If my conversations of late are any indication, many feel the world has grown colder and meaner in recent years. From customer service to political discourse, the tone has changed from concern to contempt. Online conversations frequently resemble the modern-day equivalent of bar-room brawls in which people fling capitalized insults at one another. Even dinner table conversations are so fraught with potential conflict that often people no longer care how they communicate if they care to communicate at all. 

Welcome to the world of "haters gonna' hate," "I don't give a fuck," and "I have so few fucks left to give." Ditto free time and discretionary funds.

Of course, we can and do care about all sorts of things. We, human beings in our glorious diversity, seem capable of caring for all matters mundane and sublime. We care about how we look, how we feel, what we think, what we do, what we have, who we're with, where we live, what’s for dinner, what’s on TV. We, depending on our conditions and conditioning, care about gender, sexual orientation, skin color, ethnicities, nationalities, race, politics, income, and religion.

The list goes on and on and on. You name it, there’s somebody somewhere who cares about it. 

In many cases, it doesn't matter whether or not we care. If we don't care about the latest fall fashion trends, who won the football game, or which way the toilet paper roll hangs, well, we will all survive. 

But when we don't care about how we treat each other as human beings, it matters. When we decide that some human beings are unworthy of care, it matters. When we act as if some of us deserve human rights or civil rights more than others, it matters. When we don't care that we're harming other living creatures or the health of the planet we share, it matters.

That's when we all need to give a fuck...or however many we have left to give. That's when we need to stop dosing ourselves with unbalanced positivity, willful ignorance, and plausible deniability. That's when we need to care about the truth, regardless of how painful, unpalatable, or inconvenient. That's when we need to set aside the toxic cocktail of self-righteous certainty and blame that exaggerates emotional upset and impairs good judgment. That's when we need to care about people we don't necessarily like or understand. Otherwise, we are all in for a world of suffering even greater than the world of suffering within, between, and all around us that we often refuse to acknowledge. 

Believe me, I get it. Anyone who has ever cared about anything knows that there are times when it seems easier not to care. Genuine caring entails both affection and concern that makes it tricky. The moment we care about something or someone, we open ourselves not only to joy, but to suffering. We open ourselves to the full range of human experience in all of its glory and misery. 

We open ourselves to hurt. Because we are wired for empathy, when you suffer, I suffer. When you hurt, I hurt. When hurt is overwhelming, we shut down our capacity to feel the love within and between us. We stop empathizing because it hurts too much. When we stop empathizing, we start othering, and when we start othering, we become the world of hurt we’re trying to avoid. We lash out at others because the hurt—mine, yours, ours, theirs—is unbearable.

Indeed, the caring that makes us human is the caring that makes it hard to be human. Most of us have a difficult enough time just trying to care for ourselves and those within our immediate circle of concern. The idea of extending our care to include unfamiliar others, especially those who offend or hurt us, often seems overwhelming and unattainable, a task better left to spiritual masters or otherwise more evolved human beings. Even those of us inclined to do so may be hampered by the legacy of childhoods lacking effective role modeling of emotional self-regulation, conflict resolution, or interpersonal fluency. 

As children, we depend on others for our care. From an early age, whatever our genetic predispositions, we learn the critical link between paying attention and getting attention.  We learn that we are rewarded for paying attention to certain aspects of experience, and punished for paying attention to others. We learn that some thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are deemed worthy or unworthy of our attention. We become conditioned to pay attention to specific things in specific ways in specific contexts.  

We learn to pay attention as our caregivers think, feel, and do, unconsciously and consciously adapting our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors to those of our caregivers to get the care we need. These early conditions for giving and receiving attention form the basis for why and how we care about what and whom we care about later in life. As we grow into adulthood, we develop new ways of being, building upon these deeply-rooted habits of caring within shifting habitats of care.  

Ideally, we learn how to excel at caring for ourselves, each other, and our world, but as is readily apparent to anyone attending to the state of our humanity and our planet, not all of us do. If we're lucky, we meet people who care enough to show us how along the way--friends, lovers, teachers, therapists, authors. Those of us less fortunate tend to learn how to care through trial and error, often breaking a lot of hearts including our own.

However we learn, caring is not an option, but a necessary condition of human existence, as essential to human beings as breathing. Human beings from the moment we are born until the moment we die require not only nutritional sustenance, but emotional sustenance, to live. Like all other mammals, we need care to survive and thrive. As natural born caregivers and caretakers, the quality and quantity of the care we receive is as fundamental to our survival as fresh air, potable water, nutritious food, and clean shelter. Without care, we die. 

Babies born into conditions of poverty often die from the lack of vital care. People in the medical profession refer to this as a “failure to thrive,” but babies don’t die from a failure to thrive. They die from inadequate care or a “failure to care.” Even babies properly fed, watered, changed and clothed, but denied caring touch and emotional interactions, grow weak and die.  

Babies are not the only ones afflicted with this condition, although they along with our elders seem to be more at risk. Our young and our old throughout the world suffer from a vital lack of caring, as does every marginalized group on earth, frequently resulting in death. Even those who manage to survive a failure to care, suffer from our neglect, however unintended.

Simple neglect, studies find, can be more damaging than outright abuse. A survey of maltreated children found the neglected youngsters doing the worst of all: they were the most anxious, inattentive, and apathetic, alternatively aggressive and withdrawn. The rate for having to repeat first grade among them was 65 percent.  Daniel Goleman, Emotional Intelligence, p. 195

Caring for ourselves, each other, and the world is not only worthy of our experience, but essential to our existence. Our lack of caring sustains all that is inhumane in our world, ultimately ensuring our extinction, as well as the potential demise of countless other living creatures and the entire planet. To be blithely “without a care in the world” is perhaps the suicide of the ignorant and the genocide of the ignored. 

When a failure to thrive threatens one of us, it threatens all of us. When each of us fails to care for all of us, we contribute to the demise of our humanity. This is the root of all crimes against humanity. No matter how we try to compartmentalize, minimize, or rationalize this, the fact remains that our failure to care is so damaging that it threatens our personal and planetary survival.  

We who care may count our blessings and pray for those poor others. If we have the means, we may sign petitions, and send charitable donations, cards, or care packages. Yet, prayers, petitions, and gifts unaccompanied by an examination of how our lifestyles contribute to the suffering we seek to ease is incomplete, however sincere. Caring that discriminates against the whole truth, thus apparently absolving us of our responsibility to change is too self-serving to be significant.

A deeper caring accepts responsibility, acknowledging our culpability every time we neglect to care for the essential needs of our fellow living beings. A deeper caring asks us to become part of the solution by ceasing to enact or enable our part of the problem. It demands that we become the compassionate, loving creatures we are meant to be. It demands that we embrace the hate and suffering of who we are at our worst with the love and compassion of who we are at our best while holding us accountable for making the necessary changes. It compels us to develop the personal and interpersonal fluency necessary for engaging our whole humanity. It requires each of us do whatever we can however wherever whenever we can to relieve suffering within, between, and all around us. 

In times of strife, deep beneath the surface of the instinct to fight, is not a call to battle, but a call to serve. The call to serve is what keeps a fight honorable, protecting and guiding the warriors within us to serve the best interests of the whole (all living creatures and the planet).

When we respond to this call to serve, we ground ourselves in love and become instruments of peace willing to fight and sacrifice ourselves for the common good. We become an integrative force for good, serving ourselves, each other, and the world around us as one people, one planet, one love. 

It is only when we are willing to suffer together that we overcome our suffering together. So please take care, and give care. May we all find the courage to expand our circle of concern. Even when it hurts.

If you want company, I am here.

Meanwhile, this is a good place to start:

CHARTER FOR COMPASSION

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical, and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the center of our world and put another there, and to honor the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity, and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit, or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion • to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred, or disdain is illegitimate • to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions, and cultures • to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity • to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous, and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological, and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensable to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

When we accept the invitation to visit another’s home if we have any social grace at all, we go with gratitude, appreciating whatever hospitality our host may offer. We go with a willingness to adapt ourselves as best we can to the conditions and culture of the house. 

While there, we consider our host’s preferences and needs. We mind our manners and mind our own business. We clean up after ourselves and help out as best we can. We try not to offend or break anything. Upon our departure, we try to leave everything better than when we found it and remember to thank our host for opening her home to us. 

Being a good listener is a lot like being a good houseguest. 

When others trust us with their thoughts and feelings, they are inviting us into the home of their experience of themselves and the world. They are sharing some of their most cherished possessions—their beliefs, values, hopes, dreams, and concerns—inherited and gathered along the way to living as they are.

Just because we may prefer other furnishings doesn’t give us license to redecorate the place. Yet, that is precisely what many of us do without thinking when others invite us to listen. We enter the sacred space of another’s heart and mind with less consideration than a self-important, albeit well-intending, interior designer at a dinner party—interrupting, evaluating, and advising our host about what she should do with her most cherished possessions with little regard for her experience.  

Our responses sometimes sound something like, “Oh, those ideas won’t do—they don’t go together at all! And that overstuffed feeling? You should just get rid of it. I think that you’ll find it much more comfortable if you used more muted tones. I’m happy to change your mind.”

Even when we think that we are listening, we are often racing ahead in our minds, reaching premature conclusions, and seizing upon every pause as an opportunity to speak. Because thoughts move about four times as fast as speech, we are able to listen, think about what we are hearing and reach some understanding in the midst of conversing with others. Unfortunately, this means that we are also easily distracted by our responses to what we are hearing as our attention shifts from listening to the other person to listening to our own internal experience of what is being said. 

Often, we are listening only to ourselves without realizing it. We’re thinking, daydreaming, judging, or planning what we want to say before the other person has even finished speaking.  But listening is not about making eye contact, nodding along, and waiting for our turn to speak.  

Listening is actually conscious hearing—intentionally directing our attention—tuning in and becoming attuned —to what we hear. When we listen consciously, we open our bodies, hearts, and minds to what is being expressed. Every cell of our being participates in listening, linking the world within to the world around us. We become attuned to each other and ourselves in a way that facilitates resonance and rapport; we understand and experience the essence of what is being expressed. 

We listen not only to content, but also to volume, tone, pitch, pace, and pauses—the sounds of our voices, and the sounds of our silences, our thoughts, our heartbeats, our breathing, the fluttering of our eyelashes, the swallowing in our throats, the shifting in our seats, the rustling of leaves—the entire field of sound in which we interact.  

Genuine listening can only happen with love. Only when we are willing to love ourselves, can we hear our own truth. Only when we are willing to love others, can we hear their truth. Only when we love the world, can we hear the truth of the world.

When we listen with love, we create a safe space for people to speak from the heart about what truly matters to them. Even if we don't like what it being said or the manner in which it is expressed, or who is speaking, we can listen respectfully, kindly, lovingly. We can seek to understand the context beyond the words and tone—the underlying conditions, needs, and intentions being expressed. We can choose to remember that we are honored guests, and respect the state of another's internal home even when it's messy...especially when it's messy.

We all need to experience the gift of being heard. Let's find it in our hearts to listen to each other.

Practice Listening Within

1. Hush…listen…attune to this moment…simply let yourself be listening…
2. Turn off the devices and tune in to the sound of silence…open your body, heart and mind to hearing whatever is present…
3. Listen to your body—notice the sound of your breath…the fluttering of your eyelashes…the swallowing in your throat…
4. Listen to your heart…notice the sound of your heart beating…notice how you feel as you listen…where there is contraction…where there is expansion…
5. Listen to the sound of your voice…your inner voice if you are silent…your outer voice if you are speaking or humming or singing or making any sound at all… Notice the tone and pitch, the rhythm and pace…the spaces and the pauses… Is it deep and resonant?  Breathless and racing? What are the qualities that you hear and feel as you listen? What are you saying?  How are you hearing what you say?  
6. Listen to any words or images that arise…what are they saying? How are you hearing what is said? Notice how the sounds…the words or images move through you…where they stick…where they flow… where there is discord…where there is resonance…
7. Listen beyond the sounds you hear…

Practice Listening to Others

1. Hush…listen…attune to this moment…simply let yourself be listening…
2. Turn off the devices and tune in to the conversation…open your body, heart and mind to hearing whatever is present…
3. Listen to your bodies—notice the sounds of breathing…movement…
4. Listen as one heart…listen with your heart to the heart of what matters…notice how you feel as you listen…where there is contraction…where there is expansion…
5. Listen to the sound of the voice of the person who is speaking… Notice the tone and pitch, the rhythm and pace…the spaces and the pauses… Is it deep and resonant? Breathless and racing? What are the qualities that you hear and feel as you listen? What is being spoken?  How are you hearing what is said?  
6. Listen to any words or images that arise…what are they saying? How are you hearing what is said? Notice how the sounds…the words or images move through you…where they stick…where they flow… where there is discord…where there is resonance…
7. Listen beyond the sounds you hear…Listen as if everything you hear in this moment is essential in this moment…Listen as if offering your ears to the last sounds on Earth. Listen as someone with an intimate understanding of the instrument.

As darkness descends earlier and earlier each day, I find myself reluctant to embrace shorter days and long nights. The chill in the air has me reaching for sweaters and snuggles. I want to slow down even as the work-pace quickens in the compressed schedule of pre-holiday season. Getting back to school and down to business rules the day.  

Jane Austen called autumn “that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness.” It is the season of crimson, saffron, pumpkin, and gold…a season to savor hard-won harvests, colorful feasts, and warm nests amidst darkness and decay. 

Perhaps there is something about the abundance of darkness and decay that heightens our appreciation for life and our awareness that life goes on not only despite, but also because of death. The small deaths of autumn are bearable reminders of the seemingly intolerable grief that each life must inevitably bear. 

Lessons of impermanence take on multi-colored hues, a daily reminder to strip down to essentials and let go. The leaves fall. The sky weeps. Cleansing rain falls, driving us inward to huddle around the genuine warmth of heart and hearth.

Just as fall leaves become rich compost for spring’s new growth, life is enriched and transformed by loss. As much as we often mourn the absence of light and warmth, deep within the cool, dark ground is the soil of irrepressibly fertile life. In the fall, our roots beckon us deep beneath the surface to the source of eternal spring to rest in peace, and if we're fortunate, awaken in the spring.

Now is the time to pay attention to the inner depths of our experience beneath the surface, restoring the balance between outer and inner, action and reflection, darkness and light.

And it is time to pause, give thanks, and celebrate the harvest. What are you harvesting this Fall? What have you cultivated and brought to fruition? What aspects of your life can you let go? What seeds are you sowing now that may bear fruit in the future?

Like most people with internet access, I spend an inordinate amount of time online for work and for play. While I generally love web-mediated convenience and connection, I notice that the internet feels crowded to me lately. It often feels like being in a virtual airport shopping mall in which everyone is aggressively selling cheap imitations of genuine experience while waiting for their flights.

These days, the internet is littered with social networking wanna-be stars plying their shares in hopes of generating enough publicity to join the contagion of instant celebrities who are curiously celebrated and rewarded for the least notable of talents—merely being famous. There are those who publish every event (however mundane) and every opinion, (however inane) under the impression (however deluded) that everything they share will undoubtedly interest their audiences (however limited). 

Others are more strategic in their attention-seeking efforts. As intent on becoming household brands as their corporate counterparts, they relentlessly promote themselves, indulging in every opportunity to garner attention measured in fans, followers, fame and fortune amidst pop-ups, paywalls, and subscriptions. 

Like me. Share me. Try me. Buy me.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that a population spoon-fed dollops of self-esteem might be overly enamored with their personage, and prone to suffering delusions of grandeur in which celebrity is a credible, even laudable, profession achievable to every special, gifted person in the land of especially gifted persons. However, this trend isn't limited to those still weaning from regrettable social conditioning. It seems that everyone is clamoring for attention from an audience clamoring for attention. 

The allure of celebrity status in the age of personal, portable multi-media has led to online broadcasting behavior that could be characterized as an epidemic of exhibitionism. Even mature adults habitually publish posts to be liked and shared, while simultaneously following the fanfares of others like amateur paparazzi.

Thumbs up, like, fanned and faved. Positive reinforcement and a few hits of dopamine, and we’re hooked. We could do this all day—and some of us do.

Self-commodification and personal branding are all the rage. Self-referencing memes are the ads du jour. Confidence is the new competence. Now that every Tom, Dick, and Harriet can produce, direct, and star in their own reality shows to be broadcast in real-time, world-wide, every activity is potentially noteworthy. You, too, can become a YouTube sensation. 

In a global economy supported by accessible technology in which making an appearance is easier than making a living, many rush to stake their claims online in hopes that maybe, with a little luck and a whole lot of likes, dreams can go viral. Unfortunately, the democratization of fame hasn’t led to the democratization of fortune. Popularity doesn't automatically convert to profitability.

Despite our ability to extend our reach online, professional opportunities and incomes for many are rapidly shrinking. Thus, many make do with make-believe, crafting palatable, if not profitable, online realities while the world beyond the screen crumbles. In a culture of celebrity, publicity often boosts egos more than incomes, and pretense is the consolation prize for undiscovered, fading, and fallen stars.

As a human being, I empathize with the need to belong—to be seen, heard, and loved. I suspect that this inherently human need for acceptance and approval, whether we realize it or not, underlies much of our attention-seeking behavior on and offline. Moreover as a small business owner, I am intimately acquainted with the need to promote oneself and one's offerings online. 

There's nothing necessarily wrong with attention-seeking and self-promotion, but if that's all we do, even if we do it well, our efforts are likely to earn more condemnation than admiration. After all, the "look-at-me" attention-seeking debatably cute at age three is generally unappealing thereafter. 

The quality I notice that consistently separates admirable attention-seeking from insufferable attention-seeking is humility. Humility is the unassuming quality that supports genuine connection and honors the deep interrelatedness beyond our delusions of separation and self-interest. There's a mutuality in humility that is absent in the exclusivity of celebrity. Humility, in my experience, is a mark of maturity and wisdom. 

Humble people are self-possessed, not self-enamored. They balance their attention-seeking with attention-giving. Whereas the attention-seeking of celebrity culture screams arrogant insecurity, humble people exude the appealing confidence of those who pay attention to something greater than themselves. While celebrity gives the appearance of greatness, humility is the presence of greatness. 

Unfortunately, humility is often absent in public places, virtual or otherwise. Maybe it's a bit quaint in this culture of self-promoting, self-absorbed, self-proclaimed celebrities. Yet, in my experience, the presence of humility is an excellent indicator of whether or not a person is worth my time and attention.

All the best, most interesting and inspiring human beings are humble. Some become celebrities (I think of Audrey Hepburn or John Stewart), but often, humble human beings are relatively unknown, overlooked or overshadowed by their attention-seeking counterparts. Humble people, though rarely rewarded with fame, contribute to a world of goodness and leave a legacy of goodwill that's so much more rewarding and more reward-worthy than mere celebrity.

If you're interested in cultivating a bit more humility, here are seven things I've noticed that humble people do:

Say thank you. Often. Aloud. In public.

Humble people express gratitude. They count their blessings and bless others with their appreciation.

Ask for help.

Humble people understand that no one succeeds without help. If we're lucky, we don't have to ask for the help we receive, but sometimes, we need to ask.  

Give credit.

Humble people give credit where credit is due. They acknowledge others for their contributions. They recognize that we're all in this together, and that we don't do it alone. 

When I repost a thought or an image on Facebook, I always credit the source or the person who shared the content with me. A friend of mine asked me once why I bother to do so when FB automatically shares that this post is "via" whomever when I share it. My crediting is indeed redundant. However, consciously crediting a person, even on things that seem small, reinforces a personal habit and a collective culture of acknowledgement and appreciation that I would like to foster. 

Ask before assuming.

Humble people ask questions without assuming that they have all the answers. As Felix Unger demonstrated quite emphatically in this classic clip from that seventies show (no, not that one), The Odd Couple, “when you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and ME."  

If we must assume, let's assume that everyone has a valuable perspective, and ask others what they think. Let's ask what, what if, why, how, and why not? Let's ask anyone and everyone---and not just those who support our point of view.  

Listen and learn. Be curious.

Humble people are equal opportunity learners. They listen to what people say with the intent to understand and learn. They listen to people even when they don't agree or like what they hear.

If we’re not learning from the people around us, we’re either stupid or perfect. Since most of us are not the latter, let's be smart. Genuine listening is about being interested enough to learn from another person’s perspective and experience. It’s about being open to the possibility that someone might know something that we don’t, and having the courage to change our minds based on what we heard. 

Admit you don't know. 

Humble people realize that they know something without thinking that they know everything. 

Somewhere along the way, I have heard it said that we graduate from college when we think we know everything. We get a master's when we realize that we know something, and we get a doctorate when we realize that we don't know anything and neither does anyone else.

It's ok not to know, and it's more than ok to admit it when we don't. 

Say you're sorry.

Admit mistakes. Acknowledge when you harm others. To err is human, and humble people are deeply aware of their humanity. 

I once received an apology from a friend. It was a greeting card with an adorable donkey on the front. The message inside began with something like, 'Sorry, I was an ass' followed by a heartfelt, handwritten note enclosed. I don't even remember what she did, but I've never forgotten how I felt when I received that card. I was in awe of her ability to admit her mistake and turn an apology into a funny, witty, wonderful event. We're still great friends.
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Cultivating humility won't make us famous, but I suspect that our attention-seeking efforts will be more rewarding and rewarded with a little more humility, and if we do become famous along the way, we'll be famous for something worthy of our attention. I, for one, will like, applaud, and support your humble efforts.

Image credit: Pete Saloutos

During this election season, I've participated in many conversations about politics. While I am fortunate to have friends affiliated with very different political persuasions who are willing to discuss our differing viewpoints with good humor and good grace, it seems that this capacity is often lacking. 

Recently, I commented on a friend's post:

""I think that it is highly improbable that Clinton won't be nominated, but I don't have a crystal ball, so I'll wait to see what happens. Personally, I'd love to see Sanders take his momentum and run as third (fourth, fifth, what-have-you) party candidate. I also think that is unlikely, but who knows?"

A perfect stranger responded: 

"You don't need a crystal ball to see that Hillary will get the nomination. You also don't need a crystal ball to see that if Bernie runs as a third-party candidate, Trump will win. But perhaps a Trump win won't affect you much."  

She concluded her comment with a link to an article characterizing Sanders supporters as too privileged to vote against misogyny. 

Really? Wow. 

Since I prefer conversations in which there's some demonstrable interest in mutual understanding, I was inclined to ignore the comment in this particular exchange, but that seemed impolite, so I attempted to clarify:

"Hmmm. I apparently wasn't articulating myself with enough clarity, Bonnie. My point was simply that I won't jump to conclusions, however probable. I prefer to stay open to possibility, however improbable. As for your determination that Trump will win if Bernie runs as a third-party candidate, I obviously have a different perspective. I'm going to disregard the accusation of privilege via this article. I have no interest in attacking supporters of any party for holding different points of view. Best."

That was the end of my conversation with Bonnie.

Sadly, this exchange is representative of numerous exchanges that I've had or observed in the last few months. I often find myself lamenting people's apparent inability to constructively engage, or even tolerate, differing points of view. Far too often, it seems that people are so attached to their own perspectives and desired outcomes that they fail to communicate constructively, or even respectfully. I'm genuinely interested in differing perspectives on our political candidates, but it is challenging when people are more interested in persuasion than conversation. 

Personally, I prefer to have conversations in which different perspectives are perceived as an opportunity to learn from one another. I like conversations in which people listen to each other and ask open-ended questions with open minds and open hearts. I like conversations that invite us to explore what we think and why we think what we think without the need to change each other's minds. 

However, if persuasion is really your agenda, here are a few things I've learned along the way.

Dismissing someone's point of view is presumptuous, not persuasive. "That's ridiculous." "Wrong. You clearly haven't done your homework." "When you have more life experience, you'll know better." I'm pretty sure that each of us knows something, and none of us knows everything. When we fail to check our assumptions, ask questions, and generally act as if we know better than someone else, we privilege our own perspective at the expense of mutual respect and understanding. Let's listen and learn from one another.

Telling others what to do is presumptuous, not persuasive. "You must vote for X." "You can't vote for X." "You need to read this article." Political campaigns are built on advocacy, but last time I checked, in a democracy, We the People still have the right to make free and informed choices. Let's advocate with respect for agency.

Stating opinions as facts is presumptuous, not persuasive. "Candidate X will win." "Your vote for X is a vote for. Y." "You don't need a crystal ball to know that X will win." Just because someone sincerely believes it, doesn't make it objectively true. Let's make a habit of owning our opinions and examining what, if any, facts (and not just cherry-picked facts) support these.

Attacking candidates is presumptuous, not persuasive. "She's a liar." "He's a spoiler." "He's an idiot." I really dislike candidate-bashing, regardless of political affiliation. Most five-year-olds know that it's not nice to call people names. Let's have conversations that would make our parents proud and serve our children well. Let's focus on the issues, and own whatever concerns, doubts, and perspectives we hold without resorting to ad hominem attacks. 

Attacking the candidates' supporters is presumptuous, not persuasive. Derogatory stereotyping memes like "Hillbot" or "Berniebot" or "Trumptrash" are divisive and unproductive. Likewise, labeling people as sexist, anti-feminist, naive, delusional, warmongering, fascist, elitist, entitled, ignorant, and/or whatever else comes into angry minds is no way to win friends and influence people. If criticism is truly warranted, let's focus on the behavior, not the person or persons.

Let's talk about the candidates' respective platforms, policies, position statements, experience, expertise, and voting records. Tell me who you're voting for and why without making dismissive, derogatory remarks about other candidates and their supporters. Tell me about the issues that matter to you, the beliefs you hold dear, and how your candidate will represent these. Tell me how your vote will contribute to the world in which you want to live.

Tell me what you stand for, what you dream about, whose interests you serve, and what promises you keep with your one righteous vote. 

Invite me to do the same. We might learn something from each other. We might even be persuaded enough by what we learn to change our minds.

 

The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.

                    Ernest Hemingway

Many of you know that I regularly offer gift sessions on a pay it forward basis. Some people upon discovering this, express concern that I may be taken advantage of, especially when they learn that I do not screen potential recipients or ask for any proof of income or how they’re going to pay it forward. Although I appreciate their concern, I’m always a bit surprised. I find it hard to imagine that people would actually lie to get some free yoga, meditation, and/or coaching sessions.

More importantly, I’d rather trust people. I figure the last thing someone struggling financially needs is to suffer the indignity of distrust. If people tell me that they can’t afford to pay for sessions right now, I take them at their word unless they give me reason not to do so.

I truly believe that people give what they can when they can, and gifts come in all kinds of forms, least of which is money, although I appreciate money as much as anyone, especially when it comes to paying my bills. However, the reality is that most of us have periods where we're short on cash and need a hand as much if not more than a handout because the only thing worse than struggling is struggling alone. 

At such times, my deal with anyone who enters into a pay it forward working relationship with me is: I give freely to you. You give freely to someone else when you're in a position to do so, and we all feel good doing more good. It’s that simple. As far as I know, no one has ever taken advantage of this, or if someone has, he or she has done such a good job scamming me that I had no idea.

I’m deeply grateful to be in a position to offer this work to those who might otherwise not have the opportunity. I know that whatever success I currently enjoy is due in no small part to the generous support of clients, friends, family, and countless others, as well as the significant privileges bestowed upon me just by being born into this particular life. My policy of gifting sessions whenever I can is my way of paying that goodwill and good fortune forward. 

And I'm not the only one who feels this way. I have clients who regularly pay a little more for their sessions to help fund pay it forward sessions for others. People can be so awesome.

This week I received a card from one of my clients. When we first met, he was going through a major life transition and didn’t have any discretionary income available for sessions, so we worked together on a pay it forward basis. When he entered a more stable, lucrative stage in his life, he began paying for sessions.

When I opened the card, I read, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. Back pay for individual yoga sessions and therapy.” Enclosed were a bunch of crisp bills, more than covering the cost of his gifted sessions.

I immediately sent him a note, “Oh my goodness! I just opened your card. You are so sweet, but that's far too generous. Even if you wanted to pay me for work which I was truly happy to gift, that's too much. I know that you're working hard to earn and save. Shall I put it toward future sessions?”

His response? “It's reimbursement. Thanks, but I won't accept it back. My cash flow is good, so not to worry. Well earned.”

Awww. How awesome.

This, my dear friends, is one of the many reasons why I don’t worry about being taken advantage of when I gift sessions, and why I'm not exaggerating when I tell you how lucky I am to be working with such awesome people. Seriously. These people are awesome.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvellous error!—

that a spring was breaking

out in my heart

I said: Along which secret aqueduct

Oh water, are you coming to me,

water of a new life

that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvellous error!—

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt - marvellous error! 

that a fiery sun was giving

light inside my heart.

It was fiery because I felt,

warmth as from a hearth,

and sun because it gave light

and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvellous error!—

That it was God I had

here inside my heart.

Antonio Machado

Art credit: Honeybee by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law 

Twice a year, the sun is positioned directly above the equator, and the world celebrates the equinox, heralding the beginning of Vernal Spring or Autumnal Fall, depending on where one lives. The word equinox is derived from the latin words, aequus, meaning “equal,” and nox, meaning “night,” signifying one of two occasions in which the duration of night and day is approximately equal, the balance of darkness and light.

During the Autumnal Equinox, we may reflect on and let go of those aspects of our life that no longer serve us.

What do we wish to submerge in the dark? What seeds are better left buried in darkness, left to decompose and transform into the soil that nourishes life? 

The Vernal Equinox is an especially good time to reflect, plant, and celebrate the seeds we have sewn and will sew in the months ahead—to notice what seeds we are tending.

Which of the seeds that have been sewn in darkness do we want to bloom and bear fruit? What do we wish to emerge into light?

Enjoy this equinox wherever you are in this glorious world.

Early this morning (way too early), I awoke to the yowls of our cat who occasionally decides that we need to rise before dawn for no apparent reason. Since she's as old as Methusala now, I feel compelled to check on her when she yowls in case she's in the throes of death, which is the only reason any cat should be incessantly yowling at me before dawn. That, and she's completely deaf now, so shushing her does nothing to quiet her, and it doesn't seem sporting to to use a spray bottle to squirt water at an elderly, deaf cat. 

I try to think of these morning yowling sprees as developing my compassion. So I poke my head over the side of the bed. She’s there on the floor yowling up at me. I reach over and pet her. She can’t jump up onto the bed anymore, but she’s definitely not dying. Sigh.

I get up to check the food bowl. Food in bowl. Check. I check the water bowl. Water in bowl. Check. But I know how she gets about less-than-fresh water, so I refresh the water bowl and discover that the kitchen sink has sprung a leak overnight. I mop up the water and turn off the supply lines.

Cat is still yowling.

Just as I’m convinced that she’s having one of her senior moments, I see her scoot into the bathroom where her litter box is, still yowling, so I check the litter. There, in her otherwise pristine litter box, rests a tiny turd.

Surely, this is not why she’s awakened me in the wee hours of the morning. Seriously? Resigned, I scoop the tiny poop.

And miraculously, the yowling ceases.

Not a senior moment, but an urgent complaint. Apparently, she’s decided that her litter box is not clean enough for her crap (I'm sure that there's a metaphorical life lesson in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it at the moment).

After I've removed the offending waste, I gently, compassionately plop her ancient prissy paws in the box, and proceed downstairs to make some coffee with water from the bathroom sink...

Art credit: Cat and Bat by Silent Mylo Studio

Image: Kinuko Y Craft

KEEPING QUIET 

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

—Poem by Pablo Neruda, from Extravagaria (translated by Alastair Reid, pp. 27-29, 1974)

Image credit: Phil Borges, "Tibet - Culture on the edge"

A sweet teaching story appeared in a recent online thread. I don't know the author, so if you do, please share. Meanwhile, enjoy:

An aging master grew tired of his apprentice’s complaints. One morning, he sent him to get some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master told him to mix a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.

“How does it taste?” the master asked.

“Bitter,” said the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, “Now drink from the lake.”

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, “How does it taste?”

“Fresh,” remarked the apprentice.

“Do you taste the salt?” asked the master.

“No,” said the young man.

At this the master sat beside this serious young man, and explained softly, “The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains exactly the same. However, the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things. Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

Become a lake. 

I salute you. I am your friend, and my love for you goes deep.  There is nothing I can give you which you have not. But there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in darkness, could we but see.  And to see, we have only to look. I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver. But we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you.

Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there. The gift is there and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Your joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty beneath its covering, that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it; that is all! But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through unknown country home.

By Fra Giovanni Giocondo (c.1435–1515) was a Renaissance pioneer, accomplished as an architect, engineer, antiquary, archaeologist, classical scholar, and Franciscan friar who authored this beloved letter to his friend, Countess Allagia Aldobrandeschi on Christmas Eve, 1513.

Art credit: Cari Ferraro, 1994

'Tis the season for gifts and giving, comfort and joy, peace on earth, and goodwill to all. 

Yet, despite the glad tidings of the season, there are many among us who feel less than merry or downright blue during the holidays. Emotional responses to personal challenges are often intensified during this time of increased cultural pressures to be of good cheer. The inability to be with loved ones—be they deceased, afar, or estranged—can infuse the holidays with discomforting sadness and grief. Holiday consumption, impulsive spending, dietary overindulgence, un(der)employment woes, and financial hardships can create anxiety, worry, and dread.

Moreover, many of us may endure stressful travel conditions to arrive at childhood homes beset with family dynamics and expectations (unchecked assumptions, unresolved conflicts, unsolicited opinions) that may not fully embrace our current selves. Past surroundings prime behavioral patterns from earlier times. Furnishings, heirlooms, and scents often trigger residual responses and ways of being.

Sometimes, falling into familiar patterns in familiar places surrounded by familiar faces can be comforting. But if these familiar patterns of who we once were conflict with who we’ve become, it can be challenging to stay grounded in who we are and embrace the broad spectrum of identity in ourselves and others.

Likewise, the absence of familiar patterns, places, and faces can also be disorienting and challenging. Endless rounds of “remember when” for folks who were never there can try the patience of even the most good-natured guests. However inclusive the hosts are, unfamiliar traditions, family dynamics, and interpersonal styles can be awkward and alienating for those uninitiated. Then, there are the personal questions about things like dating, marrying, and breeding that, however well-intended, may transgress the bounds of personal comfort.

Even good memories and bright futures can get in the way of enjoying the moment. Especially for those whose calendars mark January 1st as the New Year, the holidays are poised at the annual thresh-hold between past and future often prompting reflection on years past and anticipation of the year to come. It is common to find ourselves flooded by memories and hopes that actually prevent us from being here now.

Given all of this, how do we increase the likelihood of greater peace on earth (or at least, our little patch) and goodwill to all (or at least those in our presence) during the holidays?

Be present and savor the moment.

Many years ago, my mother’s little New England town celebrated its 200th birthday with a fireworks display that pretty much ruined my appreciation for fireworks for many years to come. For years afterward, I was disappointed by fireworks that simply didn’t compare to the spectacular fireworks of that magical summer night in New England. Waxing nostalgic for the fireworks of yore and yonder, I failed to appreciate the beauty in the here and now.

My lack of appreciation was probably exacerbated by my growing awareness of noise pollution, fire hazards, and animal welfare, but the point is that comparing what is to what was or what could be sometimes hinders our ability to appreciate what is. Wishing our present to be anything other than it is pretty much guarantees suffering rather than savoring the moment.

This holiday, pay attention to what's happening now and find something to love about this moment. See, hear, taste, smell, feel the moment. Play "I Spy" with an eye for love. I promise, it makes the moment lighter, brighter, and sometimes, even memorably magical.

Let go of expectations and say thank you.

"...Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you...

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you."

     Cheryl Strayed aka Dear Sugar

It is the quality of our presence that distinguishes the moments that we squander from those we give and receive as gifts. When we surrender our expectations for the moment, we free ourselves to experience and appreciate ourselves and each other as we are in the moment as it is.

Let go of expectations. Respond with gratitude to whatever gifts the present offers.

Release your self and others from obligations.

Feeling pressured to host or attend gatherings? Anxious about purchasing gifts? Overwhelmed at the thought of sending cards? Just say "no" with love. Let the to-do list go. Ta-da! It's ok. The people who matter will completely understand and love you anyway. The people who matter who don't understand will get over it and love you anyway.

As someone who has chosen to opt out of much of the holiday hoopla, I know how challenging it can be to fail to fulfill customary holiday obligations. Yet, I've found that limiting my participation to meaningful expressions and occasions has contributed immensely to my own health and well-being during the holidays, as well as deepening the authenticity of my relationships with loved ones. Respecting others' traditions while honoring oneself enough to refrain from participating in those aspects of traditions that offend one's soul can be tricky, but it's well worth the effort.

Plus, the gracious acceptance of others' preferences and limitations when it comes to participating in various aspects of holiday culture is usually greatly appreciated. As much as we may love to share our favorite holiday traditions with those we love, when they choose to do other things, it's an opportunity to support others in choices that honor their greatest health and well-being.

Give with heart.

So many people confuse giving with buying. I hear it all the time. "I have to go get a gift for so-and-so." In the midst of all the holiday gift-giving, please remember that presents are a terrible substitute for presence. Although material gifts are often thoughtful expressions of our love and affection, our presence means so much more than presents to the people who love us. People who really love us do not want us to jeopardize our personal well-being or financial health to conform to familial or cultural norms.

So buy gifts if you have the means and inspiration. Sometimes, the perfect gift presents itself in material form. However, if shopping feels obligatory rather than celebratory, there are so many other meaningful ways to give from the heart, which are often lost in the commercialization of the holidays. 

Lend a hand. Babysit or pet-sit. Bake a delicious treat. Write a letter, poem, story, or song. Share a poem, story, or song. Wash the dishes. Offer a massage. Make time for an online or in-person chat. Forgive someone. Donate to a favorite charity. Invite someone who doesn't want to be alone to something you're hosting or attending. Weed a friend's garden. Share a yoga session (or ten) with a friend.

Sometimes, the perfect gift involves saving money and spending time. Homemade is not just for Martha Stewart crafters, urban hipsters, and homesteading hippies. Particularly in today's economy, more people from all walks of life are waking up to the fact that the path to conspicuous contentment is not through conspicuous consumption.

One of the sweetest gifts that I have ever received was from a group of girlfriends who took it upon themselves to weed my front garden while I was away for a month. I was dreading my return to a bed of weeds, so when I arrived home to find my garden so carefully tended, it was such a wonderful surprise. I was (and still am) overwhelmed with gratitude for their heartfelt, thoughtful gift.

Ultimately, giving is really about caring enough to let someone else know that you care, and thoughtfully, heart-fully sharing whatever you have to give.

Create a “holiday hotline” for yourself (or offer to be one for someone else).

If you suspect that you will have a tough time during the holidays, ask trusted family members and/or friends if they would be willing to make themselves available to you for a specified amount of time should you desperately need to chat. Sometimes, just knowing that someone’s there for you—that you have someone to call (Skype, text, etc.) who will be there for you can make all the difference.

And of course, if you know of someone that might appreciate a holiday hotline, offer to be one. 

Laugh and/or cry. Feel how you feel.

It's ok to feel how you feel. Although most of us prefer laughter to tears, crying can be very healing, releasing pent-up tension and emotion. If you feel like a good cry, grab your snot-rag (and/or a good mate) and let the tears flow. Then, follow up with a comedy chaser—something that makes you grin and giggle. Or just grab a good mate and find something so silly that you laugh until you cry. 

Go OM for the holidays.

It's tempting to forgo our practice amidst the holiday cheer or holiday blues, but whatever mood prevails, it is often during our busiest times that we need our practice the most. Yoga helps us stay balanced, centered, and grounded, supporting our greater health and well-being, so we can greet the holidays with greater peace of mind.

So go ahead and practice a Sun Salutation or two. Breathe. Move. Hum. Chant. Meditate. Take a break to tune in to yourself. Step back for some heaven-sent perspective. Give yourself the gift of a little refreshing silence and solitude. 

Get some fresh air.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, and the fire is so delightful... But seriously, enough with the mulled spices and pine-scented candles. Go outside and get some fresh air. It's mood-elevating, immune-boosting, and invigorating.

And it's a great way to clear your mind and reconnect with your self or others. 

Share the love.

Life is short. Give your love freely, deeply, and often. Tell the people you love that you love them. Show the people that you love that you love them. Be kind. Be compassionate. Be understanding. Give your attention, your affection, your support.

Give love. Share your heart. It's the best gift that you can give, and it never goes out of style. 

Wishing you and yours oodles of luminous love and light! 

Image credit: Sun Forest, Lars Ven de Goor

Directions

The best time is late afternoon

when the sun strobes through

the columns of trees as you are hiking up,

and when you find an agreeable rock

to sit on, you will be able to see

the light pouring down into the woods

and breaking into the shapes and tones

of things and you will hear nothing

but a sprig of birdsong or the leafy

falling of a cone or nut through the trees,

and if this is your day you might even

spot a hare or feel the wing-beats of geese

driving overhead toward some destination.

But it is hard to speak of these things

how the voices of light enter the body

and begin to recite their stories

how the earth holds us painfully against

its breast made of humus and brambles

how we who will soon be gone regard

the entities that continue to return

greener than ever, spring water flowing

through a meadow and the shadows of clouds

passing over the hills and the ground

where we stand in the tremble of thought

taking the vast outside into ourselves.

Billy Collins, excerpted from The Art of Drowning

We human beings have a peculiar habit of dividing ourselves, each other, and our world in ways that perpetuate our partiality at the expense of our greater integrity. We divide our experience into bits and pieces, generally preferring the good bits to the bad bits—the pretty, pleasant, secure bits to the ugly, unpleasant, insecure bits—even when these are essentially complementary.

We like the being-in-love part, but not the breaking-up part. We like the sleeping-together part, but not the sharing-a-bathroom part. We like the till-death-do-us-part part, but not the rest-in-peace part. We like the having-nice-stuff part, but not the being-in-debt part. We like the pursuit-of-happiness part, but not the burden-of-responsibility part. We like the protect-us-from-harm part, but not the blood-on-our-hands part. We like the awakening-to-bliss part, but not the dark-night-of-the-soul part.  

And on and on it goes. 

We are partial to particular aspects of experience—preferring particular thoughts, feelings, pasts, futures, occasions, places, and people. 

Even our notions of self—our very ideas about who we are—are fraught with preferential fragmentation—body/mind, head/heart, mind/brain, self/other. We assign meanings to age, race, religion, political affiliation, nation-state, economic status, occupation, ethnicity, gender, appearance, and more.  We exercise unwavering, albeit often unconscious, discrimination, picking and choosing our personal locus of meaning from the myriad facets of existence. We label, sort, and select, comparing and contrasting who we are, what we do, how we abide in what abode all the while longing to experience some greater wholeness that often eludes us. 

With such multi-faceted experience available to us, it is helpful, even necessary, for us to divide and categorize it all in order to organize our experience. Assigning bits and pieces of meaning to bits and pieces of experience is an understandable way of dealing with the magnitudes and vicissitudes of being human in an ever-changing world. Likewise, preferring some bits and pieces over others is only natural, and perhaps inevitable. Yet, our patterns of partiality—our preferred ways of experiencing the nature of reality—can be harmful if our attachments and aversions to parts of experience supersede an experience of the whole.  

When our preferences for particular aspects of our experience result in prejudices against other aspects of our experience, we undermine our ability to experience genuine integrity, excluding aspects of ourselves, others, and the world from being fully acknowledged and integrated into our experience. For example, if we are partial to “heart,” we may seek and find wholeness only in “heart” or emotional experiencing. If we are partial to “head,” we may seek and find wholeness only in “head” or intellectual experiencing, and so on. If we are partial to “us,” we may seek and find wholeness only in “us” or our affinity group, which can result in divisive, partisan experience like “us” versus “them” politics that vilifies the perceived other and refuses to find common ground. 

Partiality, by definition, lacks integrity. When we are partial, we favor specific parts of our experience at the expense of the whole. Far too often our partiality obscures a much more meaningfully integrated experience of ourselves, each other, and our world, the experience of wholeness forever caught in the half-hearted embrace of our partiality. When we allow bits and pieces to become the whole, identifying solely with those aspects of our experience to which we are partial, we experience ourselves, each other, and our lives as incomplete. In so doing, we frequently confuse our partiality with the greater integrity that is right here, right now always available just beyond our grasp if we’re willing to loosen our grip on the parts that prevent us from embracing our inherent wholeness.Sadly, our partiality of preferences and prejudices often perpetuates an experience of incompleteness and confines us to the fragmented reality we’re trying to overcome.  

Integrity Dynamics is the practice of bringing our partiality into awareness--paying attention to as much of our experience as possible--so we can choose to act from a place of greater wholeness. Through intentional enquiry and reflection on various inter-related and complementary aspects of experience, the practice takes our tendency to divide ourselves into bits, and offers a way to explore, refine, and reconstruct the bits into a more meaningful whole. 

To learn more about this practice, please feel free to connect with me directly.

Sometimes, it seems the universe conspires to create the most delightful circumstances. Still, I was slow to recognize the gift as it was offered.

When my awesome client, Steve Thomas, suggested that I meet a local filmmaker looking for a few more interesting projects, I instantly thought of a few people I know who might have an interest in creating a promotional video. 

And then it dawned on me.

Oh. He means me.

Gulp.

Oh, I don't know. I found myself hemming and hawing. Steve was all smiles and understanding, encouraging without pressuring.  

This is the gazillionth time in the last few years that I have been nudged to embrace video culture, which I do. I watch and appreciate videos. I just don't produce, direct, act, or get anywhere remotely close to a video camera. The idea of me on film (do people even use "film" and "video"interchangeably or is "film" too old-school?) makes me squirm a little.

But I trust Steve. If you met Steve, you would trust him too. In fact, if you ever need someone trustworthy to help you develop relationship-based income strategies, you should definitely meet Steve and his crew over at Oneicity. And if even if you don't need his professional services, you should still meet Steve because he's just fun to know.

Plus, this invitation seemed a whole lot like a Red Umbrella Day, and those of us familiar with Red Umbrella Days know that these mean growth and happy endings.

So I agreed to meet Matt. 

It turns out that  Matt Longmire of Northwest Films, aside from being a talented filmmaker, is a genuinely nice human being, which makes sense considering that Steve is also a genuinely nice human being.

Matt set me at ease from the get-go, and I can tell that I am in the hands of an artist who will be a pleasure to work with. So many artists have the tech quotient without the emotional quotient to bring out the best in their subjects. Matt has both and then some, which is a gift to those of us fortunate enough to work with him. 

If you're in the market to create a commercial, documentary, PSA, or other video project, I highly recommend connecting with Matt.

So thanks to Steve's thoughtful, well-timed introduction to Matt, those of you who have been encouraging me to venture beyond still photography into video will be pleased to know that I have finally tiptoed into the world of moving pictures.

Open Space for Cats & Dogs

I walk through fragrant blue sky

Bare feet on wet grass…

It is too cold for bare feet,

But my teachers have taught me well.

Who can resist a noisy yawn and a warm wiggle first thing in the morning?

To greet each dawn and each other with a curious heart…

To be mesmerized by the smallest motion…

To breathe the air, the earth…

To inhale the stories in each blade of grass…

To forgo the coffee and drink the dew…

To listen for what can’t be heard…

To bathe in light and nap awake in the middle of the day…

Is to arrive fully alive.

Forget the honey, taste the bee.

I have but one question:

When the butterfly lands on my nose, can I eat it?

by Karen Sella

Image Source: Tasha Carlson

I shared a teaching story attributed to Paulo Coehlo in the context of a recent coaching session, and realized that others might appreciate it too. Like all storytellers, I've probably colored the tale with my own experience in the retelling, but hopefully, the essence remains. 

-------------

On a recent outing, a teacher and his students witnessed in the distance a couple angrily shouting at each other.

The teacher asked his students, "Why do people in anger shout at each other?"

The students thought for a while. Then, one shrugged and said, "When we lose our calm, we shout."

"But why shout when another is right next to you, and you do not need to raise your voice to be heard?" asked the teacher.

The students pondered, but remained puzzled.

The teacher explained, "When two people are angry at each other, their hearts contract and grow distant. When they experience this inner distancing, they raise their voices to be heard. The angrier they are, the louder they shout to be heard across the distance."

The teacher continued, "What happens when two people fall in love? They don't shout at each other but talk softly with one another because their hearts are very close. The distance between them feels nonexistent or very small.

When they love each other even more, what happens? There voices soften. They do not speak, only whisper, growing even closer to each other in their love. In time, even whispers are unnecessary, and they speak volumes simply by looking at each other through the eyes of love. That is how close two people are when they love each other."

He looked at his students and cautioned, "When you argue, do not fall into the imaginary chasm between your hearts. Do not shout words that distance you from each other. Do not fall apart. 

When we shout in anger, we cannot hear each other. When we shout instead of listening and speaking our differences in love, we fall apart. Do this often, and there comes a day when the imagined distance is so great that we can no longer find our way across."

Instead, build a bridge with your words. Listen and speak softly. Breathe, hum, and sing together. Find reasons to laugh with each other.

And if these are not possible in the moment, walk away for now, but not forever. Take the time and space you need to rest, reflect, and reconnect with the love that bridges all imaginary chasms between hearts.

What's your experience? Share as inspired. I'd love to hear from you.