The work I’m doing now is the twenty-year culmination of my life vision of being an inspirational speaker and writer. I said that out loud for the first time after the death of my only daughter.

That loss was so deep. One of the things that’s frightening about the experience of deep suffering is the feeling of drowning, of never coming out the other side. I used to freak out when I started to feel myself bottoming out, until I realized that what we resist persists.

Going through something with a really long shelf life – like the death of a child – meant I needed to set some boundaries. Someone shared a tool with me which really helped, of making appointments with my sorrow or bereavement or anger.

I’d say, “My first bereavement appointment is from 7:00 a.m. to 7:15 a.m.” I’d set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes and just suffer – I’d stay with the loss. Then I’d stop and say, “Okay, my next appointment is at 11:30.” At 11:30, I’d sit down and find that I didn’t really have 15 minutes of sorrow, I had two that played over and over again.

Then, an hour later, if I started having sad thoughts about my dead baby, I’d say out loud, “Stop! Right now isn’t the time for that. Right now I’m driving on the freeway. There goes a Ford Taurus.” I’d say aloud what was in my personal present. “Right now I’m talking on the phone in my Vagina Room.” (That’s my pink room where the boys aren’t allowed.) “I’m looking at all the frilly things. The candle is lit. This is what’s actually going on right now.”

This tool also tells me if I’m a liar or not. Do I really want to get better? As the mother of a dead child, it would be socially acceptable to remain in pain and misery for the rest of my life. But I don’t honor my daughter by doing that. I honor her by being willing to experience the transformation of loss and suffering.

We only get better by going through. If we turn around and grab our sorrows by the ears and kiss them smack on the lips, they don’t have the power to scare us anymore.

- Jennifer Boykin

There’s something about life that feels so strange and beautiful. I’m obsessed with what it means that we’re alive and we’re here. I have a compulsion to understand, but I find that I can’t understand only by looking inside myself. I understand through other people’s experiences.

There are a number of things I thought I’d be good at in my life, and there were a number of paths that seemed plausible and would have probably brought me a lot of success. I gave up a lot of other options in my life to pursue a path that’s most connected to people.

In my early adult life I was attracted to the entertainment industry and worked for a wonderful non-profit in New York which connected me to arts and writing programs for children. I mostly worked on and off Broadway and in the movie business, in big commercial entertainment, and I loved it. I loved telling big stories, I loved the business of show, the culture of commercial theatre and Hollywood. It was exciting to me both creatively and from a business perspective.

But even though I felt fulfilled on a pretty big level, there was a huge ingredient missing for me. That ingredient was meaning. I was helping to tell big stories in a professional way, but the stories weren’t personally meaningful to me. So I gave all of that up and founded Story Pirates, which is a mix of the mind-sets of a local, community-serving non-profit and a big, globalized media business. Starting Story Pirates felt like an opportunity to get everything I want out of life.

The work we’re doing now changes people’s lives in a real and tangible way. It’s about individual people and individual stories, and it’s full of the ingredient I was missing.

- Benjamin Salka

But how does one just be present? I’m a lousy meditator and a compulsive list-maker, both of which launch me into daydreaming about the future much of the time. What does – and always has – grounded me to the very pinpoint of the present is writing. And so it was that I decided to make it my Year of Being a Poet.

I pledged to write one poem a day. Not to rack up reams of poetry – that was just a lovely side-effect. No, the real goal was to train myself to see the world constantly with the eyes of a poet, which means to slow down, savor, take delight in, and note the very essence of the world around me.

To be present.

It wasn’t long before I realized I had become addicted. What was meant to be a one-year experiment threaded its way into my being. I wouldn’t know how to stop now even if I wanted to.

With a new baby to care for, a publishing company to run, a marriage to nurture, and all the other wondrous and mundane rituals of a life, like book clubs and grocery shopping, there are days when I ache to skip the poem and climb into bed.

But I’ve learned that it’s not about writing the perfect poem. It’s about burrowing my way inside a moment in time and noticing exactly how the world looks, feels, smells, sounds. It’s about paying attention to my life – the exquisite, the difficult, the joyful and the routine. It’s about letting that practice take me to the very center of myself.

I am deeply flattered by the community of readers who like the poems on my blog. But more than that, I hope people try it themselves. Be a poet for a day. I dare you. Let the world in and watch as it tumbles out from your fingertips onto the page, revealing shades of the day you would otherwise surely have missed.

- Samantha Reynolds

In a three-month period, I lost three people I really loved. Before that, I went through my days doing what I did, living my routine. Now, I actually think about my life and focus more on the idea that anything could happen. Today could be my last day. I don’t take life for granted anymore. Life is a gift.

My grandpa, or papa was the heart of our family. A central theme of talk at his funeral was his round table. Every Friday night of my life, Papa would cook dinner and our entire family would get together at his round table to catch up on the week and spend time with each other. In all my 16 years, I’ve never missed one of those Friday night get-togethers. Even though he’s passed, we still keep that going. It was really hard in the beginning because we were there at his table, but he wasn’t cooking anymore. Now we sit at his table, cook from his recipes, and talk and spend time with each other. This has been going on for over 50 years.

My papa was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I never saw him upset. He was a loving person who really appreciated and loved life and his family. He didn’t take anything for granted and always looked into the meaning of things. If he had an opportunity to experience life in a certain way, he took it, but he never just did it – he also looked for the meaning in it. He loved everything he did. He was an amazing person who made an impact on many people’s lives. He’ll always be a good influence in my life.

As cheesy as this sounds, I really want to make myself a better person. I used to be very confused, but now things are settling down. I know I have family who love me. That’s important to me. My loved ones are what make me happy.

- Ethan Greenberg

Having been where I’ve been and seen what I’ve seen and lost what I’ve lost, my hope is for a kinder, better, gentler, more loving world blessed with peace. I think that’s really what we all want.

I’ve been involved in many causes because I’ve been extremely fortunate. My beloved husband liberated me after the Holocaust and brought me to this country. I’ve had a full life, with children and grandchildren, working for causes that are dear to me.

I’ve been given incredible honors. I want to give back to this country which has given me so much. My swan song is educating people in this country to be kinder, to be better citizens, and to take on the responsibility we all have for creating a better world.

I’ve wondered if what inspires people to lead more meaningful lives is in the genes, but I think it has more to do with exposure. I’ve known people who didn’t particularly seem to care about anything, but then came face to face with their own lives, through illness or suffering, and turned around completely, devoting their lives to an issue important to them.

I was fortunate to be married to an incredible man who totally supported me, as my children do. That support is very important. We can’t do it alone.

I’m very excited about the organization my granddaughter Alysa and I started together. She’s working hard to make this a better world.

ALYSA

Six years ago, at a crossroads in my career, I decided to spend three months managing some of my grandmother’s projects, events, and business affairs. Those three months have turned into six years.

I’ve traveled the country with my grandmother as she gives speeches – mainly about her inspirational story of surviving the Holocaust. She says that survival is an incredible privilege, but also a deep obligation, and she needs to share her story on behalf of the millions who didn’t survive.

After the shooting tragedy at Columbine, my grandparents were asked to speak with the families of the victims and the students, many of whom felt that nobody could understand what they were going through. My grandmother was about their age when she saw her friends killed in honor of Hitler.

The students asked questions like, “Will I ever get over this?” “Will I ever smile again?” “Is this going to affect the rest of my life?” My grandmother told them, “What happened is something you’ll never forget. It will stay with you, BUT you will smile and laugh again. It takes time to heal.”

- Gerda Weissman Klein and Alysa Ullman

We live in a truly magical world. Countless miracles take place for us every day. Rather than dismissing them, we can simply step back, take the time to witness them, and view them with child-like eyes. They’re huge billboards from the heavens, telling us we’re not alone.

This knowing or remembering that we’re not alone, that we’re here having human experiences as spiritual beings, is what’s most meaningful to me. This connection to my spiritual side has grown more meaningful over time –  particularly as I started meditating and spending more time in nature – and my knowing greatly accelerated after I had a near-death experience. Every day my knowing grows stronger, as I make direct contact, plugging back in to the earth.

If I’m pulled away from that contact with my source, by the desire or need to get things done, I begin to lose touch with what’s important. What helps me snap right back is going outside, planting myself on the ground, and focusing on my breath. I take time every day to sit or lay on the earth or to go out in nature barefoot. I get child-like. This reignites my inner flame, bringing me back into connection with the joy of life and what’s really important. Getting grounded, plugging back in to the earth, settles me down, and focusing on my breath helps stop the chatter. Then I laugh, or get embarrassed that I forgot, and instantly find clarity again.

When we’re wrapped up in fear, stressed out, going from task to task, stuck in day-to-day grime, we forget about life’s meaning and how special and precious it is. We lose our child-like wonder for the world around us. We lose our knowing that we’re living through meaningful experiences and that we’re each here to do something special.

We don’t know how long we’ll live, so it’s important to do what we can each day we’re still here. I like to say that I don’t want to die with the music still inside, meaning I want to share while I’m still here. I was given a second chance at life. I want to use it as best I can.

- Michael Sandler

Because my doctors talked in a language I didn’t understand, I did what we all do today: I researched on the Internet. I read about defibrillators, heart transplants, and sudden death, none of which I found remotely appealing.

When I looked at my situation objectively, a swollen heart made perfect sense. I grew up with an alcoholic father and went through a few throw-away marriages and way-too-young boyfriends. I’m surprised my heart was only swollen and not completely destroyed.

After ten months of aggressive treatment, my heart was still pumping at half-speed. At some point during that traumatic time, I decided I needed to look inside my heart and face the emotional blocks I’d been building up all my life. I opened my heart to practitioners of the healing arts. I started to write it all out. Poetry became my safe place. In November of 2008 I took a trip to Sedona and worked with a healer named Akal. He helped me save my life. In January of 2009 I was diagnosed as healed.

Here are my truths. Maybe they can help you, too. I learned how to let people hold me and help me. I reached deep inside and pulled out my feelings. I allowed my gift of writing to help me let go of limiting self-beliefs. I took my mind and my heart on a healing journey. And I cried and cried and cried some more.

I discovered that my gifts are sharing, writing it all out, and living love. Although my physical healing has had ups and downs, right now my heart is functioning normally. The doctors ask me, “What did you do? How did you heal from a problem that is, at best, controllable with medication?” Most of the time, I tell them what they expect to hear, listing COQ10, L-Carnitine, and various other vitamins and low-level exercise routines. But the real answer is love.

In a flash of stunning clarity, I’ve realized my life purpose: I am love.

Every day, I live to give love. When I’m true to love – open and vulnerable – I find family. Love reflects back. That’s how my universe works.

- Lynda Filler

Finding ways to be compassionate and forgiving is a way of living that’s the complete opposite of how I used to live. I thank God and the creator and the universe and everybody that I don’t have to live like that anymore. Being conscious and being present really help.

I’ve worked hard to learn to be present in this moment instead of being in a moment that happened a week, six months, or a year ago. A little mantra I say to myself is “Be present and be here.” That means knowing this isn’t a dress rehearsal. This is it.

Of course, there are times when I get off track, and they’re very unpredictable. But now my synchronicity with the universe and with myself is better. When I feel something coming on that’s taking me out of alignment, I remind myself to pause, to not react to the situation, and try to get to a place where I can respond in a better way. That’s usually through taking a really big, deep breath. Sometimes, at work, I go into the bathroom and slap my knees and say, “Okay, this is yours, this is yours.”

In those moments of need, I call on everyone – whoever’s out there, whoever’s listening – usually with a small little prayer for help to do the right thing. I’ll say, “Direct me to do what you would have me do.”

I quit drinking when my daughter was seven and my son was five. One of the commitments I made then was that they’d never again see me in that condition, and that I’d live my life by a moral code. I’m very honest with my children. I make sure we openly communicate about the things they’re walking through and feeling. I make sure they can see both sides of a story, that their views are not only one-sided.

My husband and I are examples for the kids, who see that we work out our problems. There’s no screaming or name-calling. We always try to find solutions – and there is always a solution.

Whenever something’s bothering me, I remind myself that I am the problem and I am the solution. Remembering that, and forgiving, definitely help.

- Rita James

For a while, I lived inauthentically, trying to fit in, knowing all along that I needed to embrace my uniqueness. I kept ending up in the same scenarios. I attracted and selected relationships that weren’t good fits for me and were way beyond what I could afford on a mental, physical, spiritual, and financial level. In every area of my life, there was a pattern of disconnection – of things being almost, but not quite.

Through a series of events that created loss and pain, I noticed that I wasn’t getting the results I wanted. I finally recognized those scenarios as prompts to define my worth and myself, to re-ignite my flame and live a meaningful life. I was able to get back on track, to find my voice and myself.

When we don’t realize our own power or value in this world, when we allow others to make decisions for us, to control us or determine our value, we end up miserable and in a state of denial.

It helps to be present. I allow myself to be fully tuned in to each moment of my life. Even during the lulls and valleys of my life, I just sit with them and let them move through me. I notice how I feel in that particular moment. If there’s something I need to say or do, I say it or do it. I speak and live my truth.

Making connections with others and living my life on purpose and by design is most meaningful to me. There’s always work to do. On myself. In my relationships. In life.

- Cecelia Fresh

Why indeed? My mother, it turns out, felt bored with my name that day and decided to change it. That was my childhood. It’s hardly surprising, then, that I developed an early interest in what makes people tick, in what lies around the corner and beneath the surface of things. Maybe I’d never be a ballerina, but when it came to intuition and awareness, I was an athlete.

Even before I knew this survival mechanism was also a skill, it shaped my life. As a journalist and broadcaster, as a therapist, as a campaigner, I loved asking questions and trying to see what was generally hidden. Trying to know the unknown made me feel safer, and this is something we don’t talk about much – awareness as a defense against fear.

Wielded too enthusiastically, awareness can be intrusive. Even if you have a knack for it, awareness requires daily practice and, well … awareness. Applied with skill, I believe awareness is the key to our search for meaning and our evolution, to deep and lasting personal and collective change.

My mother, like so many of us, fell prey to the concept of change as an external event – a fashion make-over, a phone upgrade, a bigger TV, or a new name – because she was overwhelmed by and afraid of the demands of inner change.

If I could talk to her now, I’d say, “Don’t be afraid – to ask questions, to think and act differently, to dig deeper, or even to fail.” That fear – of not fitting in, getting it wrong, being alone, not being up to the task, looking weird – is what keeps us from creating the better world we must create.

Conscious evolution is sometimes a leap of faith. But the world needs us to evolve as individuals, communities, and nations so there will be new, more meaningful archetypes to identify with and better stories to tell about living and loving in meaningful ways. Awareness, for me, is the springboard for that leap of faith.

- Pat Thomas