A new old way

I’m going to be brutally honest today, Gentle Penguin.  I need to speak some hard truth for myself.

Today is my last day working in the corporate world.  Today is my last day living a “corporate” life.  According to etymology (of course), I find corporate “is from Latin corporatus, past participle of corporare ‘make or fashion into a body, furnish with a body,’ also ‘to make into a corpse, kill.'”   

That’s exactly how I feel working in the corporate world.  Like it’s making me into a corpse.

I’ve tried different paths hoping I could figure it out, like:

  • Aspiring to go higher up the ladder
  • Throwing myself into training or focusing on learning new things
  • Switching my area of expertise
  • Becoming a consultant
  • Not caring and just focusing on the paycheck

But at the end of every day, I found myself turning to alcohol, or a hard workout, or crawling into bed and pulling the blankets over my head, or crying, or screaming at the top of my lungs.  And dreading the next day.  The mind-numbing work that doesn’t really seem to move any needles or have any meaning and certainly doesn’t use the skills and talents I have, the fear of layoffs or reorgs that happen annually, the expectation that life centers on answering emails or any of the other thousand ways that the corporation can tell me what to do, the stagnant sitting (or now standing), and the Lord of the Flies environment it seems to promote.

It’s NOT for me.  I do not want to be enslaved anymore.  Nor serve a “master” I don’t believe in.  Money is not the center of my existence.

So I’m going to try something I learned from octogenarians, nonagenarians and centenarians in some of my most favorite places in the world.  But it started with a seed planted by a young woman in the Eastern fjords of Iceland.

I met her when she led our off-road tour of the area.  I addition to tours, she also led fishing trips; she helped work the tourist info line in the Eastern part of the country; she worked in the local auto repair shop; she worked at the hotel in town during peak travel time; and she drove the ambulance for her village.  Each “job” contributed not only to her income, but also the economy of her community.

This was the way.  Everyone lived this way back generations.  It kept big business out of the area and, therefore, kept their economy and ecology free from the dependency that occurs with big business.  

A seed was planted and took root fast and furious in my mind.  Subsequent visits to rural northern Germany and a remote Greek island encouraged the seed to sprout.

The people I met there also lived with multiple “jobs” that they not only were skilled at, but that they enjoyed.  There was no “corporate career” there either.  And as a result, their land was pristine.

They all had farms that provided produce and maybe wool or milk, but they also drove the local taxi or school buses; they gave horseback tours of the beach or herbology tours of the local forest and bog; they sold knitted caps or homemade goods like bread, honey, wine, beer or herbal teas; they delivered newspapers or mail; they ran tavernas or cafes.  In addition, they served on their community councils; they took turns checking on the ill and elderly; they babysat each other’s children; they helped each other with harvests or home repairs.

Sure, I kept thinking, this works great in these small communities in remote locations, but I can’t do that where I live because…<<insert ten thousand excuses here>>.

Then one day I couldn’t get out of bed.  I couldn’t face another day of mindless meaningless motionless suffocation and suppression all in the name of a paycheck.

The day stretched into another.  And another.  That’s when my accountant said “Monica, you have no debt.  You have a financial cushion.  Maybe you need to take a year off.”

A small spark of hope saved me.

I knew I couldn’t simply take a year off.  I’ve tried “breaks” before.  I return rejuvenated and it might last for a couple years, but I always seem to end up in this same spot.  It isn’t “them,” it’s me.

Additionally, the thought of having to return and start over would become an anchor.

That’s when the seed that had sprouted began to grow and grow and grow.

Turns out there are ten thousand things I could do to live like the tour guide in the Eastern fjords of Iceland, or the farmers in Northern Germany, or the Taverna keepers on Greek islands.

I’m already a writer with income coming from that work…which I LOVE!  I already make some money as a diplomatic protocol officer hosting international officials in my community or at events.  Also helping small businesses with their sustainable success.  I used to make some “pocket money” singing in a band.  I’m certified to teach qigong and tai chi.  I could finish my training to teach ballroom dance.  I could be a bartender or a barista.  I could drive for Lyft.  I could lead walking tours of my town.  And grow a small garden.  And nine thousand nine hundred and ninety other things!

But first, I’m taking my queue from my inspirations and starting with the question every single one of them — regardless of location or language or talents or jobs — told me the started with.  “What matters most?”

It turns out that the is the key to success.  And it must be at the center of whatever comes next.  When you know WHY you’re doing something, and it MATTERS to you, anything is possible.

Another End; Another Beginning

I was talking with a friend over a beer the other night when he lamented that he hadn’t done hardly anything this year, and the year was almost over.

“How can that be?!” I asked incredulously.

This friend is one of the busiest people I know, frequently doing things that make you wonder what YouTube channels he’s watching or what Pinterest boards he subscribes to.

I started naming a few things I knew he had done that year, and he began to think of other things.  The more thoughts he had, the more things I remembered.  By the time we finished our second beer, he was laughing, “no wonder I feel so tired, I’ve done so much this year!”

And so it’s true for all of us.

What did you do, Gentle Penguin?

Below is an account of what I did – not for you to compare or compete with, but as a reminder for myself that each year is an absolute treasure chest overflowing with valuable memories and experiences and lessons.  So feel free to stop reading now and make your own list.

In 2019, I traveled the USA more extensively than ever before visiting Kansas City, Indianapolis, Orlando, St. Louis, San Jose, Frankfort (Michigan), Sedona, and Boston, to name a few places.  And in these American travels, I visited nine National Parks (including my first trip to the Grand Canyon) and five National Forests, where I fell in love with trees all over again.

Speaking of falling in love, I fell in love with Iceland during a lengthy stay exploring Her wild beauty.  And I discovered a new sense of “being at home” during an extended stay in rural northern Germany, the homeland of my father’s ancestors.

Many of my travels this year were connected to deepening my training in martial arts.  As such, I learned to strengthen my tendons, breath into my bone marrow, let mantras chant me, recognize and smile at my organs, travel through space and time with my mind, breathe through my skin, feel the energy of the air all around me, release tension and negative emotions through pressure points and postures, conduct my own inner alchemy, create an iron shirt, expand my aura, multiply my life force energy; and defend myself from punches, kicks, knives and guns as well as verbal and emotional attacks.

I learned how to ignore what everyone else was doing and listen to myself.  I let the Qi move me.  I picked up a new weapon.  I doubled my standing meditation time.  I graduated two belt levels in kung fu.  I was certified in and began teaching qigong, meditation and tai chi.  I shared life-force energy with a redwood tree, listened to stories of time from red rocks in the desert, rooted into sand dunes on the Great Lakes, and matched the frequency of my life-force energy to the Pacific Ocean.

I also connected more deeply to my loved ones.  I climbed glaciers with my daughter, a niece and sister-in-law.  I witnessed a lunar eclipse with my brother and his family.  I went to musical theatre with another niece and shared a love of Star Wars with another brother and one of my nephews.  I vacationed with my parents, all my brothers and sisters and their families, my other daughter and her boyfriend.  I camped with my dogs in a thunderstorm.  I had several dates with one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.  And I had countless dinners, coffees, and glasses of beer and wine with friends.

My writing business focused almost exclusively on writing about herbal teas across Europe, Iceland, and the USA—including an awe-inspiring experience learning about Native American herbal connections to my own hometown.  But it was water that provided the highlight of beverages this year as I drank the most amazing water across Iceland from glaciers to volcanic springs to naturally carbonated water at the base of the most powerful vortex I’ve visited yet.

And in deepening my knowledge of natural health options, I connected my Ayurveda self-care practices to Traditional Chinese Medicine — a shift that also connected my martial arts practice to my personal health and changed forever how I see my body and how I live.

My consulting business also provided rewarding connections this year.  I helped clients in Japan, France, Germany, Italy, Brazil, Switzerland, the United Kingdom and the United States create new connections with customers.  I negotiated with clients in Israel over a medical device stock issue.  I guided more than a dozen small businesses through business or product launches.  I mentored half a dozen independent consultants in setting up sustainable financial and environmental business practices when working with corporate America.  I helped negotiate issues associated with new trade restrictions in Asia that ultimately helped open new opportunities in Eastern Europe caused by those trade restrictions.

But you should know 2019 was not all sunshine and rainbows and candied unicorn poop.

I alienated myself from people in all parts of my life with a bad habit of not minding my own business.  I insulted my own teachers and mentors with an arrogance I labeled as “personal development.”  I felt the confusion I create for others when I avoid conflict and cannot deliver a clear “no.”  I found about fifty wrong ways of dealing with frustration and irritation and anger.  I struggled with the idea in both martial arts and in life that yielding does NOT mean giving up and giving in.  I fought a battle with burnout and anxiety attacks and migraines.  And burnout finally won; a battle I’m just starting to recover from.

So did this match up with what I said I wanted to do?

Last year, I said 2019 would be the year of deepening my knowledge of Natural Health and listening.  In reflection, I see that what my deeper knowledge of Natural Health taught me is that listening isn’t just an auditory experience.  This year, I began to learn how to listen with my entire being.  And in doing so, I connected.  I connected with places, and people, and ideas and the Earth.  More importantly, I finally connected with myself.   And I realized this is where I should have started so very long ago.

Gentle Penguin, if you’re still reading, I must admit it’s rather humbling to realize I’m probably past midlife and I JUST met myself.  But this was the seed for selecting my theme next year.

In 2020, I already now I want to continue connecting with myself and connecting myself to the Natural cycles of the Earth–and the Earth itself.

Not too long ago, while struggling to understand what “yielding” DOES mean, I found myself in a rabbit hole where I discovered that the Proto-Indo-European dhghem, which means “earth,” is the root of another word I struggle with.

Humble: (adj) submissive, respectful, lowly in manner, modest, not self-asserting, obedient

Truthfully, this word both annoys and frightens me.  And I guess that’s exactly why I believe I need to embrace it next on my Path.

What do you think?  2020: The Year of Humility.

Change in the Weather

For the past two years I’ve been traveling across the United States of America studying how I can live a more healthy and fulfilling life. And regardless of what system I’ve learned about (Aryuveda, Traditional Chinese Medicine, Native American herbology, Blue Zones, School of Life, Yoga, Qigong or Taijiquan), there is one thing they all have in common, or rather that they all have at their core—Nature.

Over and over again, the message was the same. “Nature is the ultimate truth.”

Fortunately, most of these adventures were located near beautiful nature. So I went into nature to practice what I learned. And while I learned a LOT of amazing things, one thing I learned has been bothering me.

In every location, it seems the weather is changing noticeably and significantly.

For example, as I wait for my flight in Boston, some of the locals tell me that the costal flood alerts blowing up the weather alert system on my cell phone is normal.

“I’ve lived here for more than 40 years, and the weather over the past three has been unbelievable. Storm surges, coastal flooding, blizzards, hurricanes…these used to be once-in-a-rare events. Now, they are the new normal.” One local told me.

In looking into it, I find the Boston government agrees and has created a full-city plan for addressing not only long-term rising sea levels and increased flooding, but also increased snow amounts and extreme heat.

The federal government, however, believes Florida is the place most likely to suffer dire consequences from rising sea levels, coastal flooding and storm surges. (USA Fourth National Climate assessment.)

And several locals were saying that’s no new news to them. “I told my husband a few years ago we should sell the house and buy a houseboat,” an elderly lady told me, “but he told me I was silly. Earlier this year, he said we wouldn’t have to because with all the flooding our house just may become a houseboat! We came down here for the sunshine and sand,” she said, “but lately all I see is rain and water.”

Locals I talked to in Snowbird, Utah, have noticed the opposite problem. “We depend on ski tourists for our livelihood,” one ski instructor told me when I told him how excited I was by a surprise snowstorm that dropped almost a foot of snow while I was there. “But it’s the middle of November, we should have snow and more of it! Our season has gotten shorter and shorter with less and less snow every year since I’ve worked here.”

Data from nearby Park City and the Scripps Institute of Oceanography agree, with statistics that show not only are winters becoming shorter and drier in the region, but that summers are also becoming drier and hotter.

Another place I visited recently is also becoming noticeably hotter. This past September in Sedona, locals I met were abuzz with concerns about the economy, which is struggling as people leave to escape the extreme heat — or rather stop coming as tourists. I discovered this is part of an ongoing discussion centered around a 2017 study published in the journal Science. This article summarized that Arizona will suffer more deaths and economic losses than most of the country under current climate change projections, mostly due to increasing temperatures…which continue to rise since records have been kept.

But my hiking guide in Sedona was talking about other changes in the weather. “We like to joke that monsoon season is now, like, ‘monsoon week’. It used to be months. This year, I’m not sure it happened at all,” he said. “You know, I used to pray for things like toys or money. Now I pray for rain.”

Locals I met on Lake Michigan’s Eastern shore were also praying when I visited Sleeping Bear Dunes that same month. But not for more rain.

“Beach? What beach?” a local laughed when my dogs and I went in search of a nice place to walk along the shore only to find that the stairs leading down to the water actually led into the water. “You don’t want to go down there anymore anyway,” he told me. “It’s dangerous now. Rogue waves, strong riptides, submerged junk…it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure I’m going to stay…I mean, if I even get the option since my house may not be here if this continues.”

Sure enough, NOAA’s Great Lakes Environmental Research Laboratory data showed that Lake Michigan was having it’s highest water levels on record, with the high-water record topping at 582.18 feet on July 23, less than a month before I visited.

But the data from the Army Corps of Engineers showed something even more interesting: in 2000, Lake Michigan fell below its 100-year average, and continued to fall until it reached a record-low mark of 576.02 feet in 2013. Then, it began to rise. And it hasn’t stopped rising yet taking over the shore as it rises.

Unprecedented fluctuations were also the topic of a long-time native of Central California last year when I visited Yosemite. The tour guide who was driving me through the “bread basket” of California pointed out the number of farms for sale. While I didn’t count them, the number of farms for sale was equal to, if not greater than, those that weren’t.

“Farmers depend on the land and the weather for their livelihood. They’re smart people. They know there will be cycles of drought and rain. But these cycles are becoming so destructive it’s almost impossible to make a consistent living. The droughts we’ve seen here in the past 10 years have been so bad it’s killing the trees, which means when we do have rain — or snow, the trees and the land just wash away.” And as if planned, just then we passed a farm where downed trees lay scattered among a muddy mess at the edge of the road.

Looking into the data at UC and UCLA, I find that in the past 100 years, the drought and rain cycle in California has intensified significantly, with the driest season on record happening between 2011 and 2014 and the wettest season on record occurring during the winter of 2016-2017.

And with these dry-wet fluctuations in California, I find that other weather changes are accompanying them.

A few weeks ago I found myself sitting in a dark library in Northern California without electricity because of wildfires. One of the librarians told me “sure, wildfires seem common around here, but the damage they’re doing lately is like nothing we’ve ever seen. Maybe this is how it will be from now on.”

Since the state of California started keeping records in 1932, 15 of the 20 biggest and most destructive fires have happened in the past two decades (out of nine decades), according to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection. Climate researchers agree these fires are precipitated by the droughts, but also by the increasing wind of the area.

In fact, the day before I was cautioned by park rangers at the lighthouse at Point Reyes National Seashore as they were tracking wind gusts nearby of up to 90 miles an hour!

Research published in the journal Science in 2014 showed wind speeds and strength in several costal regions of the world, including California, were increasing year-over-year for the past 60 years with a marked increase in the past decade.

But according to a 2017 survey by Yale University, “a majority of American adults don’t believe climate change will affect them personally.”

What does this have to do with health?

I don’t know, but I have a couple questions:

  • If the truth about health is related to an understanding of nature, and a majority of Americans don’t even acknowledge how nature is changing around them, could this also explains why the majority of Americans have some health issue? (Only 12 percent of Americans are metabolically healthy, according to the University of North Carolina Gillings School of Global Public Health, November 2018.)
  • What does Climate Change tell us about how to fix our health and perhaps the health of the planet?

Next year I intend to find out.

I’m taking a break from corporate America to resolve my own heath issues and find a new Way to live in connection to and harmony with Nature. This will certainly include what I’ve learned from some amazing teachers and practices, but also what I hope to learn from Nature.

In Transit

Do you ever have the feeling that you’re ready for change, but you don’t know what change to make?  Or you know what change you’re ready to make, but not sure what to do next?

In these moments, I have — in the past — put together spreadsheets, made action plans, gave myself tasks and schedules, and did something.

But I’ve had this feeling a LOT in my adult life, usually around the same two questions, making me wonder if maybe I’m going about it the wrong way.  Maybe in my drive to do something, I’m doing the wrong thing, which is why I find myself ready for change on the same two things again and again and again.

It was during a long flight home from vacation that I discovered a different option.  With lots of time on my hands and nothing to do but look out the window and listen to music, I found that though my thoughts were seemingly random, I was becoming vaguely aware of a solution to one of the questions I have struggled with.  Not able to reach my pen and notebook and not having brought tech, I had no choice but to just let it be.

I took a deep breath and continued watching the clouds slip by below me.

Many hours later, I not only had an answer, but one I would have never found in a spreadsheet or in an action plan.  And I was absolutely certain it was the right answer — something I hadn’t felt while making my task list.

So I decided to give it a try on the second question…a bigger question.  Finding my Sunday completely open–no body at home, no events scheduled, no pressing projects–I went to my secret outdoor inspiration point and made myself comfortable in the grass.

I watched a honey bee prying open the petals of clover flowers to gather nectar.  I watched a beetle weave his way through the blades of grass.  I saw a moth flit about in a seemingly haphazard path.  I listened to the birds chirping and turned over to watch them swirl in the sky above me.  I soaked up the sunshine and swatted at a bug buzzing in my ear.  I hummed a little.  I sighed a few times.  And I let my thoughts just move about, much like the moth had.

When my stomach growled, I wondered what time it was, but I had left my phone locked in the parking lot quite some ways way.  And I didn’t feel like moving…something was taking shape in my random thoughts. I couldn’t tell how long I laid there, but sure enough, the answer emerged.

So now I’m traveling again.  And I notice, flight delays, international flights, missed connections leading to long layovers, they feel like gifts now, instead of frustrations.

I count the number of couples holding hands and the number of parents holding their child’s hand keeping a tally for fun.  I notice how most of the groups in the airport are made up of 20-year-old men or 60-year-old women.  I see that the current fashion is nothing like what I’m wearing.  I smile at strangers and note what books are being read on the plane.

I smell the perfume at the counters and the cologne on the men walking by, the bread being baked and the meat being grilled, and coffee.  I listen to the conversations around me and marvel at how much life is happening outside my daily perspective.  I stand so a group of 60-year-old women can sit together and feel the stretch in my back, my legs and my shoulders.  I stretch some more.

And all the while, solutions to issues I didn’t even know I was thinking about coalesce and shift and spiral and come together.

Now I sit in the fifth-story floor-to-cieling window of my hotel room watching the sun set over an endless horizon of trees, while birds circle in the sky as it becomes pastel shades of blue and pink and orange…not because I have questions, but because I realize THIS is the answer.


When people find out that I do Kung Fu, they’re often surprised. Then they make assumptions that I do it because I don’t feel safe, or I want to feel tough, or I’m displacing my aggression. Trust me, I don’t want to be a man, and anyone who knows me knows I have no aspirations to be aggressive or tough. Rather, in doing Kung Fu, I have discovered that martial arts makes me a better woman.

I actually started my martial arts training in Kenpo Karate when my daughter’s pediatrician recommended it as a way to help her learn to focus. She did learn to focus. And so did I. I had no idea how much my body and mind craved stillness. But also I fell in love with the power of moving into purposeful action from stillness. Those moments of stillness could be nanoseconds or minutes, but they made a huge difference. And they came more easily the more I practiced.

Soon I discovered those same moments of stillness in my everyday activities–at dinner with family, or comforting a (focused) angry child, or defusing political conversations with friends, or keeping cool during tough negotiations at work.

In this age of fast, easy tech, we are all multitaskers, but these moments of stillness and focus have proven to be immensely better for me when it comes to choices about work, relationships, and life.

The more I learned to focus, the more I started “hearing” my body. I realized somewhere along my Way, I had learned to live most of my life in my head and not connected to my body. When you’re learning to move your body in relation to others, like you do in martial arts, you learn quickly how your body is connected, how it responds to invasions of space, touch and force. In other words, you learn how comfortable it is in relation to others and what movement means to that relationship to others.

For example, I learned what it felt like to be grabbed, hit, kicked, thrown, choked, pushed and pulled.  That might sound awful, except it wasn’t.  It was empowering because I was learning how to handle those situations without panicking.

Another example, I learned that my personal comfort bubble was HUGE and when someone else encroached in that bubble, I would immediately begin to stress. However, the more I listened to and learned from my body, the more my bubble shrank. It might sound like a small thing, but now I can relax instead of freak out by people pressing in on me in a crowded bus in Eastern Europe.  Or confidently maneuver midtown Manhattan to get to an early-morning meeting with a thousand of other commuters.  Or enjoy ballroom dancing with men I don’t know.

While all this focusing and listening to my body was going on, I also noticed my relationship to my body changing.  Like many of the women I talk with, I have learned to dislike my body because it’s not perfect—I’m not thin, I have blemishes in weird spots, I have crazy hair, I think my knees look odd, etc.  I’m not a model by any stretch of the imagination—however, I have a new respect for my body.  It’s healthy, strong, flexible (mostly), fully functional…and it tells me important things about making good decisions, if I listen.

Also, when you respect your body, it’s hard to let anyone else disrespect it.

With this new respect, it wasn’t long before I began to understand how to challenge my body.

So many times my sifu would ask me to jump a stick held at waist level, or attack an opponent twice my size, or fall down on the floor safely.  My brain would always say “that’s not going to happen!”  But I would try.  And I always discovered I could do exactly what I thought I couldn’t.  Sometimes the activity required modifications or practice, but it was never impossible.

There is nothing more empowering than that kind of training.  Especially for women, whom I have still heard referred to as “the weaker sex.”  Recently.

All this focus, listening, respect and challenge came with discipled practice. For those who think that means long, hard hours of torture, I have to disagree.

Yes, martial arts class can be hard, and sometimes it still feels long, but I enjoy my martial arts practice pretty much more than anything else I do. Plus, discipline comes with great benefits like comradery with the others in class, learning new skills, and even laughter.  It’s true, Gentle Penguin, I have even learned to laugh at myself. 

I also have to disagree when people tell me martial arts will make me more aggressive or argumentative. If anything, martial arts made me more diplomatic, because now I have more tools to evaluate and respond to any conflict or discomfort with a range of options.

And most of the time, I find myself choosing more traditionally “feminine” options, like empathy, compassion, listening and diffusion. This comes with confidence–not because I think I can beat someone up. But because I know where my true power lies…in being myself.

Do you hear what I hear?

Dear Gentle Penguin,

The year of talking with Absolem and the Fawn of the Wood is quickly disappearing, but as it goes, I see it was also (appropriately) the year of Darkness. Not in the depressing sense, but in the sense of balancing the previous year of Lightening.

Whereas in 2017 my youngest and I experienced 24-hour sun and other light phenomenon, in 2018, I find many of my highlights were centered in darkness. For example, I helped start a state chapter of the International Dark-Sky Association in my spot of Earth (and was subsequently appointed to the board). I took my nieces and nephews to a dark sky park to witness the Milky Way galaxy with their own eyes. I helped with research on the importance of darkness to human health (ps, it’s SUPER important!) And I celebrated the Winter Solstice…the longest night of the year.

And in the process of discovering that 2018 was really the year of Darkness (not in the depressing sense), I realized I need to change the emphasis of 2019.

I already dedicated 2019 as the year of Natural Health, but the darkness taught me that there’s something more urgent that needs my attention—listening.

It’s a well-known fact that when one sense is dampened (for instance, the sense of sight) another sense is enhanced (or we’re more attentive to another sense…like hearing). In the darkness, I realized I connect DEEPLY with my sense of sound. Possibly even more than I ever do with seeing.

That said, when I was recently on vacation with my youngest, she was frequently frustrated with me because I wasn’t listening to her. I really wasn’t. And that disappointed me (in myself).

So while I will still be studying Natural Health in 2019, I am dedicating myself to developing better Listening skills—one part personal development, two parts deepening my connection to the world and people around me, and hopefully discovering new magic in the symphony of sounds all around.

I hope to hear from you too.

With my love at the end of the Year of Darkness,


Kaffeeklatsch am Wochenende

May I tell you a secret? I hated coffee until about three years ago. It’s true!

As a child, I grew up loving the smell of coffee, but not the taste. Then I went to Bosnia Herzegovina and was invited by some of the women there for coffee. Bosnian Coffee is a big deal, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I went. I was a bit taken aback when I learned Bosnian Coffee is so dark and thick you can literally chew it. But I drank it.

Which meant I was invited to more Bosnian Coffees with women there. And when I left, they gave me my own Bosnian Coffee set.

So what is a Bosnian Coffee? Well, it’s basically a mindfulness practice. You pay close attention to making the coffee (otherwise it boils over and burns, making a mess and a stink), then you serve it in tiny cups that are meant to last through an hour-long conversation with the people you’re absolutely dedicated to focusing exclusively on during that hour…or while you relax reading a fashion magazine of a fictional book.

I was homesick for that practice immediately upon returning home. So I began making my own Bosnian Coffee in the afternoons.

Now, I love coffee.

Unfortunately, it’s become more of a beverage than a mindfulness practice these days. So, when I was recently on the Greek island of Ikaria studying natural health, and the older lady who lived next door invited me to coffee, I quickly forgot all my Greek language skills and just clapped my hands like a child while hopping up and down and shaking my head yes.

Martika is her name, and she doesn’t speak much English. Since my Greek is limited, my friend and hostess came along…and so did several other women.

It will probably be one the biggest highlights of my life (certainly of my year). Why? Because it was what my grandmother used to call Kaffeeklatsch am Wochenende, which translates to something like “Coffee gossip on the weekend.”

What does one gossip about with an elderly Greek lady on a remote island over coffee? Well, pretty much the same things I talked to Bosnian, Serbian and Herzegovinian women about. And what I talk about with my friends in my little spot of Earth…

…Weather. Children. Family. Health. Sex. Work. Other people. Politics. Fashion. And how life is changing.

Gentle Penguin, do you know the story of how coffee took over the world? It was introduced to mass society as a way to make factory workers who were used to drinking alcohol (because water wasn’t safe to drink) more productive.

Do you know why I love coffee? Because it gives me an excuse to slow down and remember I’m not a machine—and there’s more to life than productivity.

I love coffee because it creates connections.

Connection is one of the most (if not THE most) important keys to wellth.

There’s lots of research to back up my bold claim, but I’m headed to coffee with some women I just met at the dark-sky conference. So I’ll leave you with a link to get started, and a recommendation to check it out with a cup of coffee.