Going Deepak

The great thing about someone behaving in a rather childish, petty fashion that momentarily pisses you off is being able to read, ingest really, Deepak Chopra:

All problems contain the seeds of opportunity, and this awareness allows you to take the moment and transform it to a better situation or thing.

Count on it.

Yeeeeha and Amen.

Sunny steps

A spring-like day in New York. I'm walking down the street. A guy walks by me.

"You're looking gooooood, baby," he says, low-key and nonchalant. He keeps walking, doesn't look back.

"Why, thank you, baby," I say with -- I confess -- a giggle.

Spring has sprung in January.

The pulpit within

It was almost spooky, really, listening to a message at church this morning that echoed so much of what I posted right here yesterday. It was about illumination and going within and it was delivered by the Rev. August Gold with just the right punch of directness, bawdiness and sincerity to make it rousing.

Now for THAT it's worth crossing the Hudson River on a cloudy Sunday morning.

I know for a fact that I cannot do her talk justice here. I can only say that it pushed me to rethink the "victim" mentality we so often find ourselves in, to remember how important it is to feel rather than numb our emotions, to go within for answers to our pressing issues. The power in her words was palpable.

And for that we gave her a standing ovation.

Illumination from within

There are these people in life. They shine their spotlight on individuals who they attract into their lives, who in their own way they love. They watch those individuals thrive as the "light" brings out a side of them that is carefree and adventurous, easy and warm. Somehow the "light" makes them feel like they're living a little more than they were before.

Then after a period of time these people swing their spotlight onto a new subject. Boredom, maybe. Addiction to drama, maybe. Unwitting (?) use of power, maybe. Need for change, maybe. Who knows? But perhaps most importantly, who cares? That's right, who cares?

Because today, here, we are focusing on the ones who are in that spotlight, thriving for a day, a week, a year before finding themselves in the dark. What makes them attract that spotlight? Why do they need it to feel like they are living? What is it really about? What does it say about them, that they dance and kick around in the sunshine one minute and then flounder and fight off self-hate the next?

It is about the giving away of power or the relying on certain outside forces in order to seize it. It is about filling those spotlight people with what they need to feel good at the cost of self. It is about each individual so often not knowing how to turn on their own power switch.

There is a lesson here. It is imperative that the wiring and bulbs are in place so we can bask in the light we ourselves create. The spotlights that come along will then be a marvelous, luminous bonus.

To memoir or not to memoir

For some reason I had to process this whole James Frey and Oprah thing for 24 hours before expressing myself on it. Now I feel ready.

I read A Million Little Pieces in the fall and loved it. I blogged about it. I talked about it. It's a phenomenal book. It remains a moving work of art about the unique challenges of drug and alcohol addiction. What apparently has been proven is that it is not a memoir.

Watching James Frey on The Oprah Show yesterday -- a benefit of my feeling under the weather, I suppose -- I felt very bad for him. I think Oprah was right for the most part, but I couldn't help but feel he was taking the whole rap for something he was only partly responsible for. He had originally shopped it as a novel with little success. Someone, somewhere must have made some "marketing" suggestions to nudge it along to potential bestseller.

That doesn't mean I condone the extent to which Frey played with some of the facts in his book or that that absolves him of responsibility. It just makes me feel sad for him. Regardless of any embellishments, what he went through in rehab was heartwrenching and grueling and now he's made a better life for himself. Sad.

As for Oprah, I was already a fan but I gained immense respect for her. When New York Times columnist Frank Rich lauded her for her turnaround, she quickly said she didn't want kudos. She was no nonsense and clear and then she dropped it. Richard Cohen, the Washington Post columnist who had ripped into her in a column, sat on her stage seemingly dumbfounded that this woman would have him on her show after he criticized her so roundly. I loved all the honesty on that stage.

It was, as Rich said, "great TV."

Chakras, Part III

So my throat isn't as sore as it was two days ago, but I've developed a cough due to a gross post-nasal drip. And my head feels a little foggy. It's a flat-out cold. Annoying.

I was compelled to go back to the chakras. I found a website that explains what illnesses mean with regard to the corresponding chakras. This is what it says for colds:

Fourth Chakra deficient -- Unresolved grief, sadness, an extended cry

Now here's the explanation of Chakra Four:

Air, Social identity, Oriented to self-acceptance. This chakra is called the heart chakra and is the middle chakra in a system of seven. It is related to love and is the integrator of opposites in the psyche: mind and body, male and female, persona and shadow, ego and unity. A healthy fourth chakra allows us to love deeply, feel compassion, have a deep sense of peace and centeredness.

My God, this is so dead on for me right now. The integration of inner "things," the striving for centeredness, the questions about love and loving.

The quest continues.

Ch-ch-ch-chakras

Yesterday I wrote about my sore throat and what it revealed to me. In a nutshell, it was that the fifth chakra, the throat chakra, is about authentic communication.

That has guided me so well already, in several situations today. I must be more thoughtful and thorough in my communication. So often I say things or react in certain ways and then I don't see those things through. People are then left to draw conclusions based on incomplete words or actions. I must take responsibility for that. I must strive to be 100 percent, take-it-or-leave-it authentic. In fact, I must roll around in it and celebrate it.

Yes. This is good.

My throat sure appreciates it.

Throat chakra

I was awakened in the middle of the night by a sore throat. No other symptoms, just that feeling that you can feel your ears when you swallow.

So after two rounds of Airborne I did a bit of Google-ing (man, I love that) on sore throats and chakras to find out what it all means aside from wacky weather changes and low resistance. Here is what I found -- the throat is the fifth chakra. It's about expression and communication, about communicating authentically.

Some highlights of my research:

Communication is essential to create successful relationships. Without open, honest expression of our wants, desires and needs, relationships soon become stale, falter and fail.

We cannot even begin to know ourselves unless we are real with others and create a safe space for them to be real with us.

Discharge and release pent-up frustrations and negativities in healthy ways, such as exercise.

Learn methods of communication and healing that will benefit all of your relationships: lovers, children, co-workers, family and friends. Clear your energy centers for love, fun and pleasure. You're worthy. You deserve all the joy life can give.

How wonderful is that to embrace? Sore throat be gone.

Ann Arbor

I am reminded this week of my journalism fellowship at the University of Michigan (1996-97). I received an email announcing a reunion in the fall. Then there was another email, this one requesting stories from those of us who have become entrepreneurs so they could put it in the newsletter.

Aaaahhhhh. Ann Arbor. Sixteen of us, journalists from around the country and the world with two semesters to audit classes, attend seminars, read, be social, expand our minds, stroll shops, take trips. For me it was a chance to be a part of a real campus atmosphere, as my undergrad experience was a commute to a state college.

That fellowship changed my life in so many ways I couldn't begin to cover it here. Suffice to say when I moved to Hoboken my brother aptly noted, "It appears as if you're trying to duplicate your Michigan experience." He was referring to my decision to move to an urban place one block off a lively main street, across from a church, much like the apartment I lived in while in Ann Arbor. All that and Manhattan across the river? What could be better?

Perhaps most importantly I learned the value of filling the well, as Julia Cameron calls it in The Artist's Way. Having the time to read and attend lively discussions and just be idle feels a whole lot like living to me. The typical American allows herself so little time to do those things.

In addition to all of that, one of the most significant friendships in my life was formed while in Michigan. I treasure it so.

All of it.

Lipstick Jungle

Finished reading Lipstick Jungle today. I have immense respect for Candace Bushnell's work, being a big fan of Sex and the City. This latest work, however, wasn't particularly compelling. Yet it would probably make great TV.

Hmmmm. I guess what I'm trying to say is the characters are rich and well drawn but the storyline didn't grab me. It had its moments, though. And there are nuggets of real, relatable things in the novel. I am intrigued by the idea of seeing it come to life on the tube, as it's filled with glitz and glamour.

The title refers to New York City's prominent businesswomen getting into the thick of corporate competition. Clever. And it makes for a highly attractive cover.

As an artist currently wrestling with plot and conflict issues in my own book in progress, I found it illuminating to partake in someone else's artistic creation.

It's called "filling the well."

January?!

What a great thing it is to be able to comfortably walk along the waterfront in the dead of January. Yesterday I sat on a bench in the afternoon, took in the Manhattan skyline, and meditated for a while. This morning I walked the promenade as like-minded others jogged and strolled by.

People talk about how we should brace ourselves for harsh weather, that these mild temperatures are just teasing us. But I don't see it that way. We have them now. Let's enjoy them. If it snows in February, that still means we got to luxuriate in 50-degree weather in January.

Life is good.

Gesture

A friend gave me a wall calendar with wonderful pictures of Paris. Said he thought of me when he saw it. How sweet and unexpected.

Warms my heart.

Ode to the bra

I love lingerie. From cotton to lace, flashy colors to basics. It's all about an expression, a mood.

So starting the year suddenly realizing the "girls" looked a bit saggy in their lovely but aging satin bras (in about 20 colors) prompted me to evaluate my financial needs and wants. I realized that I've recently balked at buying workout sneakers because the bras need to take precedence. When someone close to me asked, "Are you wearing a bra?" I knew it was time for a trip to Victoria's Secret.

And so now I have discovered a line called Sweet Embrace. I looked at the bra and scoffed, such was the odd construction on the hanger. But then I put it on and appraised the sight before me in the mirror. Aside from the little purple demi number in my drawer, the "girls" have never looked so good and been so well-supported simultaneously. I brought a few t-shirts into the dressing room to see how the bra looked with a fitted shirt. Mind-blowingly fab.

It struck me that all the bras I tried on looked like they had been designed by architects or high-tech engineers. Marvelous construction.

What a treat.

What a job

I am in the third "trimester" with two of my life coaching clients and both experiences are positively heady. The progress they've made, the journeys I've witnessed and helped facilitate, the improvement in their lives. Just heady.

I heard another naysayer this week put down life coaching and all I can say is he has no idea what life coaching is. There's nothing to disparage. It's so positive in a focused, accountable way. I am so proud to be in this field. It makes me a little sad for the naysayer.

But back to my two clients. They are piecing together the different areas of their lives so that the whole is more in line with their passions, their desired paths, their priorities. I encourage them to focus while staying open to possibility. They are experiencing a sense of relief in having made key decisions or, as one put it, "crossing over to the other side."

How different life is when we eschew the toxic, the conventional, the comfortable and start to own our lives. Or when we help someone else see that very light.

Flowery thoughts

Three days a week at the "day" job, a local cafe delivers coffee and bagels to the office for our staff meetings. Much to my delight, last week I noticed they garnished the platter with flowers. I took the two yellow daisies and a nice healthy fern and put them in a white styrofoam cup on my desk. Nice pick-me-up.

Then my February issue of O magazine comes and I read this great little tidbit about a woman named Nancy (!) with a business called FlowerPower. She was working as a temp and every day at lunch she would go to view the magnificent floral arrangements in the Waldorf Astoria. Then it occurs to her that they probably throw those flowers out, so she talks a manager into giving them to her and she subsequently makes 20 arrangements to bring to a hospital to cheer up the patients. This grew into a non-profit that is now in New York and Los Angeles thanks to hundred of volunteers. Her vision is astounding to me.

This seems to me a great example of what happens when one follows her passion and runs with it. People who want to know how to change careers so often think they have to go back to school or they try to find some random thing that doesn't necessarily excite them but promises to be financially rewarding.

All I know is the daisies on my desk are still thriving, like a little ray of sunshine in my eye's view. I can only imagine what pleasure the other Nancy is bringing to those less fortunate.

Hugs

Did you ever think about hugging as a learned skill?

I have been lately.

I think it is.

The world needs more good hug teachers.

Full circle

At the gym today, I ran into a woman I had coached over a year ago. She was blocked on the biographical essay on a graduate school application and I coached her through the process. It was a wonderful challenge for me to draw her out, to have her tell me why she wanted the degree, what it would mean. The essay flowed from her once we had verbally established what her most compelling and relevant life experiences were.

Today she told me she has two semesters left to complete that masters degree in international affairs. It felt so good to hear that. So good. Coaching is such a rush sometimes.

What makes this client particularly inspirational is the fact that she is blind. I cannot fathom taking on such enormous challenges without the benefit of one of my senses.

So often my clients act as a beacon of sorts. It's like things come full circle. And I wonder who's teaching who.

Lunch in Lavallette

We did a sibling lunch to celebrate my brother's birthday today. That's bro, sis and me. We went to the Crab's Claw in Lavallette and had seafood lunches complete with soup, salad and dessert. So good. Not a morsel left. And my siblings are simply funny people.

It was nice to be in Lavallette, the scene of family vacations for many years. It is a place where so many of our fondest family memories were created. It is also a place where I've done a lot of meditative walks and journaling.

All around nice.

Remembering sports

I finally got around to watching the documentary on the U.S. women's soccer team that's been running on HBO. I was nonchalant about it, kind of curious. After my 15-year sports journalism career ended almost four years ago, I really lost touch. I rarely read the sports section and almost never tune in to SportsCenter, once staples of my life.

So it was kind of like venturing into my old life, tuning into this show. And I enjoyed it immensely. Truth be told, I shed some tears. The footage showing the goal scoring was so well-edited. Mia Hamm is explosive and when she's determined to score it's like she's shot out of a gun. What a sight, watching that ball fly past a goalie's outstretched body to the thunderous roar of the crowd.

That they were pioneers and exemplified everything sports should be, well, that's all a bonus. They were just so good.

Those were heady days.

The devil wears Prada

I can use new workout sneakers. I figure it's time to look around and find a good pair at a reasonable price. With extra time to spend in the city before an evening engagement, I hit Designer Shoe Warehouse, better known as DSW.

I walked up and down the aisles, saw a few pairs, checked out prices. Then, of course, I had to peruse the clearance section. I mean, what the heck. They color code the stickers there, so the percentage of the discount depends on the color.

That's when I saw the Prada mules. Let me repeat that slowly, with reverence. P-r-a-d-a. Camel suede, pointy in front, kitten heels. They would transform a pair of jeans. They, in fact, did transform the jeans I was wearing. The color code was a beautiful shade of purple, beautiful because it meant 80 percent off. Yikes. The shoes were a cool $70.

I looked in the mirror a trillion times. I rolled up my jeans to see how my ankles looked in them. I put them in the box and carried them around the store like a newborn. I called my sister from the store to share and to direct her to talk me out of the mules that were far from a practical purchase right now. She obliged. I carried them around for 10 more minutes. And then I put them back on the shelf and walked out.

There are times when you know your inner shopaholic has left the building. Sometimes it's even literal.

Drama queen

A dear friend gave me a very cool birthday present. It's a sort of metal sculpture, a woman in a sitting position. She's dressed in a flamboyant green dress with red polka dots which is trimmed at the neck and hem with actual red boa. She has bright red lips and blue-lidded eyes and she's wearing a crown trimmed in real gold sequins. Her tights are black-and-white striped and her pumps are red. She's holding a purse with three red rose buds and its says "drama queen," which my dear friend insists was not directed at me. She just knew I'd love this chick.

And she's right. Just to emphasize how much she belonged in my home, I actually had an empty pewter-colored chair sitting on my shelf as if waiting for this little drama queen to plant her butt in it. How odd is that?

Finally, there is the little card that came with the drama queen. (Hmmm, she needs a name, doesn't she?). On the front it says dolly mama's by joey inc. Here's what it says inside:

Artistic Passion

Let's give ourselves the courage to keep going when no one else believed in us, the vision to be able to see past the fear to where beauty lies, passion for everything we do, truth in always listening to our inner selves and possibilities because anything is possible if we really believe. Let's give ourselves the gift of responsibility so we may have a say in our lives.

It just feels right all around.

Ad fun

I love the American Express print ads that feature celebs like Ellen Degeneres and Tiger Woods filling in the blanks on a variety of statement-like questions. Thought it would be fun to do my version. Here goes:

My name Nancy Ann Colasurdo

Childhood ambition To be a published writer

Fondest memory Summer afternoons spent reading Nancy Drew books on a lawn chair

Indulgence Cashmere

Last purchase Coffee and a bran muffin

Favorite movie Depends on my mood. This week? Funny Girl

My life is what I make it

My card American Express

I was right. That was fun!

Light entertainment

I'm in the thick of Lipstick Jungle. Got a gift card from Barnes and Noble and couldn't resist a little spicy reading courtesy of Candace Bushnell. What fun. It seems absurd that I've had a measure of guilt around reading that instead of literature or something meaningful. I mentioned that to someone yesterday and his response was, "Often our entertainment is spiritual."

Hmmmmm.

Lord knows I love my "light" entertainment. Is there something deep in there? Recently I was watching the movie You've Got Mail, which I've probably seen and enjoyed a trillion times. Basically, the premise is that the Meg Ryan character has a small bookstore that is put out of business by the mega-chain bookstore owned by Tom Hanks' character. Yet they fall in love.

For the first time, I was left wondering at the end, how in the world did she forgive him? I mean, what happened after the big kiss in the park? Did they talk it out? Did he apologize? Did he feel he did anything wrong? How did they resolve it? Did it keep coming up every time they had a fight? Or was it like the big white elephant in the room? What happens when the personal and professional feel like they've been all mixed up?

That's the movie I want to see.

Paying attention

Went to brunch with a friend after church today. As we walked alongside a park to our destination -- where scrumptious pancakes awaited -- we were catching up on each other's lives. I became so involved in telling a story that I almost stepped in dog crap. My friend pulled me away just in time. I picked up the story and again he pulled me away from another mess on the sidewalk.

"Let's just cross the street," I said.

"No, let's just pay more attention," he suggested.

So I nodded and kept telling my story. All of a sudden we both stopped and gasped with glee. There were Christmas tree ornaments on the ground, strewn about. I picked up two shiny hearts in different shades of pink and almost squealed. I love them. And there was this wonderful antique-looking tin teddy bear ornament and a cardboard star covered in aluminum foil. My friend was happy to find a wooden Mickey Mouse with top hat and cane.

We laughed for a block, marveling at what happens when you "pay attention." And how one person's trash is another's treasure. And how good it feels to get a gift from the Universe.

I'm glad my Christmas tree is still up. I hung the hearts. A message of love hanging from its branches.

Nice talk

I'm standing in front of the laundromat on the main drag here in town today, getting ready to go across the street for some orange juice. This family is walking by, a mother, father and two kids. One kid is in a stroller. The other, a boy who appears to be about 7, is walking backwards down the street. He's laughing, getting a kick out of himself, having some fun, it seems.

"I can't believe I'm walking backwards all this way!" he says.

"Good. You're gonna fall and break your neck," mom responds. Dad is oblivious to the whole exchange.

Granted, many of us have heard this a million times growing up. Is it a Jersey thing? All I know is I must have softened with age because it stopped me in my tracks.

Let's examine this. The kid is very pleased with himself, doing something he finds fun and maybe adventurous. He shares it with mom. Not only does she tell him something completely false and scary (because truly what are the odds he will break his neck?), but she tells him she'll be happy about it by starting out her retort with "good."

I get it. She didn't mean it literally. It was a throwaway line. I'm sure she loves her kid and all that jazz. But it's still a really nasty thing to say. What is it teaching him? What does it say about her?

Is it any wonder so many of us don't know how to be kind?

Party pooped

Good party. Cool people. Fun conversation. Wine aplenty.

Where is my bed?

Sweet laughter

I just wrote a scene in my book that amused the hell out of me. There's nothing quite like making yourself laugh.

I have a dear friend who I tease all the time because she loves her own humor. I mean, really truly gets high on retelling stories that feature her own one-liners. And then, if you're lucky enough to be her audience, you get to laugh like hell all over again. Sometimes if there's a third party with us she'll nudge me to tell a story that headlines one of her funnier moments. It is one of those treasures of friendship, her contagious laughter.

Hmmmmm. Might be time for a trip to Baltimore ...

Howard withdrawal

This is about my Howard-less existence.

Ugh.

Howard Stern officially went off the "free" radio airwaves a few weeks ago. Now he's on satellite radio, which costs money I shouldn't be spending on entertainment right about now. In the two-week transition, I was still able to start my mornings with him in the form of his "Best of" shows. There was one morning I was literally ticked off that I had to leave my house and go to work because KROC was replaying Howard's John F. Kennedy Jr. interview. So compelling. So real. So sad, ultimately.

And so today was morning No. 2 without Howard. My alarm clock, still tuned to KROC, woke me to the sounds of the "replacement," David Lee Roth. Sorry, dude, I adore Van Halen but cannot listen to you gab in the morning. Now if you were belting out Panama, we'd be talking because those are some fabulous lyrics -- "I reach down ... between my legs ... and ease the seat back ..."

That line of thinking brought me to 104.5. Not a bad choice. I love classic rock. But I don't know. Every morning? I tried a station with dance tunes. Now Funkytown is just what I want to hear on a dance floor, but at 6 a.m.? Dancing on the Ceiling just about did me in.

I haven't been able to bring myself to turn the dial to NPR. I'm expected to not only get up at 6, but think too?

What's a girl to do?

I want my Howard.

Color me lavender

So a friend gave me lavender body scrub and body lotion for my birthday. While I loved the idea, I'm not big on floral scents in body products or candles, so I attempted to return them and switch them for another fragrance. But no can do, I was told by the snide store manager. I left in a snit, annoyed not so much by the policy but her attitude.

I relate this to another friend, who asks, "Nancy, is she worth all that energy? Forget her." I sort of had, but then made an effort to really put it to rest. Then the friend throws in, "Maybe you're supposed to try something new. Maybe you're supposed to try the lavender."

Hmmmmmm.

So this morning I tried the lavender. I scrubbed with it. I moisturized with it. Truth be told, I reveled in the fact that I was trying something new. (Ha. Step back 12 notches, it's Nan gone wild.)

When I arrived in Manhattan, I had a spring in my step despite the torrential rain and my inside-out umbrella. As I walked the few blocks to work, I was joined by a pleasant man who struck up a conversation with me out of nowhere. Nice.

Call it flower power.

Barefoot Contessa

Every so often I find it relaxing to watch the Food Network. I'm currently fascinated with the Barefoot Contessa, a show featuring Ina Garten cooking in her kitchen in The Hamptons. There's something about her that lulls me, perhaps a combination of her mellow attitude and soothing voice. And I love how we occasionally see her even more mellow husband, Jeffrey.

So during the holidays the subject of Ina came up and someone mentioned that she used to have some brainiac job. I'm thinking, huh? Ina? And as I watched her today I decided to check it out on the Food Network website.

Lo and behold, in 1978 Ina was working in the White House on nuclear energy policy and found herself thinking there must be more to life. She had never been to The Hamptons, but saw there was a food store for sale there. She and her husband bought the Barefoot Contessa, grew it, sold it and have settled in nicely in The Hamptons, to say the least. Jeffrey, by the way, is Dean of the Yale School of Management.

The life coach in me adores this story. Change is possible. Change is invigorating. Change rocks.

So you went to school to become XYZ. Does that mean you have to do it for the rest of your life? So you work among the high-powered set. Does that mean you can't take it down five notches? So you're used to a certain lifestyle. Does that mean there is no alternative? No, no and no.

Ina has a TV show, briskly selling books, and has contributed to Martha Stewart's and Oprah's magazines. And she lives in the freakin' Hamptons.

So fascinating.

Understood

I've been thinking about relationships and taking what I learned in 2005 into new and existing ones in 2006. How love means not always understanding the other person's thought processes, motives, actions. And being OK with that.

How can we fully understand anyone? And they fully understand us? It is natural, this desire to be understood by people, especially those we love. It is comforting, even, to know there is someone who gets you on a deep level.

And yet, it is unrealistic to expect that to always be. Sometimes I don't get that. I need to get that. It is essential to thriving relationships.

There is beauty in the unexpected. It can be breathtaking. It spurs growth and intimacy. I don't always have to understand. I just have to love.