One thing that blocks flow is self-consciousness.

The first person who ever told me that happiness was work was this manic-depressive artist I knew when I was in my 20s. I was like, 'What are you talking about? Happiness just happens. That's even the root of that word. How could it be work?

When we strike a balance between the challenge of an activity and our skill at performing it, when the rhythm of the work itself feels in sync with our pulse, when we know that what we're doing matters, we can get totally absorbed in our task. That is happiness.

They say change gets more difficult as we get older - each year we're more stuck in our ways, more reluctant to learn something new.

I don't know if my mother was a narcissist - or bi-polar or borderline. Those were words she tossed around over the years.

Some caregivers want to reciprocate the care they themselves received as children.

I'm sure there were plenty of loving, attentive mothers in the 'me generation,' but none of them lived at my house.