Short and sweet today.

I recently ran across this animated entry on Nina Paley’s blog, and broke out into smile hives:

Lately when I open my eyes in the morning, my “prayer” has been, “Please help me see the small things and appreciate the ordinary today.”  Here’s why.

Since I can remember I’ve wanted to be extraordinary.

In some ways that’s been great.  I’ve lived in foreign countries and learned (kinda) those languages.  I’ve danced on the streets of Aix-en-Provence and the stage of the Metropolitan Opera.  I’ve learned from learned masters, I know how to forgive myself, can confidently improvise in the kitchen, and still rock a one-handed handstand.

In a lot of ways it’s been terrible. For me, “extraordinary” has often been code for a desperate, hopeful plan to special enough to somehow be spared rejection and heartbreak — forever.  Special enough to be brought to the front of the line where I’d be given adoration, trophies, and invitations to prom — forever.

In honor of International Women’s Day 2018, I’ve got another gorgeous video to share with you.

It’s a bit about MY story and why I wrote Feminine Genius, but I believe it speaks to OUR story and why the world so dearly needs the genius (and strength and resiliency and tail-wagging hope) of the FEMININE in all of us.

If you’re thinking of buying a book (or two or ten), scroll down to the bottom, because there are all kinds of bonuses and goodies you might as well get in on.

A couple months ago I joined a dear friend for a week-long working vacation in 80 degree, perfectly sunny Mexico.  I was working on a new online course, Feminine Genius At Work (which will be ready for you soon, so stay tuned).

I’m not kidding with the “working vacation” thing. Really. I got a ton of work done and still had beach walk-and-talks with my friend and lazy afternoon snoozes in the hammock. And a nice little tan. The vacation part of it actually FUELED the working part of it.

Anyway, when I was checking out of the hotel, I spied a little cabinet by the door with a few stacks of books — a traveler’s library.

Ever heard the phrase, “Mind the gap?”

My urban subway, train, and mass transit riders surely will.  It means something like, “Hey, do you see that bit of distance you’ll need to span while transitioning from the stationary platform you’re on to the train itself, about to move swiftly off into the future?  Enough of a gap to twist an ankle, so beware.”

One of my clients recently sent me an (astounding) email, titled, “Don’t mind the gap.”

She shared some pearly wisdom about the uncomfortable transition she is currently in.  I’m not sure she even realizes how powerful it is.

Either way, it’s a treat to share it with you here.