<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929</id><updated>2024-09-06T17:23:42.553-05:00</updated><category term="letting go"/><category term="acceptance"/><category term="adventure"/><category term="attachments"/><category term="boundaries"/><category term="change"/><category term="children"/><category term="choices"/><category term="control"/><category term="creation"/><category term="creativity"/><category term="experiences"/><category term="freedom"/><category term="impermanence"/><category term="passions"/><category term="peace"/><title type='text'>Evolving Magazine</title><subtitle type='html'>Honoring the journey of self-discovery, this blog provides reflections on living life on purpose, with purpose.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-2392705004559454778</id><published>2008-02-05T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T09:34:42.090-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Natural Resources</title><content type='html'>I am so blessed with resources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My book goes to print in a few weeks and I’ve been under deadline to complete any final tweaks I might want to make to the manuscript. (More about the book in a minute. First I want to brag about my awesome sister.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as final editing goes I was stumped. I’ve read through the material so many times that I can’t see simple errors. I needed fresh eyes to look over the book before I sent it back to the publisher for formatting. But who could I ask such a large favor of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you think I’m completely delusional to ask my sister to edit (for free and with only a few days notice) 15,000 words of text, let me give you a little background first. Mary is a literary genius. When we were kids she would say she liked to read Stephen King novels because they were such an easy read she could finish one in an afternoon. (She’s the fastest reader I’ve ever met. And she remembers what she reads, as well.) She studied the &lt;em&gt;Reader’s Digest&lt;/em&gt; “Word a Day”. She read everything she could get her hands on, including cereal boxes. She is a Russian linguist. And she was my first editor for &lt;em&gt;Evolving Woman&lt;/em&gt; magazine. So I knew she was qualified but worried I was asking too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I sent Mary an email asking this huge favor of her, she wrote back, “A favor is a cup of sugar—a HUGE favor is a spare kidney. This is an honor.” I am truly blessed. Thank you, Mary. Not only did she find those little niggles that hide from the repeat reader, she did it in less than a day. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, back to the book. I originally started this blog as a means for getting essays I’d previously written back into my computer. My old computer crashed years ago so all I had were the published versions of these essays. I used this blog as a way to type in one a day rather than trying to do it all at once. And it worked. I compiled these (and other) essays into a PDF file and sent it to a book publisher. PublishAmerica accepted the manuscript and it should be printed in about four weeks. Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is called &lt;em&gt;The Joyous Journey: Living Life On Purpose, With Purpose.&lt;/em&gt; It is a compilation of essays about conscious living, self-awareness, finding a purpose and determining core values. &lt;em&gt;The Joyous Journey&lt;/em&gt; follows the path of my personal growth with reflections on living life on purpose, with purpose. I’ll keep you posted!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/2392705004559454778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/2392705004559454778' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/2392705004559454778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/2392705004559454778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2008/02/natural-resources.html' title='Natural Resources'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-3574813862497271733</id><published>2007-12-20T07:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T08:10:56.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking makes it so</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17yZQ3cNx7rgKDKbdx-9iB55zRiVBS5NyfdYo1Y7rJwxLzkOXcJHsgWgnRDp6hkOjbnw20aICUSGwLHOKyp2YdbTYav-uq_folBggXxhr2tqBwTSs_MpOJvp9qo486G7xXUmVgh0epnms/s1600-h/HOLIDAY4.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146055920109850130&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17yZQ3cNx7rgKDKbdx-9iB55zRiVBS5NyfdYo1Y7rJwxLzkOXcJHsgWgnRDp6hkOjbnw20aICUSGwLHOKyp2YdbTYav-uq_folBggXxhr2tqBwTSs_MpOJvp9qo486G7xXUmVgh0epnms/s200/HOLIDAY4.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A friend sent me an email this morning talking about the holidays. He commented on how different it is when you’re divorced and have to spend part or all of the holiday alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’d recently thought about something similar. I was thinking about how Christmas changes at different seasons of our lives. When I was little it was a magical event. Sometimes, I still almost feel that mystical presence in the air. Then as a teenager it lost some of the thrill. But once I had kids, the fun returned because I felt their excitement. Now, the kids are grown and the holiday, for me, is back to being less-than climatic. I have the grandchildren now, but it’s not the same as putting the kids to bed and feeling that magical anticipation in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, even though the holiday changes for me, I still know that my expectation, the pressure I put on myself, is a determinant of how much I will enjoy the day. Because thinking truly does make it so. The thoughts I have about the day, e.g. “This is going to suck,” or “I can’t WAIT for Christmas,” will determine how I feel. How many events have we ruined by thinking them through over and over, or by pre-deciding how it will feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The event itself does not bring us pain or joy. It is how we perceive the event that brings the emotions attributed to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I can&#39;t WAIT for Christmas! Wishing you all a happy holiday, as well!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/3574813862497271733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/3574813862497271733' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/3574813862497271733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/3574813862497271733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/12/thinking-makes-it-so.html' title='Thinking makes it so'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17yZQ3cNx7rgKDKbdx-9iB55zRiVBS5NyfdYo1Y7rJwxLzkOXcJHsgWgnRDp6hkOjbnw20aICUSGwLHOKyp2YdbTYav-uq_folBggXxhr2tqBwTSs_MpOJvp9qo486G7xXUmVgh0epnms/s72-c/HOLIDAY4.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-6400570846848882633</id><published>2007-12-06T09:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T10:30:49.199-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m Still Here</title><content type='html'>Hello all. I just wanted to let you know I&#39;m still around, and still writing. I&#39;ve taken on a hectic schedule writing for several city magazines as well as a couple agencies. Plus I&#39;m starting a pool magazine the first of January and working on the workbook for my seminar seriers. What happens, is I get so busy writing that I don&#39;t take the time to post here. So, I apologize. I&#39;m sure all three of my readers are disappointed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, if you&#39;re interested, I&#39;m writing a lot of &quot;how to&quot; articles on eHow so you can read some of my work there. You can find my profile and a complete list of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.ehow.com/members/evolvingwoman-articles.html&quot;&gt;articles &lt;/a&gt; there. I post several a day, but they have to go through an approval process, so there are only a few online right now. But check back--there&#39;ll be more posted soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season. Thanksgiving was probably one of the best ever--everyone was so happy to be together. If I didn&#39;t email a link to you, here&#39;s a silly little &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1185037080&quot;&gt;elf dance&lt;/a&gt; with me and the grandkids. It takes a while to load, but is very funny. If you make one of youself, please email it to me at jill@duttoncommunications.com. Happy Holidays.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/6400570846848882633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/6400570846848882633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6400570846848882633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6400570846848882633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-still-here.html' title='I&#39;m Still Here'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-544663218767626586</id><published>2007-11-19T07:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T13:54:54.422-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeding the Multitudes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vNN-MP4IwO_8LQDuInJGSF8euvNl_v7XIQeIvPtRj2B-pv5hhDa98p0w8zueMuuvFlTfbpSvB0hKyv4x7pBZGKRnbDLpCBijMj_7PinOewCwa3H4GiwXwBnfLfonlTMqynTR9eWbYpHp/s1600-h/520602537110_0_BG.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vNN-MP4IwO_8LQDuInJGSF8euvNl_v7XIQeIvPtRj2B-pv5hhDa98p0w8zueMuuvFlTfbpSvB0hKyv4x7pBZGKRnbDLpCBijMj_7PinOewCwa3H4GiwXwBnfLfonlTMqynTR9eWbYpHp/s320/520602537110_0_BG.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137982078169504434&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hosting family gatherings must be like childbirth: with time, you forget how painful and hard it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom swears I told her last year I would never have Thanksgiving at my house again. I don’t remember it. I thought we had a glorious time. But, there is a little niggle in the back of my mind that remembers the frustration of trying to work in a small kitchen with too many helpful bodies getting in the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, as it gets close, I’ve already started my “pre” cooking. I love testing recipes ahead of time. That’s probably part of the problem: I’m exhausted from cooking by the time Thanksgiving arrives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love to feed people. My girls have frequently commented that, “Mom needs to be needed.” Maybe it’s true, but I think it’s more the joy that comes from nourishing, giving sustenance and showing love through something heart-felt. When I owned the coffee shop, patrons told me the food was cooked with love. And that’s true. There’s something very nurturing about the whole experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what was so frustrating last year is that it didn’t seem worth so much work for 15 minutes of eating. The thing is, once again, it’s not the end result, but the process that matters. My goal in cooking and trying different recipes isn’t to eat. It’s the joy of planning, preparing and cooking that I remember and the process, for me, is the goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, birthing pains forgotten, I’m hosting Thanksgiving again this year. Last night I made a pumpkin roll cake just to see if I liked it. I did. I won’t make another one for the holiday, but I think I just wanted to take the time and nourish myself a bit. And dang, it was worth it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/544663218767626586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/544663218767626586' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/544663218767626586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/544663218767626586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/11/feeding-multitudes.html' title='Feeding the Multitudes'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vNN-MP4IwO_8LQDuInJGSF8euvNl_v7XIQeIvPtRj2B-pv5hhDa98p0w8zueMuuvFlTfbpSvB0hKyv4x7pBZGKRnbDLpCBijMj_7PinOewCwa3H4GiwXwBnfLfonlTMqynTR9eWbYpHp/s72-c/520602537110_0_BG.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-5862972849867951883</id><published>2007-10-26T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T09:24:22.178-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adventure"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="experiences"/><title type='text'>A Passion for Adventure</title><content type='html'>Ack. What have I gotten myself into now? That was my first thought when the producer for a local dating show called and told me I’ll be one of the contestants at this week’s taping of the show. What was I thinking? I mean seriously, what is the POINT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that’s when I stop thinking for a moment and realize there doesn’t have to be a point. Thinking everything has to have a point is what gets us stuck in a rut to start with. Some things are just for the fun of it—for the experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the movie &lt;em&gt;Into the Wild&lt;/em&gt;, the actor playing Chris McCandles said, “The core of man&#39;s spirit comes from new experiences.” I dug out my notebook in the dark theater to write it down. Well I just looked it up and the exact quote from the book, based on McCandles’ notes and letters was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man&#39;s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe this is absolute truth. My mom used to organize various outings and called the group Aliveness Adventures. What an appropriate title. I know I feel most alive when trying new adventures. There is some exquisite attraction to the new, unknown. I’m always trying something new. An activity draws my attention and I just &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to experience it. FYI, I just read a great article called &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dumblittleman.com/2007/06/39-ways-to-live-and-not-merely-exist.html&quot;&gt;39 Ways to Live and Not Merely Exist&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends have called some of my adventures crazy. But I’ve come to realize that those who are scared of stepping outside their comfort zones consider those who do so crazy. So be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I think happens with me is I make room for new adventures by being open to them. Nature abhors a vacuum. According to uningenglish.com, the definition is, “This idiom is used to express the idea that empty or unfilled spaces are unnatural as they go against the laws of nature and physics.” My counselor friend Karen told me this once and explained it (somewhat) like this: that when we release something, or have free time, nature will fill it with something. Karen said we’d better make sure we choose what to fill it with because it will be filled. So I fill as much of my time as I can with new experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The key for me to keep experiencing things is to not so much to “feel the fear and do it anyways”. It’s to “quit thinking about it and do it anyways.” Stop asking myself what is the point. And have a new experience.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/5862972849867951883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/5862972849867951883' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5862972849867951883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5862972849867951883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/10/passion-for-adventure.html' title='A Passion for Adventure'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-5476011504453877977</id><published>2007-10-18T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T19:31:09.375-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="control"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="creation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="impermanence"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="letting go"/><title type='text'>Getting in the Gap</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In my last post I talked about the Dalai Lama movie. In it, they showed the Tibetan monks creating a sand mandala. The ceremony of creating the mandala is sacred, but the impermanence of it is what got to me. So I decided to create my own. &lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF82xq-aY9qxOWR02rQn3q3SLSvErxsx1rhR9CECGv5V4sZ8DJqONn4T0vNbw4VORlZ7BwBoueC4Y97lPa_mMw598Ik4WrKMdYhwH6AG_6pXYw3Kt8UOB-Yi3qZoebo6UJu4CGtaujAgo8/s1600-h/100_0429.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122837641155940946&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF82xq-aY9qxOWR02rQn3q3SLSvErxsx1rhR9CECGv5V4sZ8DJqONn4T0vNbw4VORlZ7BwBoueC4Y97lPa_mMw598Ik4WrKMdYhwH6AG_6pXYw3Kt8UOB-Yi3qZoebo6UJu4CGtaujAgo8/s200/100_0429.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years ago I worked with a woman who created mandalas and taught the process as a form of therapy. She used colored pencils to create hers. The point is that mandalas are thought to have sacred meanings. Also, the process of creation is a way to stop the mind chatter--a form of meditation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to create a sand mandala because I enjoy the process of creating, but wanted to experience the lack of &quot;possession&quot; that must occur to let the object go. It&#39;s harder than I thought. Even as I was shopping for the colored sand my mind was racing, trying to figure ways to make it permanent (sticky paper, etc.), but I forced myself to let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home and made the mandala in the pictures. Elementary, I know, but the process was exhilarating. While tending to each detail I forgot to worry, forgot to plan, forgot to even think. I have a hard time getting out of my head and it was a complete feeling of relaxation--of being in the gap, totally in the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The experience reminded me of something I&#39;d read about mountain climbers. That while they are climbing, they must be totally present, only thinking about where each hand or foot will go. That was what it was like. The mindless rambling stopped. I was, for a moment, in the moment. And since it is from sand, I will also learn to let go of this creation and realize the impermanence of existence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122838706307830370&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikr52pj00YtVDb4VBKeGobfocBnJUbjOS7Xq1sPSJ3ce21d10Mj-HLSLoIwM_uWBfjI_zNMtMxUlkhyL5K8vv_tLFUOJhBVB5fQWLmff80Q9FdVvYWoStCEEaVmAunOXWmLH-aMkdksDtP/s320/100_0430.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/5476011504453877977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/5476011504453877977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5476011504453877977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5476011504453877977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/10/getting-in-gap.html' title='Getting in the Gap'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF82xq-aY9qxOWR02rQn3q3SLSvErxsx1rhR9CECGv5V4sZ8DJqONn4T0vNbw4VORlZ7BwBoueC4Y97lPa_mMw598Ik4WrKMdYhwH6AG_6pXYw3Kt8UOB-Yi3qZoebo6UJu4CGtaujAgo8/s72-c/100_0429.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-6092609878893262602</id><published>2007-10-18T08:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T08:17:59.866-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="acceptance"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="attachments"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="letting go"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="peace"/><title type='text'>Letting Go of Attachments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuk7i6TfyrTikHh50_xczKX1pXQl4H87QW5waueOZ_eSc7ls7wteaXYvnuy_eu1UYPRZfvoTuKuQxRMs3QyFtqgQbtO36RNhJCNyUpoR7tGOexWPubqb7mtx1Y51FUOmg-acIcKXPqBMK/s1600-h/000_0079.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122665086549856818&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuk7i6TfyrTikHh50_xczKX1pXQl4H87QW5waueOZ_eSc7ls7wteaXYvnuy_eu1UYPRZfvoTuKuQxRMs3QyFtqgQbtO36RNhJCNyUpoR7tGOexWPubqb7mtx1Y51FUOmg-acIcKXPqBMK/s200/000_0079.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPZ_A69KFcY4GOuhTvMBdEVQiWbKX47o2dhN0fvB9fDLcd2AoG0svC3TKLp27_sVItIenjdSUqVgPZlW03VaNvBwHoa6Ufyib8aO8OUeErhWmUGn_Y-sEnuPyGKhz7blqf-p7fZdek8SA/s1600-h/000_0079.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It’s funny; I planned to write this morning about choices. I read a quote recently by Steinbeck that said (vaguely) &quot;up ahead there are a thousand lives we might have but we’ll live only one.&quot; I searched for the exact quote this morning and couldn’t find it. Instead, I stumbled upon another nugget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steinbeck wrote in &lt;em&gt;The Grapes of Wrath&lt;/em&gt;, “How can we live without our lives? How will we know it&#39;s us without our past? No. Leave it. Burn it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve seen a recurring theme in movies lately about letting go of attachments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, and the one that most deeply affected me, was &lt;em&gt;Into The Wild&lt;/em&gt;. I read the book a few years ago while I was isolated in Colorado for work. I can’t seem to get the movie out of my mind anyways, but when I read the Steinbeck quote, it reminded me again. In the movie, he literally burns his money and leaves his life behind, continually re-defining himself along the way. It’s the greatest case of “letting go” that I’ve seen. Although he had nothing, only when he was in the city did he seem poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other two movies I watched recently were &lt;em&gt;Redemption&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;10 Questions with the Dalai Lama&lt;/em&gt;. Of course the Dalai Lama spoke of letting go of attachments. &lt;em&gt;Redemption&lt;/em&gt; was about the originator of the Crips gang who began teaching youth from prison. (I believe) he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize four times. His example of letting go, acceptance in the worst conditions, was inspiring. Even though he had caused his course, he was able to rise above the situation and make a different path for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I occasionally preach that enough is enough. That to be happy, all I need are for my basic needs to be met. In the Dalai Lama movie, the narrator talks about observing the poor and how they seem happier than some of the rich. The Dalai Lama said it is because they have less expected of them: fewer bills, less demands, less stress. I agree. Even though my needs are small, I feel rich with the knowledge of having enough, knowing I’m always cared for. And with that comes peace.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/6092609878893262602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/6092609878893262602' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6092609878893262602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6092609878893262602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/10/letting-go-of-attachments.html' title='Letting Go of Attachments'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuk7i6TfyrTikHh50_xczKX1pXQl4H87QW5waueOZ_eSc7ls7wteaXYvnuy_eu1UYPRZfvoTuKuQxRMs3QyFtqgQbtO36RNhJCNyUpoR7tGOexWPubqb7mtx1Y51FUOmg-acIcKXPqBMK/s72-c/000_0079.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-6799477758521146292</id><published>2007-09-25T08:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:02:19.094-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="change"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="creativity"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="freedom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="passions"/><title type='text'>Doing Whatever it Takes</title><content type='html'>Many times since I stopped publishing &lt;em&gt;Evolving Woman&lt;/em&gt; I have thought of new projects to start. You know, that book I’ve never quite finished, a new workshop or seminar, post a Web site. Usually, I’m too busy to even think about them, let alone start working on one. I knew these things were my passions, but I didn’t have the energy to pursue them. Or I thought they would take too long to reach fruition. I finally realized I had to be stable, secure, and want it badly enough to be at a place where I could go forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t necessarily mean stability in a financial sense. When I had a stable, predictable income I couldn’t move forward. The job was so demanding, my time and energy so limited, that there wasn’t a way to move forward.  But I do believe we must have the stability of a secure income to pursue our dreams—otherwise, the worry over money negatively affects the process. So, for me, I’ve decided it’s a matter of wanting it badly enough, then doing whatever it takes. Which for me includes a stable income, but one that has less demands on my energy and time so that I am free to pursue my passions with patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning: the following includes blatant self-promotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this realization I’ve taken on the three aforementioned projects with zeal. I’ve posted a Web site promoting my writing services, workshops and syndicated content: &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.duttoncommunications.com/&quot;&gt;Dutton Communications&lt;/a&gt; (yes, click on that link and check it out). I’ve almost finished that book and plan to publish it first as an e-book. I’m in the process of creating a workbook, which I’ll sell as an e-book as well, but is really a tool for a new workshop I’m creating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years now I have been paring down, simplifying my life. I eliminated anything that did not serve a purpose. I let go of so many attachments that at times I felt naked, but in doing so I created a space for new growth. And now, I feel that I finally have the freedom to create.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/6799477758521146292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/6799477758521146292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6799477758521146292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/6799477758521146292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/09/doing-whatever-it-takes.html' title='Doing Whatever it Takes'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829799560901790929.post-5295790187428714058</id><published>2007-08-02T11:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T08:15:24.865-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boundaries"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="choices"/><title type='text'>How to Raise a Grown Child</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQh818EBc5KNWpHwhNGE-DMdVfpNVwzJLHifLc9pIqFxnGzE_GhX629qk9X3lrIu4Xsvf1Xbio-Ux1CxTrkSo0pu35R1h9GatVCEb_APuCNktWvXtZMraGbNTP71u_ASEwAwzV_RfIiLHV/s1600-h/000_0250.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095945888199217346&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQh818EBc5KNWpHwhNGE-DMdVfpNVwzJLHifLc9pIqFxnGzE_GhX629qk9X3lrIu4Xsvf1Xbio-Ux1CxTrkSo0pu35R1h9GatVCEb_APuCNktWvXtZMraGbNTP71u_ASEwAwzV_RfIiLHV/s320/000_0250.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQh818EBc5KNWpHwhNGE-DMdVfpNVwzJLHifLc9pIqFxnGzE_GhX629qk9X3lrIu4Xsvf1Xbio-Ux1CxTrkSo0pu35R1h9GatVCEb_APuCNktWvXtZMraGbNTP71u_ASEwAwzV_RfIiLHV/s1600-h/000_0250.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of my daughters, Christina and Tara are in their 20s. Two completely different girls, I admire different strengths in each of them. Christina, loving mother, shows strength and determination I have rarely seen. Tara, the visionary, exudes an enthusiasm and sweetness few possess. Each has struggles and conflicts to maneuver. As a mother, I worry about them both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dilemma is how do I positively influence my children without infringing on their personal boundaries or pushing them away? I am of the belief that each child is her own person, free to make her own decisions and mistakes. My hope is that I may positively present options so they can choose their appropriate paths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I’m finding myself doing (much to my dismay) is acting in a similar way to the medical profession: I find myself providing crisis intervention rather than teaching my children preventative techniques on which to build the foundation of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I’m curious—how do you think we can aid and influence our grown children? Should we interfere or let them make their own mistakes? Is there a way to positively show our life experiences without their feeling threatened? Can our children ever clearly see the mistakes we’ve made so that they might learn from them in advance—or are they destined to experience them on their own?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/feeds/5295790187428714058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2829799560901790929/5295790187428714058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5295790187428714058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829799560901790929/posts/default/5295790187428714058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evolvingwomanmagazine.blogspot.com/2007/08/how-to-raise-grown-child.html' title='How to Raise a Grown Child'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05670353654628541159</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWHIEyruJP32vr21MSGlG249KbpgbrObaQz2bzzUA6cDHSrterFGlqxYQbH5RX3-IobomgKvRw4gcGH1ZPb3Tfa_wPeVm8GLzOjYIBr7L6DQskZ9udslOHWOoum-Zxh0/s220/IMAGE06.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQh818EBc5KNWpHwhNGE-DMdVfpNVwzJLHifLc9pIqFxnGzE_GhX629qk9X3lrIu4Xsvf1Xbio-Ux1CxTrkSo0pu35R1h9GatVCEb_APuCNktWvXtZMraGbNTP71u_ASEwAwzV_RfIiLHV/s72-c/000_0250.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>