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.

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.

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?

What’s Mine to Do?

*“…how do you discern what’s yours to do and what’s not yours to do?”*

Do you ever notice the stories that can ramble through your head day or night? Or am I the only one who has the occasional monologue that comments, criticizes or fears? It, my mind, has its’ stories and sometimes those stories get mistaken for The Truth. I”m not the only one that does that because right now there are wars and inhumane acts on a grand scale happening because some folks in power have mistaken their stories for The Truth. Speaking of truth, this is a good time to develop a strong internal Bullshit detector. I’d say keep that sucker on 24/7 now. Internally and externally.

Back to what’s mine to do…in a time when there are S.O.S. calls from the earth, Gaza/West Bank, people in the United States being dehumanized, marginalized and abducted and countless other calls that others hear…how do you discern what’s yours and what’s not yours to do? I’m in that inquiry and per usual I’m sharing this blog with whoever cares to read it…to expand the inquiry. Maybe there are other inquiring heart/minds out there!

Sometimes old B.S. can stand in the way of what there is for me to do. One thing for sure, look for what brings light to my eyes and expands my heart. Not to mistake that with always feeling like showing up, that five year old version of me (you) may not always want to show up for anything other than ice cream, a puppy and a nap. At times the old B.S. (belief system) isn’t even mine. I may need to look way back in the ancestral tree to see what is driving how I be. Some of it is mine now, for sure. They inter are, this internal wiring of the human machine. Part of it is out there, and part of it is in here.

“*Of course she was a writer and an artist and a healer.”*

“I couldn’t possibly support myself doing what I love….just look, I’ve tried.” Now that belief may not get said out loud in the light of day, that would be embarrassing. But somewhere it’s lurking in the background. “Look at all of those times you tried and failed…save your money honey…don’t become a bag lady. Just stay practical!” My mom wanted to be a writer all of her life. Of course she was a writer and an artist and a healer. She just didn’t get published. She worked three part time jobs teaching English as a second language to people who loved and adored her. She did that so she would have time to write. Versus a full time job. It’s interesting. When I dive deeper there is a little girl standing in the corner wailing, “But I can’t do it!” Maybe she is five. That’s my little girl by the way, not my mom. But the “I can’t” probably belongs to both of our generations and who knows how many more. This is where the internal bullshit detector comes in handy.

I think it is a critical skill set to be able to call BS on your very own self. OR my very own self. I can take that little five year old wailing ‘I can’t’ by the hand and walk her over to the mirror. “We are in this together and together we can…” Be sure and smile to that little kiddo, no shaming, no blaming. She or He is just working on an old outdated program. The program that so many humanoids are running inside of that says they need to stay safe and secure. ‘So don’t try again, it’s better to be half dead,’ that program will tell you.

To come home to what’s mine to do, I’ve got to go pretty deep into the inner wiring of beliefs to see what has blocked it in the past. Not to make some kind of drama about it, just bring curiosity to it. Shine light. I can re-frame it, rename it and suddenly change it. Instead of ‘blocked’ maybe it was just not ripe yet. Maybe, just maybe it was still in gestation. We are the story tellers, the dream weavers, the healers, so how to be mindful of making stories that empower me or we?

The White Wolf is asking you to feed it stories of courage, love and beauty. It wants to feel the goodness of humanity. Then there is the news. You know the news…if it bleeds it leads. There is a lot of bleeding right now and I”m not making light of that. I’m just reminding myself to feed that little kiddo stories of love, compassion and courage. So I don’t get lost in war and dehumanization. The war outside or the war inside. There would not be war outside if there was not war inside.

Right now I would say what’s mine to do is to accept the world as it is in this moment (doesn’t mean I have to like it all). At the same time, taking an audacious stand for harmony between all species and for future generations to thrive on a planet that they hold sacred and care for. I’d say play big. No more of this do I have enough money for the water bill this month. I mean, I do have to pay the water bill. Oh dang, I have to pay the rent too…let’s not get side tracked.

I have implanted in my brain the time I was sitting on the stairs with my 23 year old house mate, Munteha. We were in a deep conversation. I was a coach in landmark education programs helping people live lives they love, she was taking landmark training and was a Portland State student in International Relations. We were talking about ways of being. Actually, role playing ways of being is more like it. “You are ignorant and I must teach you!” She scolded me with an icy glare. “Don’t you know about the Japanese internment camps?” she pressed. (I actually didn’t then even though I was older than her.) “Trish-they are bulldozing people’s homes in Palestine! Imagine, it’s your home, then it’s rubble. Where does your family go?” My friend and then housemate is Arab American. She had already experienced discrimination in school. I on the other hand was white and clueless. Okay, so this is called her….Self Righteous Indignation mode. Do we all have that one? (I do!) Like WTF is wrong with you? Munteha was also the one who inspired me to go from absolutely clueless and disinterested to a person who participated on two separate Compassionate Listening Delegations bearing witness in Israel and Palestine with both Israelis and Palestinians; listening to their heart stories. That’s 25 years ago.

*“When I see that **Self Righteous Indignation** is creeping in, stay humble.”*

Stay humble my dear. There was a time when I didn’t know and didn’t care much about Israel and Palestine and had a full life outside all of that. When I see that Self Righteous Indignation is creeping in, stay humble. Back to what is mine to do? Play with the transformation of human consciousness in ways that bring more harmony between people, animals, plants and the earth herself. The rage that comes through from Self Righteous Indignation usually is covering up pain, grief, helplessness, desperation and urgency. You could also call that love. Whether it is about climate change, or war, or you name it. These are intense times, softening my gaze and coming with an open heart takes diligence. I see the discrimination within me towards the species that has caused so much harm to so many others, including millions of children. Disheartening isn’t a strong enough word. But mulching that manure and sprinkling it on flower beds is the practice. The old program belief, “People really suck,” is not likely to make me a whole lot of friends. Not human ones, anyways.

Not going to be very effective in the transformation game if I”m coming at it from Self Righteous Indignation or People Suck mode. Bottom line we all want the same things. We want to love and be loved, we want to be happy and healthy and yes we want to be safe. By the way part of transforming consciousness is having more than just me playing this game of looking for old B.S. and being willing to let it go for something that is more life giving.

Think about snake. People have stories about snake that they are evil or the enemy but my story about snake is they know how to shed their skin all at once. It is effortless and natural because it no longer serves them. They outgrow the old skin and slide out of it. We could all learn from snake right now. Shadow work is coming back inside to see those hidden beliefs that it is time to shed. Then being willing to do do.

“*Shadow work is coming back inside to see those hidden beliefs it is time to shed.”*

Sieze the day/night your very own self and grab a piece of paper, a pen and go within. What are your long held…maybe even cherished beliefs that you intuitively know don’t serve you any more? Write them down. It doesn’t mandate that you let them go, but just shining a light on the old programming will shift it. Who knows, maybe you will effortlessly shed those old beliefs.

Makatai Very Much!

*“Our guide had not yet met us, but he told us that “Maketai” means ‘thank you,’.”…*

The two most important words for me to remember right now in life are, “Thank you!” Not just the polite, going through the motions ‘thank you.’ No, no, no, that won’t do at all. I am talking about that heart bursting open, how the hell did I get so lucky, “Thank You!!” Now you’re talking! ‘Thank you,’ are the first two words that Chumpi taught my small Amazon adventure women in a Whatsapp chat. Our guide had not yet met us, but he told us that “Maketai” means ‘thank you,’ in his language and we should learn it before landing in Achuar territory. That is landing in our five seat plane onto what looks like a soccer field in his homeland.

Looking back now after being state side for over two months, I am still saying, “Maketai, very much!” Sometimes you see more clearly what was astoundingly precious after some distance. Some things registered right then as in the moment magic like the tiny plane ride in. Now other things are popping up to be named for what they are…a once in a lifetime opportunity. Like the opportunity to be in a place that has no cars and no roads…no televisions and no grocery stores. No drive through fast food, no Starbucks, no people walking around head down glued to their cell phones (except at times the gringos.). Let me circle back to No Cars and No Roads. Now that makes me smile and inhale a very deep belly breath. Halleluja! There are still such places. Let us protect them.

*“Some things registered right then as in the moment magic like the tiny plane ride in.”*

Being unplugged from the drug of news and entertainment for 12 consecutive days has made me a hard core believer in the importance of doing an electronics fast regularly. Now that was super easy in the middle of the Amazon jungle after I told family and loved ones, “I will not be in touch until I get back.” But in the US it is a little more challenging pulling off of electronics for much time and I like so many others am too attached to my phone. But Maketai very much for inspiring me to try again to do a media/electronics fast for my own well being. I noticed that the world did not stop turning because of my being off line for a while, yet I came back refreshed in a deep way and see now with new eyes.

Imagine a village where almost everyone is off line all of the time and they are tuned into different sources of information and energy; like the earth, the sky, the sun, the moon and each other. But it doesn’t stop there; the river, the waterfalls, the rain, the animals, the birds, the insects and Grandmother tree. Early every morning everyone gathers in their family of smaller communities and has a dream sharing circle. If there was some conflict between people, they get up even earlier…like 3 am and hash it out before the dream sharing circle begins. Then after dream sharing, they joke or tell stories or share a song. How many hundreds of years have the Achuar lived like this? I’m not sure, but it was so beautiful to be able to participate with them for some of their rituals. And it took courage.

As an international group of white gringo women, the first part of being included in this ritual was getting up before 4 am. Then walking together under the stars through the forest with our guide to a local family who offered to host us. We were welcomed into their home…an open structure with no walls and a thatched roof. There were hammocks in the back and a cooking area in the far left corner. The host, an Achaur elder sat facing us, his face painted in fine black stripes and wearing a pink and blue striped skirt. He was barefoot, as most folks were, relaxed and at ease. Sitting with him made me also feel at ease.

We waited patiently together on a bench as we heard the instructions for drinking the Wayusa. Wayusa is an herbal leaf drink that is a cleansing ritual done every morning before the dream sharing. “Drink about five bowls in a row quickly or until you feel like vomiting, then go out into the forest…” Chumpi translated. The biggest draw to this trip for myself was that the Achuar are a dream culture. They are guided by their dreams as a community and individually. I was not shy or afraid of gulping down the Wayusa. But none of us really looked forward to drinking and throwing up and one gal had a particular fear of sticking her finger down her throat to induce vomiting.

The Wayusa was presented to us in oblong ceramic bowls and we all drank at different paces. I was all in. His wife came back time after time to refill my bowl. I drank quickly as they had instructed. It was still dark when we each wandered outside the house crawling around on all fours finding our right spot to barf. I put my finger down my throat and some liquid Ayusa came out. Enough came out. Since coming home, I do this once a week on my own, it is much easier now. One gal just could not bring herself to try, others threw up a tiny bit. This is the reality of stepping into a different culture…it’s foreign. The most important ingredient is willingness. This is a daily purification ritual that is part of their mornings and everyone gets up about the same time to do it. It’s been handed down one generation to the next. I trusted it and still do.

We were not staying with the local community and I understand why. It is an Eco Resort. When I had pictured this trip I had pictured sitting with a local circle inside their village and them sharing their dreams together with us. I had forgotten that “hosting us” was part of protecting their lands and their way of life, rather than us doing something like home stays. No, it’s not that. They were sharing their rituals with us and for us a ways from the rest of the tribe. After each person had shared a dream, we received some feedback or dream interpretation.

Then our host brought out a violin and played us a song. His instrument was carved out of a single piece of wood and he made it as a child. He said his father was a shaman and that he used his violin often. He had carved his own when his father was traveling. When his father returned from traveling he was angry at his son for taking his violin without asking permission. “He didn’t know that I had made my own instrument all by myself.” Once his father realized he had made an instrument just like his, he was happy and proud. I listened amazed some one could hand craft that as a kiddo or even adult from one wood chunk.

I decided to offer a song called, “When I Rise,” as a gratitude song to our host. It is a call and response song and I invited the three other gals to repeat after my lead. I sang the call and they sang the response after me. I was proud of myself for swinging out and offering a song. That is until I heard what Chumpi translated from our host. He said, “I just blew my best energy into you and you sing this sad song…” Chagrined, I felt embarrassed and thought the heavy Gaza energy had followed me. Because When I Rise, is an uplifting song, but our host didn’t know English so he just read my energy. Which apparently was not uplifting but sad. That was a potent lesson in generating singing, sing to match the energy of the song. Lesson learned.

I shall not give up! I chose another song, “Standing like a Tree” which is a kids’ song and was sure to move my energy into a higher vibe. I even led body movements that are fun and playful. He liked that one better, and the three other gals sang that with me too. I thought it was a fun success and was happy that all four of us were able to offer a gift back. By the time the songs, violin, chanting story, puking and dream sharing had ended, it was daylight. We went out like everyone else in the community to start the rest of our day together. Someone blowing a conch shell summoned us to our first meal of the day. Who knew dining in the heart of the Amazon basin could be so delightful.

*“Who knew that dining in the heart of the Amazon basin could be so delightful.”*

The next morning when I came out of our shared dormitory I found my other three traveling companions in hammocks chatting away. I asked about the dream sharing ritual. There was an awkward little bubble of silence before hearing from the German traveler, Stephi, that she didn’t enjoy singing at all. Not at all, at all. Here we were, the gringos, doing our own form of ‘hash it out’ in the morning to keep the harmony. I was kind of aghast. “But…,” I stammered. She interjected, “I didn’t feel like a child at that moment and I don’t enjoy singing.” Lesson number two learned. There were countless lessons on this trip to be sure. I so thought it was a win to sing together. That was just my little world. “It was a way to thank him, an offering,” I lamented. Then the others chimed in, “No, I didn’t really like it either.” Well, I didn’t like being asked to do Internal Family Systems as soon as coming into Ecuador either, my Ego murmured. (Humph!) But no, this was the time to sing, or speak…Culpa mia, Desculpa. “It’s my mistake, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” When Chumpi came to pick us up for our next adventure we had finished our own ‘work it out,’ morning ritual. Makes me laugh to look back at it all of now.

When we were taken on a hike to Grandmother tree later in the day, I was in my sweet spot. Only a few times in my life have I been with a community who truly is tapped in and respectful of other life forms. Maketai very much for that! Chumpi made sure we saw the leaf cutter ants all marching along doing their jobs carrying bright green chunks of leaf they had chewed off. “Don’t step on them!” he warned. Got it! Then we heard all about the jungle plants as we walked.

*“This plant will stop you from snoring if you stick the end in your nose.”*

Instead of CVS pharmacy our guides told us where everything was in the jungle. “This plant will stop you from snoring if you stick it in your nose.” “When mothers are not producing enough milk for their babies they rub these leaves on their breasts to produce more milk.” “If someone gets hurt or bitten out here you take this club and keep hitting this stump that makes a very loud echo, it is our emergency response signal for someone to come help you.” He shared other ways to live that are so much lighter footprint and in harmony with the earth. The Achuar weave a beautiful web of their community with nature. They take the role of guardians from a place of loving and honoring all life.

“This is grandmother tree, you need to be very respectful approaching her…” Looking at the pictures now of Grandmother tree I humbly realize she is many times older than my country of origin. Many times wiser too.

*“I humbly realize she is many times older than my country of origin..*“

After inhaling tobacco water for the first time, we were all invited to ‘take a solemn moment,’ and find our own spot to be with Grandmother tree. I found a hidden nook to melt into the base of her mammoth trunk. My jaw lax, my hands open and my head tilted back against her bark like a baby with her head resting in her mother’s arms…I basked in connection. My whole abdomen is brimming with energy right now just pulling the image up in my mind. She taught me many things in a short period of time. But in places like this there is no time. Like when I am with my tree at home, I did not want to leave her. I wanted to stay planted right next to her, my butt in the soil, my hands open, my eyes closed, deeply receiving her gifts. Everyone waited for me as they had finished their ‘solemn moment’, so I eventually pried myself away . She came home with me, on the inside. No excess luggage. Maketai very much Grandmother tree, I love you so very, very much!

Before we had gone to our individual spots, Chumpi shared with us that this spot where we were standing is where the Jaguar comes to rest, where the great Ananconda comes, and only in this kind of tree do the Harpy eagle make their nests. “This is the perfect place to come and sleep overnight. If you need help with something. To stay a few nights alone at the base of the tree.” He reminisced about a previous group where a guy asked him to come out to stay there with tree. They also had tobacco and in the evening Chumpi stayed with them overnight. He received a dream from Grandmother tree and was gifted a chant. He was instructed to sing the chant to the tree every time he came, which he shared with us earlier. These stories to me are the very heart of the trip. To see with new eyes, to feel the heart of the jungle through the heart of one raised in this jungle. To feel her power and love, the jungle is the heartbeat of earth.

The day after visiting Grandmother tree we headed up the river to find the sacred waterfall. But that will be another post for another day. These Amazon fruits are to be savored one at a time. They show up to be plucked when they are ripe enough to share. In the meantime, I am still integrating all of the magic into my being. So much to share, and so much time to share it.