I didn’t attend TEDxEast in New York last week to get a Game Plan column out of it. I went to “fill my well” so to speak, to feed my soul and intellect.

Well, that happened and I even wrote an Unfettered 50 blogpost about it that very night. But what was with me all weekend was how much impact the experience had in opening me and how I needed to share it with my Game Plan readers around the globe.

It’s partly me walking the talk of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which regular readers know informs my life and work daily through its tools of Morning Pages and Artist Dates. The TEDxEast event was, as I say in the column, like a pile of Artist Dates. I plunged in.

Today’s Game Plan: The Need to Invite Provocative, Fresh Ideas

One day I had a conversation with my friend Todd about how some things in business seem to come so easily to him. He has a kind of vision around ideas that I can’t relate to at all and it fascinates me.

So one day not long after that, March 4 to be exact, knowing I was going through a rough patch with an injured knee and the sudden death of a friend, he bestowed a gift from that place where his ability to “see” resides. Knowing it would be something I would consider a bit of a production, he created a Facebook page called “Unfettered 50″ to complement this blog of the same name. He took that first big step out of my hands, unsolicited, in a grand gesture.

How special is that?

It has taken me a while to wrap my head around the concept of the page — community! — and what that means in terms of how I want it to look and feel and be. But today, with a deadline met early, I had a chance to devote some time to my beloved “Unfettered 50″ destination on Facebook.

I would be delighted if you’d go there and “like” it and contribute to it, whether you’re in your 50s or just want to “eavesdrop” on those of us trying to figure it all out. Share something to discuss or just chime in on existing posts.

These beautifully colored feathers you see here represent vibrancy and the freedom to fly, unfettered. Glorious.

Thank you, Todd.

On this day where we celebrate, and sometimes idealize, motherhood, I’d like to take some time to acknowledge those who have done some re-parenting of themselves so as to better find their way in the world.

This is not a knock on mothers, or parents. What it is is recognition that some of us have been brought up by people who had generations of people before them riddled with self-esteem problems. It is perpetuated like a favorite recipe, only instead of coming back to us in the form of a dish that brings us comfort it keeps rearing itself like a club that smacks us around at our most vulnerable times. What it takes to break that kind of cycle is vast self-awareness and then a strength and energy that so few possess.

I’d like to say that if you’ve taken this kind of emotional inventory, one that allows you to not pass it on, but also — and this is critical — not take it out on the people who raised you to the best of their ability, then you are one exceptional human being.  Re-parenting involves getting the voice in your head that says “You’ll never graduate” from a shout to a whisper by not only graduating but excelling in your field. But it also involves pushing that negative voice away when, even in your 40s and 50s, you are trying to accomplish something you find daunting.

Parents who think they’re not good enough are invariably going to send the message to their children that they’re not good enough either. I’ve made a thoughtful choice in my life not to be a parent and I don’t believe it has anything to do with this premise, but perhaps I’m being naive. Perhaps re-parenting was enough parenting for me in one lifetime.

I suspect some are reading this as a criticism of my own parents. It’s not. My mother is an amazing person who thrives on her mothering role and I owe so much of who I am to her. My father is a good man and was the consummate provider. He worked so hard for us. But they’re both human and were brought up by people who cut them down. I like to think somewhere on the other side my grandparents and great grandparents are grateful for those of us who have tried to break some of the self-defeating, emotionally crippling cycles they perpetuated because they didn’t know any better.

On this Mother’s Day, I’d love it if we could put aside the flowery cards and the la-la-la’s for just a few minutes and acknowledge ourselves for being the ones who recognized that something needed to change and did something about it. Looking within with the intent of growth and understanding the people who gave us life is so healthy and ultimately rewarding.

Last Sunday I celebrated Mother’s Day with my mother and sister. We went to a local festival and then laughed and shared over a really good lunch. I feel blessed to have memories like this and will continue to create them as long as God decrees my parents will be with us. Recognizing our parents’ fragility and humanity is a gift and if they’re around long enough it allows us to not just make peace with ALL they’ve given us but to enjoy them in a real way.

I acknowledge myself for getting to this place where glazing over things doesn’t sit well, but real feels so right and loving. Even when it’s hard. Re-parenting may sit right up there with parenting as the most significant accomplishment of our lives.

I end this day, like most days, grateful. But this one gets special mention.

I am grateful that my gut said, “Nancy, after months of nursing your injured knee and body along, you need to feed your intellect and your soul. Take thee to TEDxEast and just be open to receive.”

All day, and I mean all day, this is what I did. Opened my mind and heart. Opened my mouth on the breaks to engage people as we ate lunch and sipped coffee. At this terrific space in The New York Times building with lots of stairs, I allowed myself to be OK with the fact that I can only walk up and down steps one at a time because, hey, I am healing quite nicely from surgery and this is part of the deal — infinite patience.

As I relaxed into my cushy seat for the first of four sessions, I was greeted with an opening talk by Keith Yamashita called “The Other Side of Separation.” I cannot do it justice here, but let me say that it was about loss, connection, fear and love.

Loss. The first talk. Loss.

How could he have known that part of why I needed to be there was to put aside the feelings around the loss of my friend Kevin that continue to haunt me over two months after his sudden death? But that’s the beauty of it, right? The universality that Yamashita knew was in his theme. Undoubtedly it hit everyone in the room in some profound way.

For me it was like permission and space to feel my feelings and be with them. I settled in for the next talk and the next. Thirty in all. So varied in topic and tone. Divided into four categories — the left brain, the right brain, from the inside out and reframe. So thoughtful and rich.

Grateful hardly covers it.

I am grateful to Gillian Grassie for being an indie harpist/singer-songwriter and telling a beautiful story. And I am grateful to artist/architect Maya Lin for creating on a scale that is almost beyond my comprehension. And to Ross Martin, executive vice president at Viacom Media Networks, for completely upending my image of someone in that role by reciting T.S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens. As for 13-year-old Cassandra Lin, I don’t even know what to say about this acclaimed entrepreneur and her idea to turn waste cooking oil into biodiesel that has already helped keep so many families warm.

And these are just a fraction of what I heard today. I am blown away. And grateful to live so close to New York City and its endless, endless stream of spark and crackle.

One of those things in life that so many find cut and dry, I don’t. That would be a college degree. It tends to mean different things to different people, I find. And, unlike so many folks who think some degrees are a waste of time (i.e., Literature, Liberal Arts), I don’t ever think they are. Like anything else in life, there is always something the experience provides.

So here we have the story of the custodian at Columbia University who earned his degree in classics, NBA great Shaquille O’Neal graduating with a doctorate, the CEO of Yahoo getting in all kinds of hot water for lying about his major and my own college experience.

Today’s Game Plan: What Does Your Degree Mean?

I’ve had people express confusion or wonder at how seemingly disparate things come together in my head, but sometimes I even have to question it myself. Somehow Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (the Keira Knightley film version), The Social Network‘s portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg and the killing of Osama bin Laden all brought me to a place of thinking about risk.

The latter includes the fact that I’m currently reading Peter Bergen’s Man Hunt and just watched a show on the Military Channel on the mission to kill bin Laden. Mix the lighter fare of the aforementioned films in there and here’s what you get.

Today’s Game Plan: What’s the Biggest Risk You’ve Ever Taken?

I am, blessedly, not a depressive. I truly can’t imagine the challenges of that existence.

I bring this up now because of last Friday.

It was a day where something so emotionally heavy came over me that it felt debilitating. And I felt like I had no control over it. This was particularly unsettling because I spent years in therapy and the most important thing I learned is that I have control over my moods. I can choose to be in a good mood or a crappy mood. I can choose to control others with those moods. Or not. Almost anyone who grew up in an Italian household knows about the prevalence of this in the culture.

Subsequently, I recognized the behavior in myself and decided to approach each day as the gift that it is. I’ve worked hard to become glass half-full. Some would argue I may have gone over a little too far to the chipper or positive side, but I’m proud of the enormous shift I’ve made. My life is markedly better and I am a better friend, daughter, sibling and professional.

Given all that, last Friday threw me for an emotional loop. It was the culmination of a week where I took a risk that showed me a major change I need to summon the courage to make and one where I was  reliving a life-altering relationship on the pages of my journal in the name of research. I was angry and expressed it in a healthy way. I was surprised by my level of re-engagement with a person who died two months ago. And, ironically, I so wanted him to magically appear because I knew he would be the one person who would get all of this madness. We handled each other’s base level shit in a way I’ve never experienced before. Perhaps because we saw each other’s goodness so clearly that it got us past everything else that surfaced.

Meanwhile, what I also learned in the journals was how often my workouts are stress release. I write about it more than I ever realized, sometimes just a sentence extolling the virtues of a particular day’s exercise regimen. Let’s just say I know its value now. It’s been nearly three months without that outlet and maybe it all caught up with me.

Ordinarily a plan for happy hour with my friends would have been more than appealing, but I bailed, such was my fear of putting them in a position to say the wrong thing. I was swirling in overwhelm. I knew I was way past the point of stopping myself.

Another friend, in an email exchange, asked if I needed a conversation. Of course the answer was yes, but that was not my response. Because what might he say to unleash what was roiling within me? What might come spilling out of my uncensored vitriolic mouth? I couldn’t know. I didn’t want to know.

There was one quick business call I had committed to and the person asked if I was OK. I hedged and said something like, “I could say I’m great, but I’d prefer to be authentic.” So weird for me to not easily put something aside.

What in the world was it? The super moon was more than 24 hours away, so I can’t blame that. I just know it felt like what depressives describe as their typical existence. Overwhelming. Heavy. Paralyzing. I folded into myself. Slept. Read. Watched TV.

I cannot imagine feeling like that on a regular basis. I just can’t. I’m not even sure why I’m writing about it. Perhaps because I promised myself I wouldn’t hold back in these Unfettered 50 posts? And because I never would have admitted to feeling anything that even bordered on depression before?

Oh no, my imperfection is showing again.

I wrote a column dripping with sarcasm this week. It was so angry that it didn’t make it into print but seemed to scare the crap out of a few friends I sent it to. But I must confess that one of the things I love the most about writing twice-weekly for Fox Business is that my editors/producers keep me focused on what my Game Plan column is about — illuminating or inspiring people on “how to live life.”

And so what we have here is the softer — some would argue more effective — version, one that retains the spirit of the column but (frankly) doesn’t begin to express my anger at the lengths some people (many of power) will go to in order to suppress and mock the livelihood of gay people in this nation. It is by far more than fringe and too many of us are quiet about it.

Today’s Game Plan: Indulging Spirit as a Life Goal

I couldn’t help but be saddened by the now-viral video posted to YouTube by Stu Chaifetz, a father who wired his autistic son and sent him to school to find out what was going on there. It made me think about all the people who are in the wrong profession.

Today’s Game Plan: Life Coaching (a Few) Special Ed Teachers

When a book is mentioned to me three times in the span of a week, I take it as a sign. Hello, Fifty Shades of Grey. I downloaded and breezed through two books in the trilogy and am halfway through the third. Here’s the capsule summary of these works sitting atop The New York Times Best Sellers List in several categories: “An inexperienced college student (Anastasia Steele) falls in love with a tortured man (Christian Grey) who has particular sexual tastes.”

Does he ever. This book is filled with sex, so right there it should be no mystery why it has become such a sensation that women are reading it in droves. But there’s so much more to the appeal of this erotic novel and I’ve been thinking about why I haven’t been able to put it down, aside from the obvious.

Back in December when I turned 50, I felt better than I’d ever felt before. Not just physically and emotionally, but sexually as well. There is something about this age that brings not just confidence, but for many of us, a heightened sex drive. Yeeha. What makes us feel more alive than that?

But then in February came my knee injury and the successive deaths of loved ones. My physical limitations and my profound sadness started to take a heavy toll on my productivity and ability to engage in almost anything that wasn’t essential. To say I became disconnected from my sexuality is an understatement. I went into a numb zone.

But then, along came Anastasia and Christian. As I turned the pages and became consumed in their magnetic attraction, it was a nice reminder that my hormones are alive and kicking. I needed to feel on this level. There’s chase, love, possession, obsession, intrigue, passion, awakening, foreplay, pain, risk, trust and — over and over — intense pleasure expressed on its pages. It is not literary genius, but it is alluring and pure and raw.

I’ve also thought about why it’s captured so many women who don’t relate on the level I’ve described here. I have a few theories. An obvious one is the escape it provides. Not to mention (spoiler alert here) that, like it or not, many women in our culture adore the idea of  a man changing because of his love for a woman. To boot, we learn that in the world of dominants and submissives, it is the latter who really hold the power.

But let’s talk more about the erotic element for a moment. In most of the sex in the books, Christian’s first priority is pleasing Ana and he is tantalizingly good at it; her pleasure ultimately brings him satisfaction as well. I believe this is so enticing for women because, sadly, so many have not experienced it.

(A little aside here. Gentlemen, you want to know what women want in the bedroom? Read these books. A woman wrote them. I’m not talking about the rough stuff, although some may want that. I’m talking about the “vanilla sex” this couple has. Christian knows the female anatomy and Ana is all too happy to be his student. Just sayin’.)

This trilogy is filled with push-pull and provides background that explains how the wealthy Christian developed sexual preferences that prompted him to build a playroom and seek out submissives to share it with. The title of the book actually derives from his admission that he is “50 shades of fucked up.” Author E L James  has effectively hooked us in by getting us to empathize with a controlling, tortured man and to root for the smart, in-over-her-head Anastasia to heal him.

What a welcome, titillating diversion it is.