Category: Blog-Psychology

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Help! My Siblings are Fighting!

All around the world, my human family is having a really hard time. 

In the midst of conflict, it’s easy to forget that we the people share something so common and so very precious. We’re all living, breathing human beings. Sharing our lives on this planet which is so rich in resources and also so at risk of deterioration. 

This amnesia is so pervasive that it leaves brothers fighting against brothers. Mothers against mothers. Siblings against siblings. 

It’s enough to make a grown human weep. And many are weeping all over the world. Those in the line of fire, witnessing the destructive nature of humanity, and mourning the loss of people, creatures, landscapes, and ideals such as peace, harmony, and respect. When the world wide news seeps so easily into your home and your psyche, you can’t help but shake a bit. 

I’ve been listening to a lot of people shaking these past weeks. In fear, outrage, and deep sorrow.

A pervading sense of helplessness comes from being so unsettled by what is happening in the world(s) around us. Fear, outrage, and sorrow activate the stress response system. Repeatedly. Flooding your body with cortisol or adrenaline. And linking to all those stored memories of feeling unsafe, unsettled, and unsupported. 

It’s not only the dropping of bombs and horror of witnessing the loss of life, limbs, and neighborhoods as wars rage in the Middle East and Ukraine. 

It’s the relentless awareness of the prevalence of war zones which infiltrate all levels of humanity and spaces on the planet. Domestic violence. Cartel wars. Political infighting. Civil unrest. Human trafficking. Species extinction. Gang violence. Fiscal inequity. Environmental destruction. Sexual abuse. Crimes against people of color, gender fluidity, immigrants, and those unfortunate to live in impoverished neighborhoods. Religious condemnation. Dictators and terror. 

Us vs them. Us vs them. Us vs them.

What’s it gonna take to stop a world gone mad due to the shared insanity of humanity?

And before you say “it’s not me, it’s them making all the trouble,” consider how you just plopped right in the middle of “us vs them.”

Here’s 5 considerations when the world around you is at war and you’re suffering. 


#1. Don’t join the fight. 

It’s a challenge not to take sides. Especially when you feel one side is so right and the other side is so wrong. No one said this step was going to be easy. Rather than jumping into the fray with your fists, your opinion, and your heightened stress producing chemistry, take a pause and a few deep breaths. 

#2.  Soothe your system.

When you are in a fight or flight/flee/freeze response, you’re no good to anyone. Least of all yourself. Whether you are in extreme distress or chronically worried, it’s important to have the skill and practices to regulate your own physiology. Lots of ways to to this, but the hint was in #1. Take a pause and breathe. When you “calm yourself,” as my Grandma used to say, you regulate your physiology and gain access to the wisdom of your higher order thinking and caring heart.

[Get my freebie, The Self Soothe Strategy, or read my Breathe Like a Dolphin blog for some valuable practices.]

#3. Consider your sibling’s position.

In indigenous and wisdom traditions around the world, humanity is viewed as one family sharing the precious resources in one ecosystem. The “us vs them” gives way to the kinship view where all are related. So, once you are soothed and before you jump into action, consider your kin. That “other” individual, group, or country. What is their framework of the world and how may this “fighting” be viewed as protecting what is most valuable or necessary to them?

You step into the other’s world as you ponder and research this question. To increase understanding, perhaps access some compassion, and seek some common ground. After all, “those people” are also mothers, fathers, children, aunties, uncles, siblings, and cousins. Calm and considering, you now open to a new opportunity for peace, caring, and assistance. 

#4.  Ask the question, “What is mine to do?”

Whether you’re in the center of the storm, inflamed by the news, or deeply bothered by one of the countless disturbing situations in the world, ask this question. You may or may not get an immediate answer. This is not a problem to solve or an invitation for your mind figure out the correct answer. It is more of a request to the great intelligence that guides the moon cycles or inhabits all of the natural world. Let the answer come to you. It may surprise you and even seem unrelated, but take heed and follow up with calm, heart centered action. 

#5. Take action guided by a wise, compassionate heart. 

When you don’t feel so wise or compassionate, remember that somebody somewhere has some sage advice. It may come to you in a role model, a random interaction, a book or story, or through your own wise heart. When it’s time to do something, whatever that something is, bring the higher qualities of respect, understanding, compassion, forgiveness, and love into your offering.

Even the tiniest of action, when guided by love, sends a ripple out into the world. 

There are many ways to respond to the unrelenting sorrows of a human race at war with itself. Considering how you contribute to all the ways this world calls for your attention isn’t a one time action. More like a way of being. 

Peacemaking within. Lovemaking within. Harmony making within. 

We all live in our own world of perception which is interconnected with all worlds of perception. So your viewpoint matters and so do your tiny actions. When you realize deep in your bones that the world changes around you as you make adjustments to the world within you, something happens. 

You move away from throwing fuel on the fire of “us vs them” and enter the world of one family. Some of whom you love deeply and some who disturb the hell out of you. You aspire to become a safe space of harmony for others to rest within. You practice living respectfully, compassionately, and lovingly to yourself and others near and far. Imperfectly executing this desire.

All the while humming the Beatles tune “Come together right now over me.” 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

I’ve got some good news for you! There’s a lot of creative, collaborative, innovative solutions happening around the world. So much that I can’t squeeze it into this little pink box. Let me suggest something. If you’re gonna watch or read the news, read across the ‘far, left, middle, right, far’ to get an idea of different perspectives. Check out how other countries see things. Widen your perspective. Then mine the web for good news. I don’t subscribe to anything so that I seek news rather than have it pushed to me. With one exception. Reasons to be Cheerful slides into my inbox and motivates me to make a difference any way I can. I figure that beats me hanging out with ‘us who are bitchin’ about them.’

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Pet Love. The Great Equalizer.

It was a gorgeous, bright morning as I sat in the peaceful stillness of my kitchen.

I settled in near the window to watch the well orchestrated routine of the birds flying into the tree. Chattering as they hopped down the branches until it was their turn at the bird feeder. I never witnessed any bullying by the woodpeckers with their long, hard beaks. The doves or cardinals never bumped the tiny pine siskin or goldfinch out of the pecking order.

This merry band of birds, generously cooperative, even let that busy tailed squirrel have his turn.

The morning’s quiet was shattered by a ferocious bark as not everyone was thrilled with that squirrel entering their domain. In another well practiced routine, I opened the sliding door so Milo could police the yard and chase that furry bandit into the neighbor’s trees. As that blur of black and white flew down the steps, I turned my attention to the trees dancing in the wind.

A shrill yelp of pain followed by rapid squeals of pain had me running around the side of the house.

Where I found my dog standing on three legs with eyes wide with panic. Scooping up the shaking fur ball, I carried him in the house. With a history of straining a muscle after a speed burst, I wondered if he’d work it out with a little rest and energy work. After some soothing and a little Body Code energy work, he still stood on 3 legs.

I offered to take the first shift at the local animal hospital’s emergency room and drove off with quiet whimpers from the back seat.

I carried that wounded warrior to the front desk where I worked to keep my stress to a manageable level. I went through an interminable number of questions and a very thorough confirmation of everything in his virtual chart.

I tried to keep my tone pleasant even as the whimpers grew louder and my thirty pound creature grew heavier.

Just when I felt my arm was going to give out, I was told to take a seat. I found a corner bench where I could keep Milo on the seat next to me. Curious by nature and a big fan of the animal hospital, he was already struggling to stand and whine as he saw staff and other animals.

I spent the next two hours draped over this gentle creature to keep him still.

Given that there was plenty of action and a need to remain calm, we spent a lot of time talking. Well, to be accurate, I spent a lot of time talking quietly to my little black and white companion. His responses were more subtle by way of eye contact, ear movement to indicate he heard me, and head turning to identify the next topic of conversation.

I had a lot of time to join Milo in observing our surroundings.

At first, I took on his role of protector of our domain. Hoping no one sat too close as he’d squirm to investigate. Soon, though, I joined him in the stillness of watching who was showing up and what was happening beyond our small bubble. That perspective changed my experience.

We quietly witnessed the arrival of dogs on leases, carried in arms, and rolled in on stretchers.

The cats went by in carriers to sit in their designated waiting area. We were joined by a poodle in a diaper, a bunny in a soft carry case, a bearded dragon in a towel, and a really annoying chihuahua who made Milo and I jerk in tandem with every shrill bark.

Once the animals were catalogued and discussed, we moved onto observing their humans.

Other than the man with the dragon in the towel who was happily chatting with the blue haired mama and her two kids about their own dragon adventures, the rest of the adults sat quietly.

I watched a woman reading a book while waiting for news, only to realize she never turned a page in the whole hour. The young woman with swollen eyes and blotchy skin buried her face from time to time into that diapered poodle for a short cry.

“Milo, I think they need our help,” I whispered. Again, my small healing magi and I changed the game.

Whispering softly, we coordinated our prayers of light for the wellbeing of those creatures and their people in that room of stress and sorrow. A large black fierce breed of a dog arrived on a stretcher with a matching fierce man speaking harshly to staff. Soothing tones wrapped his sentiments as they rolled that man’s best friend off to the surgeon. For the next hour, that fierce man, undone by the danger facing his dog, stood or paced in front of that door. As if gazing down the hallway would hasten good news and peace of mind.

At times, when a dog rolled by, Milo would look at me. “I know, I don’t think he’s coming out. Let’s send him home in peace.”

It was a long few hours, sitting amidst worry and grief. All the while leaning over a small dog who patiently waited his turn, much like those beautiful birds outside our window. We celebrated when the diapered poodle reappeared even though we witnessed the woman’s quiet sobs, knowing they’d only have a wee bit more time to share their special love bond. Relieved by my husband who covered the next few hours of waiting, I recognized something of importance.

That waiting room of wretched stress, whispered prayers, and soothing staff was filled with one thing.

Humans who loved their pets. And pets who loved their humans.

Loving pets seemed to me to be the great equalizer, allowing me to see the sameness of all of us humans, regardless of how we presented. I wouldn’t have wanted to meet that man and his fierce black dog on the street, but I’m sure glad I met them in the emergency room. While I was sorry that Milo broke his little foot and relieved he had no pain, I was grateful for those hours remembering the value of every human life.

I’ve had time to let that lesson sink in deeply in this summer of slowness.

When I carry Milo up and down stairs and watch him stroll ever so gently down the street with his peg leg, I am reminded that life holds suffering. No one is immune. While the reason isn’t always obvious, everyone deserves understanding, compassion, and some soothing words in times of tension.

I’ll remember that the next time some fierce human barks at me in frustration.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

College campuses are allowing dogs on campus during exam week and as emotional support animals. Dogs, like many pets, have been found to reduce stress and anxiety. One study invited participants to engage in public speaking followed by performing difficult calculations with unfriendly observers watching them. Yuck. They were randomly assigned to bring a friend, an unfamiliar dog, or go it alone. Results found that while all participants had higher heart rates and cortisol levels, those paired with a dog had lower levels than the other groups. Having Fido around before, during, and after stressful events is a good idea!

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Let’s Hold Hands When We’re Old

I was leaving Panera one day, hotfooting it back to work with soup in hand, when I witnessed the sweetest thing.

After holding the door for his wife, a man reached over to take her hand. Very slowly, this ancient couple meandered down the sidewalk. Talking and walking as if they had all the time in the world and no one they’d rather spend it with.

Catching myself gawking, I gathered my delighted smile and sauntered to my car.

Making a note to myself to invite my husband to hold hands when we’re old got me to thinking. Perhaps we should start practicing in earnest now, strolling about with no particular place to go, as if our future wellbeing depended on it. Because it does.

Come to think of it, I wondered why I wasn’t holding hands with more people.

I reflected on when and why I stop reaching for the hands of my parents, daughter, and friends. It’s such a sweet practice that society relegates to romantic relationships, parents with young kids, or support for the elderly. While I won’t reach for my big kid’s hand these days, I could tuck my arm in hers. Enjoying the closeness and attending to our conversation more closely.

Here’s the thing about social interaction and touch. It’s essential if you want to live long and prosper.

Just ask the centenarians who live on the Italian island of Sardinia.

Not only do they report having the highest percentage of people who live to 100 or beyond, but more couples make it to the finish line together in Sardinia than elsewhere in the world.

I hear they are paying people to come live in that mountainous island. Imagine that. Paying you to get daily exercise, eat a big lunch of fresh food, followed by a nap. Family in Sardinia is the priority and they’ve nailed the work – life balance. No long work hours or using achievement as a benchmark of worth for those longevity magnets. A few days a week, they don’t even head back to work after that nap. Leaving more time to chat with their neighbors.

Researchers have studied influences on longevity, such as genetic markers, diet, health practices, social connection, and environment.

You might enjoy watching the series Chasing Life on CNN with Sanjay Gupta, MD. In the episode on Sardinia, I was heartened by those spry brothers who met at the coffee shop and the number of ancient couples still hanging out together. Those folks walked everywhere up and down hills, waving to the neighbors sitting in the windows and popping in to shop for an item or have a chat.

Seems that all this socializing is good for you.

Research has revealed that having a 1 – 3 intimate relationships is good for your health. It’s also beneficial to have in 3 – 5 mini contacts with other humans every single day. These casual encounters might include waving to the post man, talking to the neighbor, petting their dog, visiting colleagues at the water cooler, or screen time with your cousins in California. Scrolling social media or hitting the like button doesn’t count, and actually may hurt when it’s excessive, incites envy, or replaces good old face to face contact.

Cultivating intimate relationships and taking a moment to chat with the check out clerk may increase happiness, longevity, good health, and a sense of meaning.

It’s a good idea to eat well, exercise regularly, take naps when you’re pooped, and balance work and play. It might even be a good idea to learn Italian and go live a pleasurable, slow, and long life in Sardinia. If that’s too big of a leap, start walking around your town or neighborhood.

That lovely couple reminded me that human touch adds a bonus to social engagement.

Like sprinkles on your cupcake, touch may be easily added to your focus on social connection, health behavior, mindset, and life style.

You know that touch is a strong component of healthy development in humans, animals, and marine mammals. Yet, appropriate and gentle touching of one another seems to drop off as you age. Not for those lucky enough to have cuddly partners, kids and grandkids, puppies and kittens. All that hugging and holding keeps those feel good chemicals flowing and encourages social connection in a meaningful way.

If you’re living alone, and perhaps working remotely, you can consciously and creatively examine how you may cultivate more intimate friendships and casual social interactions.

It’s really important to consider what’s most comfortable for you regarding the power of appropriate touch. Not everybody enjoys the touchy feely approach. That’s cool. Your best way of connecting considers what makes sense for you. Remember to regularly give your hands or feet a good massage, cuddle with your pet, and connect with others in a way that feels safe to you and them.

If you want to hold hands when you’re old, now is a good time to start practicing your particular way of leaning in and strengthening your social connections.

I’m off to perform my own experiment with lots of hand holding, arm linking, hugging, and leaning in shoulder to shoulder with friends and family. I’ll toss in some good eye contact, deep listening, and expressed enthusiasm for being together. This approach might seem a bit much with random strangers, so I’ll just add in a few more handshakes and smiles as I seek my 3 – 5 social interactions per day.

And I fully I expect that one day, perhaps when we’re a hundred and two, that some young thing outside Panera will be gawking at me holding hands with my fella.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Your mindset about aging is really important. Researchers invited elderly folks to a lecture where they shared a few facts about aging. It wasn’t a scary tale or a fairy tale type of presentation. Just some well known facts about what happens to the body and mind when you head into your senior years. They measured the gait, stride, and speed of these lovely people as they entered and exited the lecture. You guessed it. People walked more slowly and cautiously as they exited the room. Yikes! I imagine we’re adding a decade just listening to all those commercials hawking pharmaceuticals and predicting demise from illness. It’s a wonder we make it off the couch and up the stairs each evening. I wonder what those Sardinian brothers would say about that nonsense?

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Baggage Overload

“I’m packed!”

Amazed that I had gathered everything for my upcoming journey to Peru, and fit it all in my suitcase a full day before my flight. Usually, I’m finishing up at in the wee hours of the morning, so this was cause for celebration. There was one thing left to do.

I called my husband to lift my suitcase and guesstimate the weight.

It’s an old ritual, this guessing game that often leaves a fizzle of anxiety in my belly. Every trip we mean to find that luggage scale that’s hidden in the house somewhere. An idea quickly forgotten in the enjoyment of whatever journey embarked upon. Only to be remembered the evening before, or often in my case, the morning of that next flight with the looming specter of a weight limit for my bag.

Right on cue, after hefting my luggage in the air, he exclaims, “This has gotta be close if not over 50 pounds.”

I’m not sure why I set myself up for this. I’m a great packer and can fit everything into any suitcase. It’s just that I like to have a variety of clothes so I can choose to be comfortable in any kind of weather or activity.

This time, however, I also had a list a mile long of recommended items to ensure a safe journey.

During this 12 day trip, I’d stay in 5 hotels, take multiples planes, buses, and taxis. I’d hike mountains, tour cities, chant in open courtyards, do early morning yoga, and attend (stinky) fire ceremonies. I’d also be far from medical care and needed to be prepared for weather changes, altitude sickness, biting bugs, blisters, strong sun rays, and dehydration.

No wonder I packed a lot of shit. I was intent on being prepared for anything.

That’s not to mention that I was carrying a bunch of rocks in my backpack. No, I wasn’t rucking. That’s a new fad that I have no interest in exploring. Yet, here I was heading off to climb to 12,500 feet with a backpack of rocks, raincoat, fleece, water, snacks, suntan lotion, and bug spray. I don’t mean to make light of those rocks as they are a gift to me and those I serve.

As a medicine woman in the Andean tradition, I carry my mesa with me.

A mesa, or altar, is used in healing and ceremony. Filled with medicine stones that have been transformed through my initiations and used in healing sessions, shamanic journeys, and ceremony. I climbed each mountain to enter a sacred site and engage in ceremony. Activating my mesa and my own body to higher frequencies so that I might better serve humanity and Pachamama, this great planet we inhabit. While heavy, I was grateful to have my mesa as traveling companion and wise guide.

Arriving at Philly’s airport, mostly at peace with my packing choices, I was dropped at the curb to embark upon this journey of my soul.

Truth be told, I had some trouble hefting my bag on that scale. I closed my eyes in a little prayer to the angels of the airport. “Did you plan this?” Startled I opened my eyes to a serious agent pointing to the number on the scale with a long red manicured nail.

50.0

Holy weightless wonder! I nailed it! After taking a photo to send my husband, I felt a little heaviness lift from my heart (and belly). I hadn’t realized I was carrying that bit of anxiety. A flash of a memory from my honeymoon to Italy reminded me of our two suitcases splayed open in front of a long line of annoyed travelers as I transferred shoes from that over the limit bag to the almost at the limit bag.

Oh.

Seems I have a history of carrying too much baggage, seen and unseen. All of it dancing with my stress chemicals.


“Time to let that habit go,” I thought, as I hefted that heavy backpack onto a body that was already resisting the weight.

Before I even arrived in Peru, hints of what I was to learn, release, and transform on this epic journey were arising. Alright then, game on.

Apparently I had some bigger lessons to learn about carrying too much baggage.

I received a disruptive lesson in the Miami airport. A giant awareness in Lima. And a rough start in Cusco. By the time I landed in the Sacred Valley, surrounded by the majesty of the Andean mountains, my lessons became more palatable. I still carried too much every day within my psyche, body, energy field, and backpack. I became adept at recognizing this collection of things I no longer needed to carry, curated by a lifetime of conditioning. And how many of them weren’t even mine to begin with.

I shed that weight with the help of ceremony, medicine teachings and teachers, the natural world, my archetypal companions, and lovely new friends.

I’m traveling more lightly now by intent and with Life’s help as it continues to remove much of what I felt was necessary. I learned that those medicine stones are worth their weight in gold and I’m happy to carry them anywhere. And that journeying throughout time to clear old baggage is a worthwhile endeavor.

Mostly, I discovered, that it is a privilege to live here and now. Knowing I’ve got everything I need within.

I could search for that luggage scale in advance of my next trip. But I won’t. Why mess with the majesty of the mystery and those future lessons just waiting to shake me awake?

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

If you’re carrying a lot of stress, you’re not alone. Robert Epstein, stress researcher, found that the average person’s ability to manage stress is remarkably low. Living in a world of stressed out adults takes its toll on you as it’s hard not to get triggered by someone’s stressed out behavior unless you’re cool as a cucumber. More importantly, it’s been found that a parent’s ability to manage their own stress is the second most powerful predictor of the wellbeing of their children. Yikes. Lots of ways to let that stress go and plenty of motivation. Instead of being a stress magnet, be a conduit of calm. Yup, that’s a thing. I have declared it so.

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SisterHood is Heading Back to School


As a kid, I had mixed feelings about heading back to school. 

I loved the freedom of summer days running around the neighborhood, sleeping under the stars, and vacationing at the beach or mountains. I didn’t need any research to convince me of the power of free time to play with friends, enjoy family, and explore the natural world. Those days of warmth, extended light, and freedom from structure restored the body, brain, and spirit.

Kids glow during the summer and not just from a touch of sun.

Too bad we mature, civilized adults didn’t build in an equivalent of an extended seasonal vacation into our work life. In the US, unless you have the financial means and permission from work to take frequent vacations or staycations, you’re grinding through 50 weeks a year at work. This definitely dampens the health and wellbeing of every body, mind, and spirit. But, I digress.

I wasn’t so keen on summer ending even if there were some perks about returning to school. 

Aside from seeing friends and enjoying school, I was always enticed by back to school shopping. I loved the trip to the stationary store with my mom and returning home to organize my notebooks, pencils, and backpack. I realize now that my delight wasn’t just about the “stuff” I carried, rather it was more about what it represented. 

A brand new notebook offered me the promise of building upon old knowledge to reveal doorways into something greater. 

I still love my school supplies and I’m still pursuing my “higher education.” If I could transport my shelves of colorful binders and notebooks along with my computer to a tropical island, I’d have enough course material to keep me busy for 6 months. As I create and consume, I welcome the pleasure of organizing all of this wisdom in colorful binders and matching notebooks. 

I’m not taking these gifts of school supplies, love of learning, and positive experiences in education lightly. 

As a school psychologist and therapist who worked decades in the nonprofit world, I’m well aware that not every child has access to the financial, family, or school support that foster growth. That’s why I’ve been running back to school supply drives for the past 30 years.

Donating school supplies may seem like a token action, allowing the giver to feel good, but making a questionable difference to the tremendous learning difficulties, poverty, or family challenges some kids face.

I know better. I’ve learned of the value of a new notebook or backpack from kids and teens who feel shame, worry, and discomfort when they don’t measure up to their peers. And, unfortunately, when they’ve been shamed by teachers for not being “prepared” with the required supplies.

School supplies matter to these kids. And they bring relief to overstressed parents.

All school supplies donated to Sisterhood serve impoverished families in Burlington City, NJ.

By now you know the drill. Drop off your school supplies at Soul Sanctuary. If it’s easier to let me do the shopping, I’m happy to do that.

Venmo me at Kathleen-Milano-2 or send via Pay Pal @kathymilanophd. Please indicate it is for Sisterhood. Be assured that every cent goes to them. 

Drop off at Soul Sanctuary or donate by August 23rd please.

You can drop off in the lobby or outside if door is locked (I’ll grab it) on Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays 9 – 5pm. I’ll deliver everything on the 24th so the kids and teens can pick out what they need. 

You choose whatever you want to give. Donations will fill in the rest.

It’s great to have backpacks (5 Below), 3 subject notebooks, binders, and notebooks. If you’re shopping for the young ones, please buy the smaller packs of markers (12, 24) or crayons (24, 48) for individual use.

Thanks for your ongoing support of SisterHood in Burlington City. Year after year you show up.

I know the good work that Rev Hilda Covington and her volunteers offer the neighborhood. And I know first hand the appreciation of these kids, teens, and parents.  All donations are given anonymously in order to support Sisterhood’s mission and respect the families they serve. 

So, I’ll say thanks to all of you from all of them. Now, let’s get these kids ready to learn.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Dolphins, those #2 on the intelligent creature list, sure know the value of play! With all the stress of deadlines, to do lists, and multitasking of life, humans sometimes forget the value of playing a game with their friends. Scientists off the coast of Kauai and Maui have filmed dolphins and whales playing together. A dolphin swims onto the nose of a whale who then raises themselves slowly out of the water so the dolphin may “slide” down its back. Consciously breathing, playing with friends, and frolicking in the waters of life. Seems like we humans just got schooled.

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Breathe Like a Dolphin

Dolphins sleep with one eye open.

It’s not that they are inherently suspicious creatures. Actually, they are quite lovely in their social engagement, curiosity, and self awareness. Considered the second smartest animal in the world (humans being the first), they have the capacity to communicate through language, plan for the future, and solve complex problems.

Unlike humans, for whom breathing is an autonomic (automatic) function, dolphins must consciously decide to breathe.

If dolphins entered fully into unconscious sleep, they would fail to breathe and thus drown. Given this vital need for conscious control of their breathing, dolphins only let one half of their brain sleep at a time.

They enter unihemispheric sleep when closing the left eye as the right half of the brain sleeps.

This allows the left hemisphere to take charge of breathing and be alert for dangers in their environment. While alternating sleep between hemispheres, dolphins swim very slowly or rest motionless on the water’s surface. This way they get the rest they need without ever losing consciousness.

Dolphins are not only bringers of joy and delight, they are expert practitioners of mindful breathing.

If you want to improve your state of mind, health, and potential for wellbeing, start breathing like a dolphin.

Yogic technology, mind-body medicine, and spiritual traditions recognize the value of conscious breathing.

Aside from countless research studies, your own personal experience will reveal the benefits. Engaging a mindful, relaxing breath pattern restores balance at all levels of your being. As you breathe, you’re detoxing the stress chemicals, negative thought patterns, and escalated emotions. Calming the mind, increasing mental focus, organizing your brain-body communication, and clearing energetic channels. Priming you to move into a quiet meditation or move through your day aware and in balance.

You can act like a dolphin any time you consciously observe and control your breath, strengthening your awareness of the mind-body connection.

Whether you engage mindful breathing to decrease stress, enhance your mental focus, or lower your blood pressure, your body will thank you. These simple practices, so easy to master, have tremendous health benefits. Such as rejuvenating the nervous system, improving digestion, easing pain, supporting respiratory functions, and increase immunity.

Perhaps your newfound sense of ease, increase in energy, and surge of pleasure inducing chemicals will be enough to motivate a daily practice.

Emphasis on daily and practice. When you’re in the middle of a crisis and your hair is on fire, that’s not the best time to begin your training in dolphin breathing. A daily practice builds your “breathing muscle” so that you can get to it quickly and with ease when needed.

With enough practice, this beneficial habit of taking a deep breath may even wake you out of your anxious sleepwalking through the day.

The next time you need to interrupt the fight or flight stress response, get conscious and choose a breathing practice. Immediately. Breath techniques are also very beneficial partners for the tend and befriend stress response and the challenge response.

Did you know that there are more stress responses than just fight or flight?

And that if you perceive stress as positive rather than detrimental, it doesn’t have the same debilitating effect on health, mindset, and longevity? Head to my Free Resource page to grab The Self Soothe Strategy. More on all of that in my PlayBook and a nice relaxing HeartBreathing practice to download (and master!).

Here are a few breathing practices designed to invite a state of deep relaxation, mind-body harmony, and enhanced mental focus.

Box breathing or the 4-4-4-4 breath is easy to practice.

Count to 4 with a slow inhale, hold for a count of 4, exhale slowly for 4, and hold for 4. Repeat. Be gentle with the holding of the breath. It isn’t a rigid holding, just a chance for your body to replenish oxygen, giving your organs and tissues a much needed oxygen boost.

The 4-7-8 breathing practice is based upon an ancient yogic practice.

It’s helpful to place the tip of the tongue on the roof of the mouth behind the front teeth throughout this practice. Begin with an exhale through the open mouth, letting the air go out in a “whoosh” sound. Breathe in through the nose for a count of 4. Hold for a count of 7 (relax). Exhale slowly through the mouth, choosing for a count of 8. You may work up to this pattern, so begin with whatever count you need and extend it with practice.

Alternate nostril breathing is another yogic technique that induces relaxation, clarity, and harmony throughout the body.

There are a few varieties with this technique and you may want to explore this with a quick Google search. At first, this may feel a little awkward, but it is definitely worth the practice.

Finally, my go to favorite involves taking 9 Self Regulating HeartBreaths.

Crossing your palms and resting them on your heart, you take 3 breaths. This is a “HeartBreath.” Just noticing how your body breaths you. Switch palms and repeat. Again, switch palms and repeat. 9 HeartBreaths brings your heart rhythm into coherence and the enter body sings with the harmony that change brings.

The similarity between you and a dolphin is that you both have a choice.

You can continue to breathe even when you’re unconsciously stressing through your day. You won’t die. But, you won’t live the fullness of what life has to offer when you allow your body to hold tension, diminish health, and reduce mental capacity. When you don’t breathe mindfully and in a relaxed state, you may move further down that intelligent animal list.

Don’t let the other intelligent species (crows, pigs, and chimps) sneak up on you. Breathe like a dolphin, enhance your intelligent body-mind system, and maybe, just maybe, leap a bit with joy.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Dolphins, those #2 on the intelligent creature list, sure know the value of play! With all the stress of deadlines, to do lists, and multitasking of life, humans sometimes forget the value of playing a game with their friends. Scientists off the coast of Kauai and Maui have filmed dolphins and whales playing together. A dolphin swims onto the nose of a whale who then raises themselves slowly out of the water so the dolphin may “slide” down its back. Consciously breathing, playing with friends, and frolicking in the waters of life. Seems like we humans just got schooled.

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Label Me This?

I had a lot of conversations and emails after my last blog on gender fluidity.

Thanks for that. There were a few that especially got my wee brain to thinking. One in particular questioned whether we were all making too much of these labels. And if it would be more beneficial to focus on the person and how we feel about them. Shared with a beautiful yet poignant example of a family’s love and acceptance of a trans child.

So I headed to the thinking spot of my favorite boy bear, Winnie the Pooh. “Think, think, think.”

A few scenes from my life flashed with this contemplation. None of them about gender identification, by the way. All of them about the use of labels with some benefits and some cons.

Nearing completion of my clinical psychology PhD program, I worked a 12 month internship at a Pennsylvania state school and hospital for adolescents. I have lots of flashes of memories of that time, both exhilarating and deeply humbling. Mostly, I felt grateful to enjoy the quality training, my likable colleagues, and those often delightful, usually challenging teens.

Getting teased one day by the staff, I was asked if they’d have to call me “Doctor” when I graduated. “You betcha,” I said “even my mother has to call me freakin’ doctor!”

We shared a good laugh and got back to work. As I walked back to the intern office, I realized that I meant it. I was finishing the most challenging 6 years of my educational life and I was damn sure gonna use that hard earned title. Even now, as I recall the challenges of those years and the way I grew, I understand that sentiment. That label was really important as I strengthened my new identity.

I was ready to slap Doctor in front of my name at every opportunity.

When I graduated, the staff thoughtfully gave me a shiny gold nameplate for my desk. I read my name with its PhD caboose with a grateful smile as we all celebrated. “One more gift!” said my coworker as she handed me one more nameplate.

“Call me freakin’ doctor”

You can bet that nameplate went on my desk in the intern office. Then life went on as I left the world of academia and wobbled into environments that would test and mold me as a young “doctor.” The days of handholding were long gone.

Another memory arrived which fast forwarded me a dozen years when I was running a nonprofit agency in New Jersey. Working within a creative model, we helped teens stay out of those hospitals and residential centers so they could heal in community. Truth be told, those centers didn’t want these kids given the severity of their trauma and behavior. Training newly graduated PhD clinicians, I noticed something telling.

These young therapists threw around their “doctor” label like enthusiastic guests with confetti at a wedding.

I understood this. I remembered the insecurity I felt as I entered new jobs requiring competent application of my clinical skills which often seemed shaky at best in the face of tremendous challenge. In supervision, we explored their vulnerabilities and strengthened their skills.

I helped these new PhDs soften their use of “Doctor.” Learning there was a time and place for this label.

Exploring how to use or not use with community colleagues and examine the benefit of this label with clients, in school meetings, and at court appearances. Including how that well-earned term provided bolstering to shaky legs and a nervous stomach. 

Relationships shifted when Dr. was followed by a first name or plain old first names were used with protective service case workers who had decades of experience. Interactions with a little labeling thrown in as a descriptor or token of respect kept the focus on the people, not the label.

It was also a time of label dissection to peel off the many diagnosis and rigid opinions about these teens and their families.

Labels carried information, yet unexamined, they often disrupt the potential to experience the (real live) person in front of you. It made better sense to help staff, community agencies, the teens, and their families understand their needs, strengths, and behaviors in ways that defied the demonizing labels they all carried. Examining individual strengths, vulnerabilities, gifts, and skills yet to be developed empowered healing rather than diminishing a person as part of an “undesirable” group.

It was valuable work, this label deconstruction, so the benefit of humanizing reconstruction could take priority.

Another memory flashed of my sweet Dad who tended to use first names with everyone. His doctors, friends, executives, and little kids. I had to roll my eyes a bit when he was seated on the rug in a second grade classroom on Grandparent’s Day. Playing a social interaction game of greeting one another, a wide eyed boy tripped over remembering my Dad’s last name.

“Call me Bob,” my Dad smiled.

Only to invoke the teacher’s rapid instruction to use “Mister.” Poor kid was set up. Recognizing when labels are set in place, for better or worse, there is a time to comply and a time to challenge.

I’ve seen Mister Bob do both with great success

I guess I could say I was raised by a “label rebel.”

So many flashes of “ sweet labeling” in my years of life.

The pleasure of calling friends “Mrs” when newly married or “Dad” when entering the magic of parenthood. My newborn baby being (fondly) called “nosy” when she was a few days old. As a new “Mama,” I quickly corrected that label to “curious” since she hadn’t yet begun to speak and fend for herself. Witnessing the hurt of labels with ethnic, gender, and racial slurs that broke my heart. Or disordered parents or teachers identifying children as “bad,” “worthless,” “lazy,” and “stupid.”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

So. Not. True.

I’ve witnessed the horrible outcome of verbal abuse in families, schools, neighborhoods, religious institutions, workplaces, peers groups, and self-talk. Wounding can happen when labels intend harm, respectful labels are missed, or a person’s desire for a label/no label is misunderstood.

Perhaps there isn’t one correct answer about how to use a label well or not so well. Maybe, just maybe, you could be “curious” about any label bandied about.

To understand what it means to the one using it or receiving it. Learning what is helpful and what is harmful. You don’t live in an all or nothing world, although many people are “black and white” thinkers. It’s tricky, but this duality, engrained in culture and language, can be disassembled one label at a time.

It’s a slow, but worthwhile process and it begins with one person, one label at a time.

Coming full circle yesterday, a colleague from grad school asked if I had course descriptions he needed for advanced certification. While I couldn’t help him, I realized something important. My Master’s and Doctorate diplomas, rewritten with my married name, were so very important when I ordered them. Leaving that nonprofit agency to open my private practice, I felt a bit unsteady. I figured those diplomas, and all they represented, would give me some respectability as I started over from scratch. My plan was to hang them on the wall above my desk so they’d “have my back.”

My newly lettered diplomas took 9 months to arrive. By which time, I realized I didn’t need to be called freakin’ doctor anymore.

That label was no longer necessary and those diplomas are collecting dust in my basement. All of this “think, think, thinking” revealed the importance of deeply examining those labels that remain, whether they be rigid, fluid, or fragile. Perhaps some are important, others are loosening, and a few are collecting dust in my basement.

I imagine that I’ll be considering those labels I use for you as well. Giving some the heave ho as no longer necessary. And enjoying the ones that remind me of who you are.

You Beautiful Soul, you.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News


A recent study examined the impact of mindfulness on “Linguistic intergroup bias” (LIB). University students were asked to describe cartoons depicting various scenarios, such as one adult hitting another. The response could be factual (one person hitting another) or make a character inference (they’re violent). Bias was found when cartoons were viewed as friend (factual descriptions) or enemy (inference). Inclusion of mindfulness (observe thoughts as fleeting mental contractions not part of cartoon event) reduced biased responses. Other studies suggest that mindfulness may reduce stereotypical and prejudicial thinking. Why not try it out? Thoughts are like floating clouds, watch them pass.

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She/Her/Me. Who You Be?

I’ve been exploring the fluidity of gender in recent years. 

Trying to wrap my binary trained mind around gender as a moving target with changing terminology and variety in visual appearance of my fellow humans. I identify as a female, heterosexual and use the pronouns she and her. Growing up in the 60s and coming of age in the 70s and 80s, I was comfortable in the world that identified males as males and females as females.

Perhaps I considered gender somewhat within the variations of sexual orientation of my friends and colleagues.

Yet this was still within the binary identification of my male friends with boyfriends, my female colleagues with girlfriends, or those who preferred a bit of both. This was an acceptable part of my life and continues to be without any need to “wrap my mind” about preference in sexual partners, legal or otherwise. 

Reflecting further, I realize I’ve had many a thought, conversation, exploration, and discovery about the nature of the feminine and masculine characteristics within myself and others.

Noticing how the societal or cultural influence on what is deemed feminine or masculine has infiltrated all aspects of our lives. Including how these fluid characteristics have been made rigid within a two choice system of descriptors. 

Gender fluidity is confusing for many, not only those of my generation, especially when you’ve been raised in culture with two choice descriptors embedded in language, belief, expectation, media, and appearance. Including all the restrictions or prohibitions of same sex or gender fluid representation in culture, religion, and societal institutions. I recall my first introduction to people sharing their pronouns. It surprised me and open my eyes and mind to an experience of life that I’d been blind to previously. 

Curious and a bit confused, I sought understanding. I bought some books, watched some videos, and spoke with a lot of people. 

I explored the labels embedded within the the ever expanding LGBTQ2+ descriptor. I learned to honor the pronouns used by those around me even when I was tripping over “they” or forgot to change “she” to “he.” I learned a bit, got better at my gender fluid speak, and realized there was so much I didn’t know. 

Perhaps if you’d been exposed to a language that was trinary (yes/no/maybe) instead of binary (yes/no), like some tribes near Lake Titicaca in Peru and Bolivia, all types of fluidity would be easier. Or lived within the indigenous cultures where some members of the tribe were known as “two spirit” who embodied both masculine and feminine characteristics. 

Yet for me, I’m still undoing a lifetime of conditioning within a binary descriptor system about gender.

There’s a lot going on in our world that’s really hard and really human, and it affects all of us. Not only families who face teens or parents who are shifting gender identity, appearance, sexual orientation, and/or embrace fluidity in many arenas. These changes have people bumping up against their own conditioned upbringing which holds a complex continuum of rigid to fluid beliefs about the nature of how a human should be a human.

Recently attending the theatre in New York City, I read in the Playbill about anti-drag and anti-trans legislations which would ban or severely limit drag shows in Tennessee and being considered in other states.

Lawmakers and commentators identify the real intent beyond such law is regulation of the trans and non-binary populations. 

Not only would theatre productions be severely affected, but actors would be banned, persecuted, or harmed because others (influencing legislators) feel they shouldn’t have the legal right to express their gender fluidity. Or as one actor so poignantly stated, “… because they don’t think I have the right to exist.”

My research has led me down some dark rabbit holes of humans harming humans, so familiar to the history of this country and around the world.

You may not agree with my intent to explore my personal constraints of understanding fluidity in gender, sexual, and human identity within the complexity of modern societal forces. To become more open, accepting, and supportive of people who identify, express, and love differently than I do.

I’m not trying to convince you of anything here. 

That’s your business and your responsibility as to how you define yourself and your world view, and live accordingly.

I’m just wondering how to honor people’s choice to identify themselves in a way that feels true to themselves. Whether it be gay, bi, gender fluid, queer, two spirit, intersex, questioning, or asexual. My wondering extends to accepting people’s right to define for themselves their political party, religious identification, race or class identification, professional occupation, cultural background, sport team affiliation, and any other of the myriad of descriptors used to imperfectly capture the complexity of the human being. 

You catch my drift. But to be clear, this is my exploration. I’m not suggesting any set (rigid) path for your own exploration or even that you jump on that path. 

Of course I have an opinion about that. I think it would be great if everyone held a true desire to understand and look very deeply past the labels, roles, visuals, actions, judgments and lifelong societal/cultural conditioning of all types of “identification.” I think we’d be a more conscious society if we all had the capacity for such introspection, and likely a lot more likely to be kind and not harm those we deem “wrong.”

Yet if I get on my soapbox about that, aren’t I just telling you what my “legislation” is and perhaps even pressuring you to vote for it?

So, where does that leave you, especially if you recognize that you’re part of a human family? 

I hope it leads you to ask yourself some questions. Is every member of society deserving of respect, the freedom to choose, the right to love who they want, and identify as they will? Do you fight those who oppose you with hate, judgement, and a desire to force them to live in your view of the world? Do you stay quiet and let others trample on life, health, and psyches? Do you love, accept, forgive, and seek understanding? Do you educate, volunteer, engage your inner activist, or vote with your voice, money, and presence for change? Do you turn away with a hardened heart against those who confuse, disturb, and frighten your status quo?

You’re part of a human family. Living and breathing together within the ecosystem of the planet. It’s a troubled family living within a troubled ecosystem.

Maybe you begin there. Accepting you live in troubling times with a family who is a bit of a mess. Maybe there is something you don’t yet understand but are willing to explore. (And not just in the realm of gender identification.) Exploring the way to peace within your own thoughts, words, deeds, and relationships.

And then, perhaps, that peace might just flow out a wee bit into this creative, beautiful mess of humanity. 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

I have fond memories of the exposure to theatre as a child, teen, and adult. With no desire to be on stage myself, I’ve relished in the genius creativity flowing through all stories on stage. I saw a billboard in Philadelphia announcing  a new play, Mrs. Doubtfire (Tootsie), arriving soon. That got me thinking. If anti-drag legislature passed in every state, would future generations never see this show? Or Peter Pan, Hairspray, and Victor/Victoria? How would this end the University of Pennsylvania’s tradition of the Mask and Wig  productions where all parts are played by me? Or my college favorite, that legendary parody, Rocky Horror Picture Show? Perhaps some food for thought and not such HeartWarming News.

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The Trouble with Ruminating

Have you got a mind that likes to mull over things? 

You know that mind. It likes to chew on the problem and replay conversations. It activates the critical voice so you may think on all the ways you, them, or the situation isn’t so great. It goes on and on and on. Ad nauseam. 

This rumination launches you into a state of mind that’s really unhelpful.

Now you’re feeling crappy about yourself or less than enthusiastic about the situation you face. You slide easily down that slippery slope and judge others, feel frustrated, or drop into a more hopeless view of the future. It’s rare that your rumination leads you into a state of open curiosity or exhilarating joy as you face a challenging situation. More likely you’ll be drawing into that half glass empty mindset.

Rumination invites you to become more like Piglet or Eeyore than Tigger or Christopher Robin.

If you’re not a Winnie the Pooh aficionado, I’ll translate for you. The constant worrying of the mind leads you into anxiety or depression more than enthusiasm or calm wisdom. Think on that for a brief moment. Which approach to the complexity of living would you rather choose? [And if you missed the archetypal wisdom and deep solutions to living that Winnie the Pooh offers, you might want to dive back in with a curious mind.]

So your mind ruminates. And wanders into troubling places. Blinding you to higher solutions.

You’re not alone. It’s a human condition. Quite persistent and tricky. That’s why you may miss it, this ruminating trickster you call “thinking.” It seems the thing to do as you mull things over, vent to your friends, and analyze until you’re blue in the face (and in your mood).

So what’s a human ruminator to do to get out of this mess?

"Weed faster"

I love the analogy of the mind as a garden.

I’m a great mind gardener – weeding out the unhelpful junk and nourishing the seeds of beauty. I’m not so good at hands in the dirt gardening, although I’m happy to choose the plants. So someone with more talent and a love of gardening can plant them for me. 

Imagine your mind as a gateway into the creative soil of life.

That “stuff” back behind form which emerges into the material world as you think it and act it into being. You are gifted with fertile soil, rich with nutrients, and free of obstructions. So beautiful thoughts, words, deeds, and creations may be seeded and nurtured into blossoms. Lovely creations spilling out into the world as a delightful garden runs amok. Bringing forth a Tigger kind of joy and the Christoper Robin type of appreciation.

Take a look at your life. Are you living within such a beautiful garden?

Of course that’s a trick question. Deeply embedded within this mundane world is a beauty beyond imagining if you have eyes to see and a heart to guide your way. Yet, most humans are lost within the less than conscious habit of ruminating upon their current life. That’s not a criticism or reason for despair. Just a simple statement of what often happens within you. And me. And everyone.

Most mind gardens are filled with boulders, rocks, pebbles, and weeds galore.

It’s a daunting process to clear that soil even for the more advanced mental gardener. Yet, you can begin with a simple practice.

Notice the weed and pull it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. 

Catching yourself mid-rumination is a strong invitation to stop, pull the weed, and seek out a blossom. When faced with a challenging situation, notice your personal thought about it. And watch for a bit. 

Most likely, your mind offers a lot of sentences strung together. One weed after another. Who thought weeds could be so captivating? Addictive even. Watch and listen to your thoughts, your voicing these thoughts, and listening to other’s thoughts spoken aloud.

Seems the human family is addicted to weeds.

Awareness leads to Choice leads to Change.

That’s a wise teaching I got from Christopher Robin in the form of my Dad. He taught this to the CEOs he guided and to me as a young college student. I never forgot it. 

Once you’ve witnessed enough of the mind’s rumination, you’re ready to make a choice. What kind of garden am I cultivating?

As soon as you notice that “weed” of a thought, pull it. And refocus on a “blossom.” Any blossom you choose.

It’s a simple practice that’s harder than it sounds. And well worth the effort to plant a beautiful garden for yourself and others. Remember that practice leads to mastery which leaves you with clarity, wisdom, and enthusiasm for the benefits of weeding. 

You may even toss out a few pebbles while you’re at it. 

Sometimes the boulders and deeply rooted weeds (generational and karmic trauma) require a bit more work. Especially the energetic interventions since these patterns are often embedded deeply within your field and unconscious. There are lots of techniques to help you clear your soil. I know a bunch and am happy to help you if that serves.

A lovely woman recently asked me what to do with the negative thoughts running through her mind. I guess you can imagine my response. 

“Weed faster.”

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Want to enhance your weeding practice?  Spend some moments HeartBreathing and centering within your cohesive heartspace. [Check out my free Self Soothe Strategy if this is a new concept for you. It’s on my home page.] When you’ve settled into a calm state, it’s easier to be a witness to the thoughts roaming through your mind garden. You can just watch them and label them a weed or blossom. Play with it a bit. Imagine pulling the weeds and smelling the blossoms. Offer a bouquet of beautiful blossoms to someone close to you. Watch your weed pile grown. It’s a simple imaginative process that enhances your practice. AND it counts as “weeding time.” The mind is a powerful garden. Treat it as such.

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Courage at Sea. A Tiny Drama.

When I was invited to join my husband for his business trip to Hawaii, I got busy planning.

We could visit some of our favorite West Coast people, pay our respects at the Pearl Harbor Memorial, explore the natural beauty of the island, and go find us some wild dolphins to play with. While all of these plans were lovely, it was the bucket list wild dolphin swim that made my heart beat faster.

Truth be told, I had visions of dolphins swimming in a circle around me in warm Caribbean water.

Maybe popping in for a little nudge or kiss on the cheek. So when I read the fine print regulations requiring humans to keep their distance from marine life, my fantasy deflated a tiny bit. Yet, my heart swelled with the wisdom of allowing dolphins their space.

I’ve learned second hand through my Marine Scientist offspring how close human interactions and boats don’t bode well for marine mammals.

So, I was cool with the distance rule. Trusting every whale, dolphin, turtle, and surprise marine guest would find their way to our mutual encounter. Arriving in Oahu, I heard snippets of news about the huge waves on the North Shore that were disrupting the international surfing competition. While fascinating, it had nothing to do with me given that I’d never go near a big wave, let alone balance on a surfboard.

My healthy respect (fear) of this vast ocean jazzed my nervous system just watching tv coverage of tiny humans standing on tiny boards on tremendously huge mountains of water.

Breathing deeply, I remembered that I booked us a sweet frolic with the dolphins on the East side of the island, far from the wild North. However, I forgot Oahu was an island, not a large continent. Turns out high winds and waves in one area actually impact other areas. Weather. Go figure. Given my propensity for sea sickness, I prepared well with my pre-adventure dose of Bonine and a night of dreaming about mild waves and dolphin kisses.

That dream crashed when the captain called to cancel our journey due to, get this, high waves.

If the boat couldn’t safely make it out of the harbor and the waves were too high for snorkeling, the trip was cancelled. Okay, bummer, but safety first. Especially ‘cause I’m not a water baby and rough seas are not my jam. Problem was I couldn’t reschedule because other Bonine laced tourists were gonna swim with my dolphins. Flexibly shifting plans, I booked another naturalist tour on our last full day.

Trusting we’d have time for some splashing in the dolphin pool before returning to see Hamilton in Honolulu.

Racing toward the open sea offered a new perspective of beautiful mountains, undeveloped valleys, beaches and cliffs. This was the magnificent Hawaii I had longed for and it was thrilling to witness. My Bonine filled system protected me from feeling sea sick, so I felt free, alive, and enthusiastic. I called out to the dolphins with my grateful heart, letting them know that Kathy Milano and a few friends had come to play.

And here came the pod of spotted dolphins, joyfully answering that call.

Mothers and calves, singles and couples, they swam with us through this vast fluid playground. I’d like to say we were surrounded by 50 dolphins, but I know things get exaggerated in the wonder of the moment. So, most likely, there were 45. No shit. The largest pod I’ve ever had the privilege of zooming around with.

They weren’t paying attention to that 50 yard distance rule and I wasn’t complaining.

Our tiny group of tourists and marine biologist guides were one big body of delight. Even that really sea sick dude who was wearing my acupressure bands was grinning like a maniac.

It seemed like forever that we all played, marveled, and witnessed a few hot shot leaping dolphins.

The captain stopped the boat, and in silent wonder, we surveyed the pod who stayed with us. It was a moving adventure. There was nothing on my mind and plenty of gratitude in my body.

The biologist had an announcement.

“If you want to swim with these dolphins, now is your chance.”

I was about to jump up and shout “Oh Yeah!” like a crazy wild dolphin freak, but she continued her spiel.

“There are two things you need to know. First, we are in a thousand feet of water.” No worries there, ‘cause I had no plans to touch the bottom.

“Second,” she said in a really solemn voice, “in this deep water there is always the danger of sharks.”

Dun dun. Dunn dunn. Dunnnn duuuun. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome that mythical beast of a party pooper: Jaws.

My whole body flooded with cortisol. I immediately flashed back to 1975 and the Jersey shore with friends. We scared ourselves silly with that movie and I’ve been a chicken shit in the ocean ever since. It’s normally not a problem since I’m not a water baby and rarely go in the ocean. Unless I’m in the Caribbean.

You could’ve heard a pin drop amidst that pod of frolicking dolphins.

Not one person moved a muscle. So, I apparently wasn’t alone. I looked at the other gung ho snorkelers and that 6 foot dude was shaking his head no. My stomach sank as if some part of me had made a clear decision that there was no way I was swimming with sharks that day. My dream was mid crash when her solemn voice broke in with a lilt, “But, if it’s on your bucket list, now is your chance.”

I be a brave, brave girl. I stood up and in a teeny tiny voice asked three questions.

“How long before you spot those tourist eating sharks? How long do you think we have to make it back to the boat?” and “Will you come in with me?” With a few directions about how not to flail about in the water, move slowly toward the boat if I heard the captain call “Jaws Approaching!” and confirmation that I’d have a chaperone, I turned to get my mask and snorkel.

Well, look who else was brave. My husband was nodding and ready to go even though he hated to snorkel.

Only two (non)seafaring adventurers prepared for entry. Here’s the thing with getting in the water with 45 spotted dolphins who decided to follow the distance rule while I battled my terror of Jaws. This mythic beast and my active imagination of my demise put a damper on my experience. Can’t lie about that.

I was so busy monitoring the ocean, mastering my dead lady float, breathing like Darth Vader, and listening for a warning, that I almost forgot to check out my dream dates.

I’m good at managing stress and I do be brave, so I spent as much time as I could redirecting my focus to the dozens of small dolphins swimming by us. It was magical with a tiny dose of fear. The bummer about fear dampening down my brain’s frontal lobe function, thus diminishing my higher order critical thinking and problem solving, was that I missed two simple facts.

Jaws was a movie. And I had a one in 5 million chance of being bitten by a shark.

I wish that biologist had used her encouraging, delighted voice while throwing pixie dust and adding these fun facts to her announcement. Still, I swam with lots of wild dolphins and made it out alive. We both did. I learned a lot about bucket lists, flexible dreaming, old fears with big jaws, and that whales spend a lot of time underwater between sightings.

I ended up taking a small nap during Hamilton.

Nothing dramatic, just resetting my system so I could delight in my next, very safe landlocked Hawaiian adventure.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Marine Mammals are swimming in way too much plastic, all of which is placed there by humans. Ouch. That hurts your dolphin loving heart. The good news is that many organizations are committed to improving the health of the ocean by removing plastic, interrupting plastic pollution before it arrives, and raising awareness. A quick swim in Google will reveal eco-friendly gifts or ethical organizations devoted to improving life for our marine friends. You can donate, use less plastic, pick up trash (it flows downstream). volunteer, and educate yourself about the negative human impact on the ocean. And the creative solutions addressing it all. Your tiny actions can make huge waves toward safer marine habitats. All without getting wet.