“What day is it today?”

“Monday, I think. Or maybe Tuesday. Wait, is it actually Thursday? Seriously, I can’t tell any more. It’s all a blursday to me.”

My fellow human beings tell me that it is becoming increasingly hard to differentiate between days, weeks and months.

The units of our time accounting are becoming blurry and meaningless and we are getting lost in a stream of time.

Blursday entered our societal vocabulary and collective consciousness. Its top definition in urban dictionary says it’s “The day you are presently living but have no idea what day it actually is.” …

This article is part of #AskMaria series; in it, I will be addressing questions I receive most often. Stay tuned for other #AskMaria Frequently Asked Questions.

Maria, I am doing really well in my career. However, I do not feel fulfilled in my current career path. I came to realize that I feel the most joy when I mentor and coach my direct reports. This makes me want to become a coach in our company. How can I do this?

So you want to be a coach when you grow up!

As with any career pivot, you will need training…

Once in a while, an image grabs me and I obediently take a picture, following my curiosity without fully understanding what it was that spoke to me in a scene. So it was with this image. It’s just an office building downtown DC and a naked winter tree in front of it. What’s so special about that?

Maybe it’s the juxtaposition of harsh, repeated lines of the building and the branches of the tree, unruly and unpredictable by comparison. Maybe it’s the strangely monochromatic color scheme — the street seems to have been intentionally drained of color. …

Happy Valentine’s Day my friends. The notion of romantic love seems to be usurping the lion’s share of attention and energy in our society at all times and especially, and not altogether surprisingly, today. And yet, love comes in many colors and kinds. …

The mobile sculpture strikes you as menacing. You regard it with caution. Bones upon black bones, lifeless and yet alive. A skeleton upon which your imagination hangs skins of guesses, theories and meanings. Is it a dark symbol? A trap? Will the bones collapse if the lightest of breezes moves through the gallery?

… Any piece of art is an entry point; a gate through which you pass in awe and apprehension; where will it lead? …

Something intangible shifts in the world around me on this bright November afternoon. Suddenly, I realize that the wind carries the leaves along the pavement with a strange, purposeful intensity, and they rustle as they brush against dry concrete.

It’s as if someone invisible, far away, sighs deeply and steers the leaves with his breath.

The sky transforms from clear blue to steel-colored, uncertain. Temperature changes along with the sky color, and the air feels much cooler against my skin. …

In the days of early March, the forest stands naked and dark, as if someone has drawn the trees with a piece of charcoal. I catch myself longing for the days of exuberant, vivid colors, wistfully remembering fall foliage. It seems that every tree is a candle: it used to burn with a brilliant flame — but today the candle stands cold and charred, its flame extinguished long ago.

And yet, as this forest is stripped of adornment, a different, higher beauty reveals itself.

It’s a beauty of nakedness, transparency, and clarity. With leaves and colors gone, the forest contours…

It’s the first day of my vacation in Shenandoah National Park. The day starts early, joyfully lasts and lasts, stretching into delightfully unplanned, wandering, free hours. A hike here, a drive there, a half hour given to photographing clouds, a long talk with my Mom over coffee. I am reminded of Harper Lee writing about summer, when children ”found the remainder of the morning lying emptily before them.”

It’s the first day of my vacation, yet it feels as if I have been here for weeks. Look how much has happened today!

• I woke to a sleepy valley stretching in…