Baltimore Goes To Hamilton: Our Fundraiser
By Leah Pearlman, May 23, 2018

When I saw Hamilton for the first time, I was totally struck by the show, as everyone is.  But I was also struck by the contrast of a cast of people color and an audience of white people, like me. In the same moment I felt my heart break, I had an idea. For 15 […]

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The Only Thing That Can Keep Up With Change
By Leah Pearlman, May 16, 2018

Last night I was taking to Allan about relationships, labels, and commitment. Allan is a Canadian man I’ve been recently dating. Note to Americans: if you find yourself “dating” a Canadian, you might want to have conversation about what that word means to each of you, to save yourself from an awkward moment. :-) Allan […]

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The Poetry of Pleasure
By Leah Pearlman, May 14, 2018

Originally published in Elephant Journal These days I do yoga because it feels like sex. I told this to someone recently who said, “Really? You must not have great sex.” “Maybe,” I admitted, “but could it be that you haven’t had great yoga?” When I say yoga feels like sex, I don’t mean the penetrating, […]

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I Don’t Want To Own You
By Leah Pearlman, May 13, 2018

I don’t want to own you. In fact, the first thing I ever loved about you was your un-own-ability. I saw your freedom, your self containment, A profound inner communion. I was attracted right away by what I observed As a beautiful specimen of wholeness. That’s how I imagined you anyway, watching you From afar. […]

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Memory of a Life
By Leah Pearlman, March 15, 2018

In the work of Conscious Leadership, which Sue and I teach at our Leadership Camps, we talk about the value of living in one’s Zone of Genius. The gift and curse of teaching work like this is that it constantly invites deeper alignment with the material we teach. When I find gaps, it can sometimes […]

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Tale of a Terrified Should-Monster
By Leah Pearlman, February 14, 2018

Every morning, I wake up in a hurry. Why? I don’t have a formal job. I don’t have early morning meetings or traffic to beat. I don’t have kids. I don’t have a dog to walk or cows to milk. I’m not training for a marathon. But when I wake up, no matter what time […]

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Permission.
By Leah Pearlman, January 12, 2018

This year for my birthday, I’m giving myself the perfect gift. I’m giving myself Permission. Here’s what that looks like: Being You. You are allowed to be you. You are allowed as YOU as you are. You are allowed to spend time finding out what that means. You are allowed to experiment. You are allowed […]

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The Miracle of Meeting
By Leah Pearlman, December 19, 2017

Today it occurred to me , the Miracle of Meeting.   I am an American woman, thirty-five years old, born in Denver Colorado, a place you’ve probably never heard of. You are an Indian man,  twenty-six, raised in a small village in Dharmsala, in a town I can’t pronounce. We grew up with different languages, world […]

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I Held A Stranger’s Hand
By Leah Pearlman, December 1, 2017

For many years now, most Sundays, I go dancing. I’ve mostly kept this a private affair. I go by myself, dance my heart out, and leave early before the commingling begins.    One of the three rules of this Dance is “No talking on the dance floor” which supports my anonymity. In seven years, I’ve made few […]

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Disrupting The Social Media Echo Chamber (that I helped create)
By Leah Pearlman, November 20, 2017

Last night a friend told me she worried about my latest post on Shame. She was concerned that I might be exposing a part of myself not ready for so much attention.  I’m glad she outed her concern, because it gave me the chance to explain why I shared what I did.   Recently I’ve […]

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Shame.
By Leah Pearlman, November 7, 2017

Do you know this place? I do. I know it so well.   I remember once my dad asked my why all my drawings had so many hearts in them. He said it with a smile; he was teasing me in the same way he used to call me “funny for a girl.”   If I […]

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Love, Lies, Death, and Dads
By Leah Pearlman, June 19, 2017

I’m discovering something about Death: It’s a lie.   My dad is with me everyday in so many ways. I suspect he’s responsible when his favorite songs come on the radio. I sense him in any man playing a guitar. I often feel him standing behind me with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. When […]

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