I hope you’re enjoying midsummer even in the midst of uncertainty in the world.
I took a month away from social media, including writing this blog, in order to step away from the opinions and happenings of the world. This reprieve allowed me to enjoy the sweetness of my work, watch Hamilton (twice), read, and rest. I enjoyed a relaxed pace during my days. Spent time with loved ones, watched Netflix, stayed home, and slept longer.
I found the restoration had a surprising impact.
I wanted more. So did my body and my mind. So, I’m following this inner invitation to do less and engage the world slowly. I’m curious about what is unfolding within and around me. And I’m watching as the creative impulse is waking up. Wondering what will come of this change of pace. But certainly not rushing it.
The idea of a “Gone Fishing” sign hung on my door feels deeply appealing.
And I don’t fish. I do appreciate the natural world and have been basking in long walks in the woods, watching rainstorms, and sitting by a mountain lake. Watching bald eagles fly, ducks dive for food, fawns scamper, and a bear eat our trash. All magnificent, my favorite was the bear climbing into our trash enclosure. He was nimble and enjoyed the early morning for his exploration.
Until we got wise and locked our trash in the garage. I kinda miss that furry gymnast.
Another hot topic filling my conversations is the approach of the school year. Big decisions across the board as I listen to administrators, teachers, students, and parents. Every level of education, from preschool through graduate school, is being upended. The choices are varied. The opinions are strong. The reactions are vulnerable. The solutions are creative. The disappointments are endless.
And it could all change tomorrow. Such is the world we live in.
More and more, I’m dropping into the precious moment. The Now Moment. Into the report of sweet encounters between people. Into relaxation and my resting body. Into memories of good times. Into the practice of breathing deeply. Everything seems precious.
While it doesn’t seem like rocket science, it makes a lot of sense.
In one of my quieter moments, I was thinking about SisterHood families. And those in neighborhoods who have been deeply affected by the loss of jobs and the higher cost of food. Thinking about how Burlington City kids would be returning to school. Or not. Exploring what I could do to help.
When the phone rang.
My friend, Rev Hilda, was calling to let me know of the sudden death of a long time SisterHood volunteer. Nothing COVID related. Just a precious life ended suddenly. With the broad reaching impact on loved ones, friends, and community that loss always brings. I worked a lot with Evelyn. Saw her live through some troubles and courageously come through them. She was happy. Proud of herself. Connected with her family. The future looked bright.
You just never know what this precious life will bring. Nor what it takes away.
I wondered how I could pay my respects to a family who didn’t know me. And then I realized that I could pay my respect of Evelyn by paying it forward. To take an action that was aligned with her daily volunteer work. Giving back to the SisterHood community. Taking care of the vulnerable kids. Something Evelyn did with enthusiasm in a community that welcomed her into their lives.
You don’t have to know Evelyn to help me act like her.
Worlds apart, I imagine you share something in common with her. The desire to give of yourself. To share. To make the world a little easier for kids and their parents. If you’re interested in supporting the SisterHood School Supply Drive, scroll down for the flyer. Any NEW school supplies for K – 12 will be useful. It doesn’t make a difference if the kids are heading to school, choosing a hybrid option, or going the virtual option. As my daughter recently reminded me, kids still need school supplies.
I’ll be at Soul Sanctuary for the Sidewalk School Supply Drive on Saturday, August 22nd from 9 – 11am.
Free free to drive by and drop off some supplies. Bring a mask and have a lovely outdoor distance visit. If you’d rather I shop for you, that works. Reach out to me via email and let me know what serves you. If that day doesn’t fit in your schedule, I’ll let you know what day you can drop supplies on my front door step at Soul Sanctuary. Thanks for your help here or wherever you offer it in the world.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
We can get overwhelmed when thinking about the inequity in homes and schools. The reality that many kids don’t get back to school shopping nor show up with basic supplies, such as a notebook or pencil, is heartbreaking. Yet stories of teachers, neighbors, volunteers, and kind people abound. Remember to focus on the good! And the potential to do good. It not only primes your brain for good health, resilience, and emotional wellbeing. It might lead you to be the one who makes the difference for someone in need! Win. Win.
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.
