I stood at the intersection of one of Washington’s busiest intersections, waiting for the Lyft now twenty minutes delayed. The rain was cruel and unforgiving, with pea-sized frozen pellets lashing through the once tranquil sky. Strangers shuffled past in long queues, like ants blindly following this forward motion.

Had a bomb exploded they wouldn’t have been disuadeded from this seemingly endless path; one absent the lure of a higher glory.

Our habits have become like small cages, forcing the illusion of status to higher ground. The wise man yields, where the fearful hesitate; like thoughtless drones – a means with no end.

“I must create a system, or be enslaved by another…” William Blake reminds. To be free of these bindings, we must first believe in that which is beyond the realm of course and imagination. To see, is to envision; to practice noticing and understand the simpler things.

In peace, my sweet friends….

Namaste ❣️

The traffic yesterday was nearly impossible – the distraction of rain causing numerous delays as rising floodwaters threatened the ‘only path home.’ As the traffic lurched forward, a young woman in the car next to me began screaming and yelling – in a final fit of rage, she slammed her fists into the dashboard.

I thought to myself, ‘how odd, these attachments’ – casting every last effort into such self-limiting means.

“In our busy world, we tend to overlook the capacity we have to allow the mind to settle down and rest,” Jack Kornfield writes, “to become deeply silent and peaceful.” Though, how often do we consider an alternate measure? To accept life’s blessings without the burden of qualification?

Someone once offered that we accept only what we know,  that we are ‘incapable’ of seeing what a closed mind keeps from view. And yet, although the habit of conformity offers an ease within its complacency – still the heart seeks that which can often only be imagined…

A lasting peace tendered at the crossroads of willingness and release.

In peace…

Namaste ❣️

In his book, The Sun My Heart , Thich Nhat Hanh speaks to the duality presented in our meditative practice.

“Meditation lets the sun of awareness rise easily, so we can see more clearly,” he writes. “When we meditate, we seem to have two selves. One is the flowing river of thoughts and feelings, and the other is the sun of awareness that shines on them.”

It is both the source and the lesson, an endless engagement between consciousness and will. What we feel, what we believe – our only impediments. “Lay down your sharp sword of conceptual thinking,” he urges. “Don’t be in such a hurry to cut yourself in two.”

Just as the rolling waves, our thoughts peak then diminish – the light of awareness dancing precariously in its balance. Until such time that the heart finds its release within the cadence of breath’s assurance.

Knowing that when the light of awareness is permitted to shine, the nature of our thoughts is transformed.

And, we? Oh, my sweet souls…we become.

In peace…

Namaste ❣️

I watched an old man walking along the side of a well-travelled road. ‘Homeless Vet’ his sign read, ‘Please Help.’ A cold rain had been falling for hours, causing his wet clothes to sharpen the outline of his brutally emaciated frame. He paused for a moment, wiping the rain from his brow – it was the only hint and measure of defeat.

As the light changed to red, I saw my opportunity. “Hey,” I smiled, shouting from the window. “You need a lift?”

I don’t know what possessed me. Suffice to say I could hear my father’s gruff warning cry, “Whatsa matter with you picking up strangers like that??” To make matters worse, I had my then infant son in the car. But I was young, (mostly) fearless and wanting to ‘change the world.’

Just as hesitation began to form, this matted plume of unkempt glory forced his face through the window. “I’d give anything for a hot cup of coffee,” he sighed.

Looking up, I couldn’t believe what was now right there before me – an old friend and neighbor from many years ago. He’d fallen on hard times after his wife passed away, leaving the matter of life and family in his sole care. “How is this possible,” he cried, recognizing my face.

In the months to follow, I helped him regain access to the simpler things – food, running water, shelter and finally a place of his own to call his own. We shared our afternoons together, our memories dancing with the spark of adventure. Of course, the way he tells the story ‘an angel came to rescue him in the night.’ But, honestly, I think it might have been the other way around.

I’m often asked why I limit donations to that of a single cup of coffee. It’s simple, so that I may always be reminded of a desperate man standing alone on the roadside in the pouring rain. And weighing the impacts of my own hesitation, chose to stop to help anyway.

And, in doing so, once again – found my friend.

I get a little teary-eyed thinking of these circumstances, how everything came together so seamlessly. As if by some mastery of Divine intent, a series of impossible events designed to carry the lesson always near.

We can not judge what is not fully known, my friends. Not should we allow the habit of perception to rule our intentions. And now, the donations received go directly to good.

In peace, my sweet friends…I love you all…

Namaste ❣

My father was a veteran of World War II; an anti-tank weaponeer responsible for dismantling the tread of the Panzer fleet. under direct fire, he’d dash through the brambles placing by hand the first of many detonations.

from Normandy to the Battle of the Bulge, he fought valiantly alongside many of his childhood friends – many of whom died defending the rights and freedoms of those they’d never know. They were the voice of the voiceless, tireless in their pursuit of eqaniminty and justice.

He returned home a broken man, his natural heart rhythm displaced by a continual panic and dread. Hypervigilance, I believe that’s the term – more simply stated, he was terrified of the sounds of this world.

When I was just three years old, we moved from the city into a house in the woods. Surrounded by the dense cover of night and brush, he found his solace there – with every ‘extra’ moment he put back into that land.

Sometimes when we are broken we retreat into the comfort of what is known, the familiar. Inwardly, our

It strikes me how much of our environment influences our well-being, speaking in subtleties where logic may fail. We struggle within the torrent of unresolved emotion, thrashing for the assurance of stable ground. And yet, even facing our greatest challenge – the sounds of nature surround, infusing their gentle tones…beckoning us home where we belong.

Where we belong… amongst the flowers, the trees…where life begins and ends…and begins again.

In peace, my sweet friends…

Namaste ❣

In his article, “Just Sitting, Going Nowhere” Lewis Richmond reminds that whereas the practice may not help us reach our destination, it does help to define one.

Just sitting, going nowhere is the essence of our meditative practice, connecting our understanding of the physical world to our experience within it. Beyond which, there is a weightlessness – where hesitation of heart is suspended.

Do we stay or do we remain?

“Don’t try to get somewhere, to do something,” he shares. “Instead, be like a little child—naturally joyous, naturally aware.”

From here, our fearless exploration of this world folds into a deeper-heart view. Until absence becomes a really stuck.. and we, are free again.

My friends, thank you for the blessing of your patience this past week. Know that the energy shared was carried forward in so many countless of ways.

In peace…

Namaste ❣

There are many ways to engage our spiritual path. The first is with a softened acceptance, and a sense that all is right and just. The second engages our fear and intolerance; like a hot glowing coal, it is immediately cast aside.

And, with that, our understanding of that which has likely occurred. We lose site of what is presented in this moment – a lesson in courage, cultivating our beliefs.

Up the mountain, and down again..the breath quickens just prior to release. What we know, what we hope, what we feel…becoming shadowed imprints, fading into that growing light.

And in that light, our edges blur – opening spirit to the grace of a newfound boundlessness.

At the summit’s peak, our aperture widens – welcoming the grit and pain with each boldly empowered step. Beyond which…we become, we become.

In peace, my beautiful friends…I love you all.

Namaste ❣

Many years ago, before I became sick… I used to run. I like running in the fall weather for many miles on end. And on into the spring…when the Tulips would begin to hang over the fence. To me, the road was endless – every foot drop accented by the boundlessness of breath.

But when I became sick, that road became altered. And these adventures, once the highlight of my day, took on a strange new peril. Until I stopped running altogether – too afraid to engage the source of my fear.

It was too hard, I thought to myself – an impossibility, I’d say. But then one day, today – I took a long, deep breath and rustling up my pride I just ran.

Not fast, at all, mind you – more like a shuffle. But the feet were moving, and with each bold step courage found it’s place against an unexpected trail.

We think we know, but in fact we don’t. It’s interesting, isn’t it? How much of our existence is willed through perception. Causing us to forget the very basics of motion – one foot, carried forward and through.

Is it strength? Is it resolve? Or, rather simply, the transferrence of hope until habit? The bottom line is one never knows until there’s courage enough to try, try, try…

In peace, my sweet friends…

With love and gratitude, namaste ❣❣❣