Don’t you love the maps found in large shopping malls or office complexes? The first thing you see is the circle with the X inside it saying “You are here.”

“Oh,” you say, “This is where I am, so now I know which direction to turn to get to where I want to be.”

Without the knowledge of where you are, you can’t know how close or far away you are from your destination. Just so, it’s important to know where you are in the great scheme of things in life. This question presupposes that you know something about the big picture and something about your destination (destiny).

And within these questions: “Who am I?”

My mother always told me, “Just be yourself, and you’ll be fine.” But who is that self? And how do you find out?

Questions, questions. When you’re searching for truth, what you often find first are questions to be explored if not answered definitively. Your answers may change and grow from time to time.

“The unexamined life is not worth living,” said Socrates. And behind that statement?

Well, that assumes you have a life to begin with. That means you have to live life first in order to examine it. If it is true that the unexamined life is not worth living, then it follows that the unlived life is also not worth examining.

Aspiring writers and actors are often told, “First, you have to live.” You have to have something to write about and experiences to draw upon.

Thoughtful and juicy questions may be one of the best ways to explore and examine your life to allow you to fully live and appreciate the life you have here and now, rather than wishing for some other place or some other life. This is what you have. Now is what you have. Here is what you have. Work with what you have.

If you’re in the here and now, just look about you. Be here. Be now. Describe what you see, feel, smell, taste, hear, touch. You’ll soon enough find plenty to think about and write about, plenty to ponder.

Formal writing prompts and jump-start quotations can also be brilliant food for thought. And why do they appeal to you? Because they’ve acted as an entrance into your own inner life. Something within you resonated with what you found in someone else’s experience.

Reading biographies, memoirs, autobiographies, and fiction can help you to explore your own life stories, both old and new. Can help you re-interpret your past stories to use them as building blocks for your new paths.

You learn that you are not alone in all the world. You no longer have to remain “a stranger in a strange land.” You can find at least one other story that is remarkably like your own. You learn that others have faced and surmounted the same challenges that you do. “The way is thoroughly known,” wrote Joseph Campbell. You are not the first to tread this path, to make this journey.

And those who have gone before you have left maps. They have pointed out the rocks, crevasses, mountains, dangerous swamps and quicksand. They can inspire you to a new level of living. By showing you what peace and happiness they have attained. They can teach you if you will read, listen, and be open to learning.

Be teachable.

Practice beginner’s mind at whatever stage you find yourself, and you may find that one or more “maps” buried in your library, bookstore, or Internet sites will both show you the big picture and say to you, “You are here.”

***

Great List of Personal Development Blogs:

From Gretchen Rubin’s post on her wonderful Happiness Project blog, I learned of a list of the top blogs in the personal development field. These are 65 of the most-read of blogs that offer regular, practical, and usable information. Check it out at:

http://www.pluginid.com/personal-development/

“Only connect,” wrote E. M. Forster. How to be connected in a world that seems to be pushing all of us toward disconnection with stress, information overload, long work hours, and the breakdown of community social structures that no longer function? In the past, most new acquaintances would be introduced by a friend or close connection so that you knew something about that person and his or her background.

Connection makes life rich. To have happy and nurturing connections is to live a life of joy and fulfillment. Easily said, but sometimes difficult to do. One of the best ways to connect with someone is to listen. Listen with all the resources at your disposal.

That means not interrupting. Paying good attention (not reading the newspaper or playing video games), giving eye contact and “squaring off,” facing another person directly, not looking over your shoulder. You might want to draw the other person out by asking “Is there more?” or “Can you tell me more about that?”

When Frank and I met 16 years ago, one of the first and most important things I noticed about him was how intently and acceptingly he listened to me with his whole being. He mirrored my feelings on his face and provided a comfortable “container” for me to open up and be myself. It was a wonderful, comfortable feeling.

When someone is angry with you, good listening alone can often restore the peace. Just hear the person out. Let them express their feelings freely. Wait. Let the anger dissipate. Only then do you say what you want to say. Give them several chances to get the anger out until it’s exhausted.

And the same with someone who is upset or anxious. Listening is a healing balm. Often that’s the main thing someone wants from you. A good listening.

I grew up with an extended family who all listened to me, and I am privileged to be able to listen to my sister, Charla, as she inspires me by walking courageously and confidently through her cancer testing and treatment. She has granted me the boon of phoning in updates as soon as she gets any new piece of information. Consults, second opinions. Waiting for a surgery date.

It’s the least I can do for her, or perhaps one of the most important things.

To live in a world of connectedness is to live in a world of friendship and love. As theologian Paul Tillich wrote, “The first duty of love is to listen.”

Suddenly nothing is the same.

A new life story for us both as we walk this new path. I want to be with her (at least in spirit) and support her as much as possible. How can I be most helpful? What can I do? I can’t do what I most want to do: to take this illness from her.

She’s handling this better than I am, going through the consultations and tests, preparing for surgery, building a team of specialists around her. Her determination, optimism, and gratitude inspire me. We’ve talked about “wake-up calls.” She said the word “immediately” came to her early in this process: that her life will change immediately, that she wanted to do some things differently—immediately.

So her situation is a wake-up call for me, too. An unexpected new life story begins. This was not how things were “supposed” to happen. I’m four years older, so I should go through experiences before she does. But life often doesn’t happen as it “should.”

I had become complacent in this new life story in the woods. Beautiful and affectionate stray dogs have adopted Frank and me. I have found a way to work on my own, at my own pace. We’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet of country living. We’re happy, content, grateful. We’ve had a routine, a sense of having achieved a nearly perfect life, if there is such a thing. We’ve achieved so many goals, and my fondest wish has been for this story to continue in this vein for as long as possible. We worked and planned and visualized our current new life story.

I have also known and experienced the fact that life can change in a moment. A serious rear-end collision in 1989 changed my life forever, a chance encounter put Frank and me together, and a phone call from a colleague brought me a whole new way of working.

What is now? My now has changed. The old definition of new: since we moved from the city to the country. The new now: since Charla’s diagnosis.

The future is strange and unknown. Who knows what changes will result from these latest events? The future reveals itself in a moment-by-moment process. I’m not a leaf drifting in the wind, so I have some say in what constitutes this new life.

Everything is up for re-evaluation. Among several decisions I’m wrestling with is a renewed dedication and a change for this blog. I want to devote more time to it, and I want to include more immediately useful information for my readers. I’m now in the process of uploading previous newsletters to the archives, and I want to get those new newsletters out as soon as possible, as soon as some issues with servers and technical details are resolved.

I want to put my years and years of experience to work in a wider way. This month, my blog readers have come from 57 different countries. I love the idea of being a citizen of the world. I’ve been helping people write (or metaphorically write) their own new life stories for many years.

If not now, when? If not here, where?

Let us see how this blog will evolve into a more immediately useful form. Aren’t we all on a path, an open road in one sense or another? Walt Whitman wrote about the open road, and his words remind me that none of us is free until all of us are free:

“Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

You road I enter upon and look around. I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here.”

So the way opens before me and before us all. Let us “greet the unseen with a cheer.”

Sometimes a new life story develops gradually, growing and gaining strength beneath the surface. “Roads not taken” often do that. For one reason or another you consciously take a path and leave others untaken, then over the course of months or years, that path reappears, often in a different form giving us undreamed of possibilities.

Sometimes a new life story “happens itself upon us” in an instant. A chance meeting, a letter, a phone call, a change in a relationship, an illness, a promotion, and suddenly everything is different. Everything up for re-evaluation. New decisions to make. New paths to explore. The unknown to wrestle.

At such times, a journal can be your best friend. Write to know what you think and feel. “How do I know what I think until I see what I say?” wrote E. M. Forster. Just explore your now. What is it like? What seems like a reasonable next step?

One way to use a journal for new life stories is to explore “what ifs?” in imagination. What would it be like if…” How will I cope with…? If you write several scenarios, you will have covered all the known bases. Sometimes this kind of writing is like blazing paths before us, making possible what has been improbable or impossible. Writers often do this in writing new paths. It is as if they are consciously or unconsciously laying out a new road to travel in their novels, then their personal life often follows along the trail blazed by the fiction.

How to know when a new life story is beginning? Ask your deepest and highest self by asking in your journal. Talk to friends and people you trust. Be open to the goodness the universe has to offer, no matter in what form it arrives.

As Robert Browning wrote, “Greet the unseen with a cheer.”

After all, we all need planning time, time for reflection, decision-making time, problem-solving time, and time for “simply being.”

The big question is: “How can we begin creating thinking time?” Many of us find ourselves caught up in work, deadlines, crises, and the needs or demands of others. “Me time” can be hard to find or create.

For many of us, thinking time means writing time. Writing and journaling clarify our thinking, reveal hidden patterns and messages, and often bring the vague unknowns into conscious thought. As British novelist E. M. Forster asked, “How do I know what I think until I see what I say?”

Whether it’s a legal pad, a journal, sketch book, lab book, or log, the writing process is one of the best ways to promote clear thinking and decision making.

So how do we go about creating thinking time? The answers are as diverse as our personalities, proclivities, and environments.

A simple change of view can do wonders, whether it involves a walk during a break, lunch alfresco instead of “aldesko” at work, or pulling out a journal for a short writing break. Better yet is a longer period of time to let our ideas, needs, wants, plans, and hearts’ desires pour out at their leisure. A long walk or drive can let our minds unhook to be come relaxed and receptive.

Haven’t we all noticed that some of our best ideas or insights occur after exercise, using our hands in our favorite craft, gardening, or even while we’re not even aware of thinking. Long commutes, favorite music, and being in nature can stimulate some of our best thinking.

Creating thinking time is so important that we nearly always need to plan for it. This might mean making “artist’s dates” with yourself, scheduling “down time” and recreation, and making time for meditation. Simply setting aside a place and time for quiet and reflection can make all the difference. Some of us might want to take a break from the constant demands of our cell phones.

The most productive creators and inventors have taken frequent breaks and naps. The brain can only work efficiently for a certain period (around 40 minutes) before it needs a rest or change of pace.

Many of us like to sort things out by writing, by jotting notes, doodling, or pouring out our thoughts and feelings onto paper. Writing things down empowers us and makes the vague immensities more doable and less threatening. If you keep a journal or notebook, you can look back and see what progress you’ve made and learn from your own growth that may not be obvious to you at the time.

Creating thinking time and writing time and time for being are some of the most important things we as humans can do.

So how about you? How do you solve this near-universal dilemma of balancing work and creating thinking time and writing time? I’d love to hear your comments, your solutions, and creative ideas.

A summer morning cool, heavy, washed with dew and birdsong and with the promise of untold delights ready to unfold. Who knows what a day might bring?

First go get the newspaper from the mailbox near the road, then check all the little gardens. They’re all looking a little better, and the soil is gradually coming to a lovely, friable state

The weather is so crisp this morning that I have two thoughts: First move laptop and papers to the deck, then think about possibly, perhaps, just maybe cooking something like a fruit pie or roasted zucchini, yellow squash, and onions with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and fresh herbs from the little herb garden.

Both my mother and grandmother taught me to cook, each in her own way.

My mother taught me the same way she was taught in home economics class. Make sure your counter-top is clean and clutter-free. Lay out your measuring cups and spoons. Start reading the recipe from top to bottom, then take out the ingredients one-by-one and line them up in order of use.

After adding and properly measuring, of course, put each ingredient back in its place and swipe the counter with a sponge between ingredients to wipe up the slightest trace of flour or oil. By the time you’re finished mixing, your kitchen will be as orderly as when you began, and you can start to wash the numerous bowls and spoons in the sink. Pop your creation in the oven. You didn’t forget to preheat the oven to the precise temperature, did you? Now time to turn your attention to the next project.

I doubt my grandmother ever measured anything in her life or followed a recipe. Her method involved a jumble of jars, cans, bottles, bags of sugar, and a dusting of flour everywhere. Those were the days of sifting the flour and distributing it all over the counter-top.

Stir with a big wooden spoon in a wooden bowl to “about this consistency.” Now add a handful or two of flour, about “that much” warm water if the dough is too dry. Wash, dry, and flour your hands and knead “like this”—turning the dough a quarter turn with each forward push of the heels of your hands.

Along with the metal flour sifter, for pie crust, a pastry cutter was essential to reduce pats of butter to lumps “about the size of small peas” coated with flour. Then add ice water, and out comes the wooden rolling pin to roll out pie crust between sheets of waxed paper on a wooden slab. Dot the fruit with little pats of butter, dribs and drabs of flour and sugar. Pull the pie out of the oven when it’s done, “just like this.”

If you’re not sure about the readiness of a cake, the broom straw test will tell you the truth. If the color is not too brown and the broom straw comes out clean, your cake is just right.

Not so much science as art.

I may or may not get to the cooking part today, but I enjoy living simultaneously in the richness of both past and present, and remembering those exciting days of learning something for the first time.

Writing awaits, and I want to finish some work before I play. I did pick thyme, sage, and rosemary for tonight’s as yet unknown dinner. Lentil soup perhaps. I think of Virginia Woolf’s diary: “One acquires a certain power over sausages and haddock in writing their names.”

Curious relationship between writing and planning dinner (or the future). Time and thyme.

I like the rhythm of writing and cooking, writing and sorting papers, writing and soaking up the fresh breeze, writing and living. I think of my “inner critic” at work in the kitchen while I’m at the computer. After I’m finished, she can come back to edit, and I’ll go to the kitchen or the clover.

A simple kitchen timer has helped me balance my work and playing life. When I have deadlines and stacks of work to be done, I set the timer for 40 minutes (more or less). The ticking helps me focus, tells my brain it’s time to think. Recent research suggests that the brain works better with regular refreshment.

When the buzzer rings, I stop where I am and play for 20 minutes (or more). It’s like recess at elementary school. Those sacred minutes remind me of all the wonderful people, things, and animals in my life and how much I enjoy them.

Play might consist of a snack, sorting books, jotting down ideas or journaling with color, simply sitting on the deck, pulling a few weeds, or simply closing my eyes for a nap-ette.

Then back to work refreshed, and not feeling that I’m chained to the computer. I can work long hours that way, if need be. And the kitchen timer has taught me another trick:

If there’s an overwhelming task or something I’m dreading, I set the timer for five or ten minutes. Most of us can do almost anything for just a few minutes. At the sound of the buzzer, I’m liberated, but the amazing thing is that often I don’t want to stop, so I’m able to accomplish much more than I had planned.

I thought I would pass along these tips as I’m getting ready to send out a little tips newsletter called “New Life Story Seeds.” If you’ve already suscribed, you’ll be getting them soon. If you’re not, you can sign up in the upper right-hand corner on the blog.

Wishing you all the time and thyme you’d like to savor in your life.