Does “Faith” Freak You Out?

Perhaps, I lost you at the word.  Faith.

Originally, “faith” had nothing to do with “religion”. 

See also:

Strong belief.  Loyalty.  Acceptance.  Constancy.  Truth.  Trust in someone or something.  Allegiance to duty or person.  Fidelity to promises.  Sincerity of intentions.  Strong conviction.  Confidence in a person or thing. 

Strong, weighty word.  Redefined through history and encumbered with a load that it did nothing to deserve.

My feeling is...what a loss.

The word has been translated by the very language that created it. 

With some, the fear of the word is palpable.

Mindfulness is about clarity.  Removing judgment. 

Science needs clarity to practice science.  Science, itself, will be greater when we clear our heads (our thoughts), bring awareness to our language (word), and follow through with unbiased action (experimentation).  When we perceive threats, in a spoken word, we elicit a fight or flight response.  We function from our primitive brain.  We react.

People have had “faith” in placebos.

Faith existed long before religion.

The English Language lost a weighty word to its “evolved” meaning.

I want to start a movement.  Save “faith”.  In fact, “keep the faith”.  Fear leads to paranoia and so much more. 

Let’s get mindful with our words.  We have enough judgment leading to dissension.  I’d like to kidnap “faith” back from the battle zone of religion (more on that at another time).

Will you join me in a “leap of faith”...an “act of faith”?

Maybe, what we really need to change is judgment and fear?  What are we afraid of?

Used as it was originally prescribed, faith sure sounds like a source of peace and tranquility.

When Success Became Failure

But look toward the sky?

A curious thing happened one day when we weren't looking.  Our confidence did a flip-flop.  The meaning of a simple phrase changed.  Completely.

"I KNEW it!"

That's the phrase.

Maybe you remember being in 1st or 2nd grade.  You, or another bold classmate, raised a hand.  "Ooo.  Oooo.  Oooooo.  I know!  I know!  Pick me!"

The teacher glanced over and said, "Joe?  Yes?"  You answered with assurance.  Her pitch became higher and pleasant, "Yes!   Good job!"

She looked down at the textbook to move on, a hush fell over the room for just a moment, and you responded one more time even louder, "I KNEW it"!

Then, one day, all that changed.

Maybe it was life.  Maybe time hardens us.  Maybe time disappoints us.  Maybe time proves that we may be wrong sometimes.

Maybe time makes us wiser...and maybe, it doesn't.

We begin wanting to deliver that "right" answer more than anything.  We want to be right so badly that the day we were wrong, or the day we watched someone else give the wrong answer, the world of right changed.  Success changed.  Maybe it was that first twinge of hearing, "try again", "get-ting warmerrrrrr???", or the dreaded moving on...from a nod to Joe to a turn to Sarah.  "Do you know the answer, Sarah?"

Whoa.  That was rough.

Perhaps, we became cynics.  Disenchanted with our possibilities.  Perhaps, our dream of playing for the New Orleans Saints didn't come to fruition or that the audition for The Voice was just not in the cards.  Perhaps, it's just safer to know that we WILL be wrong and be "prepared for defeat" as a well-adjusted grown-up.  After all, if Joe were a Boy Scout, being prepared doesn't only mean knowing how to make Boston Baked Beans over an open fire.  Being prepared, in and of itself, often has pretty grim, pessimistic connotations.

BUT...one thing did remain the same.  We wanted to be "right".

So...when we grew up, "I KNEW it" almost always meant failure.  After all, we may be wrong, but we didn't want to lose being right.

If we want to be successful, change the world, chase dreams, be a positive force, and make anything and everything possible, I believe we need to put "I KNEW it" in front of a mirror.  Pull out her old reflection and stick with THAT.

We need to stop proving our selves "right" when we fail and start a movement of "I KNEW it" meaning I can make a difference.  I can bring positive change to my surroundings.

Maybe harness our "inner child" of promise, excitement, creativity....and definitely, enthusiasm?

"The Ripple Starts Here".

We need to ask who is the genius?  I'm thinking it was Joe.  Confident, brave and a little bit brazen too.

Sometimes, I hear our 1st grade teacher saying, "Yes.  Joe.  You certainly do know!?"  Failure after each miserable failure.  "Your ARE right.  You're wrong again."  Awesome. 

Drop the world-weary psyche-out of adulthood.  Abandon the journey to failure.  Stop blindly traipsing along on the "mature" stepping stones of "I KNEW it.  I KNEW it.  I KNEW it". 
Yes.   You're right again.  Success!   You failed.  They failed.  The world fails.  Sounds like insanity to me?

What are we teaching our kids?  Maybe it's time for us to learn from them?

Then, you KNEW it.  Now, you don't.

Do you wanna be right?  Or...wrong?  Surprise yourself!  Whodda thunk being wrong could feel so right?

Pain Management and Mindfulness

The Healer

First a disclaimer:  Take what you can and leave the rest...

Before every mindful and meditating person stops reading this article beyond the first paragraph, please bear with me.

This is a story that I have shared with a number of people about an experience that I had following a surgery in 2009.  The pre-surgery tests and results came back and my surgeon and doctors were making plans.  A long, very difficult recovery was outlined and explained to me by a variety of specialists.

Prior to the surgery, I did my thing.  Meditating and reading the best I could.  I wanted the mildest pain killer and dosage possible and I explained to the doctor that the pain was so great that I couldn't get to the point of being able to meditate.  I needed something to take the edge off so that I could continue my process toward peace and relief.  For a person they considered to have "a high pain tolerance", they did their best to relieve the pain, but keep me completely functioning.

The surgery went perfectly.  One day, I may describe the experience further in my blog.  As they rolled me between the swinging doors exiting the room, I awoke.  The surgeon and anesthesiologist leaned down, spoke my name, reiterated the surgery I had just undergone, and said ..." you're going home".

In my delirium, that had a number of interpretations.

They wheeled me into recovery.  Now, I cannot explain the feelings of being in recovery, but I was the only one conscious in that recovery room.  Nurses and doctors buzzing around me to do all they could to release me quickly.  I was overwhelmed.  Disbelief is an understatement.  Guilty for having been so fortunate.  And...pain beyond any I had ever experienced (they forgot to administer any pain relief following the surgery).

I went home.  Joy, relief, disbelief, gratitude, love almost all-consuming.

But, there was guilt.  An unbearable emotion.  Underneath it all.  Overwhelming.

"Why me?  How did I get so lucky?  I'm so joyful and grateful and feeling such relief escaping the forecasts of my predicted future...but why me?"

I felt terrible, but I did what I do.  I meditated.

The pain was still beyond anything I had ever experienced.

I went into the meditation with this thought of horrendous guilt behind it all.  The thought itself was the "gorilla in my mind" at the time.  Enormous.

As I slowly slipped "back to reality" following the meditation, I began to feel something.  A relief.  An answer of sorts.

The answer seemed to be written for me.  Like a billboard becoming visible as I neared it, the answer in my mind was clear.

"Because you're not done yet."

I know these answers are "obvious", "simple"....I've been told that more times than I can remember...but I have also been told, "why didn't I think of that"?

That's mindful meditation.  The simple.

The greatest truths and answers are just that.  Pure.  Simple.

My point to sharing this story was a discussion that I had with young man who was undergoing tests for a disease that would change the rest of his life.  I listened to his pain and thought I'd share this story with him.  For what it may be worth.

He said to me, "you have no idea what this answer did for me."  He was so grateful and a look of relief and serenity crossed his face that I hadn't seen since he received his possible diagnosis.  He said, "You need to tell people this.  It's so simple, but we forget."  And..."Thank you.  Thank you so much."

If anyone feeling pain of any sort reads this, I hope they may find some relief in knowing that there is much more ahead for you.  No matter the type of pain and no matter the path ahead.  Yes.  You are in agony and you may have many questions about the pain.  But, remember.

You are here and experiencing.  You're not done yet.  Whatever that may mean.  There's some great mystery.  A gift is wrapped.

Obvious, I know.

Sometimes, the best, simplest answer is the only answer we have.

Mindfulness: When Worlds Collide

April 17, 2013.  Logan International Airport.  Boston, Massachusetts.

On April 19, 2013, I was in Boston, Massachusetts.  I was attempting to fly from my childhood home to my present home.  I don't need to tell you the story.  It's been covered.

The tower at Logan, in Boston.  I'm sure they didn't know what they may be facing.

The moment.  The experience.  The slice of time.  Oh yes.  Boston is strong.

Then...the connection.

I was in Boston reuniting with my family for one of the most life-altering, crushing blows that anyone faces in a lifetime.  I arrived in Boston, April 17, to lay my first greatest blessing on this planet to rest.  I was in Boston to remember and celebrate the life of my dear, enchanting, radiant and loving mother.

I speak a bit about my mother on Facebook.  There is far too much for me to say about her here.  Suffice it to say, her life is one of the richest and most selfless this world will ever be graced to witness.

My mother will always be one of the most amazing people I will ever know.  She had an endless supply of indispensable wisdom and an unmatched, tender gift for delivery of firm guidance.  Yet, she had a curious way that encouraged freedom, creativity, and ingenuity with a grace that most people will never be able to duplicate, let alone master.

During adolescence, I remember a discussion that we had frequently.  Whether I was referencing my friends' actions, or her opinions, she would say fearlessly, "Be different".

The strength, confidence, and faith in that statement still astounds me.  I could have been anything.  I could have done anything.  You've been there.  You know what I'm saying.  She challenged the world of adolescent possibilities completely -- with no fear or reluctance whatsoever.  That's faith.  That's love.  The absence of fear.  As is said often, "the opposite of love is not hate.  It's fear."

So...the adolescent mantras of independence and different became a joke to me at that point.  My mother's gentle teaching flattened the cliques and "cools" that were my world at the time.  Those independent souls advertising and proclaiming rebellious actions became silly.  They were all the same and worse yet, they "didn't even get it!"

I was seeking...different.  It was time to grow...and that was her lifelong message to me.  That was always her message.  "Do better" than those kids.  "Do better than ME", she would say.

I knew I never would, but I sure loved and respected anyone saying that...and here she was.  My Mom!

My life has proven to be a winding road.  A quest like that isn't pretty, but Mom never said it would be.

The journey has not been without mistakes, corrections, guidance and downright "face plants" (an expression of which cyclists are well-familiar).  The tests have proven numerous and endless as they are for all of us.  I am grateful to have stumbled through this journey, with all of it's bumps, bruises and scars.

As part of the challenges thrown my way, I faced one of the greatest questions that each of us faces throughout our lifetimes.  The very serious, relentless interrogations came about 25 years ago.  The "Trials" I call them now.  The ceaseless, painful inquisitions about my faith.  Sure, I had my childhood lessons of respect, rituals, and diligence.  I had no preparation for this.

I went to school.  Science was a favorite subject.  I had a million questions myself.  I wasn't prepared for this test.  I hadn't studied.  In reality, I was not only ill-equipped, I was flat out lame!

From my own experience, questioning my mother and her convictions, I knew anyone questioning me so seriously (and in fact, ferociously at times) was searching for their own answers in defiance and desperation.  After all, these inquiries were not coming from a child or teenager.

This was a perfect instance for which the third degree and badgering could have been the most miserable experience of my life.  At the time, it was.  But, now, I couldn't be more grateful for the answers I was forced to find and prove for myself.  The "evidence" and "proof" I had to prepare under intense duress.  Little did I know it, at the time I needed to survive through this torturous line of questioning for my journey.  I was enduring what I would need and use the rest of my life.  That cross-examination, in fact, was a gift to me.  The "opportunity" that is so often referenced in the "take-aways" from losses or painful circumstances.

My Mom used to say that everything in life comes down to math.  Problem-solving.  Awesome.

In March 2013, I noticed this one word.  One name.  My Mom's beautiful name -- etched in a railing encircling the end of my favorite pier near my home now.  Then, the fog horn blew.
As people we find comfort and security embracing the constants for ourselves.  Ironic, when we embrace the variables, the unknown...that's when everything begins and that's where we will find the most peace and comfort.
That's where everything becomes one.
 "It's all about the math."

Mindfulness was a big part of this exploration and journey.  Awareness.  Being in the moment.  Not judging or defining.  Not labeling or needing to categorize or make sense of anything.  In fact, solving without solving.  A solution in and of itself.

I began practicing mindfulness.  I began meditation.  I began studying a variety of practices, teachings, and disciplines.

Since then, I have a new appreciation for many of life's experiences that flow like waves into our lives.  Painful and joyous.

There are no coincidences...Coincidence is a mathematical term.  Two angles that coincide are said to be two angles that fit together perfectly.  That is in no way accidental.  In science, "there is no implication that the alignment of events is surprising, noteworthy or non-causal."  We lost something in the translation.  Again.  It all comes down to math...

Once a few years ago, I had an opportunity to test all that I had studied for the past decade.  I was extremely ill and experiencing excruciating physical pain.  If excruciating physical pain does not demand mindfulness, nothing else will.  A lesson, I now know, I had to experience or I wouldn't reach the point that I needed to reach.  I wouldn't master the lesson in time for my next step.  I am not the brightest student!

I began a compassion meditation.  Without provocation, or direct invitation, a phrase echoed in my mind as I withdrew from the moments of serenity.  I was ill and to be "restored" as we know it.  However, there were words that assured me there is no separation, no divide.  The only separation is..."as we know it".  "As we choose to see it."  The following words played over and over following this meditation and through the tests, surgery and recovery.

"On earth as it is in heaven."

I never really...I mean really...thought about what that means.  The meditation brought it into focus.  It was monumental in my mind.  I couldn't deny or avoid the words themselves if I tried.

"On earth as it is in heaven".

As I explored, "being different", questioning, remaining open, receptive, and problem-solving, these words would have been the least I expected to hear.  I was in a wide-open state.  Receptive to everything possible.  Desiring answers.  In fact, expecting to be surprised and blowing away all that I had ever been taught and "knew".  Maybe, even smugly allowing an "I told you so" to creep into my mind.   

What did I hear?

Now, I understand why those particular words were necessary for me.  I was treading in a territory of infinite wisdom and knowledge.  I needed a language translation.  I needed help!  I needed those specific words in a language I could recognize in order to be taught "something" for which there are no words.

"A peace that passes understanding".

For someone else, they will come in a language that speaks to them.  Same message.  Different language.  Simple.

On April 19, 2013, I was experiencing a personal transformation.  A day of reckoning of my own.  A day that my life, my journey, had been preparing me for all along.  On the surface, it was horrific.  My life had been blown up.  All that I had ever known from the moment I was born was in chaos.  I don't have the words to explain my visible, tangible self at that moment.  I'm still there to some extent now.  The loss of a dear loved one will do that.

Mindful of my loss.  Mindful of the magnitude of my personal sorrow and heartache.  And...aware.  Mindful that Boston...and the world...and our human connections, our strength and resilience are not really planted to the earth beneath our feet.  Mindful that there is no separation.  The limits rest here if we choose to limit ourselves.  

In my journey, my inner world and outer were mirrors for instants that day...and everyone was seamlessly connected.  One humanity.  One experience for me to see and feel.  The pain and strength and resilience...beyond anything physically limiting...and the choice.  Those who rose beyond the constraints.  Those who rose above the pain.  Those who rose beyond the limits...and of course, those who served.

I am reminded of a quote by Dr. Viktor Frankl, “What is to give light must endure burning.”

I've returned to another of the earth's beautiful spots.  My home is where the fog horn blows and the sea laps the pilings of a sturdy pier.  Like all of us, parts of me remain true.  Sturdy.  Strong.  But, there is a different kind of strength.  Something beyond strength "as we know it".

There is Boston Strong. 

Parts of me, like Boston, will never be the same.  I know, in time, we will all be better for it.  In fact, stronger for it.  This I know.  This is the journey.

Mindfulness gave me some of the answers that I needed as I fell to my knees and crawled along this most recent path.  I felt the weight of the world with this lesson, but I know the weight is proportional to the lesson.  So...I will be grateful.  One day.  Some day.

We press on...My Mom would saying "smiling"!

I had to come from the places I have been to reach, see, and understand where I am today.

There are no coincidences...when worlds collide.  And when they do...you can do the math.

I love you, Mom.

Prejudice? Read the label...

It SAYS "Chunky", but buyer beware?

Chunky or creamy?  Which one are you?  Maybe, you can swing either way?

Me?  I'm a chunky.  Or...no peanut butter at all, thank you.  Ya.  Pretty uptight and inflexible, I know. I guess we all have our "things".

I've been thinking a lot about judgment lately, and then, this peanut butter dropped into my shopping basket.  All of the sayings and deep thoughts came to mind.   "Judging a book by its cover", "leaping to conclusions", "buyer beware", "not getting what you pay for", "buying what you're selling me"...and, ultimately, prejudice and first impressions fused together in my now, favorite jar of all time.  Here she is!  Chunky Peanut Spread?

I ask...do YOU see a single, precious nut chunk in there?  

Me?  I didn't see a one.  My son (a chunky young man himself -- very thin, but a Chunky Man) was much more inquisitive and open-minded.  He looked very closely and gave an additional test.  He raised the jar to his NOSE, and he smelled the peanut butter.  As a peanut butter connoisseur, and he is (well-initiated to the nuances of good peanut butter I may add), he said, "this is DEFINITELY chunky". Whoa.  Texture is not everything!

We have a split home.  Three chunky.  Three creamy.  So, this was easy.  We grabbed a "creamy jar" to compare.  We unscrewed the creamy and sure enough he was right!  Even without the chunks, chunky and creamy SMELL vastly different!!

You can read the label and feel deceived.  Duped.  Short-changed.  Maybe you even feel like the victim of a terrible lie.  Betrayed.  You can return to the store and insist on a replacement.  "Chunky!  I bought Chunky!"  You can write the company a note and hope for a crate of pure, unadulterated Chunky Spread in return for their negligence.  Shoot.  You could call a lawyer.  

Me?  Somehow, I loved this crazy jar.  If it was possible, I would have kept this jar forever.  A piece of art.  I'd call it "People Butter" and rest it in a very special spot.

The outside may lead to a certain determination or hasty conclusion, but remember it's all about what's INside.  And, even upon closer inspection,  peering into the "jar of People Butter", there may be some truth to what the label said all along.

For me, one thing IS for sure.  When I see Chunky Peanut Butter Spread...when I "buy what you're selling"...when you're advertising "chunky" all over?  

You better have the nuts.

Where's the PC in Peace and Compassion?

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama Meets with Thai Buddhist Scholars

I'm struck by the notion that there is a "political correctness" attached to peace and compassion.  When, in fact, peace and/or compassion is "right".

In 2012, Californians voted to uphold the death penalty.  In 2012, the world witnessed war, upheaval, and atrocities at every corner of the earth.  In 2012, we continue to determine when "an eye for an eye" is justified.

My questions remain.  When are peace and compassion universal truths and not just words to use at this time of year or words to invoke during a healthy meditation exercise?

When are retaliation and punishment "acceptable"?  Do peace and compassion begin with the individual and ripple out to our family, neighbors, nation, and world?  Do the rules change for a nation under siege?  Do numbers of lives lost constitute a repeal of a compassionate response?

Is war different from a single slaying?  Is the children's song, "Let Peace Begin with Me", a hope, dream, fairytale?

We seem to assign an appropriateness to morality.  We seem to decide when it is OK to "show mercy" and when we can stray from that ideal.  Does this judgment and determination defeat the entire concept of peace and compassion?  Is a compassionate life conditional?  Are we capable of deciding when it is OK to wish ill upon another?  How many people have to arrive at a conclusion to make an exception to our moral code?  When is the consequence "it's all right to take a life under these circumstances" acceptable?

Does the anonymity of a group vote make a difference?  Are we safer casting our judgment and punishment when we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow executioners? Do we dilute our personal responsibility and personal cognitive dissonance?

It is not always politically correct to say that peace and compassion should be exercised in some personal and global situations.  It will not win you a popularity contest.

In an article on this site, we discuss the notion of refraining from voicing opinions about issues or situations of which we know nothing.  But, we all do that.  Our jury system counts on that.  We are specifically removed from cases in which we DO have personal or business experience that may impact the case.  In fact, the more we know and experience, the less we are wanted on a jury.  Biased with first-hand knowledge and experience.

I've been called to jury duty again.  I get called to serve every year without fail.  If you believe in the concept that we bring about events in life that we dread or fear, time and time again, until we deal with our issues, I am an example for you.  Judgment.  A concept that I dread delivering when I am not the individual impacted by the horribly painful deeds of a perpetrator.  Most recently, following the Sandy Hook Elementary shootings, we saw Robbie Parker, father of 6-year-old Emilie Parker, express compassion in a situation requiring supernatural fortitude.

I have lived, forever grateful, that there are laws and law enforcers in the world.  I am extremely grateful that we have willing jurors who actively participate in our system as well as the "couch critics" who are steadfast and confident in their own determination of meting out punishment.  I get hung up in the details.  I get tied up in the contradictions.  And...I feel "who am I to say" what punishment fits the crime.  The victim may be sitting across from me in the courtroom or in another country.  I'm being asked to give my opinion in something I know nothing about and worse than that...I'm not the one in agony.

It would be easy for me to crusade in the name of peace and compassion.  It would be easy for me to dole out righteous punishment.  Neither would give me peace.

How many wars are fought in the name of peace and compassion?

Even the youngest of all have a sense of what is "right".  Even the weakest and meekest know peace, compassion, fairness, and goodness when they see it.  No matter how rudimentary their understanding may be.

In The Moral Life of Babies, Professor of Psychology, Paul Bloom of Yale University, discusses his research.

Morality... is a synthesis of the biological and the cultural, of the unlearned, the discovered and the invented. Babies possess certain moral foundations — the capacity and willingness to judge the actions of others, some sense of justice, gut responses to altruism and nastiness. Regardless of how smart we are, if we didn’t start with this basic apparatus, we would be nothing more than amoral agents, ruthlessly driven to pursue our self-interest.

Babies have an understanding of morality and we can be grateful for that.  In our  "adult wisdom", we understand when morals are conditional?  Is maturity knowing when compassion and kindness are no longer appropriate?

When legal and/or political "paperwork" is in order, are we "free and covered" to proceed without honoring our code for a compassionate response?  With the proper documentation, our transgressions from the natural, biological, innate moral code can be usurped.  Our "grown-up, "mature" cultural moral code includes a clause to dismiss ethics and compassion for all?  When is "do unto others" dismissed and retribution the "right" course of action?

Do peace and compassion "begin with me"?  I like to believe so.

I like to believe we are all active participants in the "ripple".  But, when circumstances change, when there are numerous victims involved, when countries are threatened, are we all Charlie Brown?  Is our moral code essentially Lucy's football?

Contracts and declarations cover our departure from the moral code?

If we speak of peace and compassion on a global scale... our voice may not only be ignored, but likely censored if it is determined that the "unrest" that "peace talk" may bring will put lives at stake.  No small irony.  Sometimes, "peace and compassion talk" can be the greatest threat of all.

Journalism, in particular, has always courageously treaded in this territory.  Journalists hear the not-too-subtle message from powers that be, "Hush.  We have our 'reasons' to depart from (ethical conduct) here".  Of course, ethical conduct gets redefined.  Truth and fairness get redefined.  Retaliation and retribution may now BE ethical.  Suddenly, what is in the "public interest" and what will save lives (peace and compassion) is no longer the answer.  Fundamental TRUTH itself has changed.  Reality changes.  Peace and compassion are not PC.

Many single, courageous voices in history have proven the dangers of peace and compassion.  In fact, peace and compassion may be the most dangerous and fearless position of all.

Those who walk the walk, and talk the talk, following these standards and codes are the most steadfast of all.  In fact, with no weapon and no retribution, those who live lives of complete peace and compassion hold the greatest power and make the greatest lasting changes we all enjoy long after their often-too-soon departure.

Often, they give their lives staying true to what is good, right, peaceful, and compassionate.  Staying true to our nature.  With or without realizing it, they remain the greatest threat.  Their weapon.  Peace and compassion.  Perhaps more feared than any automatic weapon or drone strike.  If they speak about peace and compassion, they are not PC.  Perhaps, most unfortunate of all, they are completely misunderstood.  They are not heard to be speaking out for saving the lives of ALL of those in harm's way.

To those who don't understand the deepest meaning of peace and compassion, peace and compassion in certain instances, under certain conditions, is just not PC.  At some point, I think most of us fall into that category.  Most of us can only aspire to become more like Robbie Parker, father of Emilie.

But, peace and compassion is for all.  Peace and compassion is for those fighting in the name of peace and compassion.  Peace and compassion needs to come out from the closet and be spoken about in ALL circumstances.  

We are only human.  But, we have people speaking and living with higher ideals.  Higher moral codes are possible.  Are we using excuses?  Reasons?  Is there an excuse to stray from what is "right"?

We knew what was fair and right from the beginning.  As babies, we had a moral compass.  What are we so afraid of now?

Freedom is at stake.  Are we "free" at all when we react against our morals and ethics and lose ourselves to something we know to be wrong in the first place?  Are we prisoners and victims for the offenders?  Controlled by their deeds?  Or, are we pioneers and free to act true to ourselves?  As is true in so much of life...we may need to look to the children.

Quotes and Photographs

Contributions by Friends of Davana Design

Humanitarians Work in Regions of Conflict

Humanitarians often work in regions
of conflict while risking their own lives

It is not surprising that people react with hatred toward those who humiliate them, control their movement, or deny their rights. There is nothing theoretically interesting in the individual or collective experience of anger and hate as a reaction to power that imposes helplessness on us or denies our very being. This is hatred as a response to power.  (Aljazeera.com)

Human rights, oppression, politics...and psychoanalysis?  In this Season of Giving, Gratitude, and Peace, Niza Yanay discusses the psychology of hatred as being the repression of love, denial of attachment, and fears of dependence that may play a role in political relations. She considers the "enemy" as the "forever lost friend" and peace as possible.  What do you think?  Can such volatile relations lead to positive change if we embrace a new understanding of peace, love, and "the other" as "one of us"?  Do the answers lie with humanitarians who risk their lives each day living with a collective respect for peace and the health of all of humanity -- while celebrating diversity?

Stress Breath

Stress relief is simpler than you think.  When you feel that unmistakeable rise in your heart rate or that tightness in your muscles, there is a quick way to restore a sense of calm.  You may not have the time or place for an extended workout or a few moments to meditate or perform your favorite relaxation exercises.  Maybe a public speaking engagement is moments away.

Try this quick cleanse.  It won't require your running shoes or visualizing a tropical island!

Just once, inhale as deeply as you can, filling your entire diaphragm with air, imagining that you will be blowing into a balloon. Exhale through your lips as if you are trying to fill the balloon with as much air as possible.  Holding your lips in a "balloon blowing", pursed manner is a very important part of this exercise -- as is blowing out as if it is a balloon you are attempting to inflate.

You will feel the immediate difference this makes.  If you have not yet made breathing exercises an important part of your health routine, this may be your chance to introduce yourself to healthy breathing!

It is surprising how long we sustain ourselves on shallow breathing -- expecting that our bodies and minds can function on so little of what we need to survive -- oxygen!!  We drink water, eat, sleep, exercise...it's amazing...what we too often forget?  Breathing...feel the difference.  Take a Stress Breath...and feed oxygen to the starving tissues of your mind and body.  They will thank you for it!

Meant to Hear

With the exception of someone explicitly asking or crying out for help, most of us do our best not to overhear conversations.  To not...eavesdrop.  However, after reading a bit about "awareness" and listening to messages around us, messages that are essentially meant for us, I left to take a walk and photograph some scenes at a local pier.  Not even "aware" that what I had read had left that much of an impression on me.

Minding my own business, or so I thought, I was standing and photographing a scene when I heard an unlikely group of friends approaching.  A well-dressed man and woman were casually walking toward me.  They appeared to live a comfortable life.  Well-kept clothing.  They carried the accessories of tourists traveling the coast.  Beside them, a bearded man, draped in a heavy, worn, over-sized coat.  His shoulders round and hunched under the weight of a tremendous knapsack.  Garbage bags filled the tilted, twisted bike basket on the front of his rickety, rusted, squeaking metal machine that had obviously seen better days.  He rolled his old mangled friend alongside his limping left leg with all the respect that a man of his means could give his true love and most-prized possession.

I didn't hear the majority of the discussion.  Thank goodness.  I always feel that I have more than enough of my own business to attend to without even thinking about hearing others' conversations.  But, I did hear one line.  One line rose above the sweet sound of the fog horn and shouts of fisherman advertising their catches.

The homeless stranger, who I now consider a sage, let out a prickly, gruff noise and out came a statement that said so much in so few words.

Out from behind his grizzly beard he snorted, "Why would I give an opinion about something I know nothing about"?

Wow.  The context was irrelevant.  The statement rang true.  A truth that stood alone.  A fact that simply existed.  Outside of space and time.  Untouched by the limits of any one conversation.

How many of us could learn so much from just that?  Just listening, learning, seeking, keeping the peace by not feeling that our opinions were necessary.  Just listening or saying the dreaded, "I don't know".  Not having all the answers for things which we just truly can't answer.  Allowing the words of those with greater personal experience just stand.  Uncontested.  Humbly admit we just know nothing...until we know something -- and being comfortable in acknowledging our uncertainty.

I don't know where you are, Sir.  I don't know if you still carry your cumbersome load and you continue to stroll your seasoned machine down the sidewalk or into the brush by the sea.  I do know that you changed my life, and I will never forget the mark you made on me personally.  The gift you gave to me.  A question that I will remember far longer than my "eavesdropping" reading.

What's strangely sad for me?  I will never be able to tell you, "Thank you".  But, Sir, thank you...wherever the road takes you...thank you.  From me.  A sweet lesson I will never forget.  Words I was meant to hear.