My Year of Hopefulness - Good Grief

One of the things this year that has brought me so much hope is my new ability to ask and receive help. By nature, I am not good at asking for help, though I am fantastic at providing it. A few weeks ago I told my friend, Rob, about my strong desire to make all of the change I've been through this year into a positive experience. I want to look back on 2009 and see that it was a decisive, magical turning point in my life. Enter, Brian.

Early on in my life, I spent a number of years in therapy to acquire tools to help me handle certain aspects of my childhood in a healthy way. They've served me well for 33 years and now I need some new tools to help me manage a whole new set of challenges. Brian is a social worker by training who has an incredible gift for helping people to get the most out of the lives they have to help them achieve the lives that they want. He sets about his work with the desire to help people turn their experiences and dreams into action. He is exactly the kind of person I need right now.

I began my weekly sessions with him today and because I am so open about my life's circumstances, we were able to get to the root of our work together very quickly. It helps that I found Brian based on Rob's strong recommendation. Because I trust Rob, I immediately trusted Brian. Because I trust myself and know how I want my life to take shape, it was easy to ask someone as knowledgeable as Brian for help. And so, it begins...

Being a forever student, I asked for homework at the end of our session. "I want you to be still and allow the feelings of loss you've had this year to surface. You're so busy getting away from grief that you never really look it in the eye and see how it can actually help you." True, and scary, and difficult, and necessary. I was so concerned about getting through my losses this year that I didn't stop to look around and see what they really had to offer me. I just wanted to be done, and in my desire to be done, I forgot to let myself grieve. I took a "well that happened so now get on with it" approach without letting myself say "that was frightening and sad, and I'm going to miss those things and people in my life."

Grief is difficult; suppressed grief eventually becomes unbearable and makes itself a nuisance and makes us tired. With Brian's help, I'm going to figure out how to make grief serve me well.

My latest post on Examiner.com: Interview with Founders of Code Blue

Two weeks ago, I had the great fortune of spending some time with the founders of Code Blue, a recovery drink that is made for people who need to feel refreshed without caffeine, added sugar, or preservatives. In one amazing little can you’ll find an elixir that hydrates, replenishes, detoxifies and reduces inflammation. Oh, and it tastes good, too! Sweetened with agave nectar, Code Blue has a proprietary formula that contains prickly pear, Sustamine (an amino acid that promotes muscle hydration and electrolyte replacement), B12, B6, vitamin C, and potassium.

Not convinced that any drink can do all that and taste delicious? I wasn’t either so I sat down with the founders, Michael Sachs and Jeffrey Frumin, to have a little tasting of my own. Now I’m hooked!

For the full article, click here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Grey Matter, White Matter

I've been thinking a lot about aging this week. During my yoga practice I noticed that my lower back had some weird pain, just a small twinge, when I flatten out my back and lift up. I've never had that pain before and I don't know what could be causing it except maybe that I'm not as young I used to be. Not that I'm old by any stretch. Not by a long shot. I just have to actually be conscious of my health now.

This weekend, my niece is visiting me. She is 21 months. I'm having a blast chasing her around. Today we went apple picking and I got to experience that joy all over again with fresh eyes. I forgot how much fun it is to be out in the fresh air, picking apples, and running up grassy hills. When we got back to my apartment tonight, I went into the bathroom to wash my face and noticed that I look shockingly younger. And it's not that I have some magic moisturizer. I think it's just the glow of happiness that we gain by being around a little ball of energy.

Earlier this week, I heard Jean Chatzky speak. She's been thinking a lot about aging lately, too. And she's been doing some research involving neuroscience. Specifically neuroscience that relates to aging. As it turns out when we are very young, our grey matter is growing, too. Literally, the number of neurons is increasing, making us, well, neurotic. So all those crazy thoughts and emotions and mood swings we have in our teens and 20's are to be expected. Blame it on the growth of grey matter. After our 20's, the growth of grey matter slows and the growth of white matter, the part of our brain that connects our neurons, grows well into middle age. So this process of becoming older and wiser is not a nice metaphor to make us feel better about aging. It actually has some serious science behind it. As we age we become less neurotic and more able to see connections between thoughts, ideas, and experiences.

What keeps coming to the forefront of my mind is how do I keep my body young and my brain moving forward at the same time. The greatest question of our time, I suppose. How do we make sure to keep our outlook fresh while also preserving the wisdom we've worked so hard to attain? How do I keep the energy of youth and take comfort in having an old soul? Perhaps it's just a balance - holding my youth in one hand and my age in the other. There is a time for age old wisdom and a time for a new outlook. The trick is to know when to utilize each.

My Year of Hopefulness - Children's Health Fund

Tonight my friend and colleague, Wayne, took me to the annual meeting for Children's Health Fund (CHF). Knowing my interest in and past experience with nonprofit organizations, he knew I would be interested. What he didn't know, and frankly what I didn't know, is that CHF would be a perfect match for my interests on a variety of levels.

Personally and professionally, the mission of CHF to provide and advocate for quality medical care for every child resonates with me. Due to a drastic change in my family situation when I was a young child, my family lived below the poverty line and without health care for a good number of years. As an undergraduate, I did my senior economics thesis on the quality of healthcare for children below the poverty line living in West Philadelphia; the paper was based on my work-study job assisting one of the lead pediatricians at Children's Seashore House (now a part of The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia). Additionally, I am considering the Public and Urban Policy PhD program at The New School because of my growing interest in inner-city education, and inner-city education requires caring for the whole child, healthcare included. There are certain points in our lives when the stars perfectly align, and tonight felt like one of those nights.

I had the great honor of hearing Karen Redlener, the Executive Director, and her talented staff speak about the 2008 accomplishments of CHF. 70,000 children received medical care through 210,000 patient visits and 613 medical professional received training through CHF's programs in 25 cities across the country. In a time when so many organizations, for-profit and non-profit, are pulling back and remaining cautious, CHF is stepping up their game.

Jane Pauley, one of CHF's dedicated board members and someone I greatly admire, explained why CHF is continuing to push forward and grow their goals as opposed to cutting back. In this recession, fear is everywhere. And while it might at first seem inconceivable that any organization could maintain their funding during this recession much less grow it, CHF keeps looking up and reaching higher.

Why, you ask? The sound barrier. Jane Pauley told the story of the first pilot to break the sound barrier. Previously, when pilots came up against the intense shaking caused by approaching speeds close to the sound barrier, they would pull the throttle back. A fatal mistake. Chuck Yeager did something different - when his plane approached the sound barrier, shaking badly, he pushed the throttle forward, went faster, and broke the sound barrier altogether. He is literal proof that if we press on, despite adversity, there are great rewards to be had when we come out the other side. CHF and Chuck Yeager are of the same mind.

Healthcare has been front page news every day this week; it's been at the top of the Obama agenda for months; it was a major issue in the 2008 Presidential campaign. This is healthcare's moment; this is CHF's moment. For over 20 years, Irwin Redlener and Paul Simon, the co-founders, along with their dedicated, passionate team have been working tirelessly on behalf of children and their right to quality healthcare. The debates are raging on Capitol Hill and across this country. The plane is shaking, and we cannot pull the throttle back. We are so close to breaking through, so close to having quality, affordable care for every American. CHF is continuing to stand its ground with dignity and grace, fortified by the simple belief that all children everywhere have a right to be healthy.

We need them to succeed in this mission. By the end of 2009, 1:5 children in the U.S. will be below the poverty line. 1:5. Of all the facts and figures we review every day, that might be the scariest I've heard. We can't afford to have 20% of our nation's children grow up poor and unhealthy. Think the healthcare of others isn't your problem? Think again. Their future is our future. And they need us. All of us. Someone has to stand up for them if we are to have any hope at all in the future of our nation. CHF is giving it everything they've got, and they need more. They need us. To find out how you can help, visit the Children's Heath Fund website.

My Year of Hopefulness - Fire

Today I was more scared that I've ever been. I'm blogging tonight from the a comforting home of a friend, smelling soot and ash from my laptop that is likely ruined. My apartment building caught fire today.

I'm fine. Most of my belongings are fine. At around 1:00pm I heard the floor of my kitchen crackling and the floor began to heave. I grabbed my keys and went downstairs to tell my neighbor to stop doing whatever he was doing. And then the stairwell filled with thick black smoke.

I couldn't see anything - it was as if I had a blindfold on. I got as low as I could, scrambled down three flights, and yelled as loud as I could. Apparently my yelling helped some of my neighbors get out of the building. No smoke alarms went off, or at leas none of the ones I pass on my way downstairs.

It was a curious thing. I felt like I was flying down those stairs, as if someone was carrying me. My apartment is largely untouched, despite that most of my neighbors around me have apartments that are virtually destroyed. And just this morning I was talking about the importance of renters' insurance and how I'd never had anything like a house fire happen to me. It's all a bit eerie. I'm worried I may never feel at home in that apartment again and yet, I'm also very much aware that someone, somewhere was and is protecting me.

My greatest fear was that I'd pass out on the stairs, dying from smoke inhalation. And even though I got a face full of soot, I never once felt like I was suffocating. I only had the fear of suffocating. Very different. Truthfully, I came out that front door with a scratch, bump, or bruise on me. I was just fine. Only shaken.

And now I wonder if this one event is enough. As if I weren't already painfully aware of time passing by, now I think I might be turning a corner, again, in my quest for a whole, joyful life. It seems that now I really don't have any reason to be afraid. That there is no time like the present to grab ahold of everything I ever wanted to do or be. A few more minutes in that building, and the ending of my story could have been much different. I might not be writing this blog post tonight.

We're all always on borrowed time. Now, it seems impossible to me that I could ever forget that. And for this borrowed time, I am most grateful. I learned today that I really don't need any possessions I have. All I needed was my health. I just needed to be okay. The rest can be replaced. All of it. Amazing how it takes something so traumatic to truly know something so basic.

Already I feel the gloom lifting and the light settling in. Already I know that I will be more than okay, that today I begin never, ever looking back. Today I start moving forward with a new energy to build the greatest life I possibly can. And again, I feel like I am flying, as if someone is carrying me. And I know they are.

My Year of Hopefulness - Stop the World, I Want to Get Off

This week has been a roller coaster. My stress level was up and down every other hour, so much so that at one point I was physically dizzy. I was joking with my friend, Denise, who was having a similar week, that my theme song should be "Stop the World, I Want to Get Off." Then she reminded me that should be the theme song not just this week but every week.

To reduce stress and keep myself in check, I practice yoga, run, meditate, and breath. I back away from stress slowly, keeping my eye on its source so that it doesn't sneak up on me again for a repeat performance. I think of it as a very hungry grizzly bear, something to be handled with extreme care and to diffuse by almost any means necessary.

I keep looking for ways to cut stress from my life, as if it's some disease. The moment it rears its ugly head I want to banish it. This week I tried to appreciate stress's occasional appearance in my life. It puts a fire under me to get something finished. In my effort to diffuse stress, I actually max out my productivity to get the job done. Stress often leads me to some of my most creative work. (I wish some scientist would do a study on stress's effect on creativity.)

This isn't to say that I crave stress, seek it out, or love opening up my front door to see it glaring down at me. It's true that when it arrives, I hang my head a little low and quietly curse under my breathe "not again!" However, after a minute or two, I sit up straight, roll-up my sleeves and get to work. In the case of stress, there's no way past it except through it. While the temptation is to step off the stress merry-go-round, there are a lot of learnings and value to be derived from its occasional visit. Our challenge is to manage through it so that it doesn't set up camp and make itself at home in our everyday lives.

NY Business Strategies Examiner - Interview with Lissa Rankin, Founder of Owning Pink

Meet Lissa Rankin, an artist, writer, gynecologist, mother, and all around bundle of positive energy. I met Lissa on Twitter, and once I read her brief bio I knew that I had to feature her in this column.

Lissa has made it her mission in life to help others get their mojo back, and particularly to empower women to do whatever and be whoever they want to be. To foster this mission, she created the company Owning Pink, a place where women can connect and support one another in their pursuits. Owning Pink offers classes, workshops, and mentoring to further these connections.

A courageous, empathic, inspirational role model, Lissa is exactly the kind of person this world needs more of.

For the full interview with Lissa, click here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Getting the Most Out of Your Days

"Don't be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of. One man gets only a week's value out of a year while another man gets a full year's value out of a week." ~ Charles Richards

I am obsessed with productivity. (On occasion, I have spent an afternoon watching an Ace of Cakes marathon on the Food Network. Guilty as charged - what can I say? I love cake.) 95% of the time, I'm doing something that I hope will help move my life forward. Reading, writing, connecting with others, visiting museums, exercising, meditating, running, cooking, and observing life. I am an expert scheduler and I strive to be a model of efficiency.

So why is progress so important to me? Why can't I just slow down and go with the flow? Why must I be constantly engaged? Part of it is that I am hopelessly nerdy and have been since birth. 'Why?' is my favorite question, and I ask it loud, proud, and often. It's a reflex. I have an overwhelming desire to be in the know, or at least to try to be in the know. The words "I'm bored" have never crossed my mind, much less come out of my mouth.

The other reason for my constant activity is something more serious. For better or for worse, I am constantly mindful of my age and of the time that's passing. Some people will say that those who are young don't appreciate their youth or their health. They think they'll be beautiful forever. I know it's all fading. Every day I'm looking for a wrinkle, a grey hair, a loss of ability. My WebMD checking can get a bit out of hand from time to time. I was born thinking like an old person, so much so that I am often surprised to look in the mirror and see someone so young.

My siblings and I lost a lot of our family members at a very young age, and those losses stick with us. They changed us. As teenagers, we became painfully aware that life is finite, at least in the form in which we know it. And while I could easily become consumed by the fear of time passing by, instead I focus on making every moment count.

There's a saying that goes something like "if you live a good life, you'll be able to enjoy it twice: once as you're living it when you're young, and again when you're looking back on it when you're old." Given my love of efficiency, this sounds like a great deal to me - I'll get two good lives for the price of one! That's well-worth the effort.

NY Examiner.com: Interview with Manny Hernandez, Founder and President of Diabetes Hands Foundation

I met Manny Hernandez, Founder and President of Diabetes Hands Foundation, on Twitter. He started to follow me on Twitter and when I took a look at his profile, I realized he'd be a perfect fit for this column. From the personal challenge of being diagnosed with diabetes, Manny has grown his foundation and the two social networks (tudiabetes.com in English and estudiabetes.com in Spanish) to help people who are also grappling with this disease. Like so many successful social entrepreneurs, Manny took his skills of web product management, on-line community building, and writing, and combined them with his personal passions to find a cure for diabetes and to help people living with the disease manage their lives.

I was honored to get to interview Manny about Diabetes Hands Foundation, his personal connection to diabetes, and his leap of faith into entrepreneurship.

For the full story, please visit: http://www.examiner.com/examiner/x-2901-NY-Business-Strategies-Examiner~y2009m6d28-Interview-with-Manny-Hernandez-Founder-and-President-of-Diabetes-Hands-Foundation

My Year of Hopefulness - Urban Zen Foundation

NBC Nightly News has been running a series called "What Works", a follow-on to their wildly successful series "Making a Difference". Think of it as nothing but positive news to brighten up your days. Stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things, mostly for the benefit of others.

Yesterday, the segment featured the work of Donna Karan with the Urban Zen Foundation. Urban Zen has developed the Urban Zen Integrative Therapy Program at Beth Israel Hospital that is providing supplemental care in the forms of yoga and meditation to people with cancer being treated at Beth Israel. It is a year long pilot program that started last fall. The project is being monitored closely to assess results of the integrated program. It could be a whole new paradigm in U.S. healthcare.

You have to hand it to Beth Israel Hospital. For decades now, many U.S. hospitals have paid little or no heed to the power of yoga as a method to help patients heal. Mumbo jumbo, hippy medicine full of nothing but sweetness and light - that won't kill cancer. What we really need to do is burn and chemically treat those cancer cells and hope we don't harm too many of the good cells in the process. I don't doubt the ability of chemotherapy and radiation to treat cancer. They are powerful tools.

What I believe, and what the Urban Zen Institute believes, is that yoga is a powerful compliment to traditional medical treatment. They are not a replacement - but rather a helpful, potent supplement that can actually enhance the body's ability to benefit from traditional cancer treatments. It couldn't have been easy for Beth Israel to make the case that this program was worth almost $1B of investment dollars. They were willing to go out on a healthcare limb to run a true, valid, scientific test of yoga's ability to treat cancer. It's courageous.

With Beth Israel's pilot, it seems that the tide may be turning in our country. Perhaps we are coming around to seeing things a different way when it comes to health and wellness. We might be on to a better path forward.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Power of Compartmentalizing

You have to let it go. Breathe. Again. Breathe. This year I have really begun to appreciate the ability to compartmentalize the different areas of my life. It's not a natural skill I have, though one I have developed over and over again with conscious effort. Some days I am better at it than others. Today, I did really well.

I have one area of my life that has been giving me trouble lately, lots of it. I've had to learn to let it go and focus on the other great parts of my life. It's not easy. I'll find myself walking along the street and it will rear it's head again, forcing me to stop, breathe, and put it aside. It's sort of like a bad penny or one of those crazy dreams you have repeatedly.

This exercise has shown me that I do have the discipline to keep negative events in one area of my life from spilling over into others. It's not something that comes easily, and honestly, I used to be horrible at it. Dreadful, even. I was one of those people who would have 99 great things and 1 bad thing happen, and sure enough there I'd be at the end of day focusing on the 1 really bad thing as if the other 99 great things didn't even happen or matter. I don't suggest this method for living - actually, I highly discourage it. You'll be miserable and unhappy, and quite frankly, the world has enough misery and unhappiness right now without you and me contributing any more.

So learn to breathe a little more deeply, do yoga, meditate, run, have a good laugh, and let it all go. You'll be healthier and every other area of your life will thank you many times over.

Image above from: https://www.totalofficesupplies.co.uk/catalog/images/373323.jpg

My Year of Hopefulness - Total Knee Replacement

Today my mom got a new knee. She's been struggling with intense pain for about a year. She finally couldn't stand it anymore, we found a great surgeon, and she signed up for a total knee replacement. My step-father, brother, sister-in-law, and I were there to see her off to surgery. I turned back after we said our good-byes and watched as the very capable nursing staff wheeled her down the hall. There was something frightening about seeing my mom head through those double doors. I wanted to watch the surgery, like I've seen so many times on Grey's Anatomy, but there was no gallery. So I was out in the waiting room with my family, just waiting.

There's something disconcerting about watching our parents get older, something so hard about watching how we begin to take care of them and worry about them the way that they cared for and worried about us for so long. I couldn't sleep much last night. I know that total knee replacement is a standard surgery. Over 400,000 Americans have them every year. But this one of the 400,000 was my mom and I only have 1 of her. And I was worried.

As it turns out the surgeon, Dr. Thompson, and the exceptional staff at Saint Francis Hospital took amazing care of her and she came through the surgery just fine. Better than fine. She woke up from the anesthesia smiling and asked the surgeon, "so how did it go?" That's my mom - optimistic almost to the point of delusion. And in this instance, that optimism was the very best thing she could have.

I hung around with my mom until she got her dinner and I was sure she was settled. We were watching the evening news in her hospital room as Katie Couric described the details of GM's bankruptcy filing. The government, meaning the tax payers, now own 70% of GM. Mom turned to me, smiling from ear to ear. "Christa, how great a day is this?! I got a new knee and I own General Motors."

I laughed out loud. "That's right, Mom. Today was a good day."

My Year of Hopefulness - Mayo Clinic & Social Media

Incorporating the world of social media into an existing business can be challenging. And scary. You want to get involved and building community, but where do you start? How do you start? Which tools and materials are the most relevant for a specific business? The number of choices is overwhelming and growing all the time.

If you have a start-up, it's easier to bake social media plans right into the initial marketing and communications strategy. Established businesses have a tougher time -- they've made significant investments in brand building and customer loyalty that didn't involve social media. A few efforts in social media that lack authenticity and the business will be hung out to dry by every power that exists in social media land.

I was tooling around on slideshare recently and found a presentation by Mayo Clinic that described their journey into the uncertain world of social media. With a brand this powerful and with so much debate swirling about patient privacy, Mayo Clinic took a risk by testing social media's potential to increase their impact and reach. A few of the key points touched upon in the presentation are key for any business interested in a similar pursuit and they're good reminders for all of us whenever we take on a large project in unfamiliar territory:

1.) Start small. Mayo Clinic could have came into the world of social media guns a-blazin', hopping on to every social media service available. They didn't. They first assembled a space on their website that tracked all of the stories about them showing up in traditional media, and gave people a way to respond to those stories through comments on their own site. The branded this site 'Medical Edge'. Smart - they got a lot of great feedback and leveraged written material that already existed.

2.) Use what's free and available from others first rather than building your own platform from scratch. Mayo Clinic took advantage of the iTune platform to first create radio mp3s. Then it graduated to podcasts, more and longer podcasts, and then eventually built its own platform at podcasts.mayoclinic.org. Rather than jumping right in and building their own platform, they wanted to see if there was even any interest in this type of material and they experimented with length and topics. Might as well learn on someone else's platform before you build your own.

3.) Use what works. For some organizations, a blog and a Twitter account are the best vehicles for building community. Others find that Facebook Groups work really well for them. For Mayo Clinic, it's videos. That shared experience by real people who are a part of the Mayo Clinic global community provided the most bang for the buck. And with a Flip video camera, the interviews became very easy to record, edit, and post - first to YouTube and then to their own sharing platform at sharing.mayoclinic.org.

These small tips added up to big impact for Mayo Clinic, an established brand that found a way to make social media work for them by taking small steps forward. They are flourishing in the world of social media and can be found participating in multiple outlets. They went slowly, and took the time to discover which path suited them best. It's a wonderful framework to consider. Find it at http://www.slideshare.net/LeeAase/mayo-clinic-best-of-blogwell09

My Year of Hopefulness - Cathedral of Saint John the Divine

Yesterday, I found myself leaving the emergency room of St. Luke's Hospital. I had developed a "subconjunctival hemorrhage" and a slight amount of "petechiae". This is a fancy way of saying a very small blood vessel popped in my left eye and I had a few tiny red freckles around both of my eyes. I was panicked that I was experiencing the beginning of a very serious medical condition. Turns out that all of my blood work and diagnostic tests came back completely normal. I'll just look a little weird for a week or so.

I called my mom to update her and let her know that nothing was seriously wrong with me. I wandered down the street, into the children's sculpture garden of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. As I was explaining to my mom that I was just fine, I found myself tearing up. Maybe they were tears of relief, or fear, or maybe it was frustration with the week I had just finished. Over the past few days I have discovered many more of my friends have lost their jobs. I'm beginning to wonder how I've been so fortunate to escape that situation in this economy. I work very hard, though not any harder than my friends who have been let go from their positions. I'm beginning to think that luck has a lot to do with it.

I sat in that sculpture garden for about 20 minutes and had a good cry. The sun had come out, the wind was blowing, and I felt lost. I'm worried about the uncertainty we're all facing, despite the fact that I have managed uncertainty so many times before. I feel like the ground is shifting beneath our economy, and there is no sign of it settling down any time soon. I was angry for my friends who have been let go from their jobs - hard working, talented people who were seen as a line item on a company's excel spreadsheet, an expense rather than a resource and an investment. I felt shaken.

I had never really looked at that giant sculpture next to Saint John the Divine. It's a collaborative piece of work based on Noah's Ark and the triumph of good over evil. The Cathedral has been closed for some time for renovations and recently re-opened. I was weary from my hospital visit though felt drawn into that incredible cathedral. I wandered in and it was nearly empty. The choir was practicing and I felt drawn to sit in the center of the space, letting that beautiful music wrap around me like a warm hug. Though I am not a religious person, I felt that God was very close to me at that moment, that he knew what I was going through, and wanted to help.

I let my eyes tear up again, I was cemented to that seat, transfixed by the music. After a little while I got up and walked around the edge of the cathedral, stopping to look at each of the small chapels. The light shone through them so brilliantly. I had never seen stained glass that colorful and perfect. By the time the choir stopped, I got to The Poet's Corner, a small area that pays tributes to literary greats such as Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Gertrude Stein. They each had their names and birth date engraved into a stone, along with a quote they famously wrote.

One quote particularly caught my attention. Theodore Roethke said, "I learn by going where I have to go." I thought about this quote all the way home. It reminded me that I have places I need to be, where I've committed to be, and there are things for me to learn there and to take somewhere else. Today, I just need to do what I have to do. The acts of hope and faith are a daily process. Just keep showing up.

The image above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Food Medic

Today I am thrilled to publish a recent interview with Gary Novosel, Founder of The Food Medic. The Food Medic is a website that provides information of good nutrition's ability to combat disease. On the site, Gary provides information on the health properties of specific skills, what foods have great benefit to combat specific diseases, and delicious recipes that are easy to prepare.

All of the interviews I do for Examiner.com really motivate me to work on my own business ideas. Gary's story is one with real heart, so much so that I even found myself tearing up when he talked about several life-changing experiences that prompted him to start The Food Medic. He's also written a cookbook to capture many of his insights and delicious recipes, appropriately titled The Food Medic Cookbook.

Gary's journey is a wonderful lesson in the power of kismet and following your passion! He also has great advice for people who are interested in starting their own businesses. Check out my interview with Gary on Examiner.com by clicking here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Mother's Day

I took Mom to brunch and to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens today for Mothers' Day. It's easy for her to hop on a train, I pick her up at Grand Central, and away we go. Though I love my family get-togethers it's also fun to have my mom all to myself once in a while - something we had precious little of when I was younger.

All day I considered how Mom has shaped my life, how much I've learned from her, and how much comfort she's given me over the years. We drive each other crazy from time to time also, though I think that's more just the nature of mother-daughter relationships. I wouldn't swap lives with my mom - she had a tough go of it for many, many years. She came of age in a time when women were starting to be treated with equality, though she endured many unfair circumstances that had nothing to do with her ability and everything to do with her gender. I know she lives vicariously through my accomplishments and I try to live up to that honor every day.

After dropping Mom at Grand Central so she could catch her train home, I hopped onto Facebook to see a note from my friend, Heidi, that she was spending the day celebrating the great lady who now watches over her from above. I reflected back on my day with Mom, thinking about how excited she was to smell the full scent of wisteria and see the azaleas in bloom at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I'm so grateful for this time we have together - it's one of the biggest reasons I came back to NYC. After my Mom's cancer in 2006, I realized with a sad and painful awareness that she wouldn't be with me forever, that someday I'd have to celebrate Mother's Day the same way my friend, Heidi, did today.

For now though, Mom's alive and kicking (or at least she will be kicking once she gets her new knee on June 1st) and time is of the essence. As we went up the escalator from the subway, my mom gave me a hug and thanked me so much for the day.

"You spent a lot of money, today, Christa."

"That's fine, Mom. I'm happy to be able to do it. It's only money."

And I meant it - it is only money, and I can always make more of it. I won't always be able to get more time with Mom so we need to savor it while we can. Happy Mother's Day to all!

My Year of Hopefulness - Bearing defeat without losing heart

"The greatest test of courage on the earth is to bear defeat without losing heart." - R. G. Ingersoll

I read this quote last week on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/tamow) and knew I wanted to blog about it though couldn't decide on how to steer this post. This morning I sadly realized how critical it is for us to have courage. I am beginning to think that it might be the most vital skill we can develop and cultivate.

My mom let me know that my Great Aunt Lorraine passed away this morning. In her mid-80's, she lived a largely healthy and incredible happy life, one that my grandmother would define as "good, clean living". Honest, hard working, and loving, my Aunt Lorraine was thoughtful and generous, never forgetting a birthday or anniversary. I will miss her. She went through several bouts of cancer and chemotherapy eventually got the best of her.

She passed away from a from condition called MDS, a chemotherapy-induced form of leukemia. Chemotherapy is a poison, and the hope is that in targeted doses it will kill the cancer before killing the person being treated. Chemotherapy gave my Aunt Lorraine extra years that she would not have had otherwise, though I always find it discouraging to hear that science has failed us in some way. When she was first diagnosed, I was angry with her doctors. No wonder some people refuse treatment all together. Who wants those toxic substances floating around their bodies to cause unspeakable pain and suffering later on?

The art of medicine, and those who seek treatment through it, are engaging in a constantly morphing, emerging field. When someone is lost because science couldn't save them, there is cause to feel defeated and disappointed by doctors, the very heroes who are supposed to literally save us. The truth is that we can't give up on medicine, on the process of trial and error, on the development of new processes and treatments. Without taking these risks, advancement isn't possible. And advancements let my family have my Aunt Lorraine for as long as we did, in relatively good health. She had great courage to continue fighting cancer and she never lost heart. Her doctors pushed forward doing the best they could to give her more time. They had great courage, too.

My Aunt Lorraine's passing is also a reminder that our time here is short and precious. The times we're living in are testing us to the nth degree, and many are walking around disillusioned and disappointed, in themselves, in the failings of their government and financial system, in their companies. I understand that feeling, and on occasion I share it.

Many times in our lives, we will have to bear defeat, learn from it, get up, and keep going. With hope of better days, it's a little easier to keep going. As I've said before, hope isn't a strategy for success. It's a tool to make the journey easier, and it makes courage more attainable. My Aunt Lorraine had hope that the chemotherapy treatments she endured would help her live longer. And she was right. I am inspired by her ability to look defeat in the eye and hang on to her heart, her family. We must all do the same - the alternative is not an option if we intend to live as well and as long as she did.

My Year of Hopefulness - Second Opinions

Mom's had a bum knee for a few years that's gotten progressively worse. It's to the point now where to walk comfortably she needs a cortisone shot. Total knee replacement is inevitable and she is now an excellent candidate for the surgery. She went to see a physician who was recommended to her by her doctor. With a near absence of customer service, he told her she'd be back to work in two weeks. And he could probably schedule her for surgery some time in the next few months.

Total knee replacement is an incredibly invasive procedure. It hurts. A lot. And the only way through the pain is to keep moving. Lots of physical therapy, before and immediately after. To say that someone could be back to work in two weeks is ludicrous according to my dear friend Ken who works in a physical therapy clinic. "8-12 weeks is more like it," he told me. "And those stairs in her house? She won't be able to use them for a few weeks either."

We went off to see a new surgeon today. I refused to let the first surgeon work on her. This second opinion was the right way to go - the doctor spent a lot of time with her, answered all her questions and concerns (and mine), and gave her the straight story about what she could and should expect. 8-12 weeks off from work and yes, she'd be best off to go to a nursing facility for a few weeks right after the surgery. Oh, and he can perform the surgery as early as May 18th. He recommended a class for her to go to at our local hospital's joint clinic run by a top-notch physical therapist who will answer all of her questions. She left actually looking forward to total knee replacement.

On the train home, I thought a lot about second opinions and the importance of getting them for so many situations in our lives. It's easy and less time consuming to snag the closest opinion and run with it. It's easier still to not seek out any opinions and just do whatever we want. The value of two or more opinions is that you get a few different views of the world from varying vantage points and levels of experience.

With these remarkably uncertain times we're living in right now, the value of second opinions can't be overstated. We need to take a 360 degree look at every challenge and decision we're facing and opinions from different, non-associated parties can help us do that. It's advice we can all use, whether we're considering a new knee, a new job, a new city, a new relationship. After all, "none of us is as smart as all of us."

My Year of Hopefulness - Row for Hope

At 25 years old, Paul Ridley is the youngest American to row across the Atlantic Ocean alone. It took him 88 days and he rowed almost 3,000 miles. Paul and his sister, Joy, started an organization called Row for Hope in 2001 in honor of their mother who passed away from cancer. Row for Hope is a fundraising organization for cancer research.

In the CNN article I read about the journey, the line that stood out for me was when Paul how he decided to put this effort together with his sister. "I was a rower at Colgate University. I love the sport. I'm not a scientist, but I can row," he said. Paul looked at what abilities he had, what contribution he wanted to make, and found a way to put the two together.

In addition to raising money for cancer research and awareness of the disease, Paul and Joy also want to encourage other athletes to take up efforts similar to Paul's Atlantic Ocean crossing. Even better news - he may just inspire all of us by showing that we can take what we love doing, no matter what it is, and use it improve the world around us in any way we can think of. A social enterprise mash-up in the making.

My Year of Hopefulness - Mr. Ayers and Mr. Lopez

I've been developing a habit of reading and listening to inspirational stories. I need to keep my courage and strength up in these tough times. We all do. On Sunday, I watched 60 Minutes because President Obama was speaking. I planned to shut off the TV and go through some of my weekly reading that had piled up as soon as President Obama's interview was complete. Instead, I spent the remainder of the hour glued to the TV, getting to know Mr. Ayers and Mr. Lopez. 

Meet Mr. Lopez, a columnist for the LA Times. A good guy whom you imagine might be your neighbor, a fellow parent at your child's school, if you're lucky he'd be your boss or colleague. Now meet Mr. Ayers, a homeless man in LA. He suffers from the disease of paranoid schizophrenia. And he is a brilliantly gifted musician. Cello, violin, and trumpet. Gift enough to be admitted to Julliard. Gifted enough still to keep up with the LA Philharmonic whose members now rehearse with and provide lessons to him when he visits them at the concert hall. 

After his first year at Julliard, Mr. Ayers went home and began showing signs of his illness which was rearing its ugly head inside his wonderfully gifted mind. As a last ditch desperation move, Mr. Ayers followed the advice of psychiatrists and subjected her son to electric shock treatments. It is a barbaric treatment that was at one time, not all that long ago, accepted as a viable tool to manage the disease. Instead, it sent Mr. Ayers into a downward spiral from which he has never returned. 

Mr. Lopez and Mr. Ayers met three years ago. Mr. Ayers was playing his cello in a park as Mr. Lopez roamed the streets trying to come up with a story for his looming deadline. What struck Mr. Lopez in addition to Mr. Ayers's virtuosity, was that he wasn't playing in the park for money. He was just playing his cello for himself. Mr. Lopez would learn that Mr. Ayers played to forget, to chase away the frightening effects of his schizophrenia. He needed to, wanted to drown out his deepest, darkest concerns. Thus began a 3 year friendship that continues and flourishes so much that it caught the attention of Universal Pictures and has been turned into a movie, The Soloist, featuring Jamie Foxx and Robert Downey, Jr. The movie will open in theatres on April 24, 2009.  

My father was a clinical psychologist so I know a bit about diseases like paranoid schizophrenia. I can tell you that it is a heartbreaking disease to see and experience up close, and it is even harder to see the strain the disease places on families and loved ones of the person who has the disease. To hear the story of Mr. Ayers, to hear his incredible musical gifts mixed with his equally incredible demons, we have to believe that in all people, regardless of circumstances, there is good and not-so-good. 

It was a reminder to me that too often we cast aside the mentally ill in this country as if they have nothing to offer society. They are hidden away, forgotten, ignored. Their basic needs like healthcare and shelter too often go unfulfilled. In our society, they have very few vehicles to raise their voice, to come together, to stand up, and to be counted. Let's hope that The Soloist is not just another feel good story at the box office but that it actually raises awareness that inspires action. On the movie's website, there are links to help you get involved in the efforts to end homelessness and help those with mental illnesses.   

To read the 5-part series written by Mr. Lopez about Mr. Ayers, click here.

The above photo depicts Mr. Nathaniel Ayers playing the violin. I found the image at: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEMyNvHNE6ArdPb410-0LsA_zWh3uMNun16sJP39qWipP8Nnyr8oGucKpzvTNkF6Fy0CJRFMnfMN3ODh-2J90NcSiqpA-kQmxcNSQyH6CNk_0T4msoYcARYhAmiwNFB0bn-BBkNEhevot1/s320/1865563850_9f4c68c464.jpg