On to something I'd rather talk about: writing. Or a better title: What I Learned This Last Year and Nine Months.

Use peace, strength, courage, love and gratitude. If you only have a smidgeon of them—use every ounce. If you only have one of those five things—use it. Borrow from your loved ones. They’re there. They want to help.

Gratitude helps you find the other four and there can always be gratitude. Be grateful. And if all you can do is breath, be grateful.

What you think you become. I know I’ve mentioned this before but I always remember something my sister said to me when I was moaning about wanting to be a writer. In her calm, certain voice she said, “Well, you write, don’t you? That makes you a writer.”
I am a writer. It never depends on publication. I write. I think I am a writer. And I am.

Know happiness. So along that line of thought—it doesn’t hurt to think I’m happy. I am. Knowing happiness is tricky. Happiness tends to act like a burglar—in and out before you can catch it. Try. Notice the times you’re happy. Even if it’s fleeting. Acknowledge it. Be grateful.

Know strength. Do you know someone strong? Do you really? Do you forget about that mom who gets her kids off to school though she was up all night with a colicky baby? Or the man, who gets up every day, goes to work at a job that nips at his self-esteem and peace of mind to support his family? Or the writer that plugs away at his novel each night after dinner hope high, chances low? There are strong people most of us never even think about. People like us.

Cherish the journey. We tend to dismiss the mundane—the picking up after the kids, doing the laundry, everyday chores and daily grind, but that is our journey and there is something wonderful about each day. It’s our life. Besides, do you know how much you’d miss that mundane life, that cooking and dishes every night? Have it yanked away. Suddenly, it seems so sweet.

Free your spirit. Do something every day that feeds you. This doesn’t mean some big thing. Not many of us can do that. Do something small and sweet. Pound a drum, sing, write a poem—or even smaller, a haiku, take a walk, spend a minute outside, look at something green, imagine, pretend—just for a moment.

Inhale hope. Exhale determination. Grab hope wherever you can. Hope this essay will sell, you’ll beat that disease, you’ll win a hundred dollars, you’ll get that job, your boss will appreciate you. But be determined anyway, whether any of your hopes come true or not. Keep working toward your goal, your desire, your life.