It was a full week, crammed with things I didn’t know I needed to learn, each one with a backstory worth telling someday. I’m still sifting through them, sorting and prioritizing and weighing their long-term usefulness. Some are fleeting and amusing; most will repurpose themselves in the months and years to come. I like how life works that way, spiraling back to show us a new angle or facet of something we need to revisit in a different context. In no particular order, rank or chronological, I give you a week’s worth of lessons, insights and epiphanies acquired honestly.

A morning bath before the onslaught of the day’s activities is more necessity than indulgence. Worth making time for, I assure you.

I do not recommend these elements be combined: heated car seats, a full bladder and an 18-mile commute.

Nor do I encourage these low-level culinary experiments: Twinkies & mustard, marshmallow Peeps & French onion dip, yogurt after pizza, chili with pineapple.

When a twelve-pound cat wants to go for a walk with you, make it a short stroll. After 85 yards, someone will want to be carried. Guaranteed.

There is nothing you can say that will make someone feel better after losing a loved one. Nothing. So there’s your answer to “What do I say?” when you’re in line at calling hours. Cultivate a rich and abiding awareness of the power of your own silent presence. Trust the healing contained in a simple touch or grasp of the hand, a longer-than-usual look into their eyes. Follow up in a few weeks with an offer to have coffee and talk.

Replace the phrase “I can’t” with one of these: “I’ll try”. “I’d like to learn”. “I’m looking forward to it”. Magic awaits (not every time, but most times).

Find someone who works for a hospice organization, or a domestic violence shelter/safe place. Tell them they are a light in the darkness. It’s almost always true and they probably need to hear it.

Spend more than 30 seconds in front of a mirror, saying “I see you” into your own eyes, and mean it. Respond as indicated.

Chickens will eat just about anything you throw down in front of them. And we eat the eggs they give us. Plan their meals with some discretion.

When was the last time someone gave you their undivided attention (and you didn’t have to pay for it)? It’s the greatest gift we can give. If it’s been so long you can’t remember what it feels like, contact me.

There are people around you working pretty hard on their rough edges, their unfinished business, sweating through their own personal Performance Improvement Plan. Might be nice to notice. Even say something.

Black walnuts on the ground hidden beneath piles of decaying leaves will definitely shape and inform your daily mindful walking practice.

It’s perfectly ok and actually quite marvelous to send a thank you note in response to a thank you note. Maybe Hallmark should create a line of “You’re Welcome!” cards?

Feeling chilly right after placing a few drops of peppermint essential oil on the folded tissue in my office wasn’t a cause-and-effect moment. Maybe the building’s furnace wasn’t working. Still a woo-woo moment, though.

Years ago, my friend Chris gave me a phrase that has become one of the anchors of my emotional intelligence practice: “I am irrationally irritated.” I call it The De-escalator. Give it a try where it fits for you. I keep it in a holster with all of my rehearsed and ready-to-go apologies.

Leaves will not rake themselves into a pile, nor transport themselves to the compost bin fifteen yards from where they fell. There are choices: get used to walking through them, lie down on top of them and make leaf angels, let the wind help.

Intention without information can result in a less-than-desirable impact. It’s not enough sometimes to “mean well”. Do your homework.

The walk from the car to the front porch and into the house at the end of a long day is one of the sweetest journeys you’ll even know. Savor it, of course but get to the couch in the feet up position as quickly as possible.

How was your week? Let’s chat. I’ll put the kettle on.