Someone asked me how I had felt being ‘single’ on Valentine’s Day. And to be honest, I was struck dumb for a moment while I puzzled over what those words even meant...Because, you see, ever since my thirties I’ve felt ‘married to god’. And no, not in that nun-and-black-habit kind of way. I mean in a way that could joyously include a partner. But without question, I gave my heart to Love, and That was who I utterly and completely belonged to. So, no joke, the word ‘single’ just makes zero sense to me. When I try to hold it...

I usually keep a pretty clean diet because I really suffer when I don’t. I try to avoid processed foods, gluten, dairy, and sugar and focus on lots of veggies, fruits, and protein.Anyway, a few months ago I discovered this local spot that makes the MOST amazing pumpernickel bagels ever. From a former East Coast Jew, that's saying a lot.Well, eventually this bagel-flirtation grew into a full-blown obsession. I had to have one every day. I'd think as I drove up each morning, “Well, at least it's not cocaine or heroin. It's pretty innocent ...” But, while they might be...

It was a particularly beautiful day here in the Bay Area and seemed like the perfect time to go break a coconut. (If you don't know what that means, then you definitely will once you read 'Outrageous Openness'). After all, we were midway between two big eclipses and letting go of the Old is a perfect way to open to the New. I figured I’d trek to a favorite spot and let go once and for all. Indian Rock is so cool if you don’t know it. Right above North Berkeley, with beautiful stone carved steps that take you straight...

I was sitting in a Tribeca cafe when a guy walked in the door, caught my eye, and strode over. “Well, well, well, Gloria,” he began, his voice shaking with anger. “Look what the cat dragged in. I knew you’d eventually get thrown my way. And what the hell did you think would happen when I got that notice from your nutjob ass-hat lawyer? Did you think that low-rent slimeball could scare me into more dough?” He went on for a few more loud, obscenity-laced minutes, while the writer in me sat riveted, musing, “God, I miss New York!” Soon...

So if you read my books you know I consider almost nothing random (except when it is:)) and signs bloom in wild ways when we're open. Even in traffic. So I was just on Highway 880 heading past Oakland when I somehow got stuck behind a stalled car. The guy was on his cell and there I was, trapped behind him, with mega-traffic to both sides. Even with my signal on and my arm out, NO ONE was gonna let me go. For about the next 10 minutes I sat there in the rumbling din of traffic, amazed. But finally...