The Compassionate Way to Declutter

The Compassionate Way to Declutter

If you asked my college roommate to rate my neatness on a scale of 1 to 10, she’d probably say 12. I was Felix Unger to her Oscar Madison, and as much as she drove me crazy with her messiness, I’m sure my extreme tidiness drove her even crazier. So she would’ve been shocked if she’d seen the state of…

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Can You Handle Criticism?

Can You Handle Criticism?

By Anneli Rufus A total stranger about whose business establishment I had written an article emailed me the night after it was published, alleging that my article was “mostly erroneous.” For a horrified split-second I wondered how this could be, as (1) I’m a conscientious professional—not perfect, sure, but too careful after having written thousands of articles to get one…

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My Soldier Story

My Soldier Story

In 2009 the New York Yankees were in the World Series, and I was lucky enough to attend one of their home games. While shopping for souvenirs in the gift shop I couldn’t help but notice a young man in uniform. I looked through so many items, unsure of what to buy for my son and daughter, but no matter…

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The Best Things I Learned at the FACES Conference

The Best Things I Learned at the FACES Conference

Balancing spirituality and science, the lineup for last week’s FACES conference in Washington, D.C., was remarkable: Roshi Joan Halifax, Emiliana Simon-Thomas, Kristin Neff, Barbara Fredrickson, Frank Ostaseski, Christine Courtois, Tara Brach, John Briere, and Chris Germer. I was worried that mindfulness had been talked about a bit too much of late, but the speakers brought fresh insights and research to…

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9 Surprising Benefits of Talking to Yourself

9 Surprising Benefits of Talking to Yourself

My teenager is home on break from college and my husband quit his job to freelance, so now we both work from home. I love having them around, so I couldn’t figure out why I’d been feeling stressed out. Then I went for a long walk alone and immediately understood what I’d been missing: talking to myself. I talk to…

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Mothering without a Mother

Mothering without a Mother

The day my father died, suddenly, of a heart attack, I wanted to be the one to tell my son, who was six years old at the time, what happened. I sat down on the sofa, took Truman’s hands in mine, and told him his grandfather had died. I explained what that meant—that we wouldn’t see him anymore but would…

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