1. Just as with life, dressage is an exercise in continuous improvement. If you want to learn, enhance your skills, and enrich your existence, you have to focus on what you want and make a long-term commitment.

2. What feels “natural” isn’t always correct. For example, when leading a horse, if it rears up or jerks its head back, instead of following your instinct to pull, move toward the horse and then give the lead line a jerk. Use your brain to control the situation whenever you’re outweighed, outmuscled, or overwhelmed.

3. Ask for what you want in a way that it can be easily understood by the other party. This one needs no example.

4. Accept constructive feedback and adjust your behavior accordingly so you can be more effective. You may be tempted to condemn an unusual idea or get defensive when criticized, but instead, listen carefully, keep your mouth shut, and consider the merits of what’s being said.

5. We’re often inclined to take the easy way out, but in life as in riding, the most effective strategy is often the hardest one. Don’t cheat yourself. Suck it up and put forth whatever effort it takes so you can learn to do it right. Once you internalize the skill it’ll be yours for as long as you live.

6. We are all driven by our own agendas. Dressage is challenging and complex, and just as the rider needs to do what’s difficult, so does the horse, and sometimes the pair will be working at cross purposes. This also happens in personal and work relationships. Reread items 1 through 5 for inspiration on this one.

7. Instead of wishing for miracles, take the initiative; create your own. You can’t expect another person (or animal, or situation) to change for the better till you do.

Simple Action: While you might never find yourself on the back of a horse, every day you metaphorically ride out to meet your day. Which of these lessons I learned in the saddle most “speak” to you and how will you let them enrich your existence?

At first it seems counterintuitive to lighten up when we want to tighten up. But relaxing, smiling, and even laughing in the face of pressure releases pent-up emotions; it lets you take a breath and relieve the burden. And who’s the best person to laugh at? Yourself, of course. You’ll never run out of material!

Many people know about my practice of choosing an annual theme. I even make a poster for my wall and feature the themes at http://WhyIsEveryoneSoCranky.com. My annual themes guide and influence me, providing opportunities for growth and change. My 2010 them is Year of Finesse with the tag line Artful Living.

Well, in the parlance of be careful what you ask for, either 2010 is a debacle or I won the “opportunity” lotto. This year has sucked. I’ve temporarily changed my office poster to read “Year of Fine Mess” and “Awful Living” instead of the original. Not the most affirming message, but it makes me laugh.

You’ve had tough times, too, and sometimes it’s our warped sense of humor that gets us through. When you’re stuck in a pressure cooker, open up the steam vent; stand back and occasionally smile or laugh at yourself. That’s what I’ve been trying to do.

Remember that you are creative, competent, and most of all, capable of amazing resilience. Let your sense of humor keep you nimble when circumstances make you humble. In Bless Your Stress I state that “a bad day alive beats the heck out of a good day dead,” and this line tickles me. From affirmations to laffirmations, even when I hurt I’m grateful I can still fog a mirror!

William James said that common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds; that a sense of humor is just common sense, dancing. In the midst of heartache, I’ve been forcing myself to dance.

Simple Action: There will be times when you hurt so much it feels as if you’ll break in two, but your sense of humor will guide you to the other side of the storm. In the maelstrom, sway and bend, ease up, smile, laugh, and dance your way through the darkness. It’s called the breakthrough.

In my mid-thirties a podiatrist informed me that I had “hyper-mobile” feet and I would need to faithfully wear prescription orthotics for the rest of my life. My feet move too much. They shift, spread, and fan out into places where no bold foot should dare to venture. Shoes and orthotics stabilize the condition but I regularly experience discomfort, pain, and other issues.

If you pay attention to people’s shoes (I do), you can spot the orthotics wearers. Our footgear tends to look medicinal: closed toes and heels, sturdy, flat soles, industrial strength construction. Ugh. It’s hard to find an attractive women’s shoe you can fit an orthotic into. The one brand I’ve found is Beautifeel, for any women who are wondering.

There’s a barefoot running trend right now but I can’t go barefoot. Aficionados of the craze might challenge me, but here’s the awful truth. In the last three decades my shoe size has gone from a 6 to pushing a size 8. The width has increased, too.

Three years ago I got rebellious and wore sandals most of the summer and now I’m paying for my naughtiness. My hyper-mobile feet went on a rampage and my left foot has split. There’s now a sizable gap between my second and third toes that can only be corrected with surgery. Yuck. When I describe my “condition” friends often ask to see my deformity and I usually satisfy their curiosity.

So why am I writing about this? We tend to compare our imperfections with other people’s apparent assets, yet some who appear so “together” on the outside are struggling on the inside. We all have something, somewhere that pinches, pulls, causes pain or some kind of distress. Not all of our afflictions (physical or mental) are visible, but when we see those who don’t seem to suffer from whatever we have, we might feel a twinge. For me, it’s sandals in the summer (sigh).

Simple Action: Life is short; it’s important to spend less time being envious and more time being exuberant so we can appreciate what we have, compensate for what we don’t have, and take the next step in our journey in spite of it all.

In my book Stick To It! I created “The Law of Opposites.” Three of them come to mind when considering the crises we occasionally have to face.

1. When we most need to take good care of ourselves we are least likely to do so.

2. When we most need to keep our mouths shut we are most likely to sound off.

3. When we most need love we are our most unlovable.

Can you relate? In tough times, human nature being what it is, most of us get defensive and slip into self-protection mode (I do). Temporarily, this makes sense but for the long term this can be our undoing. At some point we must come to terms, examine the situation from all sides, open our hearts, let go of our defenses, and move toward resolution.

This is difficult, tedious, and painful. The only short cut through grief or emotional pain is to plunge into its depths and slowly work our way through it. Otherwise we get stuck. In a workshop years ago, Sid Simon stated that “In some way we help to create, contribute to, and cooperate in every sticky situation we find ourselves in.” This certainly applies to relationships.

Discovering and dissecting our part in a predicament is the first step toward liberation. Acknowledging the imperfect nature of human nature allows our compassion to kick in (first for ourselves and then for our transgressors) so we can escape the past and return to the present. We forgive what we can and begin to release our self-inflicted pain. Journaling, talking with a best friend or counselor, and list-making help us learn, let go, begin our healing, and move on.

Simple Action: In times of crisis, self-protections may work for the short term but in the long term they confine you to the past. Love yourself,  reopen your heart, and enrich your true nature by choosing to once again live fully in the present with an eye on your future.

We’re not talking about your typical 90 year old. Not only does she still drive, she keeps her car cleaner than I do. She gardens, mows her own lawn (one of those electric mowers with the long cord), shovels snow when it isn’t too deep, changes her own screens, and performs all kinds of chores that would drive the rest of us to a nap or stiff drink.

Of course, we held an open house to celebrate her big day. My two sisters-in-law and I planned the event and it was quite a party! Our set up started around 10:30 AM and Julie popped in, all dressed up and ready to supervise. We had requested RSVPs but you know how that goes; none of us had a sense of how many people would show up.

I figured that if we ended up with 40 guests the day would be a success. Well, we ended up with at least 100! From noon to nearly 6:00 PM, people came and went and some family members stayed the entire time. Julie was the star of the show and what a tribute to a woman who is always kind, gracious, and friendly.

People of all ages came out of the woodwork; one of mom’s guests was a high school sweetheart who showed up with his wife. I wish my dad could have been there (he died in 2002) to witness the day-long tribute to Julie. It was a fabulous celebration; we “kids” will never forget the party, nor will she. Julie has plants, gifts (even though we requested none), photos, and a huge pile of greeting cards for her scrapbook, what lovely mementoes.

Ninety years. My mom now has three kids that qualify for social security but she’s more active and energetic than a lot of people half her age. Here’s an example: after her day-long party, she went off for her Sunday night ritual of playing cards with neighbors. How’s that for staying power? All the women in our family want to be like Julie when we grow up, who wouldn’t?

Simple Action: Think about the simple daily steps can you take to preserve your longevity so you can celebrate your 90th year in style.

I started playing disc golf as a mental distraction and physical outlet to overcome my loss of the horsey lifestyle and in the spring of 2005 I threw my first disc. It went a wobbly, wild 35 feet. Mind you, I had never thrown a Frisbee. I’m not athletic.

I predate Title IX. In junior high girl’s basketball we were only allowed to dribble twice and then we had to throw the ball. We couldn’t run full court lest our uteruses fall out; that’s how it was in the olden days.

But with disc golf, I made up in mindset what I lacked in skill. I’m a lifelong learner, willing to face a challenge and prevail and thanks to good instruction, my women’s league, and many hours of practice on the soccer field, I’ve progressed.

In 2007 I started playing tournaments and in ’08 I set a new world distance record in my age category. I’ve won a few tournaments and several second places. Most often I play women who are 10 to 20 years my junior. Am I a loser for all those missed trophies or a winner for just showing up?

In sport as in life, sometimes we win, sometimes we lose, and sometimes we’re not really sure. It can take time to distinguish between a failure or a fabulous opportunity to learn, adapt, or grow.

What’s the point? Winning is temporary, so is losing, and failure only lasts as long as we let it. We do ourselves a disservice when we allow wins, losses, or failures to measure our self-worth. The only state that’s permanent is when we seize the opportunity to gain insight, strength, or experience.

I racked up another second place this month in a national tournament. I was disappointed but not crushed. In life and sport, regardless of what happens, I’m not a winner or loser; I’m in it for the long haul, determined to live, love, pursue my livelihood, and play to the best of my abilities. How about you?

Simple Action: Avoid imposing those win-lose-fail labels on yourself. Instead, learn your lessons, improve your lot, and live as fully as you can with as little judgment as possible.

But imagine an outbreak of zipper rage. Or a gardener in late summer falling prey to zucchini rage when the prolific veggies reach the proportions of the QEII. Might the rage trend end when we reach Z?

Well, it isn’t zucchini time yet. It’s spring, and if there’s a season when rage seems inappropriate it’s now, as nature pulses with life, filling our senses and refreshing our spirits with promises of renewal.

In the Midwest an unseasonably warm March gave spring a boost. Frogs came alive and plants flowered earlier than usual. The warmth has occasionally given way to colder temperatures, as always happens, and on those brisk days I’ve  heard the rumblings of weather rage, sigh.

Life, like the seasons, ebbs and flows. Sometimes we enjoy abundance while other times we feel the pangs of want. Sometimes we make a bad decision and later must suffer the pangs of regret. Sometimes we revel in health and happiness while other times we grapple with illness or loss.

But just as seasons pass, so do life’s changes. Even after harsh experiences we find ourselves hoping for something better, new, or different. Such is the nature of learning, growing, healing.

Perhaps this spring you’ll think about how seasons parallel life and as spring blooms, you can let new aspects of yourself bud and blossom. Maybe if we could continually cultivate new growth and fully flower we’d all have more compassion and less crankiness, more happiness and less hassle, more rapture and less rage.

This spring I’m paying attention to, and appreciating nature’s simple, profound gifts and I plan on making it last. Maybe I’ll even savor the zucchini blossoms when they bloom this summer in case any cranky “ragers” out there go for the Z.

Simple Action: Make a commitment to enjoy a happy, healthy, and zesty spring and carry a sense of renewal with you through each season of this year.

Speed limit signs are a joke; people pretty much drive whatever speed they feel like. I confess, cars pass me a lot and some of them are rather rude about it.

In my speeches on stress I mention a piece of good news—road rage isn’t quite the issue it was in the 90s—we seem less inclined to shoot each other from our cars anymore. I consider this a hopeful sign.

And I think I know why we’re only rude now instead of raging on the road: so many drivers are so busy blathering on their cells or (gulp) texting, they’re not paying attention to what anyone else is doing. The phrase “distracted driving” is now used to describe multitasking motorists as they busy themselves while on cruise control.

Are you busy? Are you one of those chronically distracted, preoccupied, multitasking marvels? We started ratcheting up our super powers back in the 80s and haven’t yet stopped.

In our society, busy has become a badge of honor. Listen carefully to casual greetings when you run into an old friend or acquaintance and you might hear, “Hey, how have you been? Busy?” as if that’s the desired state.

Thoreau said, “It’s not enough to be busy; what are you busy about?” In my book Why Is Everyone So Cranky? I state that we are no longer living in an era of time management; we now live in a time of choice management.

When we get stuck on the moving walkway of busyness and multitasking we forget about the choices we’re making. We don’t act, we react, and being busy becomes its own reward.

Don’t fall for that one; consciously choose how you spend the time of your life—so you can have the time of your life, literally and figuratively.

Simple Action: Stop every now and then and check what you’re busy about. Ask yourself what you could do right now to enrich your existence, enhance your work, enjoy the journey. And then do it.

Here in the Michigan, spring is on its way. First, it’s the light. February’s blessed light is our first sign of coming spring, as other seasonal markers worm their way into our consciousness. The temperature changes. Migratory birds appear. As ice and snow melt under the sun’s warming rays, the song of sandhill cranes begin to pierce the air.

The earth relaxes after a season of withholding, raising our hopes, lifting our spirits. We each have our own spring signs that we look for, wait for, hope for. That first robin, flocks of waterfowl, flowers, and more. My harbinger is the snowdrop.

You may be asking what’s a snowdrop? It’s a small hardy plant with straight green leaves and droopy white blossoms. We have a carpet of snowdrops in our forested front yard and one tiny independent cluster in back near the deck.

That lone little plant is my sign that spring has once again reached our latitude. This year I saw it first on March 8. The front yard was still covered with snow. Did I mention the plant is hardy? When the snow disappears, there they are, ready for more snow, freezing temperatures or other insults. What a plant!

I look out my window, see the  mantle of white and celebrate the snowdrops. I walk to the flowers, take my photo and gaze, contemplating where I’ve been and where I want to go. I’ve survived another winter and welcome this new season. Rejoice. Renewal. Rekindle. Revival. Rejuvenation. What’s your celebration word?

E.B. White once said, “No matter what changes take place in the world, or in me, nothing ever seems to disturb the face of spring.” How true.

These snowdrops, my face of spring, will delight me over the next few weeks.  My precious plants are the signal that the new season is here and all is well.

Simple Action: Revel in your own signs of spring. Stop, look, listen, and take in the budding life that surrounds you. Plant yourself for a moment and let the sun warm your spirit so you can bloom again, too.

Here’s the story she told me after my speech about being “in the moment” and taking advantage of now. Imagine yourself in her situation as you read along (men, you’ll only have to make a small gear adjustment):

You’re facing a long day of giving presentations to prospective clients. Wanting to look your most credible, you’ve put on your best navy business suit and matching pumps. It’s December, but there’s no snow so the good shoes are a non issue.

But after lunch, despite the sun, it starts snowing. With each hour the flakes fall faster and thicker. By 4:30, as you swing into the daycare center parking lot to pick up your three-year old grandson Preston, you’re stepping into almost four inches of snow. As the two of you leave the building your grandson looks down, beams and says, “Gwanma, let’s lay down and make snow angels.”

Your heart is touched but you make an appeal, “Honey, grandma is wearing her best suit and heels. I can’t make snow angels dressed like this!” Preston looks at you with those huge appealing eyes and says, “Pweassseee?” You stand there, torn between the practical and the deliciously impulsive. Then a wistful feeling sweeps over you.

Just a few months ago, your father passed away and the loss is still raw. You look at Preston and say, “Why NOT?” So, power suit, pumps and all, right in front of the daycare school you and your giggling grandson make snow angels.

You invite other adults and kids to join in but nobody does. Some look, some smile, some just walk away while the two of you laugh and play in the snow. You know in your heart that even your best business suit and shoes can be cleaned, repaired, or replaced, but moments like this, when lost, can never be retrieved.

Simple Action: Life is short and we need to take immediate action when opportunities present themselves for the taking or memories are there for the making.

NOTE: I wish you many snow angels; the one above is mine. Thank you, Lorraine, for being a life enricher.