As we stare down another Fourth of July, I’ve been pondering what it means to be an American on this holiday.
We should be happy with being ordinary, but we are conditioned to strive for more. Good enough is never good enough.
When you let go of control you don’t have to like everything that happens, but you don’t make it worse by focusing all your attention on it and chewing it relentlessly like a dog with a bone.
If I could pick one word from the entirety of the English language whose meaning makes people more miserable than anything else, that word would be “control.”
Recently I discovered what an insidious and cruel form of self-abuse perfectionism is.
On this Memorial Day I’d like to remember not just our fallen military, but the safer, kinder, better America they were fighting for.
Mistakes make us better people, if we recognize them for the learning tools they are.