We have hardwood floors in our house. Each family member has a different cadence as they walk down the hallway, the pitch and rhythm of our steps communicating something unique and individualized. My middle son’s steps are boisterous and deliberate and kind of loud. While my oldest slides across the wooden strips gently and slowly, almost inaudible. My youngest sons’s size 12 feet saunter rather matter of factly from one destination to the next. Mine are quick and light. I like to think it has something to do with my dance background and my fondness for fireflies and ninjas. We can decipher each other’s footsteps. Understanding our footprint in the world can enhance our life experience. We have entered a phase in the Coronavirus pandemic that feels like a psychogenic fugue, where we are stuck in this strange and foreign place, trying to escape, but not knowing how. Most of us are emotionally exhausted, irritable, lethargic and apathetic. How many days have you flicked the potato chip crumbs off of your pajamas and asked yourself whether you showered? Blink and it’s dark outside. Groundhog day over and over and over again. We just want to get our mojo back and go back to pre-pandemic times. We are all wanting and needing different things on our uniquely personal timetables. One of the most impactful things we can do is get to know our distinct nervous system. By understanding how it works for us personally, we are able to help ourselves and those around us by responding to its ever-changing nature. The nervous system is a highly complex set of nerves that run from the brain down along the spinal column. Our senses process about 11 million bits of information per second from our environment. Everything we perceive through our senses is processed through the nervous system which constantly sifts through astounding amounts of data while it scans and processes our surroundings. How do we meet change? How do we meet stagnation? How do we deal with the unknown? The answers begin with being present and responding rather than reacting. We need to cocoon, to pause, to pay attention in order to focus on what is before us. By slowing down and dialing in, we get clear signals about what we need from our body to restore our nervous systems. Emotions are just constantly changing energy. Our bodies hold these feelings in a million different ways. BREATHE –Start by finding a comfortable space to be, place your hands on your belly and take a few easy breaths–inhaling through your nose and gently exhaling through your mouth. Extend the exhale. This is a little jewel straight out of a neuroscientist’s lab at...

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I love the color gray. Some people say it’s not really a color. The dictionary defines it as: A neutral tone between white and black; dark, dismal or gloomy: dull, dreary or monotonous. This color is so evasive that there are two acceptable spellings—gray and grey. It is the color of clouds, fog and flannel. Kind of. This color is so difficult to articulate, And it is exactly the reason it is so perfectly descriptive of that which is hard to describe.  Gray represents the pause, in words or behavior. Gray is the inhale. Gray is the exhale. It is the in-between Where the really difficult feelings are buried, And felt. The space where we hold on to things that are not meant for us. It is the expanse where the wrestling occurs. Gray is the release of sadness, anger and pain. It represents the unknown, And the seeking, The learning, The feeling.  It is the blank slate presented to us in which to wrestle, To learn, To understand, To begin...

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I was standing in the night air, steam and smoke wafting around me, taunting me with the smell of grilled food.  The sound of a wooden flute played in the background.  Rosario, a street vendor, stood over her shopping cart and dexterously molded perfectly glorious tortillas and tended to her pollo con papas.  I was visiting Little Guatemala in the Westlake district of  downtown Los Angeles.  I went on these adventures weekly, accompanying chef Anthony Bourdain, on his show, Parts Unknown. I didn’t actually go with Anthony, but he made me feel like I was with him, whether it was a boisterous marketplace or a quiet table in a remote village.  Anthony took me on his journeys. He was a guy who did things on his own terms.  He was witty, direct, engaging, opinionated and seemingly comfortable with himself and, most notably, others.  He wanted to know them.  He held up the mirror of our humanity.  At the intersection of food, politics, history and humor, Anthony Bourdain helped us understand others through breaking bread and conversation. Today Anthony Bourdain died by suicide. The world is weeping. People are paying tribute by sharing their feelings and thoughts on social media. Everyone is trying to wrap their heads around how someone they felt they knew could do this.  Anthony was the super cool uncle everyone wished they had. Some people don’t understand how someone who, looks like he has it all, would choose to leave this earth. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US. Each year close to 45,000 people die in this country alone. For every suicide, 25 people attempt suicide. Suicide risk factors include mental health issues, serious health conditions, traumatic brain injury, prolonged stress, stressful life events, exposure to another person’s suicide, family history of suicide and childhood abuse, neglect or trauma. Suicide is not selfish. It is the result of a life threatening disease of unbearable pain and utter despair. It is sheer hopelessness. Living with depression and anxiety is a living hell. Individuals who suffer are some of the most courageous people on our planet. As a mental health professional, I witness peoples’ pain and despair each and every day. As a human, I have experienced and witnessed the depths of sadness in my close circle. Seek the purpose of life and you may find it has something to do with creating and finding meaning and being a part of something bigger than oneself. Let’s create a community of caring where we are genuinely present for people. I can think of nothing more meaningful than connecting with someone else. How we relate to one another can be part of the antidote to...

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I struggled to pull the wet rubbery suit up my limbs and torso. Once I was zippered in and velcroed up, I was, apparently, ready for the next step. Excited and nervous, I carried my board down some steep wooden stairs onto the beach where we were given safety instructions and direction to realize a hang ten.   Okay, maybe to be able to stand and balance for 23 seconds. At first, we walked into the ocean until we were deep enough to lay on our boards. I eyed waves on one side of me and the sandy beach in the distance on the other. Fear crept in and my heart raced. Doubt made an appearance, bringing her close friend Anxiety. My instructor, seasoned and not one for coddling, taught me some valuable life lessons out in that deep turquoise water. First. Breathe. Both to calm down and to understand the ebb and flow of the waves because this sport is actually part meditative. Becoming one with Mother Nature. Second. Believe that you can do this. Because you can. Third. Follow the instructions.  Assess and be decisive. Fourth. Go for it.   Commit. Be perseverant.  There is a surprising amount of waiting in surfing. It is active waiting where one is observing the waves, feeling the current, the wind and calculating when to take the next great wave that can be ridden to exhilaration. When that happens, it is truly vitalizing. Except sometimes we fall. And get crushed by the curl. Water gets in our eyes, ears and even our lungs. We are hoping the board doesn’t smack us in the head and that we don’t drown. And then we come up for air and go straight back into the ocean to try it again. Surfing was a life lesson in believing in oneself, patience, taking action and tenacity. I wore that wetsuit with pride and carried my board out of the ocean like a badge of honor. Trying new things in the face of fear and doubt turns out to be a perfect metaphor for living....

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Intent on cooking a sumptuous meal for my family, I channeled my inner Giada De Laurentiis, and began washing, chopping and seasoning. A pot of nutty quinoa simmering on the stove. Brilliant green asparagus roasting in the oven. Wild salmon capturing parallell grill marks. I was feeling very accomplished. Even proud of myself. Yeah—that’s just how I roll. Because they often cook a multi-course meal on the cooking shows, I decided to bake a cake to cap off the meal. I chose a cinnamon coffee cake recipe that my family loves. I measured and mixed, The phone rang. I beat, chopped and folded. One of my kids asked a homework question. I poured that fluffy batter into a pan and placed it in the oven. The medley of smells wafting through my kitchen was delightful and beckoning. This is the stuff of food porn. I began to tend to the various dishes, as each one simmered ready to be plated. I had set the timer for 45 minutes for the cake. Mindlessly, I then reset the timer for the quinoa. Crap—I wiped out the remaining time for the cake. My brain had no idea if there were 12 or 30 minutes left. I continually checked the cake, but it was completely wet in the middle. While I was weighing  whether to remove the cake from the oven, cross my fingers and hope for the best or leave it in just a little bit longer, I noticed that I “baked” my cake on broil— having forgotten to turn it down after I roasted my asparagus. I attempted to do too many things at once. Most of us feel confident in multi-tasking, even masterful. Research demonstrates that being good at multi-tasking is a myth of epic proportions. Our brains can only process one thing at a time. Although we believe that we are being more productive, we are, in fact, pretty good at quickly switching from one task to another, which we might perceive as multitasking. In actuality, we are misperceiving the positive feelings that we get from multi-tasking. We feel more emotionally satisfied, but end up performing each task less proficiently. If you would like to avoid broiling your cake,  here are a few tips: —Realize and acknowledge that you can not multitask with good results. —Make a “must do” do list to prioritize what is truly necessary at any given time. —Be present and focus on one task at a time. —Chunk each task down into manageable steps. —Ask others to help out. Incidentally, my family told me they loved the cake, particularly the gooey middle. Go figure. What would Giada...

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Many of us have awakened from that classic nightmare where something really terrifying happens, like falling or being trapped. You know what’s coming next. And you scream from the depths of your being. Only nothing comes out of your mouth. It’s a silent scream like the famous Munch painting. It is at this point in our dream where we usually wake up and realize—phew, that was not real. By the time you are sipping your java, your nightmare is a distant memory. In my psychotherapy practice, I have witnessed the intense desire for people to have a voice. People want to express how they feel and, most importantly, be heard. It’s really a necessity for our development, growth and feeling that we matter. Possessing a voice is essential to our self worth. The origin of our silence is usually rooted in our childhood muck where the adults in our lives did not allow it or did not validate us for it. We got the message loud and clear that it was not acceptable to express ourselves. People describe themselves as the good child who did not rock the boat. Keeping quiet can be a survival mechanism. We do whatever we can to stay afloat in our family system. Then we grow up and we don’t have the tools to use this voice of ours. But we know it is there deep down inside of us, waiting to be skillfully released, to be a leader of our thoughts, feelings and beliefs. Our voice provides both woofer and tweeter for the soundtrack to our being. Without it, we may feel rudderless and powerless. The wonderful thing is that it is never too late to find our voice. Here are seven ways to begin: 1. Reflect on your needs, wants and feelings. Get up close and personal. Jot them down. Read them out loud. Repeat. 2. Pinpoint how your history has been a roadblock for you. Perhaps you had a critical parent and that is the voice in your head. Discover how that is getting in the way. 3. Challenge that voice. Kiss the good girl or silent boy goodbye, welcome the grown up and invite him or her to join you at the table. 4. Think about someone you admire who possesses a strong voice in their life. Incorporate some of the things you like in to your own repertoire. Emulate them. 5. Cultivate things that make you feel good and build your self-confidence. Do one of those things each and every day. 6. Give yourself permission to express your feelings and thoughts. Befriend them. 7. Inhabit the voice you want to express. Own it. Be it. By growing self-love, confidence,...

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