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May Day Memories

It was a beautiful May day at Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania back in 1986.

I was looking forward to partaking in the annual May Day celebration at this college so infused with Welsh traditions. As a graduate student, this was my first year living in the undergrad dorms as a “Warden.” An oxymoron, this term Warden, since Bryn Mawr had an honor code and no real rules for me to enforce.

I was more of a House Mama for young women in their time of need.

Truth be told, there were very few “times of need” during my 2 years living at Bryn Mawr. While I supported a few undergrads, I was better known for my annual Dead Plant Sales (no green thumb here) and the Couch Potato Movie Fest during exam time. This was a favorite across campus as I provided good snacks, fun movies, and a much needed break for these really bright, over achieving students.

I appreciated everything about those Warden years, but most especially having my tuition, room and board offered in exchange for living on a beautiful campus.

There were a lot of traditions at Bryn Mawr which was one of the “Seven Sisters” colleges for women. I enjoyed participating in most of them, although never understood why my dorm had to “haze” me along with the freshman. After a week of tortured anxiety and teasing about what was to come, it was mostly silly (they made me wear brown. I dislike the color brown immensely) and I lost some sleep. Otherwise, it was fun and I was rewarded with lots of good food and hugs. (If only hazing was that sweet across all institutions).

I was especially looking forward to dancing around the May Pole on May Day.

Grad students had their own May Pole and I was surrounded by other Wardens and friends from my department. We shared our breakfast and champagne, dressed in white and readied ourselves to frolic amidst the ribbons. I had visions of skipping along as we worked together to create a beautiful weave of colorful ribbons.

They should have provided we innocents with a bit more instruction other than “make sure your move the ribbon up and down.”

I never knew May Pole dancing was considered a blood sport. 


Seriously, I was grateful to make it out alive and with my head intact.

When the whistle blew, all these white frocked women started running FAST. My breath grew jagged as I strongly raised my ribbon up and down. Keeping pace and weaving the damn May Pole was more than I bargained for. There was no mercy as all the onlookers cheered us on and yelled “keep up!”

I should’ve worn better undies as my white flouncy dress blew up to my waist.

I thought we’d be skipping, laughing, and gently floating our ribbons about. I guess I figured a halo of flowers would magically appear on our heads, crowning us as the May Day Goddesses we were. By the time we were done, half of us were bent over, hands on our knees and breathing hard. The others were laughing and offering high fives. You can guess what group I was in.

Despite my near death experience, it was a lovely day of celebration.

I knew May Day was a pagan tradition which occurs between the Spring Equinox (Ostara) and the upcoming Summer Solstice (Litha). Sometimes called Beltane, it is related to fertility as Spring is at its peak. What I didn’t know is that it also is used in countries like the UK and Germany to celebrate worker’s rights.

I wandered about the campus that day, drinking champagne, and watching women race around the May Pole.

The even had a May Hole to honor the lesbian students (before all the initials came into use). It is a lovely thing to participate in ritual, whether deeply familiar or totally new. When you are invited into someone else’s world to experience celebration, you are joined together for those moments. When a friend wished me a happy May Day today, this memory came flooding back.

Bringing a sense of appreciate for a life rich with stepping into ritual celebrations in worlds that are different than my own.

Ritual, celebration, and relationships allow you to remember that you are part of one human family and a part of this beautiful planet. They remind you to open your perception, stoke your curiosity, and engage with the unfamiliar. If only for one day.

I also remind you to check your undies if you’re racing around the May Pole in a cute white dress.

Have a beautiful May Day however you celebrate. If nothing is on your agenda, go check out what Pachamama is offering you. In my neck of the woods, Spring has sprung. The sky is beautiful, the day is warm, and the flowers are colorful.

I can celebrate this.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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4 Tips for Reducing Holiday Tension

The Thanksgiving Holiday is upon us in the United States.

Bringing families and friends together to share a meal with gratitude for the abundance of love, food, community, and pleasure. Unless tensions arise for any number of reasons. Perhaps you stress when hosting, families don’t get along, you are dealing with grief or loneliness, someone drinks too much, politics get dicey, or any number of ways your leftover childhood issues come uninvited to dinner.

Here’s four suggestions to lower your tension this turkey day.

1. Be Yourself

That might sound obvious, but it’s hard for people to be comfortable in their own skin when there is any kind of tension present. Family gatherings may be the one place you actually drop into yourself and feel at home. I’m happy for you. I’m also aware that a large number of people feel anxious in anticipation of all those inlaws and outlaws gathering in one place.

What if you decided ahead of time to show up as who you feel yourself to be?

If you’re used to wearing a mask or using strategies to protect yourself, why not let at least one of them drop off? If that sounds terrifying, try it out for a few minutes with the most benign person at dinner. Most people don’t notice you’re all masked up like its Halloween, so they won’t notice if you let just one layer loose.

As long as you feel safe enough, it’s an interesting game to play. After all, it’s up to you to step into your own skin, comfy or not, so perhaps you give yourself permission this year to begin.

2. Acknowledge your personal, family and or friend situation.

You all may be at peace, enthusiastic about your lives, and happy to stuff your face together. Or you may be in a terrible fight, hate being in a crowd, are deep in grief, or worried about that relative who has gone off the rails. Whether it is temporary or long standing, let it be that.

Wishing life was different or getting angry at others for being who they are, where they are, and how they’re behaving is gonna give you indigestion.

Deciding ahead of time to make peace with your situation or come to a temporary truce within yourself may allow you to take the edge off. With that mindset shift, you might actually find some beauty hidden in the day.

3. Remember to wear pants.

This is for anyone feeling the stress of hosting and trying to make a meal tasty and special for everyone. Worrying about how clean the house is, whether the turkey will be moist, or if you have enough matching place settings is beside the point. You’re hosting. Everyone else is grateful they are not.

It doesn’t need to be perfect and you don’t have to worry about everyone’s wellbeing. Don’t fry your brain over entertaining. Even if your guests are grumpy and silently judging your spread, they’re still eating your meal.

So, forget worrying about what other people think.

Keep it simple and do your best. Above all, remember to wear pants. 


Or a skirt. Seriously, as long as you remember the basics like getting dressed and putting some food on the table, the day will be a success. Spray some lemon spray by the front door so guests think your house is clean and enjoy your day.

4. Focus on the worthy.

It’s Thanksgiving and the hint is in the name. Spend some time contemplating what’s really important in life. What are you grateful for? Even if life isn’t quite working out as you’d like, spend the day saying thank you – aloud and silently – for all you have been given, created, and are in the process of dreaming.

Be generous with your gratitude.

Play a game where you let everyone know your appreciation. One at a time. Thank them for who they are, what they’ve given you, or, if all else fails, for passing the gravy. Be generous – give that thanks away freely.

And don’t forget to pass some loving gratitude to yourself.

For showing up however you have on this day of Giving Thanks. And for all the ways you make the world sparkle a bit brighter because you exist.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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We Got Skunked

Decision time.

Do I take my dog out front in my pjs and pink fuzzy slippers to bless “his” fire hydrant or let him roam free in the backyard?

We’ve been a little overprotective of Milo ever since he broke his foot this summer while chasing an intruder. Especially since his tendency is to take off like a bat outta hell if he sees a squirrel or bunny. Yet, his foot had healed nicely and it was early, cold, and damp.

I kept an eye on him as he patrolled and watered the garden beds.

When he disappeared into the overgrown woods, I went to make my smoothie. Trusting he’d bark when it was time to get his portion. Mid-smoothie, I was prompted to look outside as I witnessed him leaping over the greenery and streaking toward the side yard. It was such a full out run that I went out on the deck to investigate.

My mind scrambled and I couldn’t understand why two black and white creatures were nose to nose in my yard.

Within seconds I was screaming “Milo, No!”while watching two snarling creatures locked in a battle. In hindsight, I realize my stress response had diminished my frontal lobe functioning. I was terrified that Milo was going to be bitten in the face by this creature.

Seems I forgot all about a skunk’s secret weapon.

I saw the moment Milo got sprayed in the face and his valiant effort to go in for one more snarl. I’m sure the burning was too much for him as he ran in a panic, rubbing his face in the grass. My extensive vocabulary changed to “Milo, Come!” as I ran along with him.

As he streaked by me on the deck, I saw his look of panic in his blood red eyes.

He’s quick and efficient. I’ll grant him that. In his frenzied state, Milo blessed the carpets in 3 rooms with that skunk’s parting gift before I caught him. Knowing I had to wash out his eyes, I leashed him and dragged the poor beast to grab towels and upstairs to the bathroom. Not even letting him pause for another wipe of his face.

As I ran the water, my entire focus was on protecting his eyes.

We were in sync as he brought his face under the warm water, flushing out his eyes. Quickly laying towels over the bathroom rug, I sought the dog shampoo. Only to find we had none. I grabbed my liquid soap made of plants which was good for sensitive skin. Not so great for de-skunking, but okay if soap got in his eyes.

Keeping up a constant stream of soothing language while lathering Milo allowed me to calm us both down a bit.

As my system reorganized and my higher order thinking came back on line, I realized a few things. He stunk. I stunk. My house stunk. And his eyes were clearing up rapidly. Once he had his roll about on the towels (and my bathroom rug) he was fluffy and a bit less stinky.

Leashed, I took him to the kitchen while I called the vet. “Watch his eyes.” 



I looked up how to get out skunk smell from a dog, my rugs, and my house. Just too complicated for me in that moment to do by myself. When I saw he was still shaking, I sat down and did a Body Code session to clear the trauma. No surprise that first up was the physical-emotional shock, unbalanced adrenals, and other relevant reactions. I treated myself as well while we moved through the protocol to help my system rebalance.

It worked well for both of us.

Too bad The Body Code doesn’t get out skunk oil. 


Next, I found the best rug cleaning service for stinky rugs and arranged for a thorough job three days hence.

With all my tasks done, I made peace with what had rearranged my day and that stink which was well entrenched in my nostrils. 

We took some sniff and strolls. Then sat outside on the deck for hours waiting for my husband to return from a trip.



Welcome home, lol. I quickly headed out to buy skunk shampoo and get my hair triple washed at the salon.

After a second bath that evening, I’d like to say Milo isn’t a skunk pup. But, I’d be lying. Eventually he’ll reject all that oil from his system, but not today. You might be gung ho about coating your dog in a skunk defying mix, leaving it on for 5 minutes, hosing him off, and repeating the process. But, I’m not. 



Our house has very clean rugs, towels on the furniture where skunk pup rests, and a calm dog who continues to keep watch over his domain.



I recognize the power of Energy Medicine techniques such as The Body Code every week in my office. And I saw its potential to help both of us quickly process the trauma of our skunk encounter. We’re all quite calm and tolerant of the subtle, but lingering stink. 



Milo could write a testimonial for The Body Code, but he’s too busy patrolling the yard as the apex predator he believes himself to be.

I won’t disabuse him of this notion. Yet, I will check the back yard before letting him out in the early morning. If I can assist you in processing the challenges of life, old or new, with any of the Energy Psychology or Energy Medicine techniques I know, please reach out.

It’s safe now ‘cause I no longer stink. 


 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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Love. Appreciation. Wonder.

Love

This is the energy back behind all form. You. Your family and friends. Loved ones who sing with the Angels. Santa. And every gift, holiday light, and tension you experience. It’s your nature. 

Let your Love glow.   

Love freely even when with people or in situations that make you crazy. We’re all crazy. Love the crazy. Whatever you’re doing, sprinkle it with love. If it’s your nature, it’s a natural impulse. Seek it and share it. 

Appreciation

My heart broke open this morning. Appreciating the fullness of life I was experiencing. The sweetness and the profound sorrow. The connections and the desire to reconnect. The hustle bustle and the stillness. It’s all in there. Life amazes me and I dissolve in appreciation, as long as I’m moving slowly enough to notice.

Pay attention. Appreciation wants to express through you.

It’s your nature. Be generous with yourself throughout the holiday. Appreciate where you’re at and show up as the real you. Doesn’t matter if your cookies taste good, you’re hungover, or just too damn cheery for most people in the room.

You be you.

Let your appreciation for others spill out into every interaction.

 

They really need this simple act of being noticed and thanked.
 

It’s a basic human need. Something we can all relate to. Plus, it just feels good. Kinda like drinking warm cocoa.I bet it isn’t too hard to find tiny and big ways you appreciate another person. Or a situation. Or even a really big problem.  



Appreciation invites freedom to the holiday table. 



And freedom is a much better dinner guest than tension or judgement.   



Wonder.



As a question. I wonder what marvelous thing or event will appear at our holiday celebration? 

As a feeling. It’s often a whole body experience with a sense that life has delivered something to your door that was way beyond your expectation. It could be momentary or sustained wonder. Either way, it feels great. Every cell agrees.



The magic of Santa. The new baby at the holiday table. The unexpected opening of hearts. 



Wonder at the stories in all sacred traditions. Of a light that guided the way to joy, peace, and sweet happiness with one another. On this Winter Solstice, I invite you to remember the Light within all beings and all of the natural world.



Seek and ye shall find.   



What you seek matters. For all of us.



I’m wishing you joy, peace, and love as you celebrate the sacred moments within this Season of Light. 



Thanks for being a part of this lovely community whether it’s receiving this Blog or showing up at Soul Sanctuary. I’m glad you’re around. You make my life richer with your Presence.



Happy holidays.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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I’m a Secret Librarian

True confession. I’m a book nerd. 

Reading is one of the great pleasures of my life. As long as I remember, I’ve devoured books. My home is filled with artistic book piles in most rooms. Set there to lure me onto the couch in order to gain a little knowledge or get lost in an imaginative adventure. 

I’ll trade sleep for a good book and often am running late to an event because “I’m at a good part.”

I never hop on a plane without two books. One to study and one to invite me into a new world. I overpack books on vacations so that I can choose the read of the day from my traveling library. For practicality’s sake, I tried, against my better judgment, to train myself to use a Nook but I missed the paper and ink too much. 

It’s no wonder I view book stores as my playground.   

Some of my best writing and creative projects have occurred in the cafe at my local Barnes and Noble. It’s as if I enter a zone or portal of creativity whenever I settle in to write there. I can work for hours, almost unaware of others around me, only to surface for an enjoyable break perusing the shelves. It doesn’t matter what department I enter, I find the perfect books and read a few pages. It’s a habit, I guess. Gathering a pile of books to “look at” and heading down a rabbit hole while sitting on the floor, engrossed by someone’s research or creative expression of genius.

I think this is where my career as a secret librarian began. In Barnes and Noble.

While my eyes scan the book shelf, I inadvertently notice authors out of alphabetical order or a disorganized display (gasp). Perhaps the books are left haphazardly laying upon the rows, even from other sections, as if someone dropped them there without regard. This desire to neaten and place books where they belong also arises in the public library, but doesn’t seem to cross over to other areas of my life.

I think it’s a love affair with the written word that has me working incognito. 

If I followed my bliss and spent more time at Barnes and Noble, their shelves would probably be in really great shape. It seems like a perfect volunteer position when I decide to retire. The only downside is that I’d probably discover something else to study and head back to work.

I decided to officially become a librarian when I found the perfect little free library in a nearby town.

 

I’ve seen those cute little bird house libraries and even toyed with putting one in front of my home.

That didn’t make much sense as I live on a quiet street where everyone can easily access books of their choosing. Or pop in their lovely vehicles to head to the public library or favorite bookstore. Anyway, I’m not so good with building birdhouses, even if they’re going to be filled with books.

Imagine my surprise when I noticed a little library appear at the playing fields where I sometimes walked.

People head there to walk their pets or themselves. Kids, teens, and adults use the field for personal training. Mostly it’s empty when we venture there for a nature stroll, but sometimes it is filled with the enthusiastic hustle and bustle of kids or teens practicing their favorite sport.

A summer evening may fill the place with kids practicing football, lacrosse, soccer, or cheerleading.

Game days bring the parents, siblings, and grandparents who overflow beyond the small bleachers to lawn chairs. It’s fun to watch and brings back memories of the thrill of little league games and working in the snack bar.

So, I’m already primed for enjoyment walking by that tiny free library. It draws me in.

I saw a bunch of old adult books. The kind you clean out after 20 years of sitting in your study. They sat there for weeks. Nothing coming in and nothing coming out. Plus they weren’t displayed well. Just sayin’. With all these hundreds of kids and teens running around, some old Tom Clancy books weren’t fitting the bill. So, I tried an experiment. I found some young adult fiction I had read in pristine shape.

A week later, the books were missing. Tom Clancy remained.

When I read fiction, which is the only book I’ll pass on, you’d never know it was read. I take off the cover and use a book mark. It’s a book nerd thing. I started to experiment. Dropping off a trilogy with really fat books looking brand new. They disappeared. I rustled through the books my kid never read. Hardbacks. Fiction. Biographies of brave girls. All gone.

I only drop books when no one is around. Hence the secret part of my librarian title.

And I send each book with a wealth of wishes. I talk to the book(s) as I head over to the tiny house. “I hope you find the perfect home and inspire someone to know how creative they are. I hope you help someone discover a love of reading .. create new authors .. encourage innovation .. alleviate loneliness .. open minds. I hope you travel well and enjoy your adventure.”

Of course I cleaned up that dusty box so whomever it serves has a lovely library that respects the books and their readers.  

Not everyone supports the idea of free little libraries. 

Some dissenters feel they take away from services offered by the free public library system. Or are a harbinger of attempts to gentrify urban neighborhoods. Two librarians from Canada described these cute little birdhouse free libraries as “a highly visible form of self-gratification cleverly disguised as book aid.”  Most supported the idea of these as a resource or an enjoyable hobby or just another way to share a love of creative projects, good reads, and generosity.

I guess since I just outed my secret about tending to a little free library in a diverse neighborhood, I’m now engaged in a highly visible project of self-gratification. 

Yup. I’m unapologetic. I love books. I love little cute libraries. I love being a secret librarian. And I love my public library. 

I’ll skip the cute tiny libraries in affluent neighborhoods and stick to the two I’ve found that serve a more diverse economic population. I’ve got no regrets, even as I acknowledge my flagrant self-gratification as a book nerd do gooder. Imagining children, teens, or adults grabbing a good book warms my little librarian heart.

In the end, I don’t really care who takes my books, if they are returned, or where they travel. 

I just trust they will land in the perfect hands to be read at the perfect time. As long as they disappear and I’ve got (good) books to share, I’m hired. I’ll let you decide where you land in this (mild) controversy about cute mini houses with free books. Read all about it here.     

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Does One Tree Matter?

Flash back to December 31, 2021. My husband and I sitting in the warmth of our home while exploring our giving plan for the upcoming year.

One area of focus always includes the environment. Last year we supported organizations clearing plastic and trash from the ocean (4Ocean), conservation efforts (Ocean Conservancy), and sea mammal rescue and rehabilitation (in honor of our budding Marine Biologist daughter).

With a new focus for the upcoming year, we discovered we couldn’t give up the ocean.

I recently learned it was snowing micro plastics in the arctic. Item by item, I remove single use plastic from my home and life. I continue to pick up trash as I walk in nature. I just ordered laundry sheets to try out instead of the plastic laundry soap jugs being tossed into landfills. Every little step brings me closer to honoring the garden I share with all humans and creatures.

I have a thing for trees. So, we decided to look into planting trees for the New Year. I just calculated our progress six months in. Oh, joy. Read on.

When I walk in the woods, I breathe easier. My whole body relaxes. It’s interesting for someone who only walks on a path and would only camp if hotels disappeared forever. I’m heading to the Redwoods in the Fall as they’ve been calling me for a visit. Can’t wait to walk in that marvel of nature. A sight I’ve only seen in photos.

I’m bothered (sometimes downright hot under the collar) when I think of the French cutting down every damn tree in Haiti.

Leaving that side of the island barren and dry. Another way that other countries have sucked the life out of that country, leaving the beautiful Haitian people in the dust. While the Spanish Dominican Republic is lush and inviting for tourism.

My heart breaks when I witness the destruction of the Amazon jungles.

I have been deeply saddened by the loss of the natural resources and the effect on the ecosystem. So many species, healing plants, and the biodiversity that extends to support the world’s health have been lost over these years.

What brought me to my knees last year was the realization that entire tribes in the Amazon were wiped out.

That’s hard to contemplate. The loss of indigenous tribes living deep within the Amazon dying off as their ecosystem is destroyed so we can have hardwood floors, pencils, and decorative bowls. So much wisdom lost. My brothers and sisters dying and the world barely knew of their existence. Aside from how hot the world is getting, I feel this just highlights how shortsighted we are. How shortsighted I am.

Trees are essential to life.

Nature needs forests and jungles which are shelters of biodiversity for the majority of the world’s plants, animals, insects, fungi, and birds. They provide medicine for the body and the soul (natural medicine, forest bathing for stress reduction) and produce nutrition fruit, nuts, and berries. They clean the air we breathe and are necessary to reduce the CO2 warming the atmosphere.

There were once 6 trillion trees on this beautiful Earth. More than half are now gone and disappearing at a rate of over 10 billion trees a year.

 

3 trillion trees gone so I can enjoy the desk I am writing on and chair I am sitting in.

My husband and I talked about trees. How we love to hike in the woods. The beauty and benefit of forests. The large pine trees we lost in our yard and the massive, ancient tree that fell on my childhood home. The protected space leaving fields and forests standing in New Jersey. How the Amazon is known as the lungs of the planet.

True not true. Wait, what? Turns out the Amazon only produces enough oxygen for its own ecosystem.

Check out the show One Strange Rock on Disney+. The episode highlighting the Amazon. Just when you took nature for granted, She turns you upside down. I won’t spoil anything, but I’ll offer you a hint: cloud river. Oh, joy.

Scientists suggest the cheapest and fastest way to tackle the climate crisis by taking the CO2 out of the atmosphere is to plant a trillion trees.

A trillion trees without encroaching on urban areas or farms. Not all scientists agree with this, but a heck of a lot do. You can do your own research at 1t.org. Looking through the pledges by corporations and large organizations, we knew we couldn’t match that impact of those pledging to plant 1 billion trees, 500 million trees, a million trees.

What can a single family do, we wondered. Now, we know.

Beginning in January, we planted trees for family and friends on their birthday. Or to honor a passing or celebrate an achievement. One Tree Planted allows you to choose where you want to gift your trees for planting.

A buck a tree. Yup, $1 per seedling that will grow up to change the future.

We’ve been planting trees in Haiti to honor our Love Orphanage family and the people of Haiti. We’ve been gifting trees in the Amazon so no other tribes, creatures, or plants are lost. In honor of the Peruvian Wisdom Keepers, the medicine men and women who hold the dream of a thriving garden with people living in harmony, we’ve planted a lot of trees.

Six month in and we’ve planted 1005 trees. All without breaking a sweat or the bank.

Every person seemed thrilled with their trees. Delighted to know their 22, 43, 65, or 79 trees were growing in a country far away from their backyards. I loved the 63 trees I received for my birthday. From Pachamama of course. You can bet I’ll be doing the math on December 31st.

One small action done repeatedly impacts the course of the future. This is true for good or ill.

Seek what bothers you in this world. Put your money, time, or talent in service to any group that offers an inspired solution with integrity and enthusiasm. Or start your own movement.

Every tree matters. Especially to our Mother.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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At Home in the Midst

This warm winter morning beckoned me for a walk, surrounded by woods, fields, and nature’s creatures.

I noticed a thick mist ahead and felt the pull of my desire to be within the white. Lost in thought, headed into the milkiness, I approached my destination only to discover that my sight was clear. The experience I expected did not manifest.

In momentary confusion, I looked back to see that the road upon which I travelled was now obscured. 



The mist touched every place but the circle in which I stood. I paused for a moment to breathe in the moist, still air. I engaged the present moment and the clarity it offered. Blind to what was behind or in front of me, I realized the benefit of clear sight when I was present, aware, and engaged with my body and my environment.

When I consciously joined the moment I was standing in, clarity arrived.

I’ve heard that sage advice many times: “be here now.” Yet, how often have I traipsed through my days trailing behind my mind which was peering into a murky future? Or getting lost in the mental mist of memory reconsolidated?

I took the opportunity to look into the forest, alive with a melodic stream, busy birds, and scampering squirrels.

Apparently, while I was cocooning indoors, the natural world had been actively preparing for Her perfectly timed reemergence. I don’t know why I was surprised that tiny seedlings had grown into small pine trees. Or by the evidence of greenery, flowing water, and new life everywhere. Perhaps the snow and persistent gray February skies in New Jersey had dulled my senses and distorted my memory.

Nature has always demonstrated how capable She partners with the evolutionary impulse.

Years of sitting, playing, and meandering in Nature have revealed so many wisdom lessons. I never had to look far to witness the emergence of Her latest work of art. Throughout cycles of seeding, nourishing, emerging, blossoming, and deteriorating, the natural world’s creative unfoldment has always been trustworthy. Laying down a Map of Wisdom for those with eyes to see and senses to clearly perceive the harmonious movement of Life.

Yet, Nature doesn’t need an audience to do Her thing.

She seeds, grows, dies, and rests to a rhythm so persistently harmonious. Nature’s emergence isn’t dependent upon social media “likes” nor does it require those seeking fresh air to stop and smell the roses. That’s why Nature’s wisdom is easy to miss. Especially when closed away in our homes, busy schedules, and distracted lifestyles.

As I walked, I pondered Life’s innate potential for perennial growth and the creation of beautiful spaces.

My sight was clear, as was my mind. Walking with my body, rather than racing ahead or lagging behind, a revelation emerged. It seemed new, like a seedling breaking through the soil, rather than an old intellectual understanding.

I, too, was a natural phenomenon.

 

Imbued with an innate ability to grow effortlessly and create beautifully in every cycle and season. 

Alert and aware, I recognized that I could walk blindly through the obscurification of a distracted life. Or choose to pause within any moment and breathe myself back into my body and the space it inhabited. I felt a subtle shift with that awareness.

As if my quantum substructure rearranged into new flowing patterns of harmonious light.

Honoring my innate trustworthy nature would allow me step out of my murky mind mist and show up within the midst of this Holy Moment. With Nature’s gentle reminder, I became more aware of myself as a trustworthy participant within this evolutionary process.

Relaxed and aware, I walked slowly within these natural, magical surroundings.

Gazing at the milky whiteness before me, I stayed present to the crisp clarity all around me. With ears to hear, I enjoyed the rustle of the wind and the crunch of tiny feet upon the leaves. I imagined tiny shoots of green just below the surface, biding their time and gathering their energy, before sneaking up toward the light. And I remembered what I have known all along.

I was at home in the midst. 


Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions.