Mindfulness

Mindfulness

We live in a world that worships polish. Perfect photos on Instagram. Seamless podcasts with no awkward pauses. Articles that read like they've passed through a dozen editors. And now, with AI tools that can produce mistake-free writing in seconds, the bar feels even higher. Machines can generate flawless sentences, perfect grammar, and shiny ideas on demand. Meanwhile, I'm over here second-guessing a paragraph, rewriting the same sentence six different ways, and still wondering if "Best" or "Warmly" is the less awkward email sign-off.

Your pull for the week is Temperance, a major arcana card that represents balance, peace, and harmony, as well as patience and the need for moderation. If you feel like your life has been quietly spiraling out of control, then this one's for you. When Temperance pops up in a tarot reading, it's a reminder to analyze your routine to see what needs to be adjusted. If you happen to be overdoing it - or even "underdoing it" - this is your cue to softly land somewhere in the middle.

Many of us coexist with stress on a chronic level-something we often move through rather than address. But small, thoughtful rituals can make a noticeable difference in the day-to-day. If someone in your life could use a moment of calm, or a few well-made tools for simple sensory resets, these gift ideas offer a practical, quietly luxurious way in. You may even want to pick up one for yourself, because modern life, after all, is collectively felt.

Neuroscience and sports psychology (for example, acceptance and commitment therapy) show that anxiety, perfectionism, and fear of mistakes shrink cognitive flexibility and creativity. The more we obsess over results, the more our attention collapses into the future. This focus makes us less present with what is happening now. As mental performance coach Graham Betchart puts it: "Stress is the absence of presence."

In the days leading up to the event, we scramble to keep up with our daily obligations while preparing food, decorating, and traveling. The day itself often flies by, leaving us exhausted and hopefully content. But the day after the holiday can be a letdown. If we enjoyed the festivities, we have to wait another year to repeat the event. When things don't go well, we grapple with disappointment or other complex feelings.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it is a time when we can give thanks for all of the blessings in our lives, but there is no pressure around gifts, maybe just a little anxiety about putting the whole meal together and of course, managing family drama. This Thanksgiving, I was feeling especially grateful for you, the folks who read this column, who along with podcast/radio listeners, and television viewers send me questions and feedback.

You might be holding your breath right now and not even realize it. You are reading these words, but a part of you is likely somewhere else entirely. Most of us live in a state of suspended animation, mentally circling in a vortex of "what-ifs" while our bodies go into autopilot. A single worry triggers a loop, and suddenly you are disconnected from the room you are sitting in and the people you are with.

The holiday season is in full swing, with its parties, get-togethers, and festive feasts. Although it can seem like a season full of endless socializing, the reality is that more people spend the holidays alone. Reasons for this trend vary and can range from the practical (avoiding expensive flight tickets) to the more personal (family conflicts or estrangements). Some people relish the quiet time alone and have created holiday rituals for themselves-crafting,

I have since learned that the most difficult yoga pose is the one which confronts each student's weaknesses head on. Strength poses were no challenge for this student, but perhaps a stretching asana would have been. I have also learned that strength means more than just confronting one's weaknesses; probably the most difficult "asana" of them all is standing on one's own feet, questioning and analyzing for oneself the deeper meaning of asana, yoga, and life.

For more than a decade, I managed the national advertising program for a large life insurance company. During that time, I had an odd secret desire. I wanted to manage national advertising for a coffee company. Why? Because I had already made up the tagline for my imaginary campaign: "The fuel of business." The corporation I worked for (in real life, not my imagination) had a huge headquarters with an excellent cafeteria, with its main attraction being a vast row of gleaming silver coffee machines.

I average around four hours of my day on my phone, checking emails, responding to texts, scrolling social media, and checking the weather. That's four hours I could be spending reading a book, writing an article, learning how to predict the weather, calling a loved one, and doing anything besides checking the time suck and brain rot that is social media sites and messaging apps.

Before the social media era, we super social humans were more than willing to dole out advice to anyone who asked. But with advice being thrown our way every time we pick up our phone, which young people do on average over a hundred times a day, it's easy to feel a bit overwhelmed and confused by the many voices telling us how we should live our lives.

For 22 years, I was a military wife, putting aside my needs to support my husband's career - all for the promise that after retirement, when our children were grown, we'd travel the world together. In 2018, retirement finally came, and not long after, our nearly 25-year marriage crumbled. When his military career ended, it felt like he lost his sense of purpose. I tried to hold things together, but the unhappiness and bitter fights left me drowning, too.

Here's the truth: When it comes to everyday messes, organized people don't necessarily have better habits, they just have different inner dialogue. For example, I'm the type of person who, behind the closed doors of closets, accumulates piles of papers and boxes without shame. Eventually, I reach a point where I can't tolerate those piles (usually, when I need more space for something else). But I know, in the interim, my mess doesn't indict me as a person.