Imagine Kindness Rippling Out

*I just see how many people stepped out of their way for the sake of kindness.*

I like to imagine the person who picked up my then starving dog off the streets in Salinas. Someone like you or me, maybe out doing grocery shopping or dropping their kids off to school. She had seen this dog before and realized the urgency of the situation. Baiting the dog with a bit of food, she manages to scoop up the scrawny beast in her arms and put her into the back of an SUV. Even though she needs to get back to her tasks, she takes time to drive this little doggo out to Hitchcock Animal Shelter where she leaves her in the hands of the shelter staff. This person goes down in Starling’s file as Good Samaritin. She saved Starling’s life.

But I don’t stop imagining there, I see the person doing intake at the Shelter calling a veterinarian to come examine little Starling. Then I see that vet cleaning the open wounds on her face after she was dropped off where she had been bitten. The bite wounds were infected but they were getting treated with kindness I see her applying pain killing anti-biotic ointment and then recommending high nutrient food to help gain back some weight quickly. I smile to her in my imagination.

Then I imagine a Shelter employee noticing how shut down this dog is. She spends a little extra time with her to love her up. She even takes her out of the highly intense and noisy Shelter to give the dog’s nerves a respite. This young shelter employee makes it her task to teach Starling the ropes. Big Yellow chicken comes into play as she teaches fetch, then treats for Starling to master sit. Starling is Nudged out of her shell shock for a bit, yet the forever home came slowly.

Meanwhile, as Starling was healing; I had been grieving the loss of Tollie, my cherished Co Pilot. Having a dog makes me a happier human so I knew at the right time I’d adopt again. I started looking at all of the shelters. The best doggos come from shelters in my book. I loved going to SPCA in Carmel Valley and visiting the young pups and old dogs. SPCA Monterey is nestled in magical green hills of Carmel Valley and is surprisingly peaceful. I saw lots of puppies I loved. It was so healing to spend time there, not as an official volunteer, but an under the radar one. After having Tollie by my side for over 13 years, the best medicine after losing him was giving love to other fur babies. In addition to visiting SPCA and spending time walking and loving those dogs, I scoured the shelter websites for ‘Adoptable Dogs.’

I saw Starling on one, in a different shelter than I visited under a ‘rough start’ description. Almost all black with soul full brown eyes and a patch of white on her chest, I immediately liked her. She reminded me of my first doggo, a black pit/lab mix with white paws and chest who lived 18 years. But adopting a puppy is usually how I roll, I didn’t really think I’d get her. I noticed her posting in August.

Now let’s back track to a little knock on my door that happened even before the last presidential election. I was still tending a Gaza Grief altar then, naming casualties on both sides represented within a sacred altar. Some names and facts on index cards were placed and updated monthly with care on the altar. It covered most my dining room table. Candles burned continuously, flowers were freshened and prayers/honoring happened for this region semi continuously.

It was the Marina Mayor at the door asking me to vote for a measure. Curly white hair, bushy dark eyebrows and a warm smile, the Mayor is an earth guardian and community volunteer. I recognized him immediately. “The more you put out the more you get back, so I put out a lot,” he said. I invited him in to see the altar. Like many people, he didn’t know much about Gaza. He knows all about Marina but at the time he was not tracking this nightmare genocide or the U.S. weapons fueling it. He seemed unaware of U.S. violating international law by continuing to supply weapons while systematic starvation was being used as a weapon of war. “Thousands of children have been killed, they don’t have schools, their hospitals have been bombed, most homes destroyed…” I told him.

*The denial is gone forever, even if the altar is no longer here.*

It’s not his typical canvassing call, I”m certain. Distinguishing between Hamas and Palestinian citizens when he referred to all Palestinians as Hamas…naming racism and systematic starvation. I digress. It happens. I think I have Bruce Delgado to thank for adopting Starling. As I was walking him to his Prius he said, “I get you’re passionate about this but you also have to find something you can win…” At the time that was like noise, like static, like “blah blah blah blah!!” Maybe that’s what some people hear when I’m talking about this stuff. But it did go in my ears, maybe even all the way down to my heart.

After Lebanon was bombed and a million more people were displaced in a single week…I closed the altar. I took it down and did ceremony with it. It was too much for me to track. But the year of tending that altar broke open my heart and broke through the walls of denial about suffering of so many beings caught in wars. Born during the Vietnam war, since then I’m aware of wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and now Gaza while no one here has been starved or bombed by another country. War has been such a constant in our cultural story it becomes like background noise that you don’t even notice. That changed tending the altar. The denial is gone forever, even if the altar is no longer here.

Fast forward to the rains, when the tents in Gaza were being flooded and people were shoveling out water from tents. Kindness rippling out can come from giving money, it can come from prayers and speaking up, but sometimes I have no felt knowing of what that is doing. Sometimes it feels overwhelming. Longing to see the difference compassion can make, I noticed Starling was still posted on the website three months on. She was one of the ones in there the longest time. They changed her narrative, her story…from ‘rough start’ to “this sleek beautiful girl knows sit and fetch. She is eager to learn.” They even made a flier just for her to help get her placed. Another example of kindness rippling out.

I visited her on a Thursday. “I know right where she is, I’ll take you back there…she is a sweetie” the shelter employee told me. We passed concrete cells with barking, agitated dogs one after the other. A forlorn brown collie mix was in the first cell, then a quiet Shepard watching us, then a barking Stafford black and grey bulldog. Starling was way in the back laying in her concrete cave. “The dogs don’t show well in this shelter, it’s so noisy…” she lamented. “Imagine being in a cell almost 24/7 then having strangers walking by you.” The little doggo loved Sue and was happy to get out. By this time Starling was at a healthy weight and she jumped on her and wagged her tail but I was invisible to her…literally. When Sue walked away and left us in the play area, Starling tracked her through the fence, patiently observing her friend on the other side while ignoring me completely. She would not look at me. Seeing how she interacted with the employee though, I knew she could bond. When Sue came back I asked, “Why don’t you adopt her, she loves you…”

“I can’t, I have so many. It’s hard working here, you want to take them all home.” Sue, like me, had a penchant for Pitbulls who are often discriminated against and discarded. Starling basked in the sunshine instead of being in her concrete cave while she ignored me. Then I asked a shelter volunteer for treats. “I want to see if she is food motivated,” (not knowing her background). Starling immediately interacted with a sit, fetch, even looked me in the eye with some coaching. She is smart, smart, smart and highly trainable, although not affectionate at that time with me.

‘*Big Yellow chicken comes into play as she teaches fetch…*‘

Tollie came as a voice and told me Starling is a keeper on Thursday night. I could hear the rain outside. We were getting a ton of it. I thought of the tents in Gaza, then I thought of the outdoor cement block cells in Salinas. I was going to adopt Starling. Or at least I was going to try. I went back out Friday, trusting Tollie that Starling could be happy in my home.

Driving after work through pouring rain to Salinas Hitchcock Animal Shelter, I kept imagining them saying yes and not asking any questions. I got there right before closing. “Sorry, we already closed adoptions for the day,” the gal said politely. I paused then went for it, “Well, can you make an exception? I am here to adopt Starling and she has already been in here over three months now.” A gal with black and blue hair eyed me awkwardly, then the other gal started the paperwork. Phew! I pulled out a holiday gift card that I had been given at work for free groceries and slid it over to them. “Thank you for being willing…” my voice trailed off.

Five minutes later I saw it was actually going to go all of the way through. Full on intention had manifested this moment after stepping through a myriad of fears. What do you want to see? Imagine that. Now I was asking about health and what I should know. Then the story came out. The story I knew was hiding in the background…the one about her being starved, having bones protruding, open wounds on her face. I began to tear up. Too late to turn back, never having adopted like this before…I let the tears flow down my cheeks. Yes, this is kindness rippling out…when I see so many other people before I arrived had made the difference. Sue hugged me for a long time after she saw me pay. She so wanted Starling to get a home.

*The thing to remember is the power of taking one small action.*

I see a domino chain of kindness in Starling’s story. I am showing this original picture, but this is not the thing to remember. The thing to remember is the power of taking one small action. The lady who picked Starling up and brought her in. The vet who treated her. The staff who went the extra mile and never gave up on getting her placed in a forever home. The ladies willing to make an exception so Starling could go home that day. Sue, who bonded with Starling and gave me a long hug after she saw I was taking her. She told me to give it some time, but Starling gave me happy kisses on the cheek by the first night. We have never looked back.

The family feels complete again. As badass Tigerbee cat has adopted his sister as a fulltime playmate and nap companion. We are just starting our journey, but it has reconnected me to the power of community kindness. Even a community of strangers you may never meet. The person who picked up Starling on that day, who followed the impulse of kindness may never see her again. But she made such a huge difference in my life by taking that one action of compassion. Just imagine kindness rippling out and that chain of kindness goes on and on. It is happening now.

When I look at Starling, I don’t see a sob story of starvation and neglect. I don’t look for the villain or think anything about who dunnit. I just see how many people stepped out of their way for the sake of kindness. I see a dog snoring on the couch laying on her back feeling safe and at home. I can’t do it for everyone, but this one little being is home. Thank you Tollie, you are absolutely spot on…”Starling is a keeper.”

“Please Call Me by My True Names”

This poem by Thich Nhat Hanh was written in 1978 after reading a letter from a Vietnamese refugee fleeing on a boat from war. A twelve year old girl on that boat was raped by a sea pirate and in despair she threw herself into the ocean and drown. Hearing of this, Thich Nhat Hanh was very angry and upset and did walking meditation most of the night to calm his emotions and to look deeply. This poem that has since been transformed into songs, different languages and circulated all over the world was a result of practicing to transform suffering.

They (the monastic community) received hundreds of letters each week sharing suffering from that time and reading them was difficult. But they chose as a community not to look away. This is what Thich Nhat Hanh said after reading this letter…

When you first learn of something like that, you get angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the girl. As you look more deeply you will see it differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the pirate. But we can’t do that. In my meditation, I saw that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, I would now be the pirate.

In times where I myself see Border Patrol agents killing civilians and disappearing immigrants with impunity, I share this poem again as a reminder to myself and whoever is willing to go deeper than duality while at the same time standing for justice and speaking up for our shared humanity. In the spirit of compassionate action founded in solidity and love, I share this poem again.

‘My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.’

Please Call Me by My True Names – Thich Nhat Hanh

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Meeting a Master

*‘To be with such a teacher in this lifetime is a huge honor and blessing. ‘*

Sometimes you don’t know what is going to change your life forever. In fact I’d say most times I don’t know. I guess that is why it’s called the Mystery. One day in my late twenties I was sitting on the steps in my house with my friend and then house mate who was telling me about Palestinian home demolitions. Not that I wanted to know, because who wants to know about suffering far away? We were both taking Landmark Education courses and we were also talking about ‘ways of being.’ Like for example, self righteous indignation…a very popular way of being these days. Munteha embodied it as she role played with me, “You are ignorant and I must teach you!! They rounded up all the Japanese people, American Japanese people and put them in internment camps!” Kay, so she switched it from Palestinian land seizure and house demolitions to Japenese Americans being abducted a forcibly placed in camps during World War II…which to be truthful my younger self did not know about either at that time. That conversation with my 23 year old house mate did change my life forever, because it led to an opening of heart and willingness to see what is unpleasant and painful to see. It even led to travel to see and hear different stories that most American citizens and most people will never get a chance to hear/see. I have Munteha to thank for meeting my spiritual root teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh.

After the conversation on the stairs, Munteha ventured out to actually go witness for herself what was happening on the ground. She went with Leah Green and the Compassionate Listening Project to Israel and Palestine. The group of international citizens sat in people’s homes and listened to their stories. They visited Jewish families, Palestinian families, military officers, people on the ground in Gaza (you could get in back then), Israeli orthodox Settlers and peace activists from every faith. It was called a Compassionate Listening Delegation and the sole purpose was to listen deeply to people’s stories and that in itself would do two things…it would alleviate suffering and it would open people’s eyes within the delegation to what is actually unfolding on the ground thereby cutting through ignorance.

I’m not Jewish, I’m not Arab and I had no interest really in Israel at the time. But I do follow intuition. It was a clear Yes to accept Munteha’s invitation to participate in my own Compassionate Listening Delegation even though I didn’t really know why I was going. The first step in that journey was being trained on how to listen. We are not trained in this culture how to listen deeply. Especially if I don’t agree or like what the other person is sharing or saying. The Compassionate Listening Manual was the first time I saw the name Thich Nhat Hanh and that name did not mean anything to me but the poem Call Me by My True Names embodied everything that the Compassionate Listening delegation was about. So the name of this Vietnamese monk that grew up in war stayed with me.

First, I met this Master through a poem. Then I met Gene Knudson Hoffman, who was Leah Green’s mentor. Gene’s words, “Who prays for the Oppressor?” dropped like a seed into my consciousness because it was so radically different than how I had been trained in a culture bent on punishment. Gene had Thich Nhat Hanh as a mentor and was an elder when I entered as a Compassionate Listening delegate. Compassionate Listening came from Thay into Gene and then Gene transmitted it to Leah. Ripples are like that, they may go out so far and wide like the ocean and we may never know the reverberations. Leah went on to lead 26 delegations to Israel/Palestine as well as delegations in other countries. I could write a book just on the experiences of the Compassionate Listening delegations I participated on back in 1999 and 2001 but that is for another day.

When I was in Diapers, Thich Nhat Hanh made his way from his monastery in Vietnam to Washington DC in the United States. He went to the US government to make visible his people’s suffering and ask for an end to the bombing. “You ask what I want, I want you to stop bombing my people…” I was not even six months old when he was offering a proposal to end the war and and to asking the United States to offer reconstruction without ideological strings attached. It was that call for peace in 1966, without condemning people and without blaming one side or the other that had the then government of Vietnam exile Thich Nhat Hanh for being a traitor. He was not allowed to come back for 39 years and he did not know if he would ever be allowed back. In exile, he transformed the suffering in his own heart and learned to make his heart his home.

*‘The Rage is my baby and the energy of love and mindfulness wraps around the Rage and calms it down.’*

Despite being in exile, despite being labelled a traitor and having his work banned; Thich Nhat Hanh wrote books, poems and teachings. He wrote under pen names and his work was shared in a clandestine underground network in Vietnam. He was considered a subversive so someone caught reading his work took the risk of being punished.

The Rage Bomb that I returned with from being witness and listener in Israel/Palestine invited me deeply into practicing with All of It. That’s when I needed Thay’s gentle presence telling me to make friends with my Rage. Not to judge it or supress it and definitely not to spew it out onto others. Look for the root cause of the rage like a mother looks for the root cause of a baby crying by holding the baby in her arms. The Rage is my baby and the energy of love and mindfulness wraps around the Rage and calms it down. After it had calmed down I could see clearly what was beneath the Rage was a sense of helplessness and grief. And overwhelm. Under anger was an ocean of tears. The rage is not like it was back in the days of re-entry from the Compassionate Listening Delegations, but the tools of honoring grief, fear, overwhelm, anger…I use them every day.

Thay said often that he would not want to be born on a planet without suffering, because without suffering you cannot develop your compassion. He would also say, “It’s not enough to suffer….” Be in touch with the wondrous, healing and nourishing elements in us and around us…that is my job too. Alleviate suffering, water the seeds of joy. In the mindfulness trainings is the line, “I have more than enough conditions to be happy…happiness is not dependent on external conditions…”

*“A cloud can become vapor, it can become rain, but a cloud never dies.”*

To be with such a teacher in this lifetime is a huge honor and blessing. He transitioned into a cloud on January 22, 2022 at the age of 95. “A cloud can become vapor, it can become rain, but a cloud never dies.” No death and no birth may be the most potent teaching of all right now because it can be an antidote to fear. Everything continues, albeit in a different form. As a testament to how he lived, he was allowed to re enter his homeland in the last years of his life and open ceremonies for Thich Nhat Hanh’s transition were held in and live streamed from Vietnam making them available to people all over the world. Yes, war is impermanent. Yes, compassion can move mountains over time. Breathing in I feel deep gratitude, breathing out I allow these gifts to flow to others. Deep bow of love and gratitude.

Bless the Mess

Every day I have a choice which seeds I water and which ones I don’t. My dear friend Sonne Reyna from Hollister has a saying, “Bless the mess.” Not to have my head in the sand about the crisis point my country is in right now and pretend like it’s not happening but also not to get stuck like a fly on fly paper to the news of whatever is most violent. My friend has transitioned from this world but his words live on through me. And what a good time to hear those words, bless the mess.

Multiple dimensions of reality are co-existing at the same time just like multiple story tellers are telling their stories of the same events at the same time but they are very different stories. That is life. It is just way, way more obvious now as I sit in my quiet apartment in a ‘safe neighborhood’ with my dog at my side as so many others are living in fear right now. Whether it is fear of not having enough money, fear of being bombed, fear of being deported, fear of losing your health care…fear of losing your son who got shot during a traffic stop. Yes, someone lost their son a mile from where I live after he was shot during a traffic stop. Fear and anger go together as the energy of fight or flight takes over. In the United States right now fear and anger are being manipulated consciously to pit people against each other. Coming back to a calm, serene and kind state of mind is an act of rebellion. It is taking a stand for the kind of world I choose to live in and co create.

Breathing in I acknowledge all of the different realities, different perspectives, different beliefs, of different people and breathing out I let go. It’s not mine to carry in my body. I hold onto the awareness and I let go of the fear. Dear Empaths… please let go of what is not yours to carry and bless the mess. We need you right now in your full light and power, not sucked down the hole of fear, anger and despair. So many are rising up in their power and standing for the world they want to live in…I bow to you for your courage. I am doing that too, by writing, walking, speaking with love. You cannot transform hate with hate, only love can do that.

Me thinks we all have shadow. (By that I mean anger, fear, hatred, or other dense energies). Last time I checked, I definitely have shadow states. And where ever I go, if I look for it…shadow is always with me. I am on a media fast now, but last night I was viewing the different coverage of the same event of a U.S. citizen being killed by ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) agents. A Fox news guest was saying that the criteria for calling up the Insurrection Act had already been met in Minneapolis. CNN news anchor, on the other hand, was challenging the head of ICE that Alex Pretti, the citizen shot, was an imminent threat to his agents. This man went so far to call ICE agents the victims in the event even though it is citizen Alex Pretti left laying on the ground shot dead multiple times. So as events and peoples’ different interpretations of these events continue to unfold…how to be peace, even when anger or rage may be present. I am finding refuge by naming the Shadow. Like me; my country has Shadow states. Shadow is on full display right now so we get to see it as a community, as a nation, as a people. And choose. Just like during the Civil Rights movement. There are many narratives to choose from and some feed separation and continued dominance through force justified by keeping us safe. It is a time to be able to see with new eyes and bless the mess, knowing this is a doorway to something else…at least it could be if we take a collective stand for a new dream.

What seeds will I water today? Kindness, compassion, inclusiveness or hatred, enmity, superiority and vengeance? Who are my mentors? Who have clear view and have been through the fires yet still remain in their heart and choose to transform the anger, fear and despair by holding it gently. Who are your mentors? Who are you mentoring from a place of love? I’m asking myself these Questions and letting them ripple out further.

When I got back from my trip to the Amazon where I sat with tribal people and listened to deep heart stories, I had the intuition to offer a fundraising workshop for Gaza. At the time mass waves of grief, resignation, anger and confusion were up in me about what was unfolding in Gaza and the West Bank. The thought of doing a fundraiser made visible my feelings of helplessness to make a difference. Israel’s government was bombing and starving civilians and blocking aid from entering at that time. My mind said, “Why do a fundraiser for a non profit if it is going to be blocked from reaching the people who need it most?” Maybe people who are out in the streets in freezing temperatures in Minnesota may be asking why should I go out if I could get shot for protesting or monitoring/filming what is unfolding? Now so many months later, Israel is again blocking aid from 37 humanitarian groups while Gaza fades from the headlines and ICE protests are rising up in the media and in the streets in U.S. cities. The same techniques and narratives that allow Israeli Defense soldiers to break into a Palestinian home at 2 am and abduct a 15 year old U.S. citizen Mohammed Ibrahim from a small West Bank town ‘for throwing stones’ are being used daily to break into homes in the United States to take Illegal Aliens, except sometimes they are legal citizens who have never committed a crime. Ibrahim was arrested at 15 and held for over nine months without being charged with a crime. “It’s to keep the people safe and have law and order.” That teenager was returned to the United States after losing much of his body weight and nearly a year of his young life because some people in the United States advocated for his release. Most Palestinians are not so lucky and could stay in jail indefinitely without being charged, including children like Ibrahim. MLK said, “Injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere.”

So the questions comes back up, ‘Where do I choose to stand?’ Now, like when questioning myself whether to offer a fundraiser, I choose to stand in love. A love that ripples out beyond my lifetime. I come back to that Buddhist teaching not to be attached to the result but to take right action. When people are being starved, when their hospitals, schools, homes have been bombed for over two years with U.S weapons it was right action for me to follow the guidance on a fundraiser regardless of the result. Hostage families, families who lost loved ones on October 7…and the hostages themselves both living and killed…their suffering matters. It should be named as well.

“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that it is worth doing, no matter how it turns out.” Vaclav Havel

Ask not only where do you choose to stand but what am I taking a stand for? This is the mojo that can help me get up in the morning, get the small self out of the way for magic to come through in service to others. I need to keep putting that in front of my face to remember in the midst of so much noise. Then find others who resonate with that stand. If I don’t know what it is, I can’t be fed by it. But if I’m clear on what I’m taking a stand for…watch out!! Like many visionaries, I am taking a stand for something that may or may not unfold in my lifetime.

“I am a pro activist…I choose to stand for something…” is how Lyn Twist the founder of Pachamama Alliance says it. Martin Luther King said it a different way, “I have a dream….” He stood for his dream of little black boys and girls having equal treatment to whites under the law at a time when police fire hoses and attack dogs were used against peaceful protestors and that was shown on the news. Back then black people were prohibited to vote their lives were considered less than. People who watched (some in horror) had the chance to ask themselves…is this who we are? The collective Seeing of that violence at that time was a part of transforming the violence and the legal system as well. Systemic injustices, systemic violence still flourish un-named in the shadows. Now they are being brought out into the light for those willing to see.

If you are not a Native American, then you have Immigrant Ancestors. The Native Americans of this land, the land where I live and work were killed en masse so that the people here now could have a better life than they had in the countries from which they came. People back when this country was being founded came for the same reasons that people come now to this country…for a better life. This country was founded on a genocide and ‘the stories’ that enabled that genocide to occur were that ‘they are savages’ and ‘we are civilized‘ and we need to be safe from you savages.

That is the Collective Shadow that has been ignored or unspoken in media that I’ve seen. How to stand for future generations of all people, all species and Mother Earth who sustains all forms of life? Now that is a question worth asking. As I hold hands with my own Shadow; seeing the parts of myself that feel like my needs are much more important than yours, that my safety is much more important than yours, that my wealth and health are much important than yours…and that my actions are justified no matter how they look to you…that is part of bringing harmony. What would happen if as a nation people could see their own Shadow states and started there? I am a stand for Harmony between people, animals, and earth…and that future generations have a planet to love, live and thrive on. So, roll up those sleeves and pull out that compost bin. Let’s start turning the muck into roses.

We Can Exhale

*…inviting me back to be in the present moment.*

Am I the only one that feels sometimes like I am holding my breath hoping it all works out? It’s an amazing thing to breathe in and breathe out consciously. Even typing the word breathe I feel my little fingertips giggle, ‘Hey, she remembered…thank Goddess!’ I mean you could say God, or Buddha, or Big Bird but there is such a display of masculine Machismo everywhere I gleefully choose ‘Thank Goddess!’ But I digress. It happens, even in the new year with the season of resolutions and all that.

Does anyone else out there feel like they are sometimes forgetting to breathe? Or you are breathing but maybe only down to your throat and your belly is crying out, ‘what about me?’ Yes, the breath is not as flashy as a retreat in Mexico with your private suite on the ocean and gourmet organic food…but it is free. And it is your birthright to breathe. Right up until it is your death right to take your last breath. Yet, we rarely think about breath; the gift of life and the gateway to death.

I scrolled through my inbox today. It was less alarming than scrolling through the news but I did notice a trend. Everyone thinks I need to do something RIGHT NOW. By everyone, please don’t assume it is actually anyone I know as an in the flesh human. There are a few messages from those but mainly it is organizations asking for money or selling me something. Or asking me to do something. I get it…I really do, but what to do? That is a deeper question. Don’t think I’ll find the answer to that one in my email box or the news for that matter. Yet, I have been trained…to look outside first. Fortunately, training later in life came in to teach me to come home first. Thank you Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh for teaching me about the breath and inviting me back to be in the present moment.

Circling back home I find my breath. I find my breath and invite her to come all the way down to my belly. I invite you to do that right now. No one is looking, I am not charging any money and think of it as an experiment. Place an open palm on your belly and then breathe in through your nose and track your breath with all of your awareness down into your lower abdomen. Feel your open palm rise and deflate riding upon your belly. Repeat, until you have taken five belly breaths. For extra credit close your eyelids. Give those little eyeballs of yours a break for a second or two. They have likely been gobsmacked by all the stuff there is out there to see. Do you notice any difference?

*To be Re United with* *your true Self* *come home to your breath.*

Exhaling is as important as inhaling. You really can’t do one without the other. Exhaling right now is ‘letting go’. Letting go that there is some class in my in box that is going to make my New Year rock, letting go there is some non profit that if I don’t give money RIGHT NOW they are a ship that is going to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Letting go of fear of what my country may do later today, this month, or this year and even letting go of the enormous dread about the suffering that has already occurred and continues. Just continue to breathe my dear. Anxiety, fear, overwhelm are familiar friends to offer a smile and wink, not a foe to chase around your house with a broom yelling “Get OUT!”

When I tried writing this blog post, it had been so long since last writing that I was denied access to my own blog site. Imagine Sheepish me looking down at my feet kicking the ground. Then they said, ‘to be Re United with your site go to your email.’ Re United. That term made me laugh out loud. To be Re United with your true Self come home to your breath. Try smiling gently, even if there is no one ‘out there’ to see your smile. You see it. From the inside.

Growing my stability, my inner peas, my joy is not a selfish act. It is a requirement to showing up fresh for others. It helps me see with new eyes. It is like the inhale and exhale, the give and take. As I have written this blog post more emails are coming in telling me what I need to do RIGHT NOW. News is covering whatever is the worst of the worst and that will become the headlines of the day. I choose to UnSubscribe from distractions and come home to my Self today. Rather than continuously consuming what is out there and then being in perpetual reaction mode in here, what a gift to come home. Invite the heart to speak up for it knows what is most important from the inside rather than be told from countless messages out there what to make your top priority. Phew! What a relief that is!

WE are in upside down times, when bully tactics are said to be self defense, when some people that grow my food, take care of people’s children and work in every walk of life may feel threatened to come out of their homes. Coming back inside is not to forget the times that we are in or to pretend that I know how to get out of them…it is simply to come home to my heart. From this heart is where to set intentions for this year and beyond. When I forget it is simply a breath away to Re Member again.

*From this heart is where to set intentions for this year and beyond.*

Practice Makes Practice

It has happened once, twice or uhmm more… that I have fallen off of my practices. Be it regular blog writing, or radiating light to all beings great and small, or doing the dishes before bed…or you get the idea. There is the saying, “Practice makes Perfect” but I beg to differ. Practice makes Practice and the whole point of practice is to practice, not to perfect. Quite a relief for the human in me to hear those words out loud or at least feel them flying out of my imperfect little fingers. But the Puritan in me, the one who thinks thou shalt not be imperfect...well she is shaking her head and wagging her index finger at me with a deeply furrowed brow.

Compassion to the rest of ya’ all, all over the world starts with little ole me being able to smile to my imperfections. Maybe even laugh at how grave I get about them and then gently pick my practices back up. I am guessing maybe, just maybe I”m not the only one. Another word for practice might be habits or commitments. I have certain tell tale signs that once I notice…oh that hasn’t happened for a while, help me come back to them one by one.

One habit is cleaning and filling the birdbath, blessing the water for the birdies and spreading seed out on the lawn daily for them. Today I saw my bird seed bag sitting empty and my bird bath likewise empty. Another daily practice is making a ‘to do’ list under the question, “What’s Most Important Today?” I notice I actually don’t care what’s most important today. I’m ‘Meh!’ about making that list. My inner Doo Doo task master is taking a vacation.

So what do you do when your doo doo master is not present? I’m actually experiencing it as a gift. Just breathe. Is that ever on the to do list? Breathe? Give thanks for having a heated home to live in, for having food to eat, for having clean drinking water, a phone, internet, a job, friends and family. Rebel that I am, Thanksgiving is today not just the day before the mega buy now ‘black friday’ sales event.

My dad lives every day like it is thanksgiving. Which is pretty remarkable given he can barely see, his balance is not great, his hearing is going and he is 96 and a half. He rounds up and says he is 100. Still, his most repeated phrase is, “Lucky ME!” when describing his life. Does he want to go to the great beyond…YEP! In fact, the sooner the better according to him. “I would be at peace if I never saw another sunrise,” he murmured from his arm chair on my last visit. Right now his eyes can’t see me but they can see things to be grateful for everyday while he patiently awaits the next adventure and the shedding of his very old body.

I guess habits kind of went out the window for a while when I came back from visiting him. There was some excavation to do. The deep digging that helps keep the well of love flowing comes from courage. It takes courage to see ‘OH, I really got triggered after that visit.’ How do I come home to myself in a way where I can honor old wounds while letting go of any hope for a better childhood? Every family probably has its’ secrets, its’ hidden dungeon. The trick is not to get stuck in there. The dad of 96 who is walking in grace and uttering continuous words of gratitude is not the same guy as when he was 50…or 60…or 70. He is not the same guy as when I was 5 or 10 or 15. He has softened around the edges in a way that is quite beautiful. We are preparing for his transition, or I AM preparing for his transition. It could be in a month, it could be in five years. It is not surprising distant muck from years gone by would rise to the surface after this most recent visit. A by product of rising muck was wanting to roll over, go back to sleep and tug the covers tightly over my head.

There are practices and there are rituals. I need both to keep this boat afloat. What are your practices and rituals? How do you be with yourself if you find you are not showing up perfectly for those? What keeps your engine running smoothly and how do you know when things are getting a bit off kilter? This blog is not just me sharing me, it’s about offering tools and gifts for you to be your best you. So what is it that has you be your best you in this present moment? What about when there is a muck alert?

Ritual can transform energy in a sacred and physical way. It has the capacity to shift energy in a way that meditation doesn’t for me. To come back to my practices it helped to do a fire ritual to honor all the crap that came out of the closet after my visit to my dad. Or at least this batch of crap. Who knows what tomorrow brings? I do know that the lotus comes up from the muck, so bless the muck and grow the lotus.

If you have some muck right now, you may try this ritual. Set some sacred time and space up when you can be undisturbed. It doesn’t have to be a ton of time. The main thing is to bring your hidden or hurt parts with you and let them know it is a safe place to be real. With a free hand write un-edited whatever emotions, words or whatever wants to come out and be heard, honored and seen in a free write. I wrote my little heart out with crayons, bold markers and whatever was around. The important thing is permission to say anything. Know you are honoring wounds, showing up to take care of them and release them. Take your scribbles to a fire-safe container outdoors call in ancestors, guides, guardians and the transforming power of fire to help transmute these dense energies and family patterns.

I lit my crumpled papers with a bic lighter under the stars and the moon and watched the flames in a fire safe pot. A few days later I realized I hadn’t buried the ash yet. Always remember to bury the ash. Fire and mother earth have the capacity to shift so much. It just takes a willingness to show up. I do ask Spirit, guides and the energy of fire to help transmute this energy for my benefit and the benefit of all. Everyone has their own tools and during these times on the planet and this time in my own family, I need them all. Maybe you do too. Just don’t forget self compassion.

Adult me knows, like everyone, dad of today is not the same as dad of yesterday. When I do ritual to compost those heavy feelings that have been triggered from my last visit it lightens my energy field and lets me shine brighter. To name and honor whatever needs to be named and honored is part of preparing for his transition. So instead of being caught in the muck I can be right there with him in gratitude and grace when the time comes. I find ritual is like cleaning the house. I don’t clean the house one time and think, cool it’s done for life! No, no, no. Especially not on the cusp of huge shifts.

Doing that fire ritual helped me come back to my practices. I’ll make my ‘to do’ list today. I will buy a fresh bag of birdseed today. I will complete this blogpost today. I’m not throwing my hands up in the air saying, I shouldn’t bother because I didn’t write for so long. No, I share my imperfect self and trust people will wrap their own arms around their own imperfect selves too. What better time than the holidays to share a little reflection on imperfection and coming home to the heart. Good luck with your heart adventures and this ritual if you have the courage and desire to use it.

Begin At Home

“*The beauty can arise from the mud, look deeply and you will find the beauty.”*

The beauty of this present moment is here now if I am here now. You are here, if I am here. When the mud of distraction is stirred up, a beautiful being can be standing right in front of me… a two legged being, a four legged being, or an eight legged being and I don’t even see them. Is the same true for you? Your son, your friend, your boss is right in front of you, can you see him/her? The gift of the present moment is here but sometimes I forget and get lost in dispersion surrounded by constant distractions. Stop thinking my dear, it is all right here. The beauty can arise from the mud, look deeply into the mud and you will find the beauty.

I live in a country where I can walk peacefully on the land, can go grocery shopping and eat whatever I want. I have a job, a home, a car and my health. I have friends on the path and loving animal companions. Begin with gratitude and deep awareness of whatever gifts are yours right now. How to hold the awareness of so much suffering and so much beauty co-existing at the same time? Gently, kindly, patiently, and humbly. When I lay in my tree, I hear there is nothing to fix. My mind has other opinions. Over time I have learned to trust the wisdom of tree more than mind. My tree, the one I climb almost daily has a tree friend now in the Amazon. I introduced them one to another. Find the wise ones in your life. Listen to them. Let yourself rest in their arms. You know who they are.

When I sat at the base of Grandmother tree I remembered to breathe deeper. She holds and supports all the other living beings with her steady tree presence. She supports all of them, without discrimination. Ceiba taught me to send my roots deep down like she does to gain more stability, peace and ease. I can still do it here and now, even though I am no longer in the Amazon jungle. You can too. You can send your roots deep into the earth.

“*Cieba taught me to send my roots deep down like she does to gain more stability, peace and ease”*

In the United States, the cultural belief your worth depends on what you do is deep. Get off your butt and do something, damn it! What have you done lately for peace, for justice, for your kid, or your job? But when I come back home to myself, I hear the message of Grandmother tree. ‘Being is medicine.’ Being stable, being loving, being kind…being wise. Being present. I don’t know her age but my guess is Grandmother tree is thousands of years old. This awareness makes me smile. As human beings, many have forgotten the ways of harmony. My tree here has told me patience is a super power. It’s a super power I am still cultivating as a human being that wants things now-now-now. I want peace, justice and all species honored and respected as sacred now-now-now!

Like millions of others worldwide who witnessed over 1200 Israelis and foreign citizens killed by horrific violence on October 7 in the year 2023, my heart broke and body froze. Flooded with memories of people I had met decades earlier on two separate Compassionate Listening delegations to Israel, the West Bank and Gaza; I had to come back and hold myself tenderly. Vivian Silver, a Canadian peace activist I met on one of those delegations was killed that day. Many innocents were killed on that day and tens of thousands have been killed in the spirit of retribution and revenge since then. Some hostages abducted that day still languish in Gaza.

Like I go to tree for refuge, I went to a Palestinian Sufi on October 8, 2023. He was a bright shining light emanating love far and wide when I met him in his home in the West Bank so many years ago. He transitioned since then but I still cried out to him, “What do I DO now?!!”

“Clean your heart of hatred,” his answer came swiftly. Now two years later, after more than 65,000 Palestinians have been killed, all of the universities in Gaza have been destroyed by U.S. bombs and countless children systematically starved and displaced…the same message came through again. “Clean your heart of hatred.” Make yourself into a light house that can shine brightly on all without exception. Clean. Clean deeply those hidden corners of prejudice, of rage, wrong perceptions. Let them melt into wisdom, compassion and Divine love that sees through different eyes. Decades ago, this same Sufi sat in my living room in Portland and shook his fist in the air, “I cannot hate anyone! I shine the love of God on all people, like the sun shines on all.” These memories are like seeds from so many great beings that I have met in this lifetime. They are buried in the garden of my heart.

Begin at home, my dear. My home is near a National Park called Fort Ord. I have collected a planter pot full of bullets which could easily have been a barrel full of bullets on my walks. Years ago people trained to kill ‘the enemy’ on Fort Ord in the midst of tree friends, the coyote and the hawk. The bullets from those days are strewn everywhere, I see them on every walk. I have made peace with the bullets on the land. They remind me that war is impermanent. Even as my country still exports more war in the form of bullets, bombs and weapons…I can walk in peace. I choose peace. The choice is mine at any moment.

“*Don’t wait until there’s peace out there to have joy in here….*“

Today, October 8, 2025 it is enough to clean my home and to clean my heart. To clean the windows through which I see the world. The best way to honor those people who have been standing for peace and being peace in the darkest places lifetime after life time is to kiss the earth with my feet as I too walk in peace. To clean the corners of my heart with kindness and patience, to clean the corners of my home. As I walk and clean and breathe deeper today why not invite in joy. Don’t wait until there’s peace out there to have joy in here…it’s now or never.

Right Now

What if an angel whispered into your left ear softly, “You have one more month sweet one, until you transition.” Some of the biggest shifts in life come when the trance gets broken, by a gentle angels’ whisper or by the thwack of an uninvited life event. Life is impermanent said Buddha, but do I listen? Like, really…really listen? Who would you call right now if you only had today? What would you say? I”m not walking through this life review and death preview alone. Hell no! Like most other things in life, this game is more fun when played with others.

Sometimes the universe gives us that big thwack upside the head with illness, job loss, natural disaster, death of a friend or loved one after which realignment comes quickly. A million years ago, when I was still in broadcast television sales and feeling like a small white rodent spinning in place at varying speeds on a tread mill, a friend called. “Brett died in a motorcycle accident over the weekend in California…” her voice trailed off. Silence. Brett was her son-n-law and I had just met him at dinner a few weeks earlier . I did not know him well but I knew he was my age…32. He was married to her daughter with my same name. They were newly weds. Her daughter was over the moon happy to be married to Brett. They had only begun their journey together. Brett hit a guard rail on Laureles Grade Road in Monterey and died instantly.

That’s when I really got it….you never know when you will be ‘checked out’ of Hotel Human. Yes, I have ancestors as old as dirt, but when Brett died so did my assumption that I have forever. Tick Tock. Who has given you the gift of urgency in your life? What has made it real that you are going to die and maybe it’s time to re-prioritize? What has helped you wake up to make bold changes quickly? You know the kinds of changes, the ones you have been thinking about forever.

After Brett’s death, my 32 year old self gave notice at one of the ‘best jobs’ in terms of pay and benefits that I”d ever had. Now decades later, I have zip regrets. I”ve failed at many things since then…publishing books, making whirled peas, and holding onto a house in financial free fall. Did I mention I have no regrets leaving that well paying, secure job? I did, but it’s worth saying twice.

“*Is it slowing down and witnessing the magic that is all around you?”*

Now the angel is whispering in my ear. Brett’s death is just a distant memory. But I feel the same kind of urgency in my cells. Do you? What in life is calling you? Is it dancing, singing, playing with your grand children in the sand box? Is it birthing a project? Is it slowing down and witnessing the magic all around you? The earth is calling all of us to awaken, can you hear her? I can.

So again, I am inviting change. Again, I am willing to risk. Again, I remind myself what I have is right now, and the biggest risk of all is to go through life sleep walking. The angel gave you a gift, what are you going to do with it?

Start Here…

When I get a wee bit overwhelmed with the outer world, I can always come home to Shadow. There she is, right in front of me. Sometimes she’s off to my side. Sometimes she hangs out behind me. Sometimes I forget she is even there. When I do see her, it makes for fun photography. The rocks bathed in Shadow, the blessing stick points out above her head due south, she invites me to recognize her presence. When the world is upside down, inside out and feeling a tad bleak ‘out there’ I come home to her. I meet her where she is now.

What is in my heart is in the world and what is in the world, is in my heart. Start here, my dear. Find courage to do that Shadow dance of awakening. First call back the heart parts, those pieces that have flown off either in tantrums of anger or dispersion from the never ending S.O.S coming from children in Gaza. You know the ones, buried beneath the rubble that no one wants to actually see or talk about. My getting buried there with them, will not help them. Breathe those pieces back home through the crown of my head into the trunk of my abdomen then down through my feet into this beautiful Mother Earth. Call all your pieces back from those heart breaks of your life. Everyone has their own unique heartbreak right now. Empaths beware, scattering your sensitive selves all over the planet may deplete your energy and focus.

There comes a time when it is impossible to ignore Shadow. Turning left, turning right, I can see her in her full might. “People Suck!” she declares. “They lie, they cheat, they bomb, they beat…over and over and over again!” “What are you going to do about it?!!” she demands, stomping her foot. Well, I have written all the people ‘out there.’ Many, many, times. You know the ones, the ones who are ‘the other.’ The ones who choose war as a path to peace.

It is easy not to see, just like Shadow sometimes trails behind, that this war is also inside of me. In this very moment, I am not being bombed or starved. My house still stands. My food is in the refrigerator. But I’ve starved my love of humanity and bombed others with opinions of how they and I ‘should be.’ So when I find myself really at a loss of what to do, I embrace Shadow and begin anew. Starting over with my Self, starting over with the two legged species. Calming that little child who has been running wild with pain inside. I hold her gently and draw her in. “I know your rage comes from love, together let us find a way back to that safe place within.”

*“They lie, they cheat, they bomb, they beat…”*

Preventing people entry with a Muslim ban, pushing people out with Immigrants are dangerous jam…is not different than preventing people entry to my own heart with No People Allowed here; my heart’s door slammed shut. Got racism? I got something Biggerly at times, all two legged style discrimination. Can I smile to that part of me and say, ‘Yes, I see you once again dear. Come close and I will take good care of you. I will not banish you or ignore you or punish you; I will tenderly transform you into a voice and heart of love.’ I know it starts here.

Calling all Hearts

*“I find my heart in the arms of a tree.”*

The rest of whatever time I have left on this ball of mud and beauty will be spent cultivating my heart vision and sowing seeds from there. Into Me See deeply (intimacy) comes from heart, not intellect. So, I go to tree. There are trees twice as old as me. There are trees twenty times as old as me. They are such generous beings. Never asking me what I can do for them. They just sway in the wind this way and that, laugh through their leaves and wink at me. I have my very own tree I have been climbing for many, many years. She is my friend, confidant, advisor and healer. I find my heart in the arms of a tree.

Being of the Western culture, the collective trance of the North…I have the same invisible programming as everyone around me…you have to achieve, accomplish, earn, accumulate to have a life that shines. But in the arms of my tree, I can remember humility. I can reconnect with the invisible strands that brought this land into being. All is invisible before becoming manifest. Taking a rest and letting that cultural set of beliefs fall away with ease while the wind blows through me and my tree.

If your heart is like mine, it may feel like it’s being ripped apart by the mirror reflecting back a forgetting of what is sacred…like children. Children are sacred. Children of all species the tree reminds me every time I want to stop at Human Children are Sacred. The earth, the earth is also sacred. We will continue to be reminded. I have been told there will be those who will lose everything that they now take for granted. Many millions if not billions have forgotten the earth and also have not seen her as a living being with her own volition. But many are awakening. Tree told me I also have forgotten from time to time that all comes from her, all comes from mother earth. After forgetting, there is a remembering but before that remembering perhaps there is a dismembering, pieces of ourselves flying this way and that. “Do you remember me? I am part of you…”

As I lay in the arms of a tree sometimes an ant will come bite me. Then I real eyes, I am not the only being here, maybe not even the most important one of all. The ant gives its’ life to help me wake up. “Hey- you are laying on us, you fat ass!” Oh dang! Let me move over; my revelry disrupted by realization. Do you have any idea how many beings live in a tree? Well, it certainly isn’t just me, and it isn’t even just the beings that I can see. Yesterday, lizard scampered across my chest, feeling my heart was a safe haven for us both.

How to make heart a safe haven…bring your attention and presence into heart. No, I’m not just talking MY heart, although that’s where I start. I can get caught in mind so much of the time, dread…despair…indignation…grief…then relief as I bring my eyes down into my heart. Removing them from headlines or what’s out there; I come back to what’s in here. There can be pain in here, a throb…an ache. Tears are the drops of compassion that can make fresh the dried and cracked places. Places I may have forgotten or neglected. From teardrops of compassion new seeds are watered. How to stay in a heart space? Be in nature and remember this earth is billions of years old. She is holding so many species of plant, animal and human form. Not charging rent, not shaming me for ingratitude. Some grace there. Gratitude is a blessing for us both, but sometimes I forget.

*“But the dissolution is making room for a new song.”*

Heart Vision is a felt space, not a thinking place. Coming out of the thinking place is the only way to enter the ocean of knowing. Taking the little child of me by the hand when she screams, “We Must Fix IT!!!” I hold her gently in my arms. Just like tree holds me. ‘Can we see through the eyes of more than one being?‘ To the caterpillar that can no longer walk, everything is wrong. But this dissolution is making room for a new song.

I remind her gently to rest in tree from who I have heard, the child’s heart is what will save humanity. A child’s heart is my best part. The one who cares, loves, and sees. But now come home my dear, after flying everywhere to nurse the wounds of the world…come home. Enjoy this lizard who loves your song, enjoy the leaves glistening in light, turning this way and that. The world will keep turning as she has for billions of years. My friend the lizard has been around millions of years. Dragon fly whispered to me one day she used to be as big as me, on an earth that existed before humans.

*“Dragon fly whispered to me one day, she used to be as big as I am…”*

After my mother ‘died’ she left me a sign. It was the corpse of a dragon fly laid meticulously on a small wisdom card showing hands emanating light. When I see a dragon fly, I know my mom is by my side. My mother also loved butterflies, right after she died I needed butterflies. Death is a game of hide and seek…butterfly invites me to take a peak at what could lie on the other side of death, destruction and war. The paradigm of a species that has lost it’s way in the fabric of all life. Don’t forget to rise higher my dear and be one who can imagine what is currently not yet seen on the outside. Butterfly reminds me to be an imaginal cell. “Gather yourselves,” she murmurs. Don’t bother condemning that soupy mess outside. There’s work to be done. Yes, there is and what better place to do heart work such as this than in the arms of a tree?