. I’m finding that practicing gritty thoughts in yoga class is leading me to identify myself more often as someone who sticks to things and works hard.  So, you can imagine how that story ends – I’m now sticking to more things and working harder.

9.  Spending so much time practicing thinking about taking care of my body has led me to prioritize cardio activities more consistently. In January, I was hitting 10,000 steps a day an average of 3.25 per week (with the factor of New Year’s Resolution fuel).  In February, I dropped to 2.33 times per week.  It was quite cold and icy, but I remember walking on a fair amount of cold and icy days, so I don’t think that was too much of a determining factor.  I started hot yoga the last day of February.  In March, I’ve averaged 5.7 days/week of hitting 10,000 steps.  Almost 2.5 days more, on average, than January.  I confess I didn’t bother to apply the test to learn if it’s a statistically significant increase.  I can tell you that it has never felt easier to get out the door and claim 10,000 steps each day.

8.  I like how I look more. Way more.  I don’t know if it’s from looking in those flattering mirrors in the yoga studio all the time.  Or the improvement in my posture.  Or the combination of gratitude and admiration of my body’s strength for making it through class. Whatever the case, I am appreciating my body.  All of it.   And that is no small feat.

7.  This might be a weird insertion after the great mind/body benefits, but one of the great affects that hot yoga has had on my life is on my laundry. Clearly, yoga produces pretty stinky laundry. Also, a lot of the poses involve sticking my nose into my towel.  For extended periods of time.  At this point in the class of nose to towel contact, I’m usually feeling uncomfortable, and not seeking to increase my level of challenge.  So, having a stinky towel just feels like torture.  Then I learned about the power of OxyClean (with thanks to the older and in this case of laundry, definitely wiser sister).   I add it into my towel loads now.  I put it in the laundry with my gym clothes.  It’s changed my life.  It’s embarrassing how long I had towels that didn’t smell that great, but the point is that those days are gone.  And it’s because of where hot yoga pushed me.

6.  I’m making incremental improvements every time I go to class. I’m going 4-5 times a week, so that’s 260 to 320 minutes a week that I’m paying attention to incremental improvements. It’s so satisfying. I see the changes. I feel the changes. Little ones.  Every time.  On the theme that I continue to practice the thinking out of class that I am thinking in class, I find myself more focused on incremental progress. (read Shawn Achor’s Happiness Advantage for a great summary on research in this area in The Tetris Effect chapter).

This focus on incremental progress has encouraged me to break stretch goals down into smaller goals and then those smaller goals into measurable, articulated tasks. Then I can see the incremental progress and feel myself get closer to my larger goals. Like the goal of holding a beautifully aligned tree pose.

5.  One of the regularly reported benefits of hot yoga is better sleep. My FitBit data supports it. I’m waking up less during the night.  I’m falling asleep faster when I do wake up at night. When I wake up in the morning, I don’t feel tired. It’s amazing what I can get done in the day and how I feel around other people when I feel rested.

4.  I feel like my focus has improved. Hot yoga involves tremendous focus.  I focus on my eyes in the mirror.  I focus on breathing through my nose.  I focus on stretching all the ways that each pose demands.  I need this focusing practice.  I think I have been practicing multi-tasking, in a frequently frantic way, from the moment my oldest daughter was born almost 16 years ago.  Add into the mix how much I get distracted by my phone and a frequent sensation of attentional restlessness.  The result is practicing distracted thinking regularly and focused thinking on occasion.  Until hot yoga.

I find myself focusing on tasks and people in a more sustained fashion. When I find myself distracted by “planning” thoughts (my greatest source of thinking distraction), I bring my attention back to the conversation. I do the same when I’m writing or reading.  I’m able to, because I do it all the time in yoga. I can’t afford to be planning my day and problem solving as I hold a pose. I need focus to hold it. So, I acknowledge the thought, bid it farewell and then return my focus to not falling over.  Like everything else, the more I practice, the easier it is.  It’s not surprising that I believe that all aspects of my life have benefitted from increased focus.

3.  I’m moving around with no pain. That’s a really big deal. I broke my knee when I was twenty-one and messed up my mobility in all sorts of ways in the years that followed.  This has resulted in regular hip and knee pain for years. It’s gone. I am the happy recipient of all sorts of energy that must have been expanded before in pain management.

2.  Hot yoga has motivated me to regulate my eating and drinking habits. It comes down to this: I really like hot yoga. If I eat too close to class (essentially within 3-4 hours) then I feel incredibly ill during class. If I don’t drink enough water, I feel awful during class (and after). If I drink too much water I don’t feel great either. Same with too little food.

These needs and associated risks have developed self-discipline and awareness for me.  The combination of an increased sense of self-discipline and eating to feel good and be fuelled is producing incredible feelings of wellness.

 1.  In the middle of Sunday’s class, our instructor said, “One pose at a time. One breath at a time.” That could be the fuel that heats my engine for the rest of my life. It’s the culmination of all the benefits. I can harness my dedication, motivation, pride, sensitivity, awareness, energy, focus and self-regulation and apply it to every breath.  Every pose.  I don’t need to worry about whether I’ll have enough for the next breath.  The next pose.  I’ve learned that whatever I have for each one is enough.  It’s usually more than I thought I had, but whatever it is, is okay.  Measuring and focusing my effort one pose at a time and one breath at a time is the most inspiring and productive way that I have ever functioned.

I know that these effects of yoga and mindfulness have been known for years.  Thousands of years.  Yet, I think they’re so amazing that I’m adding my exuberance to the fray.  It’s no Letterman Top Ten list, but it is my sincere appreciation for the benefits that yoga and all the people who are teaching it to me are bringing to my life.

I pledge to find another eighties song reference for my next hot yoga post.



Rise Up (Dedicated to my JWRP sisters)

Clearly, I’m still kinda obsessed with Hamilton (for those not obsessed, there is a call to “Rise up” when Washington enters). But this post isn’t about Hamilton (or Washington), it’s about challah and elevation. Challah is probably my kids’ favourite part about Friday night. The smell of the bread baking each week evokes anticipation and joy for me.  Sounds corny, but I know it to be true.   I know of no more delicious way to greet the Shabbat bride.  These ecstatic, aroma inspired feelings seem to blot out what the challah was several hours before (or on Challah Club weeks, several days before).

In the beginning, there were separate ingredients. Some eggs. Sugar. Salt. Dry yeast. Warm water. Flour. Oil.


They all sit separately. They have their own smells. None of them, except for a slight whiff of the yeast proofing, foreshadow the beautiful smell they’re going to combine to produce. The yeast proofing, however gives me a hint of the transformation to come. It starts as dry round pellets and gets kinda gummy when combined with the warm water.  Some weeks I struggle to dissolve it with my spoon, but most weeks I leave it for 8 minutes and find that it has done all the work on its own. It has turned from something dry and pretty useless to a foamy crucial part of the challah. But really, all the parts are crucial.

You wouldn’t know they go together from the first few minutes of mixing. I like to mix it by hand.  Releases me from all the practice of keeping clean and free of sticky substances.


Makes me feel like a kid. Plus, I’ve come to learn that if I work the mixture long enough (and put some oil on my hands) that my hands will be smooth and free of all visible substance when I’m done.  At the beginning, not a whole lot sticks together.  There always seems to be too much flour. The eggs (even if I’ve whisked them with a fork) leave yellow trails through the glob, that doesn’t seem yet to be worthy of the term “dough”. Despite all of this, I keep working the dough.


I keep working the dough, because I know how the story ends. I know that if I keep working it, that it will transform into something cohesive. Something smooth. Something elastic. I’ve been told not to compare it to a baby’s bum. But, really, how can I not?


The challenge is that it doesn’t take two or three minutes. Sometimes it takes more than ten minutes. It’s not easy to stick (no pun intended) with something that long.   It’s hard to believe that it’s going to turn out okay. Sounds silly, right? That believing in something for more than 10 minutes is hard. Yet, how often do we give up on solving puzzles in 10 minutes or less? Or challenging relationship moments? Or learning a new skill?  I think my frustration threshold is usually around the 4-minute mark. That is probably generous.  Yet, I dig in each week with my challah.  Why?

First of all, I understand the lumpy, sticky stages to be part of the process. I know I’m going to have beautiful challah on the other side. I know this, because I make it every week. I didn’t use to know it. I used to hope it. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. I’m not sure what I changed that led to a consistent result.  It might just have been micro changes through practice.  I don’t think it was just practice.  I think it was practice and sisterhood.  Because it’s hard to make challah and not feel a sense of sisterhood.

When I am making challah, I am often thinking of all the women who are making challah in preparation for Shabbat.  I’m thinking of the women who have come before me.  My daughters.  My future granddaughters.  But it’s not this sense of sisterhood that has shifted my challah making confidence.  It is sisterhood with the women who I go to Challah Club with each month.  The third Wednesday at each month, we meet at Aish Thornhill and make dough together.  Some of the women are serious veterans. They post their photos on Facebook and my mouth waters just looking at them. They’re experimenting, creating new recipes.  Equally, every month there seems to be at least one or two women who have never made challah before. They’re often tentative. Like me, they have likely seen their fair number of flat loaves emerge from the oven that everyone agreed would still taste really good. These women look at the messes in their own bowls and then glance over at the bowls of some of the women near them that reveal silky and shiny dough.  They doubt that their dough will ever look like that. Yet, 15 minutes or so later, it does.  Maybe one of the veterans came over and offered some advice – a little more oil, a little more flour.  Maybe they just needed the reassurance that this was messy beginning (and often middle stage) is part of the challah creation process.  Either way, the challah newbies leave the building with a bowl of beautiful dough that bakes into the most delicious challah that they have ever tasted. The challah gives them pride.  It gives us all pride.

Making challah isn’t just a metaphor for what Challah Club sisterhood (brought to me by JWRP) gives me (although it is also that). It is also literal. We come together and share love, ritual, learning, laughter, prayer and craftsmanship. We support each other.  The output feeds our souls, our lives and also gives something beautiful to our family. We practice thinking that we sometimes need help. We practice thinking that we have help to offer.  We practice thinking that with patience comes beautiful outcomes and sense of mastery. We practice thinking that sometimes getting a little dirty and sticky is part of the journey.

It’s clear why I look forward to Challah club every month and just as clear why I look forward to making challah each week.  It is a time investment that nourishes me and my family in so many ways.  If you’re reading this and went on the JWRP trip, you might be thinking that the trip was the same. I agree – I continue to reap the benefits and connect to our experience in Israel each week as my hands work the dough.  It’s sisterhood and Kol Yisrael all at the same time. It is elevation in the most fundamental way.

There are Two Sides to Every Schwartz

How many parts are we mistaking for being the whole?  I asked myself this question yesterday after filling out a questionnaire for the Ontario Health Study.  Despite the name, the questions that were asked were all about sickness.  Managing sickness and preventing sickness are important elements of health, but they don’t represent the whole of health.  Eating well, exercising regularly, interacting with people of all ages are also important elements of health.  I could write for pages and pages on this (and dedicate it to Dr. Harvey Skinner, who, as the first Dean of the Faculty of Health at York University led my thinking in this area), but that would miss my point.  My point is that we fall into this thinking trap all the time.  We’re regularly forgetting that there are two sides to every Schwartz (for those who don’t know, this is a Spaceballs reference, if you happen to live a liberated existence and don’t have this movie quoted to you, every which way, every day).

A ubiquitous example of defining the whole by its parts is how we often think about work.  Work is tiring.  Work is an obligation.  Work takes us away from what we want to really be doing.  Work is the opposite of play.  Work is draining.  Setting aside my assumption that these are not intrinsic qualities to work, but often experiences based on the choices we’re making, work is much more than these qualities.  Work is practicing skills.  Work is increasing our abilities.  Work is time with people that we enjoy.  Work is advancing goals that we believe are important.  Work is satisfying.  Work is gratifying.  Even if work encompasses all these aspects for you, I understand that it doesn’t necessarily mean that work isn’t also reflective of the grinding words I cited at the beginning.  The point is, that work is all of these things.

I believe we use this same lens when we’re thinking about ourselves and often with a fairly short memory.  In what ways are we defining ourselves and others based on historic events with little notice to the activity that has taken place since the event?  The other night, my husband and I braved the bitter cold so I could hit my 10,000 step goal for the day.  We started talking about the woman that he “dated” before we were together.  I confessed that every time her name comes up, I feel a sense of yuckiness about how he treated her.  He responded that it’s not how he behaves now.  I thought about that and recognized how true it is.  He treats me respectfully, sensitively and lovingly.  It doesn’t mean that the other behavior didn’t happen.  However, it does mean that he doesn’t need to be defined by it (by me).  Happily for him, he is not defining himself that way.

It’s pretty common to define ourselves by our parts.  I’m Jewish.  I’m a woman.  I’m a mother.  I’m an entrepreneur.  I’m a writer.  I’m active.  I’m positive.  I’m a reader.  Thinking about myself in these ways serves me.  It helps me to formulate goals.  It grounds me.  It inspires me.  It guides my affiliation.  However, defining myself by these parts often limits me.  If I’m defined by being active then I experience resistance to resting.   If I decide to watch tv instead of reading, I feel like I’m not being true to myself.  I do the same thing with actions.  If I’ve had a very productive day, I think of myself as productive (which I often use as a synonym for accomplished).  If I’ve checked less things off my list, I think of myself as lazy and define myself accordingly.  The thing is, while defining myself as productive might serve me by driving me to push a little harder to get things done, I can’t go full steam forever.  So, at some point, I’m going to stop and then I’m going to define myself by that action as well.  Because, these thoughts are such drivers for action (or inaction), I can get stymied by defining myself as lazy.  Also, it doesn’t feel good, which is also a demotivator for me.

I think the ideal is to practice seeing the whole.  I believe that entails shifting and expanding our focus.  We need to shift our focus to see other elements, like understanding that winter in Toronto involves bitter cold and sloppy roads and that it also involves beautiful snow and the opportunity for play that we don’t have access to in warm weather.  We also need to expand our focus to see beyond the moment.  While I might be feeling lazy and unproductive at 3pm, I was active and ploughed through a ton of work at 10am.  While I might be feeling like a failure for losing my temper with one of my kids during the evening, I can remember that we had sweet time the night before, snuggled in bed reading together.

The gains from practicing focusing in this way can be tremendous.  We practice shifting our perspective, which is an essential ability in problem solving.  We practice asking more questions, which feeds our learning and increases our knowledge and satisfaction.  I think one of the greatest gains is that we expand our understanding of what “truth” is.  Often our sense of truth is rigid.  It is this way or it is that way.  No greys.  Taking a mental step backwards and asking if we’re seeing the whole picture, helps us to understand that there are a lot of truths.  I can be honest and a liar.  I can be driven and a slacker.  I can be social and anti-social.  Work can be satisfying and frustrating.  A task can be hard and energizing.  There are many, many truths.  I think the more we understand that, the more we interact with the world and the better the world becomes through our interaction.

Here are three ways we can practice seeing the whole:

  • Slow down. Physically and mentally.  Take time to understand what you are thinking about and looking at.  Practice looking at more than one detail.  It is our habit a lot of the time to focus on one aspect.  To change this habit, we need to slow down and regularly look at multiple aspects.
  • Ask questions. Lots of questions.  Of yourself and others.  Building perspective involves learning other people’s perspectives.   Seeing the whole involves many perspectives, like the classic story about the mice and the elephant.  Learn what other people are seeing.  It might be different than what you’re seeing.
  • Devote time to challenging your assumptions. You can do this at the dinner table, at the board table, at team meetings or on your own.  Take a word like happiness, exercise, work, effort, sharing, or judgement and discuss what it means.  The purpose isn’t to find the right answer.  The purpose is to brainstorm for many answers.  People aren’t advocating for their perspective in this exercise, they are seeking to learn other’s perspectives to increase their understanding.

May the Schwartz be with you!



Thank you Martin Seligman or How a little organizational tool changed my life

“For every minute spent organizing, an hour is earned” Benjamin Franklin

I have completely changed my life in the past three weeks.  That’s right.  Completely changed my life.  The people are the same – my husband and kids, my family and friends.  My work is the same.  I’m still building my business and active in leadership at my synagogue.  Yet, it feels completely different.  The difference is that I started using an organizational tool that transformed what am I doing, how much I’m doing and how I’m thinking about what I’m doing.  I can’t believe how easy it is.  I can’t believe how different I feel.

It all started a few weeks ago when I was working on my business plan.  I had just finished reading Born to be Good by Dacher Keltner and was really energized by the role I do and can play in bringing positive psychology principals to people and organizations reach their potential.  I set a goal of increasing my positive psychology knowledge and brainstormed about who’s work is critical to read to have the fundamentals.  Martin Seligman, widely acknowledged as the founder of positive psychology, was at the top of my list.  I put his latest book, Flourish on hold at the library and happily felt like I was well on my way to achieving my goal (yup, that’s all it really takes to make me happy a lot of the time).

Well, you would have thought that Flourish was a compelling whodunit by the way that I couldn’t put it down.  It enriched my knowledge.  It helped me understand how much my strengths align with positive psychology principals.  It inspired me to learn more and do more.  This led me to visit the University of Pennsylvania Positive Psychology Center website.  I followed the link under the Opportunities tab to participate in research and then clicked through to participate in a two-week Positive Intervention Study for Increasing Well-being.   I completed the 10-minute well-being assessment and then was given the organizational task to complete daily for 14 days.  The instructions were simple (my paraphrased version): each morning, create a list of what you would like to do during the day.  At the end of the day, review the list and mark whether you completed the items or not.  If you didn’t complete the items, indicate why you didn’t.  Try to do this activity every day.  If you miss a day, don’t fuss about it, start again the next day.

Before I tell you about how and why this changed my life, I think it’s important to understand my history with list making. I like lists.  Right from reading about the Slam Books in Judy Blume’s Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, I have been inspired to make lists.  Lists of what I want to do.  What I want to be. What I want to read (and have read).  I spent a drunken afternoon in Peel Pub at university making a list with two good friends of all the people we kissed.  I have lists of things to do for my business, for my family, for my self-development…you get the idea.  When I was coached three years ago, I shared with my coach that I regularly put items on my to do list that I have already completed for the joy of crossing them out.  He pointedly suggested that I could find joy in many other ways and encouraged me to rethink my lists entirely.   I did.   That was also transformative.  I started thinking more about what I really wanted to do each day vs. what I had to do.  Doing what I wanted to do gave me much more joy than crossing items off the list.  It helped me understand that my deep satisfaction comes from what I am doing, rather than feeling like a success or failure based on how many items I have crossed off my list.

So, back to the present.  Or to three weeks ago.

I set up my list in a spreadsheet, making my four columns: Date; Task; Status; If not, why not.  I listed out eight tasks for the day that ranged from business oriented tasks like designing a workshop to family oriented tasks like grocery shopping.  At the end of the day, I reviewed the list and noted that I hadn’t completed the workshop design task.  Instead of doing it, I used that time to have lunch with my husband.  It had been really nice time together, away from the distraction of the kids and the fatigue that the end of the day often brings.  I didn’t feel less successful for not completing the task.  I understood that it had been a trade of one thing that I valued for another.  The days continued like that.  I planned.  I saw what I chronically wasn’t completing and developed strategies to get to those tasks (like working on the activity first thing in the morning that I have the most resistance to doing).  I found myself completing tasks that had been sitting on various lists for months and months.  I redeemed my Groupon for hot yoga.  I drafted an online survey.  I made doctor appointments.  I filed my online HST return.  By the second week, I had increased the amount of work I was doing by over 60%.  I started waking up an hour earlier so I get more done.  I started getting more sleep so I could focus better during the day.  I ordered the book Creating Your Best Life The Ultimate List Guide by Caroline Adams Miller, MAPP and Dr. Micahel B. Frisch, so I could gain more motivation through list making.  Motivation is the key.  I felt and continue to feel so motivated.  I am thinking about myself and what it is that I am doing in a grounded and really excited way.  At the same time.  You can see why I’ve been needing sleep!

I believe there are three components to this tool being so powerful for positive change:

  • The tool focuses me in today. The daily task encourages me to think in the confines of what is possible today.  I can have larger goals that extend beyond today – but this tool grounds me in today specifically, giving me a sense of both the large possibilities of a day and the limitations of waking hours.
  • It is aspirational and practical at the same time. On a daily basis, I am contemplating what I want and what I need to do to get there.
  • I am collecting a lot of data that can help inform my thinking and planning going forward. I can use the data to understand my capabilities and potential.  I can see what I am chronically not getting to and evaluate why.   It also gives me perspective of my whole body of work instead of hour by hour or day by day.  Sometimes I get discouraged by how little I’ve accomplished.  When I can see how much I’ve accomplished over the entire week, or even over two or three days, I feel better (and more motivated).

So, let this blog post double as a gratitude letter to Martin Seligman and the fantastic researchers at The Positive Psychology Center.  Thank you for your commitment to evidenced-based positive psychology – it is helping to transform my life and the lives of the people I touch.  Please sign me up for more research studies.

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