The Art of Money Event

The Art of Money Event

The Art of Money • July 8th Friends, please join me for a rousing evening with the vivacious, Bari Tessler author of The Art of Money For anyone who struggles around money and wants more ease, for anyone who feels like they could have a little more fun making, spending, and saving money, this night is for you. The Art of Money is the book your money-savvy best friend, therapist, and accountant would write if they could. Bari’s integrative approach to looking at money creates the real possibility of “money healing,” using our relationship with money as a gateway to self-awareness and a training ground for compassion, confidence, and self-worth. This is going to be an engaging night where you’ll get a chance to talk about your relationship with money, as well as learn more about Bari’s gentle approach to the subject. She’s super skilled at weaving together emotional depth, big-picture visioning, and totally accessible, nitty-gritty money practices, and a master of guiding people through a step-by-step journey that will transform their relationship with money and, in so doing, transform their life. Friday night July 8th, 2016 7:30 pm @ 27 Powers Please RSVP to [email protected] to let me know you’re coming. Snack, drinks and chocolate guaranteed, as well as books for sale and time with Bari. 27 Powers Ct. Alameda CA 94501 (510) 703-4030 Parking can be tough, come by 7:15 to get a spot. [/et_pb_blog] More about Bari: Bari Tessler Linden, MA, is a Financial Therapist, Mentor Coach and Mama-preneur. Bari’s gentle, body-centered approach weaves together personal, couple, and creative entrepreneurial money teachings into one complete tapestry....
Wild Writing in Person

Wild Writing in Person

Wild Writing is a timed writing process that we use to tell our stories with and to uncover the themes we want to write about. For 15 minutes we write as fast as we can, pen never leaving the page.

Why I Tell True Stories

Because I hate small talk. Because I don’t like beating around the bush. Because I’m a terrible liar and I feel like I’m polluting the air if I’m going on about things that I don’t care about. I tell true stories because then I don’t have to keep everything inside of me, pretending that the second martini I had the other night was no big thing. That taking the wrong exit off the bridge as I drove home was an honest mistake. I tell true stories because, like the poet Alison Luterman says, “If something is in your way then it’s going your way,” which means the worry over those martinis is worth writing about because they are, well, in my way. I can pretend they don’t bother me. I can chalk it up to being tired and the fun of being with an old friend. But what did bother me was that wrong turn, how I found myself heading north late at night instead of south – which gets me thinking about the other areas where I am going the wrong way.  I tell true stories because of these bridges, the ones that connect you to me when we reach for real words that accurately describe the approximate weight of our love and our sadness, words that speak to what’s actually happening in our marriages and in our relationships, how we are dealing with aging – that march toward the inevitable – and how honestly we’re living our lives in the face of that.  I go deep and I get real in person and on the page because...

The Flammable Years

So much of any year is flammable. Where does it go? A slide  show of images out of time and in no particular order. Living with Brian and Carolyn on College Avenue. Going to CCAC. Eating ramen every day. The night I met Mark, 24 years ago at the East Bay Express party. Learning to write under Chiori Santiago. Driving through San Francisco delivering copies of Metier, our art magazine. Drinking. Vomiting. Doing lines of coke. Going home with strangers. Black patent leather flats. The Christmas I went to San Miguel De Allende with my family, how my sister and I got drunk and gave all of our jewelry away to the men at the bar. My brother’s outstretched hand to collect the rings at the end of the night. The Chrysler sales man car I drove for nearly 4 years when I sold books for Simon and Schuster, not being able to get on the 7am flight from Oahu to Kona to sell to the bookstore in Kailua because I was spinning and hung over.   The summer I sang in a band on Martha’s Vineyard and took a taxi ride with James Taylor. All the fights in the car with my Mother on the way back to college, my Father dying, making books, seeing my byline, being on the radio, my in-laws horrified because they  didn’t like the article on pinching, thought it made my father-in-law look bad, grabbed every copy of Glamour from their retirement community store and drove them to a trash bin in another town. Taking my husband’s name, marriage counseling, losing rings, too...