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Creativity

5 Ways to Let It Flow

“The mind is like a river, and, as with a river, there’s no point in trying to stop its flow.” – Mingyur Rinpoche

You know when you get into a groove, you just want to keep on going. You might say you’re “in the flow,” “going with the flow,” “in your sweet spot,” or some other catchy phrase.
It feels good.
You want it to continue.
Why don’t you let it?
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Habits

Got Stress? If Your Glass Is Always Half Empty — Get a Smaller Glass!

In this day and age, if you are not familiar with being “stressed out” on occasion, you better check your pulse because you may not be breathing.

Nonetheless, most of us experience stress as a consistent, pesky little inevitability that follows us around throughout the day, gnawing away at our nerves and testing our patience. Others experience it as severe anxiety which can become serious and debilitating. But no matter how you slice it, unless you are living in a cave, stress will always find you.


Now, what if at times we had some say over how stress affects us? What if we could alter our perspective and see things differently? What if we could develop new eyes despite our current circumstances remaining the same?
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Ethics & Morality

In Times of Tragedy — How Do We Cope?

While I try to keep up with current events in the United States and the world, I am the first to admit I often stay away from the news -- especially these days. If I pay too much attention to our country's problems and issues, it affects me to the point where I can't function well. And then what good am I to anybody? So I have chosen to pay attention to the news -- just enough to be informed, but not enough to interfere with living a good, productive life.

But lately I find myself glued to the television news reports about the disaster in Texas. I've never seen anything like it in my life -- flooding beyond belief -- with so many people displaced and in need of help. Devastation on so many levels.
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Anxiety and Panic

Requiem for a Nightmare


I am a recovering praise fiend.  

As a little boy, I would sprint home and unload my day’s events to my nonplussed mother.

“Hi, Mom, I earned an A on my English paper,” I would gush. And then my tone would drop an octave, “But I earned a B on that math quiz.” Dropping my head, I would then sulk to the kitchen table. That B would invoke a night of heavy soul-searching and, at times, self-flagellation (“What happened? How could I get a B on that math quiz?”). While amusing now -- in an awkward, semi-embarrassed way, my self-reporting entailed more than a daily academic update. It represented my unquenchable thirst for praise.
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Grief and Loss

You Won or Lost: Here’s How to Get Over It and Move On

“Winning and losing are both very temporary things. Having done one or the other, you move on. Gloating over a victory or sulking over a loss is a good way to stand still.” – Chuck Knox
I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being stuck. When something goes wrong -- meaning, I’ve made a mistake -- it’s a personal setback, to be sure. I don’t like it, but I’m not going to dwell on it any longer than necessary.

Similarly, once I’ve attained a
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Happiness

Why It’s So Important to Hold On to Hope

Five years ago, I wrote about the correlation between expectations and happiness -- lower your expectations and you will be happier -- reign in expectations and stress and despair won’t be prominent when life does not go according to plan. And perhaps there is a semblance of truth to that notion.

But here’s where it’s nuanced. With diminished expectations, we chip away at hope. And how can we not hope for a better tomorrow? I consider myself to be someone with spirit. I become excited when I have an idea. I look forward to experiences and anticipate memorable ones. And while it’s important to cope when such experiences fall through, I think it’s even more important to hold onto what was originally present -- that sense of hope.
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Bipolar

Mania: The Side Effect of Genius

The first psychiatrist I had ever met listened to me prattle on for about 15 minutes before she interrupted me, scowling:

"You have bipolar disorder, type 1."

And there, that was it. I was 21 years old. I didn't even question her as blurry memories of months of chaos filled my mind. I already knew my own diagnosis. But I hadn't bothered to absorb it, or think about it, until she stated it, in terms that sliced the air like one of my pocket knives.
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