The other day, I ran into an old friend from college, Amber. She and I had kept in touch only sporadically, and last I’d heard she was living in England, so it was a total surprise to pass her on a sidewalk in Lower Manhattan.

We made plans for lunch, and when I saw her next, we got to talking. She told me about her fashion design business, her kids, her favorite places to travel. At one point, I said, “Amber, you seem like such a different person than how I knew you in college.”

I remembered her as being timid—kind, sweet, fun, but not particularly ambitious. The woman across from me was empowered, bold, confident.

She laughed. “I am,” she said. “I could not be more different. You knew the ‘old’ me.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Growing up, I had terrible anxiety,” she said. “Every little thing triggered an enormous stress response. Homework, making lunch, doing chores – whenever someone asked me to do something, this tidal wave of stress crashed over me. So I always let other people step...

The other day, at Whole Foods buying groceries for dinner, I passed by a display of chocolate bars. “Maybe I’ll bring one home for Kaya and Ty,” I thought, and began inspecting the labels. I decided on my favorite – dark chocolate with sea salt (yum!).

By the end of the week, the chocolate had disappeared– but they’d never touched it. I don’t know if they even knew about it. Piece by piece, it had been my little treat.

This wasn’t the first time that had happened. But recently it dawned on me how ridiculous it is, that I have this rule: I don’t buy chocolate for myself. I can buy it for my kids, though – even if they don’t get any of it.

It makes no sense, and yet it’s dictated my shopping choices for years!

We all have our own “rules.” They dictate our behavior. They reflect our beliefs. And they help – or hurt – our goals. Sometimes, like my chocolate rules, they’re unconscious – we don’t even know we have them.

Rules are linked to our identity—how we see and define ourselves. F...

The other day, a friend and I got to talking about rituals – specifically, about how successful people all seem to have them. They exercise, meditate, drink tea or green juice, journal – often at the same time every day.

“What are your rituals?” she asked me, and at first, I felt sheepish. I couldn’t think of any.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I exercise, I juice, I journal – but they don’t feel like rituals. My days are so different, it’s hard to keep any kind of consistency.”

“Well, that’s okay,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have any rituals. What’s something you do every day that helps you keep a strong mindset?”

I thought about it, and the only thing I could come up with was this: every morning, before anyone else is awake, I get up and have my coffee. It’s my one moment of peace and quiet – the calm before the storm. During those few precious minutes, I just sit and savor my “me” time, because I know there won’t be another one like it for the next sixteen hours. Sometimes...

The year was 2002. I was running my first marathon in L.A., but this was not the sunny California weather you’d expect. It rained about 6 inches, and it actually hailed once during the run.

But despite that, I ran, and by mile 12, I’d hit my stride – I was in a state of flow. Effortless action and enjoyment. Complete immersion. Being in the zone. Have you ever felt that way when you’re doing something you love?

I ran up Highland Ave, a pretty boulevard I’d had driven hundreds of times. But today it looked different. Despite the clouds, it was bright, and the rain had softened to a light drizzle. Everything was in sync—my arms and legs moved in perfect time; I could breathe deeply; the theme song to Chariots of Fire blared in my head. I felt like I could run forever.

Then something changed. By mile 20, I was dragging. Every part of my body ached, and all I wanted to do was lie down on the pavement and sleep. People can just run around me, I thought, seriously considering it. All my h...

I read an article once where Sigourney Weaver told about a time she was in an acting class. Looking around, she thought, “I feel so sorry for all these people. They’re not going to make it, and I am.”

Soon after I read that, I was in an acting class myself, and I sure as hell did not feel that way. But, I admired the strength and confidence she must have had, to believe that. I didn’t think she said it in a mean way – it wasn’t like “They suck and I’m awesome.” It was just a belief she had, a sense of certainty that she’d succeed. And she was right. (I’m guessing the rest of the group didn’t all go on to win Oscars).

But that day in my own class, I looked around and thought, Wow, these people are so talented. How on earth am I ever going to make it?

And that troubled me. I knew that if that was the belief I carried around me, my results would reflect that. So I made a conscious effort to change my beliefs.

It didn’t work for me to think “I’m going to make it and they’re not.” That ...