Category Archives: hope

Sunset Reflections

Written on the gold-speckled beaches of Coronado, San Diego
Written on the gold-speckled beaches of Coronado, San Diego

The softest sand I’ve ever felt nips between my toes

Like the downy stroke of a newborn calf

Nostrils open onto untold worlds: Salty and filled with coconut tears

I lift my soul to the sea, allowing it to thrush through my veins

Leaving markers behind, as soft whispers tend to do

I am Aphrodite with gossamer wings: Fragile but beautiful

With power burnt deep into hollow bones

Move me with your persistent trick

Your silent cry for timeless mercy

Take my hollow bones and make them your temple

So they may be fragile and weak

No more.

The Lip Balm Revolution: Gratitude Never Looked So Good

The Lip Balm Revolution: Gratitude Never Looked So Good

**Side effects may include increased happiness, gratitude, and luscious lips.

If you’re like me, when asked the classic “You’re stranded on a desert island and can only have three items with you” question, you always start with: “well, lip balm, of course!” (Because nothing says survival like a glossy lip.) If this is you, then I invite you to join my Lip Balm Revolution!

The revolution rules are simple: Keep a lip balm in your pocket at all times. Wait, what? You don’t ALWAYS wear pocket-ful attire? What are you, a HEATHEN? Fine. I suppose you can also carry it in your purse/briefcase. (Sidebar: Why is it called a briefcase? Isn’t that rather reductive? Can’t it be a stuffcase? As in: “Hey guys, check out my new stuffcase! The case holding all my stuff!” But I digress.) Okay, so back to the rules. Keep a lip balm on you at all times. In the morning, dedicate said lip balm with something you are grateful for. Then every time you re-apply throughout the day, remind yourself of what you’re grateful for. And that’s it! A simple, effective way to start implementing gratitude into your daily routine. And as we learned from my recent post, practicing gratitude increases happiness, health, and general well-being, and lowers stress, anxiety, and sleep issues.

But what’s that? You want MORE? You want to not only incorporate gratitude, but also try and encourage a more positive mindset? Well aren’t you ambitious! Enter what I have dubbed the “Lip Slip” challenge.

To do the Lip Slip challenge, all you need is one lip product you absolutely ABHORE. Maybe it’s the one that leaves a sticky, waxy cast behind– kind of like you just made out with a crayola crayon. Or the tinted balm with the frosty undertone that makes you look like you just sucked down a box of powdered donuts. Or for you high-achieving competitive types who like to push yourselves, pick a lip stick in a truly atrocious color. (Talk about upping the ante, fellas!) Now keep it with you. And every time you notice that you are complaining without even a hint of a solution for said problem in sight, WAH-WAH! You have committed a Lip Slip. (The lesser known evil of what happened to Janet Jackson at the SuperBowl Halftime show. Hey-o!) Your punishment? To put on your dreaded Lip Slip product. Keep it on until you’ve found a way to turn that negativity on its head. (Upside: Depending on how brave you were with your selection, this may produce so much embarrassment that you will TOTALLY think twice before committing another Lip Slip! Downside: If you’re a husky 6 foot rugby player walking around in a marsala red lip, you may have some ‘splainin’ to do.)

This holiday season, my Lip Balm Revolution choice is: The organic (and vegan) Tinted Cinnamon Lip Balm from Hurraw! (Because who DOESN’T feel like cheering after remembering what they’re grateful for?!) Or my all-time favorite (non-tinted AND super affordable) lip balm: Dr. Bronner’s Organic Lip Balm in Peppermint. (Find it here on Pharmaca and use their daily coupon code for additional 15-30% off!) And as for my Lip Slip challenge? I’m thinking either old-lady orange or sour-grape purple. <Shudder.> I’m a nude lip gal, so these “fashion forward” shades put the fear of mod in me. (See what I did there?)

Join me in the revolution! If you do, be sure to tag me on Instagram @KaitlynGGuay. Have a Lip Slip? Laugh about it! Snap a pic, tag me, and use #LipSlip.

Hoping this was of (lip) service!

Wax on,

The Foda

In The Mood for Gratitude

In The Mood for Gratitude

I have a confession to make, you guys. I… man, this is hard. Okay. Here goes. I… am not a super hero. (Pause as you gasp.) I know, I know. It was a shock to me, too. But when I got struck down 4 1/2 years ago with a horrific case of neurological Lyme Disease, I really thought that due to my penchant for healthy living and discipline, I’d be bouncing back at such a rate as to alarm and awe my doctors. How did she do it, they’d say in amazement as I came bounding into my follow-up, bright orange sneakers making me look like Barry Allen (The Flash) as I zipped to and fro.

Sidebar: Where exactly is fro? And why do I want to go there?

Anyway, spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. I’ve done everything “right” and I’m still sick. (Insert chorus of knowing voices telling me that bad things happen to good people. Worst. Platitude. Ever.) Needless to say, there was a time when I was NOT, as the title of this piece states, in the mood for gratitude. I was angry. Bitter. Crying on my couch, too exhausted to make so much as a bowl of cereal, remembering my marathon days with a “why-God-why” tempered anger. You can picture it, can’t you? Yeah. T’wasn’t pretty. But I mention it because, hey, I’m human. It was part of my grieving process. And there are still days when I find myself feeling angry and resentful that this happened to me. But then I remember that I’m not a victim. I’m a warrior. And this shiz? Is getting turned around.

You see, I can either bemoan what I don’t have, or work with what I do. And to do that, I have to make an effort to become aware of what exactly I DO have to work with. That, my friends, means gratitude. And here’s how I do it.

I use The Five-Minute Journal. A genius invention. Genius, I say! Simply put, it asks me to write down three things I’m grateful for every morning, followed by three things that would make my day great. It rounds off by asking me to write down my intention for the day. Bing, bang, boom. Fill in the blank. Five minutes or less. (There’s also a reflective section you’re meant to fill in at night, but full disclosure, I often forget to do it. Eep!) I do this before breakfast every morning, and I’ve noticed a HUGE difference in my mental/emotional health. By taking the time to recognize what I’m grateful for and what I want to prioritize that day, it eliminates so much negative (and avoidable) stress. That’s the power of setting a daily intention. It gives you focus. A path. A place to direct the warrior spirit inside of you. I’ve NEVER been able to maintain a journaling practice– (so many New Year’s resolutions foiled!)– but this gives me the structure I need. And having a set time every day is essential. Can’t eat breakfast until I do the journal. And guys? I LOVE breakfast.

So why should we start our days with getting in the mood for gratitude? Simple. It quite literally affects your brain, which in turn, affects your entire body. People who practice gratitude have better energy, more determination, and have been shown to have less physical pains than people who don’t. (For a 30-year-old like me who has Lyme-induced rheumatoid arthritis, do you think this last one’s a factor? Um. YEAH.) Oh, and it also lowers anxiety and depression by helping you sleep better. Score!

For all the science– and a witty read– check out this great article: “The Grateful Brain.” Or, you know, take my word for it.

So what are you waiting for? Get in the mood for gratitude! And for all you winners who read to the end of this article? I am grateful for YOU. Welcome to the tribe, my friend!

Here’s to you,

The Foda

** Feeling inspired? You can find The Five-Minute Journal here.

Unlocking the Wisdom Within

Unlocking the Wisdom Within

Today’s Words of Wisdom:

“Know Thyself.”


Have you ever just known something? Like, there you are, walking down the street, and then, BAM. You find yourself open-mouth fogging a storefront window over the fully automated R2D2 replica inside that you know will change your life.

No? Just me?

Fine. Maybe lusting after battery-operated toys isn’t your thing. (Or maybe it is. Heh. Heh heh. Oh, yes, I went there.) But you can’t deny the existence of things like gut instinct. Intuition. That tingly feeling on the back of your neck when you’re in a dark alley in a bad part of town and you just know you’re being watched. (Or you’ve just watched too many bad TV dramas and have an acute imagination. I cannot relate to this at all. Ahem.)

We get these signals because– I hate to break it to you, folks– but your subconscious? Is smarter than you are. It KNOWS things. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But it does. The good news is, once you learn how to tune in, you can know things too! The bad news is, it’s sometimes hard to tell when you’re fabricating that wise Yoda sitting half-lotus in your brain telling you: “Eat that last brownie, you must.” So how do we unlock the wisdom within? Simple. Just TAG it!

1) Trust yourself. We are all walking around with untapped wisdom inside of us. But before we can unlock it, we have to trust that it’s there. We are all wiser than we think. (With the possible exception of whoever came up with the character Jar Jar Binks. That person may be coming back as a slug. Just sayin’.)

2) Ascertain the cosmic importance of the question you’re asking. (If you’re pondering whether to swipe the last sticky bun, I’m pretty sure you don’t need any special intrinsic wisdom to help you out. But if you’re contemplating leaving a job you hate, taking a new path, leaving a relationship, or trying to find new ways of healing, that sounds like a job for the wisdom widget in your noggin! (Sidebar: how awesome would that be??!! To, say, tug on your earlobe to activate the widget, and shazam! Instant wisdom infusion.)

3) Go with your gut. Also known as: Don’t overthink it. ‘Nough said.

Trust. Ascertain. Go with Gut. TAG! You’re it!

Bottom line, we all have a beautiful innate wisdom within us yearning to help us make the most of our precious lives. We just have to learn to listen. We have to WANT to listen. So often, we get beat down by life- whether it’s from an acute, chronic illness like mine, destructive relationships, bad childhoods, you know the drill. Sometimes we get so beat down that we begin to think we don’t deserve to be blissfully out-of-our-mind happy on a daily basis. So we don’t listen to our voice of wisdom. Because we don’t think we deserve the rewards it has to offer. But we do.

So I’d like to leave you with this: what question have you been struggling with finding the answer for?

TAG! You’re it!

Love and Light,

The Foda

Why You Should Live Like a Tramp

Why You Should Live Like a Tramp

Oh, whoops, did my title cut off? That’s supposed to say “Why You Should Live Like a Trampoline.” Silly me. (My most humble apologies to anyone who clicked through with the notion I was plugging promiscuity. Saucy minx.) But I digress.

So, let’s jump right in! Why SHOULD you live like a trampoline? Three reasons.

  1. Trampolines are fun. Enough said.
  2. They’re good for your health. (All my chronically ill warriors out there, check out “rebounding” to help restoratively combat muscle deterioration, improve circulation, and give you those feel-good endorphins!)
  3. They give back. You put energy in, and it gifts it right back to you, rewarding you with a few seconds of: “I’m flying! Take that, gravity! Suckaaaa!!” This is the point I’d like to focus on.

Step-by-Step Tutorial for How To Live Like a Trampoline:

Step One: Put good energy in.

Step Two: Rebound said good energy back into your world.

Step Three: Repeat.

Simple, right? It really all comes down to this: we are all energetic creatures. Everything around us is energy. That desk. Your coffee. That poodle. It’s all made up of teeny tiny molecules moving so fast, we can’t see it. We just see the solid desk. The liquid coffee. The drooling poodle. (D’joh!) But it’s all energy, and so are we. So let’s feed our world the way we feed our bodies: with the best fuel possible. After all, like attracts like… and if you get out what you put in, then wouldn’t you rather put in only the good stuff? Like love, joy, and– the most crucial for anyone struggling with a chronic illness– gratitude?

Today, give it a try. Imagine yourself as a trampoline. Set your intention, like Dr. Wayne Dyer tells us in his book “The Power of Intention,” to only see the good: the good in others, the good in your world, the good in the tiniest minutiae of your day. Then, gift it back. Become a beacon for light and love. Someone stressing you out at work? Try only letting yourself see the good in them. Your drive-you-crazy in-laws about to descend? Try only letting yourself see the good in them. Too sick to finish your to-do list? Try only letting yourself focus on the good you did accomplish.

Like all things, this is far easier than it sounds. But, so what? We’re only focusing on the good it will bring! So try it with me. Live like a tramp. (Heh. Had to.) Just for one day. Let’s see what happens.

Booooiiiinnnnggggg!!!!! Love and Light Comin’ Atchya!

The Foda

Giving Yourself Permission when Your World is in Pieces

Giving Yourself Permission when Your World is in Pieces 

Picture this. You’re a confident, self-sufficient Homo Sapien. Poised. Driven. Ready to take over the world with a wave of your hand. But then, BOOM. Life happens. Suddenly, you’re sick. Depleted. Dependent on the good will of others. And while relying on the kindness of strangers may have worked well for Blanche Dubois, you’re not so enamored with the concept. You become desperate. Smaller. A beaten warrior, trying vainly to keep going when all your resources have been plucked from you without so much as a “by your leave.”

How do you feel after reading this? Have your shoulders hunched up? Is your neck tense? Are you angry? Indignant? Sad?

This is what a person living with a debilitating chronic illness goes through every day. We wake up, and for one brief, shining moment, we’re the person we once were. Confident. Driven. Poised to seize the day. And then it hits us. We’re not that person anymore. And this knowledge can be just as crippling as the illness raging within our bodies.

So what’s a life-long optimist to do? We don’t want to become bitter and hateful, becoming a victim, spouting off why the world owes us. We want to thrive. To rise above the illness. To be the strong warrior others can look at and say: “Wow. You inspire me.” So we search for a new purpose. A new way for our lives to matter. Perhaps it’s exploring a new passion, or focusing on the little moments with your family. But then, just as you start your transition into Redefining You, that voice appears. The one in your head that tells you: “you’re not doing enough.” That compares you now to you then. That holds up a measuring stick comparing you to “normal” people.

Man, I hate that voice. It does me no good. I call mine Charmaine. (Mainly because I love alliterations, and saying: Shut up, Charmaine!! just trips off the tongue so satisfyingly.) But I digress.

I give that nasty voice in my head a name because I want to be able to call her out when she tells me that I’m not good enough. That I should be able to push through the crushing fatigue, or handle this emotional rollercoaster better. Charmaine doesn’t help me. But lately, I’ve learned how to banish her to the top of a dragon-guarded ivory tower. (Take that, Charmaine!)

My weapon of choice? Simple. Permission. Instead of beating myself up when my illness places limitations on me, I give myself permission. I quite literally say: “I give myself permission to…”

Take a break. To listen to my body. To push myself a little farther, and then be proud of myself when I have to lie down, instead of being angry that I’m so depleted. I give myself permission to be sad or angry or frustrated when I’m feeling particularly bad, and permission to be happy in spite of how hard my life is. I give myself permission to enjoy the little things, to notice the blessings in my life. I give myself permission not to compare who I am now to who I was then. (And I give myself permission to tell that charlatan Charmaine to shut the hell up!)

It may sound silly, but often, what we really need is to allow ourselves to be who we are and do what we must without judgement or guilt. After all, our lives are already hard enough. So let’s be proud of what we accomplish. Let’s celebrate the warrior within us. Let’s give ourselves permission to embrace our own beautiful humanity in all its mess and imperfection.

And as for that jerk Charmaine? Tell her to take a hike.

What about you? What do you give yourself permission to do today?

Love and light,

The Foda

What No One Tells You About Asking for Help

What No One Tells You About Asking for Help

What no one tells you about asking for help when you desperately need it is that most people? Actually REALLY want you to.

I know. Step back. You’re probably remembering your friend Shirley right now who scoffed in your face when you asked her something painfully mundane, like, to pass the salt, thinking, “Shirley definitely doesn’t want me to ask her for help!” Well surely there are Shirleys out there who are shameful charlatans when it comes to helping humankind. (Yes, I do enjoy dropping alliterations behind me like a trail of bread crumbs, thanks for noticing!) But Shirleys of the world aside, most people are good and caring at heart. (My most sincere apologies to any readers out there who are actually named Shirley. I’m sure you’re lovely.)

So if people are so willing to help, what is the real issue? Why do we all feel that lump of pride sheepherding our pleas of need back down our gullets before they get within two inches of the atmosphere?

I have news for you. It’s not them. It’s you. (Okay, sometimes it’s them. RE: Shirley.) But most of the time it’s because we don’t know how to ask.

This past week, I needed help. My husband Mandalf was leaving on a much needed respite, and I had no one to help take care of me. Ugh. I still retch in my mouth a bit at that thought. Needing someone to take care of me at thirty. But I digress.

So I swallowed my pride and reached out to an amazing group of women, plainly asking them to take time out of their busy lives and come stay with me. I had not one, but THREE “hell, yes!” responses, and a fourth couldn’t take off work, but generously loaned her car since ours would be hanging out at JFK airport.

Flash forward a week later to when they arrived, and I found out they had always wanted to help. They just didn’t know what I needed. Because I NEVER ASKED FOR IT.

Immediate interior monologue: “You mean all this time, all those years when I felt so isolated, so cut off from the world because of a disease that kept me housebound, it was all because I didn’t know how to plainly put out what I needed? Gah! Pesky pride! A pox on your house… wait. I am the house. Scratch that…. Be gone, ye scallywag! Pesky pride. <Snort.>” 

Asking for help is hard. When you’re chronically ill, you’re assailed with tsunami-force waves of guilt. Feeling like a burden. Feeling like you should be able to handle it on your own. Feeling angry at yourself that you can’t swallow this life-altering illness with complete ease and grace.

(Newsflash: You’re human. Not a droid. Although I suspect C-3PO wouldn’t be able to handle it either… super whiney, am I right? I, myself, am a die-hard R2D2 fan.)

So think about what you really need. And if you’re ready, try opening up. Be vulnerable. Let the world in. I promise, it won’t run shrieking like a kid from a haunted house. People really DO want to help. You just need to tell them how.

Until next time,

The Foda

You Have a Gift to Give the World

I have a gift to give to the world. 

Say that out loud. I have a gift to give to the world. Now spin around three times in front of a mirror and when you open your eyes, you will see…

Han Solo standing roguishly next to your very own Mini Cooper!!!

Just kidding. You’ll see you.

But if you do see a royal blue Mini Cooper with white racing stripes, well, DIBS! But I digress.

I’ve been MIA for the past month because my stomach- forevermore dubbed “the Sarlacc”- decided to turn into the pit of Carkoon, and not accept anything other than broth and bread without violently spitting it back out. This caused me to go off all my medication, with the exception of two lovely bicillin shots a week (which, if you don’t know, go straight in your rump. Yowza!) And yet, as the huge quantities of medicine fled my system like Sand People spying a Krayt Dragon, my head began to clear, and I- despite the whole living on broth part- began to feel more like, well, ME.

Which is great, because on top of my newest affirmation “Surrender is Freedom”, as mentioned in my last post (click here to read), I have a new one.

I have a gift to give the world.

Now, this one is huge. Because to give a gift, you have to have something to give. And when you’re struggling with a chronic illness, you often feel so depleted, so desecrated, that you have nothing left even remotely worthy to offer the world. This usually spurs a kind of self-loathing. And I am going to be really honest with you, folks– until attending a transformative conference at the Omega Institute, I had a lot of that self-loathing.

Enter interior monologue: I am weak. My body is crippled. I am a burden to all around me. I have nothing to offer. I am helpless. Useless. I will never be of value again until I am healed. 

Feel the indignation as you read those words? You probably wanted to smack me upside the head and say: “now, wait just a dang minute! That’s plumb crazy talk!” (Oh, you’re also a character out of a Clint Eastwood Western… apparently.)  And you’re right. It is crazy talk. But it was the tape running through my head, until I realized…

Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I can’t love myself. Because I have gifts to give the world. And they have nothing to do with whether or not my legs work. They have nothing to do with whether I need a wheelchair to go out, or my husband to drive me places. Because who I am– my purpose, my value– transcends far beyond my body’s limitations.

I have a gift to give the world. And you know what? You do, too.

Well, dang, don’t that feel good. So go on. Find yours. Give yourself a celebratory hand gun salute. (Literally. Literally hand-gun. As in imaginary guns made out of your thumb and index finger. Just to be clear.) So ask yourself. What is your gift?

Yee-haw! (Pshew, pshew, pshew!) <—- Firing into the air

The Foda

Surrender is Freedom

Surrender is Freedom.

A month ago, surrender was a dirty word. Filthy. The kind that makes your mama wash your mouth out with soap. “Surrender?!” Month-old me would scoff, brows knit together in disgust. “I’m not a quitter,” I would have stipulated vehemently. “I will NEVER give up.” 

Because that’s what the word surrender meant to me. Quitting. Giving up. Letting this Lyme disease win, giving it free reign to decimate my body piece by piece like a blood-crazed Wampa snow beast.

And then I went to a weekend conference at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY, called “Living Well with Lyme Disease.” Believe you me, I was terrified. I had no idea how I’d make it through a whole weekend when I was too sick to leave my house most days. How would I survive? So I swallowed my pride, and climbed into the wheelchair I abhor, knowing it was the only way. So much happened that weekend, which is a whole other post in itself, but a huge take-away for me was how to heal my heart. How to put the pieces of my shattered identity back together, so that when my body does recover, I won’t still be broken; a wounded warrior.

I’ve tried for years to do all the tried and true methods: meditation, positive affirmations, etc. They never stuck. And I realized, it was because you can’t use just any positive affirmation. You have to find YOURS. And mine was not remotely what I’d thought it would be.

Surrender is Freedom.

WHAT??!! Are you crazy? Shouldn’t it be, like, I am loved, safe, and cherished,  or I am getting stronger every day, or something like that?

No. Surrender is Freedom.

<At this point, a stern Yoda puppet comes and raps me on the knuckles with his staff, muttering, “You must un-learn what you have learned….”>

And suddenly, surrender isn’t a dirty word. Because it doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let this disease take me down without a fight. It means I can see what actually belongs in my realm of things to work on, and what is just a waste of time and energy, because it will never, and can never be mine to control. It means I can stop berating myself for needing a wheelchair to get around, or judging myself when I can’t accomplish as much in a day as I’d like. It means I can be kind to myself.

Surrender is Freedom.

Now, you may read this phrase and viscerally reject it. You may, as I did, have the urge to spit on your screen, or yell all Luke Skywalker style: “That’s not true! That’s impossible!” But that may change. Because we all hold onto things that aren’t serving us anymore. Things that hurts us, that we’re scared to let go of, because we’d rather feel a familiar pain than the unknown. I don’t surrender my fight for health. But I do surrender what is no longer serving me, the thoughts that judge me harshly, the worry that keeps me from doing things, that paints my world in tones of fear, that crushes my spirit.

Surrender is Freedom.

And perhaps, there’s something you’d like to let go of, too. Go ahead. Throw it up. Let it go. I promise you. It feels freaking amazing. Just don’t let it hit you in the head on the way down.


The Foda

“Will Power Hour”

Will Power Hour

Today’s Words of Wisdom:

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”

~Mahatma Gandhi

The Foda’s Take: Gandhi, man! A gift to the world that just keeps on giving. For example, today he taught me a new word. Indomitable: Impossible to subdue or defeat. Which may have prompted a moment where I went to brush my hair and yelled at the baby-fine locks at my temples: “You cowlicks are indomitable!” But I digress.

Good morrow, fine people! Today we shall dissect… <drum roll, please>…..

Will power. Not to be, ahem, conceited or anything, but I’ve got it. I’ve had to have it. As anyone with a chronic illness knows, you have to commit yourself one hundred percent to doing everything within your power to get well, no matter how unpleasant. Like drinking activated charcoal. (Which– for those of you who don’t know– tastes, I’d imagine, very similar to bantha fodder.)

So with such a plethora of finely honed will power at my disposal, you can imagine how frustrated I can get when– like yesterday– my brain is set on GO-GO-GO but my body is lying prone on the couch, stubbornly refusing to move its “feels-like-they-weigh-ten-thousand-pounds” limbs. Which naturally spurred me into a state of “AAARRRGGGGGG!!!!” all Charlie Brown fumbling-the-football style.

But then today I woke up. (Yes, I’m being both literal and figurative.) Because as I shuffled to make my morning breakfast, body already feeling like the tin man rusted over, it suddenly dawned on me. Why have I only ever correlated will power with my physical accomplishments? Why not use my abundance of will to empower my brain? And why did that thought bring dread to my very soul?

Which is when “Legally Blonde” Elle Woods popped into my brain and quipped: “What, like it’s hard?” Um… YEAH.

Oh, yes. I’m talking about MINDFULNESS, people. That old nugget.

So this week I’ve decided to incorporate a practice my mother– referred to in this galaxy as Professor Momgonagall— calls “power hour.” It’s something she does once a week with the sole purpose of accomplishing all those annoying “I don’t wanna do it but I have to” kind of tasks. Like the annual cleaning of their basement, where my parents graciously store items for us that won’t fit in our tiny place. (This is significant, because in addition to being allergic to pollen, dander, and dust, my mother is also deathly allergic to clutter. And yet she routinely consents to storing my larger seasonal goods. Which this year prompted the making of an adorable video wherein she displayed my things all Vanna White style to see what I’d like to keep.)

Only the mind can’t just be trained once a week. It needs daily attention. (Needy noggin!) So instead of one power hour per week, I’m going to try logging 10 power minutes per day. Then 15. Then 20. My theory is that with time, I will eventually be able to live mindfully throughout the day.

You see, all the will power in the world is not going to get me better faster. I’m already doing everything I can to heal my physical form. But the mind… that I can work on. So here goes. Power up, people!

Activating Cranial Thrusters,

The Foda