Do we remember what has happened in our life? Or do we remember just parts of what happened in our life? The parts we like. Or do we remember what we wish had happened?
Most of us speak of stress as though it is something outside of us. We say, “My job is stressing me out,” or “My family is causing me stress,” or “The news is making me crazy.” We talk as though stress comes flying at us from the outside world, lands
When the summer of 1969 rolled around, I had just turned 15. I vividly remember the day my mother came into my room and handed me a round ticket to Lausanne, Switzerland, to spend a summer at their International Teen Camp. “There will be teens from all over the world,”
I’m not sure if it was turning 70, surviving cancer or simply having lived enough life to understand that there is nothing worth sacrificing your peace and well-being over. Through the years, I have done what most people (especially women) have done. I’ve taken care of everyone else, until there
Last month I was a regular granny in Clapham Common Park in London, pushing my grandson in the infant swing – all I could see was his smiling eyes. Nothing else in the world mattered. I am 73 and had just arrived in London to celebrate my only grandchild’s first