There will be a lot of media coverage, analysis, speculation, and chatter as we start to understand who, what, why, and how it all happened in Boston. Detonating two bombs at the finish line of a marathon is an insane act. When senseless tragedies like this happen, I have to wonder if some people just happened to be born without a soul.

In the book Journey of Souls, author Michael Newton talks about the process of a soul entering a human being’s body in utero. He says, “the soul will touch and join… with the impressionable, developing brain of a baby.” (p.266)  So what if the soul changes his mind and decides he doesn’t want to be joined after all and abandons the baby? Or if it’s possible for it simply not to take and that soul returns to heaven or finds another baby thereby leaving the original baby human of course, but soulless. If that’s the case, it would explain some of this and help me understand that some humans among us are simply soulless, and they cause the rest of us to search for meaning on earth.

Ah, but that would be the easy way out. The harsher, and more likely, reality requires us to understand why someone with a soul, a higher self, a purpose, finds himself carrying out such heinous acts of hate and violence.  That’s where I get lost. It makes me angry and sad, but soon I realize I’m no better if I give in to those feelings. Instead I let them go and wonder how we as a society, as a human race, have failed him. With so much still to ponder, I take a deep breath, sit down and close my eyes. I begin to watch my breathing and meditation sets in. That’s when I know that everything is going to be okay. Eventually.

Prayers, love, and healing to all those in Boston and affected by this tragedy.

The start


My first blog post. The first step in getting to where I want to go. Well, not literally, the first step, more like a stand. Or a lean. A pose. A tip-toe? Anyway, 26.2 miles through the streets of Chicago is where the real goal begins, and ends.

Chicago. I’m so happy the marathon is in Chicago. My grandmother, Carole, grew up and lived there her whole life. I did too, until recently. Selfishly the route, for the most part, is flat. Good ole flat Chicago. For the most part. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m freaking out a little right now in fact just thinking about it. Pulse increasing, heart palpitating, heat rising up through my chest into my throat and face. I’m okay, I’m okay. Deep breath. It’s just a really long run. A really long run that six or seven people die while or after each year. But I’m okay.

After the terror subsides, I remember why I’m doing this and that makes me feel better. Good, in fact. I’m remembering and celebrating an amazing woman, for whom without, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. And I’m grateful and honored to be so lucky.