Tag Archives: women and transition

Must Have’s For Our Stories

Michele Obama @ Boston’s TD Garden

Have you ever felt like a kid in a candy store? That is the only way I can describe how I felt last Saturday evening. A friend and I went to the Boston stop of Michele Obama’s book tour. She was herself. Radiant. Engaging. Choreographed, but invisibly so. She shared stories of hope and anger and frustration and love. My guess is that her words touched me differently than those who sat around me. You see, without knowing it, Mrs. Obama described transitioning. The process helped her discover more and more about those things that hold value and meaning to her. To her delight, those things then became the cornerstone of her work and of who she is. This pivot, her becoming, initiated even more growth. Transitioning enables growth. Yeah transitioning! I left there smiling and with an exciting new goal: to interview her! All suggestions on how to make this happen would be greatly appreciated, BTW

Over the course of the evening, Mrs. Obama made it a point to talk about the stories we tell ourselves. Our own narratives. Her topic gave me a terrific idea for a pre-holiday blog, a primer on storytelling. Continue reading

Cancer: Driven to Distraction

She is fighting back tears. Something is the matter. Her adult daughter is spinning around the lobby trying to architect some semblance of normalcy.  I learn from a few abbreviated sentences that the day’s plans have changed. I was there to accompany one of my dearest friends for her final chemo treatment. The infusion has been postponed. Her body isn’t ready. It needs a little more time. She apologizes to me for coming so far, for nothing. I am amazed at this positioning and am now even happier that I came.  I drive her home. She exhales in the car. It is in our conversation there that I am given a huge gift. My task is simple. To try to understand it. Continue reading

Our Steps

We caught ourselves at the very last second.  Our hands reached out to grab a nearby wall.  My neighbor and I were on our morning walk.  We walk laps around our town for an hour at dawn most days.  5:30 am.  It is typically dark or nearly so.   Who knew that brick sidewalks could be as treacherous as ice when coated with a layer of fallen leaves?   As we started to slip we froze in an effort to stop from falling.  For an instant fear consumed us. Continue reading