Nancy Range Anderson – Author

  There's a humbling moment in healing when you realize you can no longer do something the way you once did it.  After being away from yoga for almost five months recovering from knee replacement surgery, I’ve returned to the mat with a very different body and mindset. Right now, I’m not allowed to kneel, which means poses like table, child’s pose and certain lunges require modifications and creative adjustments.  Sometimes the modification comes to me immediately. Other times, my yoga instructors offer a suggestion I hadn't considered. I’ll admit to being frustrated and frankly, there are times I feel like giving up.  When I think about it, isn’t that the way growth and learning often work?  We try to approach something the way we always have, only to discover that our old methods no longer fit the situation. How often do we hear the phrase, “But this is the way we’ve always done it”?  Sometimes that mindset keeps us stuck. We struggle, feel discouraged an...

  Today my yoga intention was simple: Let it go. Let go of the physical pain. Let go of trying so hard to get my book noticed. Let go of the pressure I place on myself. Just let it go. Let it be. Of course, that's easier said than done. My knee replacement is still healing and yoga looks different to me now. Some poses work beautifully with modifications. Others don't. Sometimes I can move with confidence and other times I feel stiff, awkward, or frustrated. Healing is humbling. There are moments when I still expect my body to behave the way it used to. Then a simple movement reminds me that I’m nowhere near healed. I also realize now how much chronic pain affects more than the body. Pain narrows your world little by little without you noticing. It changes your energy, your patience, your confidence, your social life, even your sense of self. Over time, without realizing it, you can begin to organize your life around what hurts. Maybe that's part of why...

  Did you ever think about the things your mother taught you? Maybe it wasn't always through words but through her actions. Since it's Mother's Day, I thought about all the things my mother did and said to help mold me into the woman I am today. I'm sure there are more but these randomly popped into my head. My mother taught me faith.She used to say that even if you can't see something (faith), it's there. You just have to believe.  She taught me kindness and  how to be a friend. How to cook for people you love. How to organize a home and a life. How to play sports and cheer others on. How to write a thoughtful letter. How to dress with class and confidence. I still remember shopping with her. She would pick something off the rack and ask me to try it on. I would look at it and think, “No way. That's awful.” But she would push me to try it anyway. And somehow, she was almost always right. She also taught me creativity and how to be resourceful without ever c...

  Some people never completely leave us. We move forward, we build lives, and still carry an enduring tenderness for someone who once mattered profoundly.   In many ways, that is the heart of Caitlin’s Star.   The people we love remain woven into our lives through memories, stories, traditions, and the ways they helped shape who we became.   Sometimes it is a grandparent, a parent, a dear friend, a beloved pet, or even a season of life that still lives within us. You know who they are.    Love changes form over time, but it does not simply disappear

  Today, while sorting through old photographs and yellowed newspaper clippings, I came across my mother’s obituary. She has been gone for 22 years and yet, somehow, I still feel her presence. Obviously not in a way you can touch or see, but in the guidance that still appears when I need it most. It's in the lessons she taught without ever sitting us down for a formal lecture. It’s in the love that never really leaves us, even after someone is gone. Her obituary described her simply as a “homemaker.” Just one word. But anyone who has ever truly known a mother or grandmother understands that the word homemaker barely scratches the surface. Before marrying my father, my mother had an excellent career in publishing. She was intelligent, capable, organized, and professional long before those qualities were ever recognized in an obituary. Like many women of her generation, she stepped away from one career and unknowingly began another, one that would shape an entire family for...

  During the early days of my knee replacement recovery, physical therapy was not exactly gentle. One of the most difficult things they did was push my knee toward my rear end to help me get more bend. I've written about this before. It was terribly painful and at times, it brought me to tears. Before the therapist pushed, she would say, “Take a deep breath in, and let it out when I push.” Did it help? A little. Eventually, thank goodness, we moved on from that medieval torture and on to other exercises. But I thought about that today in yoga. So often in yoga, exercise, and even life, we are reminded to exhale through the hard part. We breathe out when we stretch, when we lift, when we move through discomfort, when we are trying not to tense up and fight the moment. And I realized… we are taught this long before yoga. During labor and delivery, woman are coached to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Stay with the breath, move through the pain one breath at a time. It is not abou...

  A place to sit with the day  This morning, I wrote about my yoga intention of being brave and taking a step forward.  Later in the day, I was reminded that sometimes that step doesn’t lead to where we expect.  There are moments in life when we reach out sincerely, simply hoping for connection and sometimes, nothing comes back right away. There’s a pause, a space that can feel larger than it really is.  In that space, it’s easy to start questioning ourselves.  Did I say the wrong thing? Was the timing off? Should I have done things differently? Our minds can play tricks on us and fill in the blanks far too quickly. But perhaps that space is not ours to carry. Perhaps it just is what it is. A moment that didn’t align. A response that didn’t come. A reminder that it’s not a reflection of our worth, but a reflection of timing, circumstance, or where someone else may be in their own life. So we remind ourselves that we can be kind, respectful, ...

Saying from Mary Christensen Today I returned to yoga after almost five months. I was nervous. Apprehensive. Let’s face it, getting up and down from the floor is no longer a pretty sight for me. I worried that my new knee would limit what I could do, that I wouldn’t be able to keep up, that I might feel out of place. At the start of class, we were asked to set an intention. The first word that came to me was brave . Not strong. Not flexible. Not perfect. Just… brave. Years ago, when I first started yoga, a very wise instructor shared words that have stayed with me. Words about treating our bodies as a home, and filling that home with acceptance, respect, and kindness. And then, both my instructor and the owner of the studio echoed something just as powerful. They welcomed me with kindness and warmth, and reminded me: “You do you.” Do what you can. Modify. Improvise. Think outside the box. And just like that, the pressure lifted. It wasn’t about what I used to be ...

  Friendship breakups are a kind of heartbreak. There’s no ceremony. No clear ending. No one brings you flowers or sends a sympathy card. And yet, the loss can feel as real as any other kind of grief. I had a friend for over fifty years. We shared so much life together - clothes, dance steps, double dates, bridesmaid duties, baby news, the death of our parents. I was there during some of her hardest moments. I sat with her through the death of her daughter. I listened through the unraveling of her marriage. I was the one she called, sometimes for hours, pouring out her pain. And I stayed. I listened. I cared. There were times I hung up the phone feeling completely wrung out, but that’s what you do for someone you love. You show up. Which is why the ending feels so hard to hold. Because when trust is broken in a friendship like that, it’s not just the present that shifts. It’s the past, too. You start to look back and wonder. You try to make sense of how something that h...