I was playing the game “Headbands” with my dog the other day.
You may have played the game with your kids. You choose a card with an image and statement “I am a …..”. Sticking it upon your ‘headband’ facing others, your playmates offer clues and you have to guess what you are in the moment.
Playing board games and interactive games like charades are good fun.
They engage humans without screens, encourage positive social interaction, activate the creative brain, and produce feel good chemicals via lots of laughter.
Given my kid has flown the coop, we hoodwinked our dog to play a rousing game of Headbands with us. We even let Milo choose the first card, but he seemed to have a hard time guessing what his card said.
Australian Shepards are supposed to be smart, so I wasn’t sure why he was having such a hard time.
He played the game well as he sought clues in the yes/no answers to his questions. “Am I an animal? Do I have four legs? Do I chase balls? Do I live with a great family?” Yet he couldn’t seem to grasp the correct answer … “I am a dog.” I thought maybe he was losing his mojo.
Then he looked at me with that all knowing gaze and I finally got it. He was beyond smart.
So when he asked me the next question “Am I the infinite, interconnected, harmonious flow of energy that many call LOVE also know as the fabric of the Universe?” I simply said yes.
We stopped playing the game at that point.
Instead we walked outside marveling at the how the natural world was waking up in unison as if it knew exactly what to do and how to do it. I had plenty of time to notice the sights, smells, colors, and surprises as he frequently stopped to “smell the roses” and water everything else. It was really more of a meander than a walk. I recognized that I experienced more of nature’s gifts with him than walking on my own. So wise, this D-O-G.
Sometimes he surprises me. Like the day he taught me that sweet treats are to be shared.
I thought my frozen yogurt was safe in the middle of the coffee table, yet I forgot how quickly those paws could jump up. My miss was his reward as he enjoyed the top half of my dessert. When I suggested his behavior was unappreciated, Milo gave me the side eye and wandered off to enjoy his sugar crash in his comfy cabin.
I also appreciate how Milo demonstrates how to Be in the Now.
Eckhart Tolle has nothing on him when I walk in the door to be greeted as if I appeared out of thin air. What a celebration of the miracle of “walking in” to a new scene … a new moment. The energy is contagious and I totally understand why dogs wag their tails and people spontaneously speak that sing song voice offered to babies and pets. When I return to the car to get my last bag and return 15 seconds later to the same response, I don’t know whether to value the ability to be truly and delightfully present or check for dementia.
Just when I think I know something, Milo reminds me that not everything is as it seems.
Like when he quizzes me on the nature of reality with questions like “what is real?” and “who am I really?” I just never know what “game” he will come up with next. After our rousing game of Headbands, Milo suggested I meditate upon the nature of anagrams. Hmmmm. D-O-G. That explains a lot.
One thing I know for sure, I have a lot to learn from that wise being I thought was a dog.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Turn off those screens. Game playing as a family enhances wellbeing and the potential for creative navigation through life. Game playing indoors or racing around for a hilarious game of hide and seek develops “soft skills” which improve social navigation, creative problem solving, and working together as a team. Collaboration, delayed gratification, emotional intelligence, and ingenuity are only some of these soft skills which support success in formal education and workplaces. As the brain has the potential to change and grow through the lifespan, game playing which includes enthusiasm, learning new skills, creativity, and laughter are good medicine.
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.
