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Tag: Coach Koenig

Coach Koenig

Spring Reminder

Each year I send a photo of my first spotting of a spring flower to my longtime friend, Melodee, in Anchorage. She sends me back a picture of her snow covered driveway.  It is a pause to appreciate the perpetual power of the seasons. Every year the crocus counsels me on the inevitability of spring. Every year I need her precious reminder. As winter comes to a close, I find myself mysteriously steeped in focusing on doubts and disappointments, mostly in myself. Am I once again pledging to purge the little stacks and bags and boxes lingering in corners? Am
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Beautiful Still

By the time I was sixteen I knew I was a one man woman. I fell in love with the long-haired guitar playing hippie and remained madly so until I was half way through college. A serial monogamist, I love being coupled. Being coupled means an ever present partner for the small joys that fill me up. Someone to make a spinach frittata for or to bring me a cup of coffee just the way I like it. A fellow traveler strolling from the arugula stand to the flower stall at the farmer’s market.  The one who relaxes reading nearby
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Resisting Relaxing

I believe in the rule of three. When I hear something three times, I pay attention. “Relax” said my friend, watching my analysis of the political happenings of the day, my voice speeding up as though to catch my waving arms. “Relax” said my instructor at my Tuesday night belly dance lesson as my mind battled with my body. “Relax” said my co-worker as I battled an imaginary opponent, explaining with agitation my missed deadline. Am I really that uptight? Does my mere presence make others anxious?  Am I the antithesis of easy going? I picture myself a positive person,
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Home for the Holidays

The biscotti baked, the bows on the boxes, and the Christmas brunch menu planned, I was happy as I awaited the one time a year when my sons return home from opposite coasts. My joy evaporated when one of my homeward bound boys got stuck in an airport over a thousand miles away. There were a dozen other passengers ahead of him, each desperately hoping to get a seat on the next flight out. I commanded my sinking heart to rise up and listen to my rational mind.  He’s an adult. He’s capable. He’ll figure it out. He’s lived away
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Peaceful Place

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” she asked, breaking the ice at the business lunch. “We’re traveling to Boston.” “We like to keep it relaxed.” “We’ll enjoy a lot of traditions.” “I’m hosting my family.” Spanning over 20 years in age, each was a divorced mom with children. Two married anew, one who remained single, and me, remarried and now widowed.  As the wait staff took orders for the soup of the day and salad with salmon, each shared a little more. “Neither of us ever go back home for Christmas.” “We alternate Christmas Eve with Christmas Day.” “My
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Have To or Get to

It’s arrived. The time when I shift the focus of my attention from my big goals of the year to my most treasured season.  In the weeks ahead I get to fulfill my intention to be a gracious hostess for my family and friends. My tacky but treasured turkey napkin holders will accompany my china as I light taper candles on my linen covered Thanksgiving table set for my brothers and sisters and their families. Ten days later I host my big party of the year in memory of my late brother, Tim, and friends will donate to a non-profit
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Dime a Dozen

“Women like you are a dime a dozen.” I feigned a blank look as I hesitated.  The words were spoken matter-of-factly, with a hint of compassion. My friend went on to explain. “I mean, look at the statistics. Single women your age outnumber single men 3 to 1. Not to mention men are only interested in women five or ten years younger.” I wanted to argue but I couldn’t. My lawyer mind knew the numbers evidence. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, yet the harshness of the truth weighed on my heart for weeks. When considering a
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Part 3: Never Enough

During days of hiking in the wilderness with her son, Susan made discoveries about her child, her former spouse, and the challenges of any great journey. She reflects on her lessons in this three part series. I go for months without seeing my children. One in New York, one in California, me in the middle and all of us with careers. When we say goodbye after spending time together, I try not to think about how long it will be before we see one another again, face to face. Of all of the challenging issues in the world of divorce
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Part 1: A Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins with….a Plan

During days of hiking in the wilderness with her son, Susan made discoveries about her child, herself, and the challenges of any great journey. She reflects on her lessons in this three part series. It began with a conversation near Christmas. When my children are home for the holidays, this coach mom loves to talk about the year ahead. My son Jack hoped to do more hiking.  Both being achievers who like a challenge, Jack and I quickly went from idea to action plan for an autumn hike on the John Muir Trail in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Traversing into
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September Sorrow

I refolded my mascara smeared and soaked handkerchief. The melodic poetry. The organ music. The stories of love. The funeral of my friend was beautiful. From weddings to funerals, sacred rituals bind us to our past. They remind us of our connectedness, of our shared joys and the shared heartbreak that no human escapes. Weddings remind me of weddings gone by— those I’ve attended, those I’ve officiated, and the two that were mine. But sitting in the packed pew on this Saturday, it was a funeral that opened my heart and carried it into my memory bank. The life of
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