Dec
15
2008
I was eleven years old, watching The Three Stooges, on a fall afternoon. I heard a loud insistent knock at the back door and, upon opening it, I saw my neighbor, Little Larry, all out of breath and crying. A hunter mistakenly shot his dog Lobo. Lobo was suffering and needed help.
Larry’s family didn’t own a gun and he knew that my Dad did. But I was the only one home and I had played with Lobo. I was torn and afraid and I didn’t want to do it. I just wanted to cry like Larry was, or run from the responsibility. The last thing I wanted to do was to feel my feelings. 
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Oct
18
2007
Sometimes we just need to get good and mad at ourselves. Not a judging or belittling mad, but an empowering mad. The kind of mad that reaches deep for a determination that will not easily die.
The best time to reach deep and channel your anger is when things are looking dire and could go either [...]
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Sep
27
2007
You’ll hate this post unless you’re already enjoying your work or on the verge of that enjoyment. Why? Because I’m going to ask you to fully feel what you are feeling, and for most people, that can be very uncomfortable. But being willing to fully feel everything is the one process that separates the [...]
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