About six months ago, when we started planning what we casually referred to as our “fearless” issue, I began reflecting on what fear means to me and how it has operated in my own life. I started by asking myself what fear feels like, and I got one answer: constriction.

Whenever I am afraid, I realized, everything begins to contract. My body, my heart, my mind, my peripheral vision, my voice, my sense of possibility — it all starts to feel cramped and contained in an uncomfortable way, a way that makes me feel (and act) smaller than I really am.

This is the insidious part of fear. It makes us shrink and recoil, when often what we are really being confronted with is an opportunity to grow. It inclines us to be far less capable and generous than we normally are, and to see far fewer possibilities than we might otherwise see.

Out of our constricted thought and behavior comes a compromised result. This convinces us that we are, in fact, not all that smart or strong or deserving, and we go on to make ever smaller choices and to live in evermore shrunken, shriveled ways. It’s a vicious cycle tightly wrapped in a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Last month, I received a lovely gift from my Genius Pact collaborator, Jacque. (For more on our project, see ELmag.com/geniuspact.) She gave me Brené Brown’s new book, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead (Gotham, 2012). Then, just a few days before we sent this issue to print, I picked up another great book, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead (Knopf, 2013), which explored some of the same territory.

I found both books to be jaw-droppingly good and so packed with important insights (for both genders) that I wouldn’t begin to attempt a summary of either here. Instead, I will share three of their common messages that resonated most strongly with me.

(1) Be willing to have courageous conversations. Speaking our truth — telling people what we really think, desire, see and feel — is often all that stands between us and powerful, positive change. But such revelations can be daunting, especially when we feel strongly and there’s a lot at stake. If there’s a courageous conversation that needs to happen in your world (with a friend, partner, coworker or family member), you’ve probably known it for a while. The sooner you get clear about your truth and state it in an openhearted way, the better your life will get. Which brings me to . . .

(2) Stay open-hearted. Many times, when we are facing difficult or frightening situations, we harden ourselves, close off our hearts and begin relating to people as opponents, obstacles or threats. We go into an armored, win-lose way of relating, when in many cases, the reason the situation feels so charged and scary in the first place is simply that we care so very much. (For more on that, see our feature, “The End of Fear,” page 56.) The more we are willing to present our truth in the context of our authentic hopes and desires, the better our courageous conversations and our related life opportunities tend to play out.

(3) Do some decloaking. The term “decloaking” is one I borrowed from Susie Bright, an erotica expert who talks about it in the context of owning whatever turns us on. But I’ve come to think about decloaking as deeply owning who you are and what makes you tick in any life context. At work, in relationships, at a soul level — who are you really? Too often, we allow our shame or fear of other people’s judgment (or our fear of our own unfettered awesomeness) to stop us from answering that question honestly. I recently stumbled across an unattributed quote that nicely sums up the value of decloaking: “Be weird. Be random. Be who you are. Because you never know who would love the person you hide.”

I think the biggest message I took away from both Brown’s and Sandberg’s books — and also from our work on this issue of the magazine — is that while recognizing our fears and vulnerabilities is a good thing, allowing them to constrict us rarely serves us well.

We do better when we are willing to stretch, to grow toward the outer reaches of our comfort zones rather than shrinking away from them. This issue is a great place to start stretching.

I love my coffee. It’s probably the first thing I think of upon waking, and it’s often the last thing I think about before drifting off to sleep (as in, “Ooh, do I have coffee and cream for tomorrow?”).

I revel in the aromatic delight of my home brew in the morning — and on many days, I also bask in the pleasure of a good latte in the afternoon. So yes, I love my coffee with an affection that borders on addiction. But I make a point of enjoying it in moderation, and every once in a while, I take a break from it entirely.

I do a little detox a few times a year, and every time I do, I’m glad I did. For one thing, I know it’s good for me to give my body a break from caffeine (and dairy, which for me is inseparable from coffee). For another thing, I often find a perverse pleasure in noticing that my life without these lovely indulgences is actually still pretty sweet.

While I’m detoxing my body, I often notice (as our intrepid staffer Heidi Wachter did during her detox experiment) that I get nudged to detox my heart and mind, too. Stuff comes up to be processed, and as it clears, I feel lighter, happier, more me.

Mid-detox, I tend to become more appreciative of all my blessings — and increasingly aware of any pesky toxicities and tolerations that have been lurking at the edges of my awareness.

Take, for example, the clutter that’s been building up in my office and hall closet. (For insight on the meaning and impact of excess stuff, see “The Emotional Toll of Clutter.“) Or the conflict that’s been brewing with a colleague. (For Byron Katie’s help with doing “The Work” on such challenges, see “Loving What Is.”) Or the crazy-making little thought cycles that keep hijacking my consciousness and focus from things that matter more. (Find counsel on dealing with “Monkey Mind.”)

It’s almost as though my heart and brain say to my body, “Hey, as long as you’re taking out the trash, how about taking a few of these extra bags along with you?”

I think that — because I typically experience a significant increase in physical energy and mental focus as the result of detoxing — I am inclined to accommodate such requests.

During one such detox last spring, I dove into my overpacked file cabinet and wound up pulling approximately two horizontal feet of dusty, no-longer-relevant stuff out of its drawers.

Thanks to the reclaimed space, filing became easy once again, and — ta da! — my resistance to filing vanished. (Need some organizational inspiration? See “Getting Things Done: ‘Organize,’” the third in our five-part series with “Getting Things Done” expert David Allen.)

During a liver-cleanse program I did a few years back (you can get the basics in “Fast Track Liver Detox” at ELmag.com/liverdetox), I had so much energy I could barely contain myself. I wound up turning a cluttered spare bedroom into a “serenity room”—moving large pieces of furniture all by myself and happily blasting Earth, Wind & Fire oldies loud enough that my brave and faithful pit bull, Frida, quietly retreated to the lower level of the house.

I am not saying that every aspect of detoxing feels fabulous. I’ve certainly experienced my share of caffeine-withdrawl headaches, cravings, low-energy doldrums and periods of
peevishness. And on one occasion, God help me, I endured the agony of regretfully turning down one of my mom’s homemade spelt caramel rolls.

But I’m over that now. In fact, I’m thinking it might be time to gear up for another detox experience. I’ve been hitting the coffee a little harder than I  oughta be, I guess. My file drawers are starting to feel a little over-packed. And I’m getting that spring-cleaning urge.

Plus, I just talked my niece and longtime fitness buddy, Xanthi, into doing the Minneapolis Esprit de She 5K with me (www.espritdeshe.com). Given that I haven’t been running at all lately, and she’s been doing hardcore training for rugby the past four years, I’m going to need the extra burst of energy and enthusiasm just to keep up with her. (Read our story at ELmag.com/fitnessbuddies.)

Whatever inspires you to take good care of yourself this spring, I hope you’ll find a few ideas in this issue to get you started — and that you’ll commit to having some serious fun in the process.

This winter, I spent a week of my vacation at a Tibetan monastery located near Dolanji, in northern India. While there, I was given the gift of a lifetime. Several such gifts, actually.

The first came in the opportunity simply to visit this remote protected area — a magical and mountainous place where Tibet’s most ancient traditions and rituals provide the substrate for daily life.

It is a place where low, hypnotic chants emanate from ornate temples; where the energetic shouts of maroon-robed monks engaged in “dialectic” debate classes echo forth from open courtyards; and where even shy children passing you on the dusty road meet your eyes, nod and greet you with a quiet namaste.

The Menri Monastery and Yungdrung Bon Monastic Center is a place where classrooms dedicated to academic subjects such as “logic” and “teaching and listening” are situated alongside workshops focused on traditional arts like incense-making and appliqué. Here, study and practice of one kind or another appears to go on virtually nonstop.

In addition to its beautiful temples, the monastic compound encompasses a school and orphanage, a nunnery, an extraordinary library and museum, a media center, a Tibetan-medicine clinic, a Western-medicine clinic, dormitories, a guesthouse, and much more.

It’s incredible to think all of this was built in the last 50 years or so, and heartbreaking to imagine the circumstances that made its rebuilding necessary (the original Menri monastery, established during the 1400s, was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and Chinese occupation of Tibet).

I spent most of my time at Menri volunteering with a doctor friend in the Western clinic or enjoying walks and talks with the Abbot, His Holiness Menri Trizin, a top lama who is considered by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and many other Tibetan leaders to be the spiritual head not just of this place but of the entire Bon Buddhist tradition. (Bon is Tibet’s native religion and thought to predate what most of us know as Tibetan Buddhist traditions by thousands of years.)

The Abbot, now in his 80s, established this monastery in 1969 with the Dalai Lama’s blessing. He is, as you might expect, a formidable individual. Prostrations and deep bows are regularly performed before him. And yet he is eminently approachable. He is sage and dignified, but also open minded and often funny. And it was thanks to him that a great many of the gifts I took away — from insights and wise counsel to unforgettable memories — came to me during my time there.

One of my favorite moments at the monastery occurred during clinic hours. I wasn’t doing anything terribly special, just weighing and measuring little kids — some as young as 4. I was “talking” to them as I went, although since I was fairly certain they couldn’t understand a word I said, I mostly did a lot of smiling, nodding and hand-signing to guide them from one station to another.

At one point, while I was helping a mini-monk get his tiny shoes back on, he looked up and smiled back at me, and I suddenly realized I was happy — silly happy — in a way I hadn’t felt in many years.

I still can’t tell you exactly why.

Maybe it’s that I was doing something simple, practical and useful. Maybe it’s that I was getting the opportunity to be kind and gentle and having the pleasure of seeing that simple kindness received.

I don’t know. But here’s the lesson I took away from that day, one of many subtle and profound gifts from the monastery and His Holiness Menri Trizin that are still setting down roots within me: Sometimes just being where you are, present with the people around you and with your own true nature in that moment, is vastly more satisfying than all the “get it done” activities most of us recklessly expend our time and energy pursuing.

Sometimes just noticing what is really happening in the here and now — noticing the gifts that are inherent in that moment — is all it takes to experience the kind of heart-opening joy and love we often chase to no avail.

We dedicated this issue of the magazine to the value of that moment, to the value of just being, resting, daydreaming, tuning in and chilling out enough that you can notice the subtle pleasures that are always trying to get your attention. And after all, isn’t that what experiencing life is really all about?

Last year about this time, I shared an experience I had at age 30 — a moment when I decided to rethink who I was and what I wanted for myself, when I dared to ask myself questions I hadn’t before, and to really listen to the answers. (See “What’s Your Plan?” at ELmag.com/whatsyourplan.)

I’ve often wondered how my life might have turned out if I hadn’t taken the time to ponder those questions. Quite probably, this magazine wouldn’t exist. RevolutionaryAct.com and the 101 Revolutionary Ways to Be Healthy app wouldn’t have come to be. Almost certainly, the amazing group of people who make these projects happen would not be working together in the way they are now. And the millions of individuals whose choices and lives are in some way touched by what our team does every day — well, there’s no way of knowing how things might be different for them, too, and for the people and projects all of their lives touch.

None of us can ever know the extended outcomes of all our choices, or how they’ll play out over time. And frankly, I can’t think about that too much or I get kind of freaked out.

What I do know is this: Somewhere inside each of us lies an unopened box of potential and possibility. And somewhere inside each of us lies both the desire and strength to open and unpack that box — if we choose.

That’s a power-packed “if,” because when we strive to harness even a portion of our innate capacity, our lives stand to be transformed in extraordinary directions. The gifts we are able to offer our loved ones and communities are dramatically magnified and multiplied.

I believe that the act of recognizing this capacity, this potential, is a sacred one. But it’s rarely a simple or easy quest. That’s why we dedicated this issue to the art of self-transformation. It’s also why we believe wise facilitators and gifted coaches like our cover subject, Lauren Zander, are so valuable.

During a recent conversation I had with Lauren (for whom coaching is a reflexive instinct, like breathing), she asked me a couple of probing questions and promptly offered up a number of powerful observations about ways she saw me inadvertently limiting myself.

She told me she suspected I might have some trouble owning my personal desires, that I was more comfortable with the notion of “being of service” than of freely pursuing my own passions, and that this amounted to playing keep-away from the source of my own best energy. The ironic part, she pointed out, was that this was probably blunting rather than catalyzing my ability to offer my very best to the world around me.

Huh. I hadn’t quite thought of it that way before. So we talked about that for a while, and then she gave me the assignment of writing down everything I’d accomplished to date (no downplaying allowed) and articulating what those accomplishments had prepared me to do. She challenged me to dream big, and to fully commit myself to whatever felt exciting and energizing to me right now — even if I could not be sure of the outcomes. It was a mind-blowing, imagination-expanding conversation.

I believe that the act of imagining is inherently transformative and empowering. (For more on that, see Bahram Akradi’s column.) And once we’ve gone through the process of imagining, once we’ve seen ourselves in a different light, some part of us is forever changed and expanded.

We invoke new futures. We let go of old habits. We call new friends and collaborators into our midst. We go in search of new information. We generate fresh motivation. Our old limits crumble and fall away to make room for new growth.

I like the way philosopher-poet Rilke put it : “I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.”

We are not meant to live folded. But freeing ourselves and our lives from unnecessary constraints is not a one-time project. It’s a lifelong exploration — one fueled by our most central desires and shaped by our willingness to move beyond self-imposed limitations.

If each of us was living at the truest, healthiest, most expansive expression of ourselves, how might our lives be different? The process of considering that question unfolds us. Once unfolded, we begin taking all kinds of unpredictable, arching shapes. We never fit neatly back into our original packaging. And that is precisely as it should be.

Every once in a while, I screw up in a way that turns out to be a blessing in disguise. I make a wrong turn, for instance, and wind up discovering a little secondhand store I never knew existed. Yay!

Or I miss a plane, but then, as a result, have the time to get an airport-spa massage that I really needed, and I manage to get upgraded on the next flight out. Thanks to the extra elbow-room, I manage to get some work done and actually come out ahead in terms of productivity. Woo-hoo!

These things happen to me all the time — often enough that I’m learning to trust my mistakes. A couple of weeks ago, though, I screwed up big time. And for a while there, I wasn’t at all sure it would turn out well.

It was a crazy period when I was traveling nonstop and also had a series of back-to-back editorial deadlines on two different issues of the magazine. I was attending two conferences and speaking at another, and I was more than a little low on sleep (for more on the importance of respecting your body’s natural rhythms, read “Get Your Groove Back“).

I guess the combination of brain fog and distraction got the better of me, because at some point during a series of fascinating conversations I was having with some fellow conference-goers, I set my laptop down somewhere and — well, frankly, I have no idea what happened to it. All I know is, a few minutes later, when I started making preparations to head to the airport, it was nowhere to be found.

It took about 10 seconds for panic to set in. My deadlines! My data! My presentation! My whole life was on that laptop, but there was not much I could do about it. A fleet of kind people helped me search. I checked with Lost and Found. Nothing.

I had a plane to catch. I had to go. So I left all my contact information with the event organizers and the hotel, climbed aboard the waiting airport shuttle, and hoped for the best.

Over the course of the next few hours, something wonderful happened. Several wonderful things, actually. In the van, rather than working on my presentation or editing articles, I wound up soaking up the scenery, which was beautiful. At the airport, rather than searching for a place to plug in my computer, I perused a bookstore and stumbled on a book I’d been meaning to read. On the plane, rather than furiously editing articles, I succumbed to my low-grade exhaustion and fell fast asleep.

An hour later, feeling refreshed and focused, I reached for my laptop to begin working and realized — doh! — that wasn’t an option. So I cracked open my new book instead.

That book, Abundance: The Future Is Better Than You Think (Free Press, 2012), by X PRIZE Foundation Chairman and CEO Peter Diamandis and Steven Kotler, is an intriguing one. It makes the case that, despite all the discouraging news about resource scarcity, poverty, social unrest, environmental degradation, health crises and other major downers, the future is actually looking pretty bright.

Humanity, the authors argue, is on the verge (and in the midst) of some major innovations and breakthroughs that bode well for us and for the planet. What’s essential, they note, is that we see the rich opportunities in front of us for what they are, and that we meet them with creativity, hope and energy rather than fear, pessimism and resignation.

A few chapters into my reading, it struck me that there was something of a theme emerging in my day’s events. What seemed like a devastating loss had actually endowed me with a series of gifts, and by allowing myself to embrace the situation with an open mind rather than go into freak-out crisis mode, I’d come out way ahead.

As it turned out, I was able to receive and print the articles I needed to review at my hotel that afternoon. The next morning I got some great news: My laptop had been found and was already en route! I was able to easily complete my presentation (on how to cultivate healthy flow by taking regular breaks), which  turned out great. Meanwhile, the work I’d had to delegate as the result of my laptop loss gave other members of my team a chance to do what they do best — rise to challenges with creativity and grace.

Now that I have my computer back, I’m still playing catch-up on some of my deadlines, but we’re releasing this December issue right on time. I hope it inspires you to take good care of yourself through the holiday season and to celebrate all that’s right with yourself and your life, right here and now.

The other day, I gave our fitness editor, Jen Sinkler*, a big hug — and I thought the same thing I think every time I hug her: Whew, that girl has solid muscles! She just feels strong, you know? Like a rock.

Jen used to be an all-star rugby player, and she still carries herself with a certain confidence and friendly swagger that I’ve come to associate with lifelong athletes. (For more on the characteristic qualities that sports tend to develop in us, see “The Game of Life.”)

It’s a carriage that broadcasts easy strength, not just in body, but also in attitude, saying in effect: “Hi there, I’m here and I’m on your team, so if you need any large objects moved or a shoulder to cry on or anybody’s ass kicked, just let me know.” Kinda makes you feel good being around people like that.

Strength is a quality I admire and aspire to. That’s why I do resistance training, interval training and yoga classes. It’s why I feed my body good stuff, take my supplements, and strive to get in enough rest and recovery time.

In my mind, strength isn’t just about the body, though. It’s also about the heart and mind and spirit. And cultivating that kind of strength involves serious training, too.

That’s why I let myself cry or kvetch a little when I need to — and then start looking at where my responsibility for my happiness begins, and at what my best available choices are now.

It’s why I’ve learned to acknowledge more readily when I’m out of whack — starting to feel reactive, blame-inclined, victimized, overwhelmed or hopeless — and to then do what I need to do to get right with myself.

It’s why I appreciate the value of learning things I don’t officially “need to know” but find intriguing. It’s why I enjoy talking with new people and experimenting with new perspectives and practices (like the patience-building approaches in “Worth the Wait: Why Patience Pays Off“).

I’ve come to believe that all of these things are (or at least can be) builders of whole-person strength and resiliency. Over time, I’ve also come to see them as signs of maturity — some of the great gifts of, and keys to, healthy aging. (For more on these and how to make the most of them, see “The Older, the Better.”)

I agree with Bahram Akradi that we can continue to establish all kinds of “personal bests” as we age. At 45, I certainly feel better than I did in my 20s or 30s — on so many levels.

And yet, I clearly remember being in my 20s and 30s and vaguely terrified that it was all going to be downhill from there. So if you’re in your 20s or 30s and think I’m totally full of it, please know I find your skepticism understandable.

Please know, too, that we may both be right — because getting stronger and better with age doesn’t just happen, and it sure doesn’t happen for everybody.

Some people take their youthful strength and vitality for granted, only to find it draining away from them as the result of long-term neglect, misuse or abuse. (For proof of that, look no further than our country’s epidemic of chronic disease, obesity and addiction.)

Others are struck down by strength-sapping health crises in the prime of life despite “doing everything right.” (For more on coping with a disturbing diagnosis, see “Repair Your Thyroid.”) But no matter what happens or where we find ourselves, I believe each of us has certain choices we can make to maximize the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual strength available to us going forward.

We packed this issue of Experience Life with tidbits we hope will help you make those choices more easily and confidently, and to enjoy yourself more in the process.

And if you just want to get some seriously strong, impressive muscles like our fitness editor, Jen, that’s OK, too. Check out our article on German Volume Training (“10 Sets, 10 Reps: German Volume Training”) — and don’t come crying to me when you can’t move a couple of days later.

Strength comes at a price, after all.  And usually it involves pushing your limits at least a little. How far you push, and where, is entirely up to you.

*UPDATE (1/1/13): After more than nine years with Experience Life, Jen Sinkler is now pursuing her personal and professional ambitions as the head honcho of Thrive With Jen Sinkler. Find her over at JenSinkler.com.

I am probably not the best person to ask about work-life balance, because, frankly, I work all the time. I get up early, do my morning practice (a mini yoga/meditation/reflection routine that can range from five to 15 minutes long), grab breakfast and a cup of coffee (for more on the merits of that, see “Coffee: A Healthy Grind?“), and then go to my desk.

From there, I work like a woman possessed — right up until I need to go work out, or I get hungry for lunch, or I feel like my brain is shutting down. Then, for a little while, I make it a point to do something fun and relaxing that doesn’t involve too much thinking.

If I’m working at home, I might get the mail, or hang out laundry, or lie down on the floor and pet my dog for a little while. If I’m at the office, I might check in with my teammates, go fix a snack, or run a quick errand. While I am doing these things, I usually wind up remembering something important, or I am struck by a great idea — generally an idea for work.

So back to work I go, and that’s pretty much the way my days proceed. On meeting-intensive days, I’m moving continuously from one conversation, update or presentation to the next. On writing- and editing-intensive days, I can look like Jack Nicholson’s character (albeit, I hope, with better hair) madly typing away in The Shining. And on days like today (when we are finishing the magazine), it can be a chaotic, shuttling dance: Mark up layouts, write my column, review illustrations — all while fielding phone calls and remembering that I need to refill my water next time I pass the office kitchen.

For the most part, I love this. Yes, I’ve been known to work long days, but I’ve also managed to stay surprisingly healthy and happy working this way for, oh, about a decade now. So while I’m probably not the best person to ask about work-life balance, I might be a decent person to ask about how to remain relatively sane and resilient in the absence of it.

If you’re one of the many busy people out there treading a similar path, here’s some advice:

• Listen carefully. If you pay attention to your body’s subtle cues for food, water, breaks, rest and sleep, and you respect those cues, you stand a better chance of avoiding what I call body-mind mutiny. That’s where your body says to your brain: “To heck with you, bossypants! You clearly aren’t qualified to run this show, and now I’m going to demonstrate to you just how in-charge I can be — by shutting things down, in part or entirely, depending on just how peeved I am.” (This is the point when you start getting rashes, headaches, digestive disorders, insomnia, slipped discs and cardiac events.) Ignore your body’s needs, and you do so at your peril.
• Be discerning. If you’re going to work really hard, strive to work on things  you really love, and for causes that matter to you and with people you care about and enjoy. In such situations, work, play and purpose intertwine in ways that make the undoable seem strangely doable. That doesn’t mean we should ever run ourselves ragged, of course. But if you are working mega-hours for something you don’t adore or deeply believe in, you are slowly but surely allowing your life energy to be drained away. At some point, you will have cause to regret this.
• Respect the connection between your self-care and your self-fulfillment. Work done with clear intent and passion is one means of expressing your full potential as a person. But you need to be at your best to give your best. If, in the name of hyper-producing, you allow yourself to become diminished, you’re going to experience diminishing returns. Regularly taking time — to get a massage, take a bike ride, sneak away for some fun, or just totally power off and stare into space — is not only OK, it is often absolutely necessary, even (or maybe especially) for workaholic types. If you feel you are falling prey to “empty well syndrome,” switch gears or renegotiate your commitments in ways that let you fill back up again.

I’ll end on that note, because my water glass is empty and my brain is asking for a break. But if you’re looking for more healthy wisdom, read on. We’ve packed this issue full of everything you need to know to work as smart and hard as you feel inspired to — and to then hit the pause button without one iota of regret.

I recently had a big, heady conversation with some health-industry insiders about the serious challenges facing the millions of people who are actively trying to improve their health and fitness — and who are struggling.

The conversation was peppered with comments like these: “It’s just such a cluttered media landscape, and there’s so much confusion, people don’t know what to believe.” “People just want to be told what to do — but then they don’t really want to do it.” “We gotta get to kids before they get chronic illnesses, but there’s no space in the educational system for good health curriculum anymore.” “The world of conventional medicine is stuck dealing with diagnoses and symptom suppression at a time when what we really need is lifestyle medicine.”

As we chatted and took stock of all these troubles, two things struck me: First, a lot of smart, well-informed experts seem pretty overwhelmed by what we’re up against as a society right now, so it’s no wonder that regular folks are having a hard time sorting it out. Second, difficult as it may be, quite a lot of regular folks are sorting it out nonetheless.

To me, that’s encouraging.

Yes, the fact that our culture seems custom-designed to support poor health is maddening. Yes, the fact that tens of millions of people are suffering from preventable conditions like obesity, type 2 diabetes, heart disease and lifestyle-related cancers is heartbreaking.

And yet, every year, despite these depressing  trends, a significant number of people who once seemed destined to die early deaths from lifestyle-related conditions somehow manage to pull themselves out of the dive. Against all odds, these scrappy individuals succeed in completely changing their lives. They put themselves on a path to health and happiness, and in many cases, they stay there.

So how does that happen? When people do succeed in their health-motivated endeavors, how do they succeed, and what can we learn from their success stories?

Well, a lot of what there is to learn is precisely what we share in every issue of this magazine, and on our website, and in our weekly and monthly newsletters.

We pack several concentrated servings of healthy-living inspiration and know-how into our on-demand Take Action Challenge, a free eight-week e-program focused on baby-step changes.

And, of course, we provide an ever-evolving body of healthy-living wisdom at our sister site, RevolutionaryAct.com, and via our mobile app, “101 Revolutionary Ways to Be Healthy.”

We pride ourselves on putting all of these resources together, and every month we hear from readers who kindly thank us for providing them with just the information they needed to make an important change or achieve a big breakthrough.

Clearly, getting good, reliable, accurate information about what works and what doesn’t is important. But there’s more to it than that.

There’s another piece to this get-smart equation, and it has little or nothing to do with information. It has to do with a deeper kind of wisdom — the little voice inside each of us that says, “I believe life can be better than this; I am ready to try something different.”

That’s the kind of wisdom that cuts through hype and nonsense and inertia. That’s what endows mild-mannered people with the capacity to leapfrog over daunting problems — problems that the powers-that-be don’t seem to be able or willing to solve for us.

We dedicate this issue of Experience Life to the spirit of learning and growing, to the pleasure of discovering more within us and around us than we knew was there.

I hope you harvest as many new insights and ideas as our team did putting it all together. And above all, I hope you embrace this fall’s back-to-school season as an invitation to keep on learning all year long.