She appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show nine times and is the reason Oprah writes in her gratitude journal today.  Sarah Ban Breathnach was a freelance writer living paycheck to paycheck before writing Simple Abundance, a book that helped millions of women find gratitude in every moment. The book went on to sell 7 million copies and also became one of Oprah's Favorite Things.

After more than two years on The New York Times bestseller list made Sarah a publishing superstar. Soon, she was trading six-figure royalty checks for trips on the Concorde jet, Marilyn Monroe's fur coats and designer shoes in every color. Sir Isaac Newton's chapel became her private writing studio.

But then, the money began to dwindle, Sarah says, because of excessive spending, bad investments and a costly divorce. Three years ago, Sarah found herself on her sister's doorstep with nothing but a suitcase and her cat, Mikey.

Now, 15 years later, she says she has lost it all—her love, her home and her way. Still, it took losing everything to help her find herself. Watch parts of Oprah and Sarah's conversation and find out what she has gained by losing it all.



After an intervention from her daughter, Sarah left her husband and found herself on her sister's doorstep. Watch as Oprah and Sarah discuss why money is more than just what's in your bank account—it's a metaphor for your own self worth.



Sarah says she experienced a fall, but never a fall from grace. Watch as she tells Oprah how she's doing today and find out what she says her greatest spiritual takeaway is from this experience.

Sarah Ban Breathnach's book, Simple Abundance, sold five million copies in the United States and another two million abroad. It was on The New York Times bestseller list for nearly two years. Watch as Sarah reflects on that impressive run and how she felt when it ended.

Beauty can be found in even the most "ordinary" objects. Get inspired to treasure the everyday with this message from Simple Abundance author Sarah Ban Breathnach. Then, tune in Sunday for her in-depth interview with Oprah at 11/10c.

By Sarah Ban Breathnach

"Art must take reality by surprise." — Françoise Sagan

The painting is small enough to cradle in your hands. Incredibly simple—an isolated white cup, saucer and silver spoon. But the astonishing power of its quiet restraint never fails to move me. The first time I saw the French painter Henri Fantin-Latour's still life White Cup and Saucer, painted in 1864, I turned to a complete stranger and said, "How dear!" The startled man looked at me, then at the painting, smiled and said, "Yes, you're right. It is quite dear. Isn't that a lovely word to describe a painting."

Isn't this a lovely word to describe our lives? For this is what I want each of us to inscribe tonight in the gratitude journal of our hearts: "Thank you for my dear life today!"

For whatever reason, "dear" is the word I associate with still-life paintings—groupings of objects such as fruit, flowers, dishes and books. Perhaps it is because the still-life artist bestows such affection and reverence on the trivial, the ordinary, the everyday, that this loving exuberance simply leaps off the canvas and grabs hold of my soul. Attention must be paid, life says, through the artist's brushstrokes.

Sarah Ban Breathnach, the bestselling author of Simple Abundance, says she was "writing for her life" when she penned her newest book, Peace and Plenty. Read an excerpt of the book that chronicles her own personal financial crisis and shares the lessons she learned during that time. Then, tune in Sunday for her in-depth interview with Oprah on "Super Soul Sunday."

First You Cry 

Even when the gates of Heaven are closed to prayers, they are open to tears. — The Talmud 

I used to be a woman who cried at Hallmark commercials. Maybe you are as well. But for the last couple of years, as the economic ground beneath all I've accomplished and cherished has shifted so profoundly in a life-shattering reversal of fortune, I’ve trained myself to stay alert when the roar and the rumbling of what could be catastrophic change begins. As anyone who lives on a geographic fault line where earthquakes are frequent will tell you, it’s the aftershocks you need to worry about. Just when you think you're safe again, you can get buried alive. Tears are too much of a distraction at times like this, so I've learned to adapt to a behavior that is completely contrary to my natural inclinations: no crying. I simply cannot allow myself the luxury of falling apart if the world does.

Not just yet.

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