The roots of white privilege and what we must do to recognize it

I recently had an experience with myself that brought me up short and let me know that — smack! — it was time to do some more reading. Anyone who has done any form of serious healing work in their lives knows that our patterns and wounding show up again and again and again, and it is up to us to recognize the roots and continue to pull them out as best we can. One way we can find the roots is by seeing the fruits. What are we growing in our lives? What kinds of symptoms do we have that tell us about the health of our own bodies and the environments we're in? For these things to be meaningful and informative, we must look at them.

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How do I know if I want a baby or just want to experience pregnancy?

I am 28 and I am in a serious relationship and I have the strong urge to have a baby. However, like this woman, I feel I am more interested in the feeling of being pregnant and giving birth than actually being a parent.

I am actually afraid I won't be a good parent at all because I won't be able to cope with the responsibility. But I ask myself, how does this make sense with my current, very raw urge to be pregnant?

Running as metaphor: how suffering shapes your perception of life and how you can use it to grow

I listened to a podcast on my run the other day about purpose, perseverance, and the close connection that exists between passion and suffering. The magic that happens when you embrace suffering and seek the impossible. To be willing to suffer for the things you're passionate about. So that podcast led me to thinking about suffering in all its forms and whether it can be turned into a growing experience…

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Comparing my grieving process to a car crash

I'm not an expert on grief. I haven't read the self-help books. I rarely take heed of anyone's advice on how to grieve. Joan Didion famously wrote a meditation on grief that is equal parts beautiful and sad. She tells us that grief has no end, and that it's nothing like we expect it to be. She describes the "comes in waves" phenomenon, which nobody can quite nail down in words but everyone knows exactly what it means when it's said.

I can't compare my grief to ocean waves, however. For me, it's more like a car crash that you see coming but are helpless to stop — one that leaves you damaged and scarred, inside and out.