Thanksgiving is tomorrow.   As much as I’d like to feel grateful, I have to settle for cultivating an attitude of gratitude and hoping that the feelings will come later.

It is possible.   For the last few weeks, it’s been difficult to find the words to write.  I am in a dry spell.  I force myself to maintain the discipline of writing because it is a good idea, not because the words flow out of me effortlessly.  I’ve been consumed with self-doubt. I feel confused, lost, adrift on the ocean of life.  I fear the coming storm and feel helpless against it.

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I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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