I compare this country to a dysfunctional family. You love them, but they're far from perfect. Even the families that look pristine on the outside have issues under the hood. Right now, loving this country feels complicated. At times, it even feels counterintuitive to the way I try to live my life—with compassion, kindness, and an open heart. Our history is beautifully imperfect, but freedom has always been the ideal that has that has drawn us forward.

Whether we're artists, parents, entrepreneurs, teachers, retirees, or simply people trying to find our place in the world, we all want to know that our lives have meaning. We want to feel that we've made a difference. I know, because if I'm completely honest, I've wrestled with that fear myself. It's why I do what I do. My mission is to help people find serenity in motion—not by escaping life, but by learning how to move through it with greater presence, purpose, and possibil

The first step is noticing how your environment is affecting the way you live your life. How do you feel when you wake up in the morning? How do you feel at the end of the day? Do you look forward to being in your environment? Or do you feel drained by it? These questions aren't meant to create judgment. They're meant to create awareness. Because awareness is where change begins.

The first step is noticing how your environment is affecting the way you live your life. How do you feel when you wake up in the morning? How do you feel at the end of the day? Do you look forward to being in your environment? Or do you feel drained by it? These questions aren't meant to create judgment. They're meant to create awareness. Because awareness is where change begins.

My yoga teacher once said to me, "You're very good at being busy." At the time, I wasn't quite sure what she meant. I thought I was simply doing what needed to be done—work, family, responsibilities, and all the things that fill our days. But as I've gotten older, I understand exactly what she was talking about.

Sometimes the things we grieve aren’t just the painful losses. Sometimes we grieve the things that brought us joy. This week, I found myself surprisingly emotional over the ending of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Through so much of the craziness happening in our country and around the world, Stephen has given me laughter. Perspective. Relief. A way to cope.

Even when everything seems to be going well…when I feel aligned, grounded, and at peace…my mind can wander into darkness. And it frustrates me. Because the truth is, I feel deeply blessed. I have a wonderful family. Beautiful friendships. I’m doing the work. I love helping others feel joy, groundedness, and inner peace. And yet…my mind still goes there.

This week, as many are honoring Passover and Easter—times of reflection, renewal, and new beginnings—I found myself turning inward. Not to the traditions, although I cherish them. Not to the rituals, though they bring comfort and connection. But to something deeper. A quiet awareness… that within each of us, there is a spirit. A presence that watches, that gently guides, that reminds us who we are beneath the noise.

What a scary experience I had this week. I gave a two-minute talk at an eWomenNetwork chapter event…just two minutes. That’s it. And somehow, those two minutes felt more intimidating than any workshop I’ve ever led. The interesting part? I won that speaking opportunity the month before—and from the moment I found out, I went straight into freak-out mode. For an entire month. I even attended a two-day speaking workshop (Speakonomics) just to feel more prepared. I practiced.

Meditation isn’t always easy for me. Like many of us, my mind can be a busy place. There’s often a long list of things that need to be done. Projects I’m working on. Deadlines. Responsibilities. The quiet hum of worry about what might not get finished. Fear, doubt, and endless to-do lists can quickly fill the mind and make it challenging to truly settle in. But this day was different.