Everywhere I look, there’s worthwhile work to be done.
Our oceans are filled with oil spills and plastic garbage. Our atmosphere is polluted and forests are disappearing at an alarming rate. Worldwide, we’re grappling with a pandemic. Adults are losing jobs and unable to care for their families. People of all ages are sick, lonely, dying, and afraid. Our country is divided on so many issues.
People everywhere are filled with rage, despair, insecurity, sadness, hunger, and fear.
Everywhere I look, I see opportunities for worthwhile work. Important activism. Creative solutions. Helping hands. Witnessing our world leads me to speculate: What to do? What to do? What skills are required? What is the focus of my worthwhile work?
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the questions and the need, I choose to sit still.
Really still. I wondered about the work I already do. And the worthwhile work that may be calling to me across the noise of my busy life. “I thinked and thinked” as Winnie the Pooh would say. And then, I didn’t think any more. I guess you could say that I just “be-ed.” In this state of beingness, a thought emerged:
I realized how these qualities help Life flow more easily for myself and others. So, I pulled on my favorite jeans, stuffed Love and Kindness in my front pockets and headed out the door.
Actions guided by Love and Kindness worked with people of every age, ethnicity and gender, across all walks of life. They even worked on me. They worked in nature – pristine and damaged. They worked across the internet and within the inner net. These tools worked. Although sometimes, I forgot to stuff my pockets.
On those days, I walked under a cloud. Miserly in my misery until I ran across some kind, loving soul with pockets overflowing.
And I was helped to remember the power of love and kindness, applied flexibly and consistently throughout the day. Over time, I stuffed my pockets with Clarity and Wisdom, Fearlessness and Ingenuity, Humility and Grace, and the ability to Laugh and Cry with friends and strangers. Along the way, I forgot the original question. I just chose to be Love and Kindness or whatever quality was called forth from me in the moment.
It’s not an exact science, but it seems to work for me.
Until I forget to fill my pockets. That’s where you come in. Your love, kindness, courage, and ingenuity helps me a lot. Thanks for that. And keep it flowing.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Being kind toward others is associated with stronger mental and physical health, relationships, life satisfaction, communities, and even economies. Some researchers encourage you to cultivate kindness as a practice for wellbeing. For you. For the world. So think in terms of circles. Start offering kindness to family, close friends, office mates. Smallish is fine. Smiling, holding doors, saying thank you, picking up a piece of trash on your neighbor’s yard. Then expand your circle. Tiny acts of kindness for strangers. Concentric circles of kindness. Could they change the world?
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.” And he calmly parked much farther away. As we walked to the entrance, I asked about that statement.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home.
They feel like family as this was their second visit to New Jersey. We’ve also spent a week together in Damanhur and the Temples of Humankind in Italy. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.
I planned to work a bit, complete some projects, and enjoy slow days with plenty of relaxation.
All of that certainly occurred, but beneath it all, something else began quietly inviting my attention.
The plane had begun its slow fall toward the earth when a sharp ache pierced my ears. Half-dozing, half-aware, I surfaced into the moment just as the toddler in front of me woke with a scream that broke her open. The sound wasn’t defiance or misbehavior. It was pain.
I felt her small body struggling to make sense of something she couldn’t name.
Her mother bent over her with the tenderness of someone trying very hard to be a good parent. But her soothing came dressed in urgency, in the quiet pressure to behave, to use words, to be okay, to not disturb those seated around her. Her voice shook with the effort of managing her child’s distress and her own rising shame.
