Seeing the groups of runners along the lake training for next month’s Chicago Marathon has brought back memories of my own brief experience as a marathon runner.
More than a decade ago I took on the challenge of completing the Chicago Marathon, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My IT band began burning before I hit the halfway mark, and the pain had me ready to give up in the last mile. I needed to be screamed at, pushed, and nearly carried in order to cross the finish line.
If you’ve ever been laid low by illness or injury, you know how frustrating it is to lie there thinking of all the things you should be doing. You plan how you’ll “catch up.” You make a lot of promises to yourself. Once I feel better, I’ll exercise. I’ll cook more. I’ll go to the beach and sit in the sand. And I’ll balance that with being super productive. I’ll write every day. I’ll do the dishes!
My ex-husband and his new wife were a picture-perfect couple. So much so that they were photographed for the cover of Crain’s Chicago Business magazine. They were featured in an article about how stepparents are supposedly either relegated to support status or are simply invisible.
But his new wife wasn’t invisible. She posed with him and our three children on the front steps of my house — sorry, now their house— as if she had lived there for more than two months.
Today I want to write about falling down.
I fell down ten days ago, struck with a sudden and severe case of vertigo that brought me to the floor, then kept me in bed, unable to lift my head.
When I was able to open my eyes, I scrolled through Facebook and watched a few videos. One was of a woman talking about giving herself permission to fall apart. Another was a Ted Talk about allowing girls to fail.
After learning of my husband’s multiple affairs and years of deceit, I chose to transform my pain by surrendering to it and living in “real time.” I was a spiritual seeker and life-long storyteller, but could I rise above my own story of betrayal to gratefully embrace the present moment?
Gold Medal Winner, Living Now Book Awards
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Finalist, Parenting and Family, 2108 Best Book Awards
Thursday mornings are reserved for my weekly prayer call with my prayer partner, Danny. This week, the weather forecast promised an amazingly perfect summer day, so I suggested to Danny that, rather than talk on the phone, we meet for a bike ride along the lake.
We didn’t need to exchange our usual prayers because, all around us, Mother Nature was in full exaltation: the air was cool, the sky was crisp and blue, the water sparkled. We felt as though we were receiving a prayer rather than giving one.
“My son ran into the bedroom and said, ‘Mom, mom, there’s a man in an orange cape sitting at the table’…I went out into a dining room, and there was a Buddhist monk in full robes, orange robes, sitting at my dining room table. And I was very confused; it was a bit surreal….” Hear more of my conversation with Candice Wu on the Embody Podcast.
I need your help. I am the parent of a teenage girl and lately it’s been hard work teaching her to ignore the voices of the world—voices that say act like this, look like this, think like this; be better, brighter, thinner, smarter!
How do I teach her to listen to the whisper from within when outside voices are so loud and persuasive?
Maintaining independence as a creative soul isn’t easy. There are often doubts to conquer, and a constant barrage of comparisons, distractions, and missteps can have the bravest hearts running for cover. The good news is that we’re never alone. We get to follow the light of writers, artists, and visionaries who have come before us.
Here, ten of them share ways to celebrate the creative process and keep it flowing freely:
As if Monday mornings aren’t challenging enough, this particular Monday required me to appear at the Cook County Courthouse at 9:00 am. It was another steamy day, already 87 degrees, and a crash on the Kennedy slowed traffic to a snail’s pace. The SpotHero parking I paid for in advance turned out to be on Lower Wacker Drive instead of Upper Wacker Drive, which caused me to drive a little like Steve McQueen in Bullitt.
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions