This morning, I had a tree falling in the forest philosophical moment. You know, the query about whether the tree actually makes noise when it falls even if no one hears it? So, what happens to me – in me – if I am spending time alone and there is no one available to hold a mirror for me to see myself in?

Every time something new or promising entertainment or distraction — real or otherwise — peeked through the window of the four walls I’ve spent most of the last 8,760 hours within, I sat up. Hard.

When we in the nonprofit world are in apology about money, it becomes something that oozes through the culture and keeps our organizations from doing their best work. Not surprisingly, I have an opinion about this.

Transition in my life has me feeling like I’m standing on a page in my book of life … and someone erased all the illustrations.

Lifesaving Lesson #1 for fundraisers this season: you do NOT get to make decisions for your donors.

If “too soft” is silence and “too hard” is mean, then how can we find our “just right” in difficult conversations?

Many of us do a good job showing up for others. But I feel compelled to ask: how well do we show up for ourselves? When you do things that matter in your life, do you activate your own force field?

I usually think about Scarcity Mindset as it relates to money. But recently I started wondering: did the shortage of toilet paper and hugs this spring kick me into full scarcity mindset about my entire Covid life?

When you stand in the Unbearable Lightness of Not Knowing, what do you find?

The fear running around inside many nonprofit offices sounds a lot like: Will we still be standing when this pandemic is in our rear view mirror?

I’m not ready to call this a new normal yet, but I sure am learning a lot.

It’s a week of Zooming, both literally online, and also in my head.

I accidentally bought a journal with no lines. When I realized it, I did what any self-respecting English major would do: I panicked.

But then I wondered, can I roll with this?

When we are making an ask, whether for a nonprofit campaign or a raise, we bring our baggage into the room with us. Trust me on this one: our baggage has real impact.

Is being alone the same as being lonely? I’d like to believe they are different.

This year, I have an urge to keep it simple: 2020 is going to be my Year of The Word.

In this moment, the holiday time of year feels like an assault on me.

I know. I’ve been called a Grinch before.

The bullies in middle school were, as it turns out, nothing compared to the one in my brain. It’s the voice of laceration and flagellation that gave me no credit for trying my best.

I believe that the things we can’t tolerate take on power in our lives. When I decided that my fear of making a mess might be running my life, someone suggested that I add Oscar the Grouch to my “Wall of Heroes.”

Why is it that we would rather be liked for who we’re not than risk either not being not liked OR actually loved for who we are?