When Old Patterns Pull You Back

There are endless programs, methods, and strategies for shifting from a victim mindset to one of growth. They’ve been around for decades—I know because I’ve been working on that shift for over 40 years. And it has truly been life-changing.

But here’s the thing: I still get caught in spirals. The crises may not feel as dire as they once did, but that almost makes it harder. Without the proverbial 2-by-4 of life smacking me, it’s easy to stay stuck in discomfort instead of pushing for change.

Maybe it’s a lack of steady clients or income. Maybe it’s tight jeans, restless nights, or feeling stiffer and less flexible. Little discomforts pile up until they feel like a wall.

And then, bigger waves hit—like elections. I want dialogue, exploration, connection. Instead, I often find polarization, fear, and attacks. There are glimpses of deeper conversations, but not enough to break the storm.

Post-election, messages pour in urging people to fight, resist, battle. And while I understand that drive, it’s all too familiar to me. Fear and rage, blame and combat—they’re paths I know well, but they aren’t where I want to go.

Here’s what I’ve been sitting with: We’re in a river of change and uncertainty. It’s bigger than any one election or person. I look at the government now and see a massive shake-up. Where it leads—democracy, autocracy, something else entirely—I don’t know.

But fear? That’s a choice. So is fighting.

What feels like a real change for me is staying present. Staying here. Meeting my community—neighbors, friends, strangers—with curiosity and care. It’s like stepping out after a storm, checking who’s okay, seeing where we stand.

These moments can forge deep connections if we let them. I want to meet them with vision, not old survival patterns. And yet, I feel that familiar pull: to blame, to rage, to scream. I catch myself in it. I take a breath.

Yes, we elected a bully. A liar. It’s infuriating.

And yet—stop. Breathe.

What if something can come out of this?

I think back to when my doctors told me there were no options left for me. That was a wake-up call. This moment feels like another quake. It’s clear now: the government—just like the medical system—isn’t going to fix me, my community, or our unique challenges. Systems don’t do that. People do.

Maybe I thought we were ready for big, systemic change. But real transformation isn’t something we demand and wait for. It starts in the daily work, the unglamorous trenches of our own lives.

Change means living more in the unknown than the familiar. It means choosing the present moment over old, comfortable patterns. It means staying open-hearted even when fear tries to take over.

So that’s the work: not on grand systems, but in my own day-to-day. Let me meet this moment with courage. Let me have the heart to do the work.

Waiting For Grace

I don’t know.

I am in an unknown space between the lessons I thought I learned from the past and the stories I made up about the future I wanted.

My stories spook me about what lies ahead.  I don’t think that is helpful.  Because , I don’t know.

Years ago, my medical team gave me a very terrifying outcome.   Death in three to six months.  It’s been almost forty years.  I am still here.

Not because I got rid cancer.  I just decided it wasn’t going to be my focus.  I wanted relationships and living.  Not dying.

Let’s face it, we are all going to die.  At least this body, or vessel is, and it isn’t what defines us.  Our soul.  Our spirit.  Our consciousness.   Our connections. That is our legacy.

I know that and sometimes I still get wonky about an agenda I have.  Like my desire for equality.  My wish that we’d have a woman, President.  My desire not to elect a bully or be the bully. My wish that if I had unlimited resources, I’d pass them on and share the wealth.  That if someone was terrified, I would have the courage to see through the fight and hold a space and shine a light.

I’m still in this shell of flesh and bones. My own created box of stories, beliefs, values and experiences, walls that need to be cracked.

This election did that. 

I don’t like the results.  I can scare myself with the President-elect.  But I don’t want to keep living on fear and fight.

My cancer (s) taught me to be relational and not a victim to old stories.

I feel as though in some ways the cancer is back unless I can listen and be curious and creative instead of hateful and enraged.

Let me bigger than myself.  My ego. My story.

Let me be a fractal that simply keeps surrendering to the unknown and showing up with light shining through.

I may be more reflective and silent for a few days.

I recall Maya Angelou being silent for eight years so she could her find her voice. (and she did)

I don’t anticipate eight years AND I want to hold until I have the capacity to awaken down.  Waking to the wails, the fears, the pain and allow grace to rise and walk me forward. 

Beyond the duality of parties and politics.

I will wait before I judge.

Why Kamala Harris Should Lead

As November 5 approaches, I find myself strongly hoping to see Kamala Harris become President. It’s not just about my fear of another Trump presidency, though I am genuinely terrified of that. More than that, I believe Kamala Harris is the right leader for this moment.

I understand that my thoughts might not change the outcome or influence decisions already made. But writing is how I process the emotions swirling within me during this time of uncertainty and angst.

Many people acknowledge Trump’s flaws but defend him on policy grounds, arguing he’s been good for the economy. Others doubt Kamala’s readiness or feel she’s too tied to Joe Biden. I disagree with both perspectives.

Kamala Harris doesn’t claim to have all the answers or push for blind agreement from those around her. Her understanding of leadership isn’t rooted in domination or control. True leaders in a democracy don’t impose their will—they collaborate, listen, learn, and connect. That’s what Kamala Harris has demonstrated.

Since stepping into the role, she’s shown her ability to rise to the occasion. She’s raised money, rallied people, faced tough questions, and listened. In my experience working with business leaders, I’ve seen that it’s not the smartest or most domineering ones who make organizations thrive—it’s those who understand how to manage differences, value their team’s input, and recognize both strengths and weaknesses. Great leaders know when to admit mistakes and make changes.

I don’t see that in Donald Trump. His lack of humility and accountability, combined with a seeming disinterest in people outside of his circle—especially those who aren’t wealthy, male, or white—is deeply concerning. While I might not fully understand him, his behavior signals a self-centeredness and a fear of failure so profound that he can’t admit any shortcomings, which is frightening to me.

Kamala Harris, on the other hand, has shown that she’s the better leader and, frankly, the better person. I trust that, when it comes to policy and making important decisions, she’ll surround herself with capable, smart individuals whom she will listen to and trust. That’s the kind of leadership we need—not just from a Democrat or a Republican—but from a leader of all people.

Retracing Roots and Rewriting Stories: A Journey of Family, Memories and Reclaiming

Most of this trip was about family and celebrating the life of my Aunt Dot. When her service was planned for October 14 in Harrisonburg, VA, I knew I wanted to be there, representing my mom, who’s 96 and couldn’t travel, and our family. I was surprised at how committed I was to making that happen.

I connected with my cousin Kelly, who lives in Falls Church, VA, and stayed a night with her and her girls. Kelly also drove down to Harrisonburg with me, and it was wonderful to reconnect with her and, through her, with Joyce and Larry.

Driving down, I took the exit to Woodstock, VA—where I had the best memories of Aunt Dot, Uncle Dan, and my cousins. In Harrisonburg, I took an exit that led me right past my grandparents’ old home. I stopped for a moment, just long enough to take a picture and remember.

The service was at St. Stephen’s, surrounded by family—cousins, grandnieces, and grandnephews. It was so rich to reconnect in person after so many years. We’ve kept in touch over the past year through what we call the “Arey Facetime” call, started to connect the siblings—Dot, Don, Larry, and my mom, Bernie. I wasn’t a regular, but I really appreciated my cousin Erick’s effort to keep it going.

The service reminded me of Aunt Dot’s generous spirit and her lifelong commitment to helping people. I hadn’t been to a formal church service in quite some time, so the hymns, prayers, and homily felt nostalgic. The best part, though, was Forest, who’s about 9, rolling a matchbox truck across the pews. It warmed my heart—I remember doing the exact same thing at his age. I loved how warmly everyone received him.

The after-gathering was meant to be a bonfire and pizza, but the real surprise came when I wandered off track and found Kline’s Ice Cream—my father’s favorite. There’s a story behind that because he once requested that his ashes be put there. Naturally, I grabbed a couple of pints to bring to the gathering.

And it wasn’t just pizza. These were homemade pizzas, with hand-picked ingredients, cooked in the cutest little wood-fired oven. They were incredible. The bonfire, too, was perfect. We shared stories, and the evening felt rich with connection.

The next morning, a few of us gathered for breakfast before heading out. For me, the next stop was Charlottesville, where I went to college. I picked up some UVA gear and took a long, nostalgic walk down memory lane. I even visited Crozet, where I’d once lived on a friend’s front porch one summer. I loved finding that spot again.I didn’t linger long, though. I decided to head toward Richmond, not quite sure why.

As I got closer, traffic made me rethink my plans, so I veered toward Mechanicsville. Something urged me to check out Camp Hanover and reclaim that place too.

I did. And seeing those familiar spots felt like coming home, but this time, home was within me. Fear feels like a stranger now.

After that, I found a cozy hotel in Fredericksburg, where I’m writing this. No memories here—just a soft bed, morning coffee, and donuts. It’s the perfect place to reflect and let the stories of this trip settle in.

Sometimes, it’s sweet and important to rewrite the stories.

Presence, Connection, and Co-Creation

This beautiful piece is by Leah Campbell Badertscher – it so captures co-creating

For me, life is fundamentally about relationships.

Why?

Because relationships ground me in the present moment.

Without this connection, I get lost in my mind, creating stories, planning, and believing that this is living. But it’s not. Real living happens when I step out of my thoughts and fully engage in the moment.

Achieving presence isn’t about effort or analysis; it’s about simply BEING—one breath, one sensation, one heartbeat at a time.

I honestly think this can only happen through connection.

Many people find it easier to connect with nature, animals, or even a place than with another person.

Why?

Because animals live in the moment. They aren’t worrying about the future or caught up in past dramas. They’re just BEING—not trying to look good, make money, or stay safe.

JOINING is our best chance to discover this sense of BEING.

We all crave connection, even if we don’t always know how to achieve it.

One of the most beautiful moments when working with horses without any equipment is when horse and human ‘join up.’ This happens when the human stops trying to control the situation and instead focuses on their own BEING.

When that shift happens, the horse often naturally comes closer, moves with the person, and stays in sync, as if linked by an invisible thread.

We long for that kind of connection with other people. But it’s harder with humans because we’re often focused on the external world, unaware of the stories and patterns we create to protect and control.

To truly connect with another person, we need to let go of that control and turn inward, taking responsibility for our part in the relationship.

It’s about listening intentionally, letting go of judgments, and moving beyond right and wrong.

When we do that, we invite ourselves into a generous, present moment.

This space is sacred, like hitting a reset button. It allows us to return to our true selves, leaving behind pain and old stories.

That’s when co-creation happens.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits, but staying present is possible.

This is the essence of Couple’s Alive Series that happen at the Haven—Being, Connecting, and Co-Creating.

I love leading this series. Being with other couples. We’ll be doing a Couples Alive II very soon. If you have taken Couples Alive Foundation – this is the next step and it’s focusing on Co-Creating.

Beyond the Instinct to Attack: Embracing Choice

Attack mode seems to be everywhere these days. Why is that?

The usual explanations: “They started it” or “I had to defend myself.” Maybe. But let’s be honest—we’ve drifted far from the ideals of kindness or turning the other cheek.

I’m not here to recount biblical stories about how Jesus handled things. Those have been quoted and misquoted so much that if Jesus were still in the grave, he’d be rolling over by now.

Instead, I’d rather look at more recent figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Peace Pilgrim, or Pema Chödrön—people who truly understood that nonviolence is a choice. Violence is a choice too. It’s up to us, and it’s never easy. Our decisions reflect the internal struggle of perception, interpretation, and emotion.

Nelson Mandela once said, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” We’re pretty good at enhancing our own freedom, but respecting and enhancing the freedom of others? That’s where we fall short.

It’s always easier to make the other side wrong. But the danger in blaming others isn’t necessarily that they don’t bear some responsibility. The real issue is that blame often blinds us to the role we play. Judging others isn’t the problem—our judgments can be creative or insightful. The issue is that we often don’t fully own the story we’re creating. We project it onto others and convince ourselves that it’s their problem, not ours.

What if our judgments are primarily, if not entirely, our own creation? If we truly grasp that, we can make better choices about whether to attack or not. When I realize that I’m the creator of my interpretation, I gain power over how I respond. If I perceive an attack or a threat, I can pause and reassess.

Take Michelle Obama’s famous line, “When they go low, we go high.” I see that as her response to perceived attacks. She steps back, views the situation from a different, higher perspective, where more possibilities emerge.

It’s natural to feel the instinct to attack or withdraw when faced with danger. But our minds, for better or worse, go beyond pure instinct. That’s the downside of being so analytical—we think we can interpret reality with precision. And often, in our attempts to do so, we make a mess. Or worse, we create war.

Bridging the Divide: The Power of Honest Conversations in Montana

What a week it’s been, and I was only watching from home! The energy, joy, and revitalized spirit of the Democratic Party in Chicago was palpable, even here in Montana.

I capped off the week on Sunday by attending The Blue Jam, a local event supporting Democratic candidates in the Flathead Valley. The vibe was infectious—speeches that were raw, real, and personal, with candidates sharing their reasons for running. No flashy rhetoric or attacks, just genuine conversations. Although the turnout seemed small, I later learned it was the largest gathering of its kind in the area for quite some time.

Love this song played at The Blue Jam here in Montana

Living in a predominantly red state like Montana, I didn’t expect such enthusiasm. Yet, the Democratic message from the National Convention resonated with me:

  • Public education for all
  • Affordable and accessible healthcare, including Medicare
  • The right to autonomy in healthcare decisions
  • A nation where hard work leads to a decent wage, homeownership, and a family-friendly life
  • Protecting LGBTQ+ rights

These ideals felt more aligned with Montana’s values than what I’d seen at the Republican Convention a few weeks earlier.

So, why is Montana such a strong red state? Personally, I lean towards a more “purple” approach—less about parties and more about people. I believe the issue lies in how we consume information: micro sound bites that polarize rather than foster meaningful dialogue.

At The Blue Jam, I repeatedly heard that when candidates take the time to connect with voters, even lifelong Republicans are open to voting for a Democrat—not because of party allegiance, but because of the genuine conversations.

This experience reinforced my belief in the importance of creating more opportunities for dialogue and connection. It’s not just about saving democracy; it’s essential for our collective well-being.

I want to understand why so many of my neighbors support a Trump/Vance ticket. I want to discuss public lands, healthcare, housing, wages, and education—not through the lens of political rivalry, but through real, honest conversations.

I realize that labels and assumptions—like associating a Confederate flag with racism or dismissing liberals as “taking over”—oversimplify complex realities. These snap judgments, while they may hold a grain of truth, do more harm than good.

It’s easier to hurl an attack than to engage in a curious, vulnerable dialogue. I’ve been advised not to display signs for my preferred candidates due to potential risks. Many avoid political discussions altogether, whether at home, work, or among friends. I even heard about a study from Harvard where students fear speaking their minds.

This is not healthy for our society.

We need to get back to talking with one another, understanding each other’s perspectives, and finding common ground. Only then can we truly move forward.

Join me at my next “Dialoguing for Democracy” event, Thursday, September 5th at 7PM MT, and let’s start creating healthier, more connected communities.

Beyond Gold: Embracing Kindness and Dialogue in a Divided World


Amazing moment!

There’s a lot on my mind and in my heart these days. I’ve always loved the Olympics, not just for the competition but for the spirit of the games. However, I’ve sometimes been disappointed by the intense focus on winning and the pursuit of gold medals. This time around, though, it feels different. Maybe it’s because of Paris’ exceptional hosting. They’ve done a remarkable job. Or perhaps it’s because, after the isolation of the Covid Olympics, athletes are now able to have their families present, connect with teammates, and simply enjoy each other’s company.

Or maybe, in a world marked by fractures and conflict, these athletes are doing their best to show us a different way of being. Whatever the reason, it could also just be me. I find myself feeling more kind, open-hearted, and curious. I’m less driven by fear and more by love—love for myself, my family, friends, and even those I consider adversaries. I’m seeing the world through a different lens.

It’s intriguing to witness the care, joy, and cross-cultural connections unfolding in sports, especially when contrasted with the divisiveness and hostility often seen in politics. I believe Vice President Kamala Harris is bringing a new possibility to the table. Her team has certainly shaken things up. But as we look ahead to the next few months, I’m not entirely confident that the political environment will lead to significant change. True change, I think, will only come from us—the people—engaging in conversations and dialogue.

As I’ve mentioned before, finding unbiased coverage of issues can be challenging. But even with what’s available, we can still work towards understanding and making decisions that resonate with our hearts. When coaching executives, I often emphasize the importance of knowing your “ME”—understanding who you are, the beliefs you hold, and what you value. I also encourage them to move beyond being right or fixed in their views. Get feedback and listen without defending.

That’s essentially what I believe we all need to do. We need to understand the world we’ve built and seek out dialogue with as many people as possible. This helps us get clearer on what matters to our families, neighbors, and communities. Don’t just vote based on a soundbite or party affiliation. Do the work. That’s what democracy is truly about, and it’s what’s at stake.


My Political Roller Coaster: Reflections on Recent Events and Real Power

Wow, what a whirlwind it’s been lately. In such a short time, we’ve seen an assassination attempt, a fleeting call for unity, and then back to the usual political attacks. People putting bandages over their ear in some type of solidarity—how surreal is that? President Biden initially stood firm, refusing to back down, but just this past week, he stepped out of the process.

And then there’s VP Kamala Harris, now endorsed to lead the Democratic ticket. Honestly, my phone is going crazy with messages. It’s been an assault on my senses, but in some ways, I’m relieved Biden stepped down. Do I believe Kamala Harris can defeat Trump? Absolutely, and she should.

I say this because I don’t see Trump as genuiene, honest, or powerful in any way. My biggest issue with Trump is his ego. He rants, he’s mean, and he viciously attacks anyone who calls him out or challenges him. I’ve never heard him apologize or admit to any wrongdoing.

I don’t get the fear and fight that underlies so much of what I read. Yes, I want a strong country, but I also want relationships with people from different backgrounds, different countries. I don’t want to gloss over our mistakes—like slavery, the long battle for women’s rights, LGBTQ+ rights, and racial equality. These are critical parts of our history, and people have fought hard for their rights. We can’t lose those stories. Even when the stories make us look bad , those shouldn’t be forgotten or untold.

Education needs to be available to everyone and needs to be a space that allows for differences and develops young people into discerning individuals where there can be conflicting views and young people see a future that includes them.

Trump seems to equate fear and rage with power. But real power isn’t based on fear or threats. It’s about clarity, commitment, and the willingness to listen and evolve. It means moving beyond our limited beliefs and small-mindedness to something greater.

Honestly, I’m not sure if the Democrats have what it takes to be truly different. But right now, we’re in a moment of chaos, and I think that’s good. It’s a place to start. We learn when we’re thrown into the unknown. Let’s embrace this uncertainty and see if we can become a different country. We don’t have to be mighty; we can be strong and compassionate. Now, wouldn’t that be something?

Who is writing or running on that platform? I know we’re not there yet, but I believe we could be.

with Susan Clarke