I had planned to write about Being Gentle today. It hasn't felt like a gentle day. The harder I try to put together cohesive thoughts, the more fragmented I feel. Shattered.

Grief punched me in the stomach in the middle of the night. It's been in knots ever since. Subconsciously I pushed the heartache down into my belly to avoid the pain. I know the vice grip I feel is really me trying to hold the lid on my feelings. My mind is saying I don't have time for this now. And my body is saying oh yes, you do.

So how do I follow my own advice? How can I Be Gentle when there's a raging storm inside me? How can I cope when I need to keep going? I've tried all kinds of things today--my entire list of Coping Strategies--except Be Gentle. Today I just can't figure out how to Be Gentle and that's the one I need the most.

Logically, I know it would help to let go.  Years ago I went to a book signing by the inspirational writer, SARK.  She had us write our worst fear on a piece of paper, fold it up and hand it to the person next to us. Then we all said, "will you throw this away for me? I don't need it anymore."  It was a simple, yet powerful demonstration of letti

What am I holding onto? What's keeping me from processing my grief? The fear that I'll cry at the performance tonight? The fear that I won't be prepared for rehearsal tomorrow? The fear that I won't be ready for the youth orchestra concert this weekend? Many questions; many fears.  I need your help. With these keystrokes, I'm putting my fears down on a piece of paper.  Will you throw this away for me? I don't need it anymore.