The other day I was listening to a podcast interviewing Father Greg Boyle, an extraordinary man who works with rehabilitating gang members in Los Angeles. Several years ago, I read his book Tattoos on the Heart, introducing us to the nonprofit he founded, Home Boy Industries. Through poignant stories, he shows how love can heal even those with the most brutal behaviors.

Several times I found myself tearing up while listening to Father Boyle explain his relentless philosophy of love no matter what…

For some years, I’ve been aware of the expression, ‘At the end of the day, we are all just walking each other home’. It always fills my heart with sweetness to think of the tenderness this image evokes.

This week the phrase entered my mind again and lodged itself there, happily taking up residence. The image brings joy and comfort to me and makes me say, ‘Yes! This is how I want to live!’ I want to walk, and be walked, home. I want to love and care for others – ideally regardless of who they are, although I admit to needing some further work in that regard. I want to be part of the interwoven fabric that holds us all to each other in love. I am part of that fabric; we all are…

Dear Friends -

I want to share with you some inspiration and creativity...

Everyone knows these times are challenging. When the war in Ukraine started earlier this year, an effort began to create a collection of essays, poetry, and artwork that are expressions of creativity, inspiration, and hope. I'm honored to be among those published in this book.

This anthology, called Art in the Time of Unbearable Crisis, published by SheWritesPress, is now available wherever books are sold. If you look on page 135, you will find my entry. I submitted one of my blog posts - Underneath the Heartbreak, there is Love - that reflects my belief in our inherent goodness, even amid acts of war and other harmful behavior.

I recently went on a week-long silent retreat.

Each day was a repeated schedule of sitting meditation (30-45 minutes) followed by walking meditation (30-45 minutes), sitting, walking, a meal, sitting, walking, sitting while hearing a talk, walking, sitting, walking, a meal, sitting, walking, sitting while hearing a talk, walking, and sitting.

All in silence. One hundred other people were doing the same thing, so I was far from alone, yet I was by myself. Just me and my mind, really. At first glance, that sounds pretty scary. But over the week and with the guidance of the teachers, it becomes fascinating. There is so much to notice, to learn.

It took three days just for my mind and body to settle into this rhythm. Then the magic began…

Today I am so angry. And sad.

Tough emotions to lead with. But it’s just the truth, and my practice asks that I be honest about that and feel it fully.

I don’t intend to express political views here, but sometimes it’s more important to speak than avoid offense.

This week the Supreme Court reversed Roe v Wade, and although I knew it was likely, its actual arrival makes me weep. For me, this is about women, rights, and safety. I weep for the marginalized women and families whom this will hit the hardest.

I weep today for all women. Women continue to be second-class citizens in the ethos of this and so many countries. Despite progress, we still see that culturally, women's experience doesn’t really matter. Especially brown and black women.

Sometimes this disrespect seems so obvious it screams in our faces. But often, it is subtle, and we are seduced into thinking that women have equity with men and that the patriarchy now cares about women. It does not. If it did, there would not be a patriarchy that gives rise to laws that take basic rights away from women…

I was embarrassed, frustrated, resentful, defensive, discouraged, resigned, and back to embarrassed. What an array of lively disagreeable emotions! On a fine spring day this past May, they all coursed through me in a matter of seconds. Here’s why …

I have a serious problem with my lawn. And it is offering me a wonderful life lesson.

My front lawn is a veritable potpourri of weeds, some withered, some very hardy, all sprinkled among patches of dirt. They just came spontaneously to embarrass me, I am sure. Every day in May was a super-spreader event, sending dandelion seeds happily dancing onto my neighbors’ lush lawns. I am told I need a new lawn but must wait until the fall when lawns get properly planted.

Returning to the opening parade of emotions … turning the corner as I returned from a walk, the lawn loomed before me. Embarrassment, frustration, discouragement… I noticed them all flow through me. I took a breath.

Embarrassment feels like this.

Resentment feels like this.

Discouragement feels like this.

… and on and on…

“What good is meditation when the world is burning? Isn’t it time for action!”

This was a repeating question asked by the participants throughout a three-day retreat I just attended with much-beloved Buddhist teacher and nun Pema Chodron.

In her 86 years, Pema said she’s never seen this degree of rancorous division among people, and she welcomed the question. She held fast to her deep conviction that compassion is the path beyond this milieu of disregard for and disrespect of each other, in too many cases even of our very lives. That capacity of deep compassion lies within each one of us, Pema teaches – without exception. It is inherently part of us, and there are ways we can cultivate and expand it. She calls this our basic goodness. It is our Buddhanature, the Christ within.

The way she knows to cultivate goodness and compassion involves meditation and intentionality.

It begins with finding within ourselves two attitudes:

A willingness to let yourself be touched by the world - and the courage to do so.

A longing to bring down barriers between people rather than put them up…

(Excerpt) Is this who we really are? I find myself asking this question every morning when I watch the news. I’m not a historian, so I can’t readily call upon centuries of human interaction to know how to hold our current days’ news in perspective. But I do know hatred when I see it. And I do know that underlying hatred is fear - desperate fear. And I recognize greed when I see it, also fueled by fear...

Centuries ago, the Buddha called out three ‘characteristics’ of life that give rise to suffering – greed, hatred, and delusion. I am seeing these in so many places too much of the time...

Is this who we really are? I don’t think so…

Sometimes – often - I feel thankfully clear about what I want my life’s work to be about. Especially in this season of my life, when I have more freedom to spend my time and energy on things I want to do. I choose to practice and teach meditation, I choose to shepherd my upcoming book into the world, and I choose to nurture friends and family. It is my deepest intention to live a life that supports the most essential well-being of others, and I do all these things with deep joy and satisfaction.

And yet, some days, I wake up in a state of bewilderment. Is this, in fact, what I should be doing…?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my argument with my aging and aching body, particularly when I try to move it the way I used to, like in yoga class. I said I was working on a new way of relating with my aches and pains and other accoutrement of aging. And I am.

Because I am super clear now that to rail against the changes life brings is to argue with an unarguable.

But today (even as spring arrives), I turn my arguing toward winter…

The challenges of the events and circumstances of our global community keep rolling on. We are probably not the first to declare, “These times are too crazy, too hard, too much suffering, fear, and uncertainty!” As challenging as these times are for us, such times are not unique to us. I suspect people around the globe have said and felt this for millennia – and they were correct for their time.

But these times are our times.

What are we to make of these times: the threat to American democracy; a global virus the response to which unleashed anger against our own; the continued need for social, financial, and racial equity; climate crisis; and now we watch as a sovereign nation undergoes blatant invasion for no provocation? People of Ukraine are dying, being maimed, separated from their loved ones, losing their homes, experiencing fear and loss that no one should have to know. And, of course, they are not the first.

What are we to make of this?

We as a human species are trying to figure out life…

The other day I had the privilege to sit in the sandy backyard of a small cottage in Sanibel overlooking the ocean. This brought me great joy. I had the even greater joy of being there with my daughter Savannah for a week. Waking up early each day, I established a ritual of making myself a cup of coffee in the black plastic coffeemaker supplied by the cottage. I took my cup out to the lime green Adirondack chair outside, positioned to gaze through the palm trees to the view and the sound of the ocean waves. There I meditated to the rhythm of the gently crashing waves. Sublime – all of it!

But I digress. What I really want to talk about is coffee – and ordinary joy…and the preciousness of every moment …

I have a confession to make.

I don’t love yoga. I have a belief that I am supposed to, though. Yoga is a sister meditative practice – meditation through movement. Yoga brings us into our bodies as it invites deeper awareness of who we are, where we are most stuck, and leads the way into greater ease. I should love this!

Another reason I have a belief that I should love yoga is that I have been involved in embodied movement my whole life. I used to love running, and now I love walking; I studied martial arts for many years, studied dance for years, did weight training - and always felt strong, flexible, and comfortable moving my body.

But now, when it seems every day brings some new ache or pain, some new motion to avoid, some further limitation, movement does not come as easily and certainly doesn’t feel comfortable or fun…

I am probably the 1000th person to write about Covid pandemic fatigue. What can possibly be said that is new or even helpful at this point?

Many of us know this unique kind of fatigue – living a kind of groundhog day while feeling fairly house-bound and fearful of contact with other people. Waiting.

This weighs on us. It takes a toll.

I hope I am being descriptive here and not whining. I know the place of privilege from which I navigate this pandemic, and I am grateful every day for that. I am aware of how many have suffered through illness, instability, hardship, and so much loss. Emotional and psychological struggles have increased and will likely continue for some time.

We know this is not normal and we don’t yet know how ‘normal’ will be redefined. Whatever lies ahead, we know that humans need people, community, contact, freedom of movement, freedom from the continual threat to our sense of safety and agency.

And we need peace from the pressure-cooker of the news cycle, the national discord, and relentless uncertainty.

Uncertainty – this is the crux of the matter, I believe. The uncertainty feels smothering and unnerving…

There are so many sources of inspiration and words of wisdom in the world, and I am a subscriber to the notion that we hear what we need to hear when we are ready to hear it.

I experienced this during a retreat led by renowned western Buddhist teachers Joseph Goldstein and Sharon Salzberg. Joseph talked about the distinction between rushing and moving quickly.

Immediately this intrigued me. I am a natural ‘rusher,’ meaning I often move from one thing to the next without pausing between tasks or even thinking about the one just completed. Joseph describes rushing as a state of mind; a habit carried in our nervous system that propels us toward the next thing somewhat mindlessly.

There is a seductive temporary satisfaction in rushing …

It’s a common life experience that some relationships come and go, while others last a lifetime. Some fade away through benign agreement, or interests change, and a parting of ways feels natural.

Then there are those relationships that end or become more distant in a shroud of hurt, misunderstanding, or confusion. Or those that end in anger and the acrimony lingers on.

Today I was reflecting on a friendship that ended in unspoken one-sided distancing. We call this ‘ghosting’ when one person just stops talking to or responding to the other without explanation. The hurt and confusion rose up in my chest again, and again my mind tried to grasp what happened; did I do something wrong? Being ghosted hurts. It leaves us in painful mystery about what happened and opens floodgates for anger to enter.

I noticed how quickly – in a heartbeat – my mind started spinning stories about how the former friend must be harboring judgments about me, and likely speaking badly of me behind my back. My heart tightened as I imagined this, and I gritted my teeth. My mind spun passive-aggressive fantasies about telling them how wrong and blame-worthy they were. As though any of these contrived stories would help. No – it only hurt more, piling on to the original hurt.

But I knew that although my hurt and anger about it were REAL (because I felt it), the stories I made up were not necessarily TRUE. Such stories are Real but not True, regardless of how right we think we are. It can be so hard to remember that we made them up…

One morning while I meditated, a thunderous beating of helicopter blades shook the house. It set off a series of emotions and thoughts for me to watch. Curiosity – what was going on? Gratitude – that I didn’t live in a war-torn area, where rumbling in the sky would set off terror.

Then came the (admittedly crazy) fear that maybe there was a search for someone dangerous nearby, a news story transpiring outside my door. Now my mind was getting busy – hooked by these compelling ideas.

I was so tempted to get up and look outside to see what was going on.

But I didn’t. Instead, I noticed all these thoughts and emotions I was manufacturing, and I took a breath.

… if we allow ourselves to face what wants to push us off the cushion (i.e., our emotions) eventually we will learn something meaningful and helpful about ourselves.

This ability to sit with restlessness, urgency, or craving for something - something other than what is happening right now – is a key in overcoming habits and addictive behaviors…

I was walking in the woods, following a yellow-marked trail. When it became a blue-marked trail, I didn’t mind. I had plenty of time, and I knew the park was not that large; eventually, any trail would lead me back to my parked car. This is what I thought.

Plus, I had a map app tracking me on my phone. It was a glorious fall day, and I was happy just to be out walking.

After a while, I suspected I had been at a certain fork in the trail before. Maybe more than once. Definitely more than once. I consulted my tracker and decided which way to turn. I soon learned I was wrong - again. Maybe I did this more than once… Suddenly I felt that sinking sense of shame flash through my whole torso. How stupid am I? … My inner critic held court…

I walked through my suburban neighborhood streets, noticing so many sounds. I heard car engines, wind rustling in the trees, my feet crunching leaves, birds singing, my breathing, cars swishing by on the distant highway, and the muffled roar of planes overhead. All was good.

Then a man in a hooded sweatshirt (it was drizzling) stepped out of a side street just ahead of me and turned down my street. He walked in the same direction a few paces ahead, head bent, lighting a cigarette.

Immediately my gut triggered an age-old reaction. Be careful!…

I don’t think I can ever get tired of the Sanibel beach vista. It’s always there, but my relationship with it is one of never taking it for granted. Sometimes the sky is crystal blue – sapphire – and the clouds are big, puffy, and white. Sometimes the sky is so gray you can barely see where it touches the water on the horizon. There are always gentle waves, and sand, and shells. Always the green beach vegetation, bushes, palms, trees. When I walk along the beach, feet in the warm water, eyes taking in the whole scene, I am filled with a sense of timelessness. Although I know that even this is not forever…