Image may contain: cloud, sky, tree, outdoor, nature and water

Each day, on and off, for many years, I have written a “Thought for the Day”. Some of the more recent ones are under the “Thoughts” tab here and others are saved for that day when I finally decide on whether to put them into book form.

These thoughts often reflect where I am in my life, what’s going on right now. It’s a way for me to flesh out what it is I need to do to become more deeply aligned with my spiritual being. Living a human life from a spiritual place.

Here is my Thought for today:

In the midst of this busy, busy world with all its pressures and demands there is a point at which I let go. A point at which I say, “Spirit, I give this to you. I can handle no more.”

My deepest desire is to never have to speak those words again and to live so deeply with the Spirit of my Being that my human life is a mirror of the Spirit within and not the world without.

In recent weeks I have found myself reflecting the behavior of someone I do not wish to emulate. It has been interesting to observe this from both a human and a spiritual perspective.  My reactions to this person’s behavior have been strong and negative. What is being said and done is so contrary to what I believe and yet, by my reaction, I am in some ways emulating that behavior.

I had to sit with that for a while. (Yes, my meditation room has gotten a really good workout lately.)

The wondrous thing about living and breathing spiritual work is that when situations like this arise, I have the knowledge to recognize it much sooner.  With some chagrin, I released the anger, hurt, disappointment, separation, frustration (yeah….there was a lot of releasing going on….a lot).

Bit by bit, peace returned. Amazingly (I say with some sarcasm), so did clarity. This was simply another lesson of comparison. Life lived outside of Spirit is a life lived in turmoil. I had been reflecting the work that others are in the midst of, as a means of showing me what no longer serves me. It is why it felt all wrong to experience this now. It no longer fits with who I am. A loud, clear message to me that I had stepped back into a world I had left behind. A message that said the work you need to do is before you.

The work I need to do is to learn to be peace in the midst of turmoil – no matter what memories are brought forth.

And, so, my work continues. I return within to the Spirit of my Being and use the tools I have been given to live this life peacefully.

Reflecting Spirit, always and in all ways.

From my heart to yours,  Diane

photo courtesy of Nancy Rohrig



Moments of Awareness

No automatic alt text available.You are what you allow into your life.  Those of us on a spiritual path to understanding our purpose on this planet have heard that line, in one form or another, many times. In the midst of everything we usually don’t recognize what we have brought on ourselves and begin to easily point fingers.  This disease is my parents’ fault, or the air I have been breathing for 30 years has messed up my lungs. This nasty relationship is a disaster because my partner is so selfish. That friendship failed because that so-called-friend is such a gossip.

It’s easy to do, this blame game. The facts may show there is some truth to the blame I place but what I do with that truth will determine what my life will be like. It’s a tricky path and one that I am constantly learning how to navigate. Some days it’s like a carousel that won’t let me off.

I have said lately that I am not in this life to compete with anyone. I will, and do, walk away if you want to compete with me. One-upmanship is not a game I am willing to play. If you want to show me how much better you are, okay. You win.

I am here to serve, not fight.

There are moments (that sometimes last days) when I become stuck in the mire and cannot pull myself up. I find it fascinating, given my many years on a spiritual path and my daily meditation practice, that I still get stuck.

I have so much to learn.

Back on the cushion I go. In the solitude I breathe and I listen. I hear the breath moving in and out. Slowing down as I settle in. Music gently, softly, quietly playing in my ears. The spicy-sweet scent of oil on my skin.  My hands turn up on their own with no thought from me. My shoulders drop, my spine relaxes and softness begins to flow through me.

I am home.

In this stillness I am whole. I listen in peace and peace envelops me. I am no longer competing, I am no longer looking for cause. I am home.

As I return to my desk and look at the sun rising outside my window, I smile for the first time in days.

Moments of total awareness are rare. I recognize the peace in my heart and wonder if it will be there at day’s end. I have no answer except this:

This is the only moment that matters. I make the choice to make this moment peaceful.

Each moment matters, each moment is a choice, each moment begins with peace. I am grateful for the lesson.

From my heart to yours,  Diane

photo courtesy of Nancy Rohrig





I’ve been away from here for a few days. A very busy life with several un-fun things requiring my focus. I’ve missed here. It feels good to be back. It feels good to be writing something other than emails again.

Over the past year I’ve started writing magazine articles.  An interesting process especially when given a topic by an editor. Taking someone else’s idea and finding a way to make it my own. After awhile I realized it’s really just an expansion of this space – developing thoughts a little more deeply, exploring and following ideas to see where they lead. I love it. I love the conversations I have in my head when I’m working on an idea. Often I will write about it several times, each time leading me in a slightly different direction, until, finally, it gels.

Over the past several months my thoughts keep returning to the earth. This place we live that is shared by billions of creatures and life forms.  Each one unique, each one connected. Each one creating something new. In every second of every day for millions of years, this planet has thrived. Despite what man has done, it has survived.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so, of course I wrote about it. When I was asked to write an article about Empowerment, I felt this incredibly strong urge to connect my thoughts about Oneness to this subject of Empowerment.  I wasn’t sure how it would flow but I knew I was not in control of the process any longer. This is so often the case when I become immersed in my writing. Much like a dream, I am carried along as though I am floating in a never ending meditation.

Apparently, my words touched the editors of Nabalo.  “I Am You” (click the photo above). My article is on page 17.  Nabalo Magazine is a wonderful, beautifully developed publication based out of Sweden. Wherever you find yourself on your path, can provide you with the energy, love, acceptance and tools to grow and expand your unique journey. I am learning more from Iris and her tribe each day and I am grateful to have been asked to partner with them for this issue of their new magazine.  There is so much good within its pages and I know you will love it, too!

(you can also follow them on FB and Instagram)

I would love to know what you think.

From my heart to yours,  Diane





It’s a Thing…Really, it is…


I took one of those odd FB quizzes recently that says that I am more of a left-brain person. Those that have known me in my work environments would probably agree with that. I do tend to over-analyze stuff, asking a bunch of “what if” type questions. The need to picture the end result and how you get there is important to me. Check and double check. Drives some folks crazy because they just want to get things done and figure the details out along the way…

Then there is this. The writing. Is this a left brain activity or is it more a right brain, creative pursuit? I want to believe it is creative. My little corner of the market on art and inspiration. Words carefully chosen for the best, most thoughtful, impact. Reread, edited and flowing into perfection….

…OMG! I analyze my own thoughts! Seriously!? No wonder I got 63% left brain inclined on that stupid test!


Creatively left-brained….is that even a thing? 

Enjoy this day, my dear friends, and find some time to laugh at yourself.

From my heart to yours, Diane

 Photo by jesse orrico on Unsplash

Perfect Harmony

Deanna's Feather in the Sand

In our search for understanding of this “light within” we hang on the words of gifted teachers believing that if we just listen hard enough, if we sit in just the right position, with just enough silence and practice over and over again the steps to enlightenment that they offer us, we will find God.

I am grateful for the many teachers who have walked this path with me. I, truly, have learned much from each of them. But I will not find God through any of them. I will not find God by reading another book, listening to another lecture, attending another workshop. No one has the power to “give” God to me.

God is right where I am. It is who I am in the stillness. It is who I am in the giving. An equal measure of both. A perfect harmony of self.

The same is true for you. You are your own teacher. Each step into this world that you take contains every tool you need. It is all right here with no need to reach for something that feels unattainable.

There is nothing to attain. You are Spirit. You are God. You are the living, breathing Truth.

You are the teacher. You are the student. In the receiving and in the giving. In the peace and in the chaos.  You came here to teach and to learn. You brought with you  lessons unique to you and you will take with you new tools to share when you move on.

Let your next teacher be you

Live in perfect harmony with yourself and you will awaken to the truth that there is no separation between you and God. You are One and the Same.

From my heart to yours,   Diane

photo courtesy of Deanna Fleenor

Those Prickly Feathers


This post was going in a completely different direction. It had to do with the prickly feathers of someone’s ego whisking away the ideas of others in order to bring importance to what the ego in them desires.

But then I glimpsed my reflection and saw my own prickly feathers beginning to flutter open.

I stopped mid-thought, mid-rant, and my breath held for a few seconds. What was it about this experience that irked me so much?  Why did it ruffle my feathers so-to-speak? I understand that I was witnessing someone’s desire to be recognized no matter the cost. I get it. We all need to feel valued. But there seemed to be more to it.

And then I remembered.

I remember the first time my work was “stolen”. I remember the raw shock of reading someone else’s name attached to my work.  It is true – feelings never die, they just get buried waiting for the opportunity to say “See, I told you this matters!”

I was a copy editor for my high school Senior yearbook. Each Senior had the opportunity to write a few lines under their photo about their H.S. experience. I was to read them for appropriateness, word count, spelling, etc.  It was fun. Until I read the following:

If I am to die tonight,

never to feel the warmth of the sun and

never to say goodbye and thanks,

please remember that though things didn’t always 

seem right, I tried my best to overcome.

And though I did not always succeed, I did try.

That was my poem. Mine. Not the person who used it and put her name to it. Mine. My 17 year old self was so angry!  I remembered when I shared it with her and how she loved it and how she asked if she could copy it. She never asked if she could make it her own. Angry! I went to our Editor and the Teacher who headed the yearbook to complain. What I remember about that conversation is the teacher telling me I should go and talk to the girl. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she didn’t mean to have her name as the author. Maybe she didn’t even know her name had been added.

So, maybe, I was getting ahead of myself? Maybe my anger was unwarranted? Well, then, tell that to my ego.  It had already taken flight! Flapping it’s wings loudly and circling for the kill!

I did as I was asked to do.  In truth, the girl didn’t realize I was reading copy for the yearbook and she didn’t think it was a big deal but she was fine with me removing her name.

Now, I could go on for pages about how I felt at the time. The thing is, the lesson I remember from that experience is one that I still find I am working on today.


My words, while important to me, matter more if they are important to you. I am not saying, by any stretch of the imagination, that you should steal them. Share them, yes. Leave my name attached to them, yes. But most importantly, let me be honored that my words create opportunity for you to stretch yourself, stretch your imagination, bring new ideas into the foray.

Let me not be so attached that the beautiful words that are gifted to me through Spirit become weapons for the ego to brandish.

I’m still working on it.

From my heart to yours,  Diane

photo courtesy of Pixabay





Wonder Awaits


This day was tailor made for you.

Placing your feet on the floor as you rise from sleep, this day has so much to share with you.

Every moment a new thought, a new opportunity, a gift. How will you use it? Take a breath and smile. So many possibilities! So much wonder awaits!

Ahhh, but you feel the weight of your world upon you….

How can I think for a second that you can be joyful every moment when so much is going “wrong”? What do I know about what goes on in your head? Who am I to tell you to “cheer up”?

I am your reminder.

I am your reminder that this day WAS tailor made just for you. Whether you choose to look for the beauty in each moment or for the disappointment, you are the one that is choosing.

So, yes, I am your reminder that you do, indeed, have the choice to choose a gentler, kinder day.  Maybe you can just start with a gentler, kinder moment.

One moment at time. Hmmm…this seems like it might be a good one.

Take a breath and smile. Wonder awaits.

From my heart to yours,  Diane



Dad’s Wall

Dad's Wall 2

My Dad was an artist.

Throughout his career he worked in the newspaper field as Art Director for several New York papers, including the Daily News.  He was also a WWII Vet and had been a member of the O.S.S. (the forerunner of the CIA).  The combination of the creative mind and the experiences of war defined him greatly, I think.  He was a quiet gentle man, but he was troubled by the war as many Vets were. Growing up we knew not to argue with him. He was not violent or abusive. He was just never wrong. My older brothers got the brunt of that I think. My younger brother and I learned to be quiet and not engage with him when he was in that mood. It made for a more peaceful life for me anyway.

An avid gardener and a creative man, Dad loved color. In our childhood home we had 15 foot ceilings in our living room and one wall was free of windows and doors. He loved that wall. He wanted color on that wall. Bright color. Bold color. Vibrant color.

Unfortunately, Mom did not.

The wall always was a different color than the rest of the room (gold with cream side walls is the one I remember the most) but he wanted it to be the color of red wine. Mom just could not grasp his vision so she gave him a room of his own. Do with it what you want, just leave my living room alone!

So he did.  Dad had a den which he transformed into his own artistic version of a 60’s man-cave. He painted it a rich turquoise. On one end wall they built a wall to wall desk for his TV, radio and art supplies. The opposite wall had two bookcase/cabinet units on either side of the door for books and more art supplies.  The room had a large picture window which allowed him a wonderful view of the front gardens that were always filled with bees, butterflies and birds or, in the winter, snowmen and igloos. But the opposite wall was his personal masterpiece. He worked on it for years, adding to it whenever the inspiration hit.  About 4′ x 15′, his mural contained sketches of the famous and the infamous. Some he labeled with their names. Others, when asked who they were, he would wryly smile and say, “I don’t know.” or “Guess.” So it became a game, a great conversation starter when they entertained. He was happy, Mom was happy, and that’s what mattered.

Over the years, we all grew up and moved away but the wall remained.  Our kids became fascinated by it. Some of them have grown into the next generation of artists. My Dad would watch them create and be in awe of their talent. I hope he knew how in awe they were of him.

How in awe we all were.

Dad passed in 1990 when my son was just 5 months old. I’m glad my daughter got to know him and I am glad we took a photo of his wall before we sold the house. It was truly a grieving process for us all to let it go.

His life was troubled by what he experienced just as many Vets. It took me years to understand but I will say that it never diminished his ability to love.

Here is another piece that I treasure. He was definitely talented, yes?

Dad's JFK

A quiet, gentle man who loved color, loved to sketch, loved his gardens, his family and his arguments. Not so different than the rest of us.

Except for that wall. Now, that was different.

From my heart to yours, Diane