Rest in Peace, Jerry Fuchs

It's been awhile since I was this inspired by reading about another person's life. Death has a way of doing that - inviting people to articulate what is most preciously present in their hearts. I am currently being drawn into the comments and articles being written about Jerry Fuchs. Continuously I am moved to tears by what an incredible human it seems he was and how wonderful that he was alive so fully for as long as he was. I am flooded with emotion by how capable some people are of living in a way that is a genuine gift to those they come in contact with. As individuals we are capable of having such an impact on others and it is clear that Jerry Fuchs lived his life in a profoundly enlivening and inspiring way that added so much to the world. I can only imagine the shock and devastation that his family and friends are feeling right now and I continue to send blessings of love and support to them during this shocking and devastating time. And I am thankful that it feels like he is one of those people who has left everyone still alive with palpable memories of his love and presence that will hopefully remain close and real for them. From one friend of his:

"You were truly one of a kind, and whether you knew it or not, people wanted to be in the same room as you, or near the same room as you, because maybe just maybe, some of that radiant joy and in-the-moment spirit you exuded would rub off on them. You didn’t take it all with you, because there are a lot of people today who are going to feel mighty responsible to carry and spread that joy with them for the rest of the time they have here. And who knows now how long that might be. You were a really good drummer, some might say the best we had, but you were a greater friend. I love you and miss you, Jerry."

I knew Jerry in high school. I didn't know him well at all. He was a couple of years older and greatly looked up to by my group of friends. He was a genuinely sweet and approachable guy with so much beauty and talent. And so we adored him! Clearly that's continued to be the story of his life though I would say more than being adored, he was highly respected and extremely influential and inspiring to many, many people around the world.

He died in a tragic freak accident this weekend. The internet is being flooded with reports of his death as he was a well known drummer. I am learning that his talent was tremendous, stated as one of the best drummers ever by many. And yet all the comments and articles that are written by people that knew him (from acquaintances, journalists, band members, fans and friends all over the world) people are consistently addressing the depth of what a genuinely kind, friendly and considerate human he was. It seems that it doesn't matter if people knew him well or not. I get the feeling that if someone had any contact with him they walked away with the sense of heart connection that comes along with being 'really close' to someone. It sounds like he was a guy that was genuinely available and willing to connect fully with whoever and whatever was in front of him. As I said, I am deeply inspired and moved as I'm sure you will understand when you read the comments below that are filling me up with so much love, admiration, and respect.

"Always considerate. Always polite. Always thinking of others. Always had a good time and ensured a good time. So enthusiastic and passionate. Our lives are different than how they would have been if we had never known him and will be different now that he is gone. THANK YOU JERRY."

"A true friend and exuberant, buoyant spirit."

"It’s hard to believe, there was something so PRESENT about Jerry that it’s almost impossible to believe he’s gone. It’s the passion he brought to his performance, he struck me as wholeheartedly committed to what he was doing, no matter who he was playing with."

"What a talented and totally genuine person he was."

"I was able to catch up with Jerry in Detroit last month when he was on tour with Maserati – that night alone made me realize how much I loved that dude beyond his musically ability, but his love for making people like myself realize that life really isn’t that bad, even if I did suck at bowling."

"I know exactly what you mean about inspiration. Seeing Jerry play always makes you want to find something difficult to do and do it. I didn’t know him but whenever I saw him play drums I wanted to go out and achieve something."

"I'll miss you Jerry, when I hear thunder I will know that is you up in the sky tearing the shit out of the drums."

May you pass peacefully along on your journey, Jerry, and may your love and presence continue to blossom in the hearts of those who have been graced by your life.

All Swirled Into One

To be honest, I am often fascinated by my experience of being alive. As in, easily amazed! So I guess this time right now of living in the process of so many major life transitions is no exception. And yet, it's definitely new for me. I wish I could easily put words to the nuances and extreme spectrum of feelings and experiences I'm having. I can't do it easily, but I will give it a try!

As a whole, I feel like I'm living many different lives all swirled into one. They blur in and out of each other, overlapping, building upon, disappearing and re-emerging. It's an exhilarating party of experiences. The old joining with the new, familiar and unfamiliar, light and dark... it's very exciting.

And then at other times all the parts don't feel like one life at all. They become compartmentalized. For a moment I'll only be able to feel one thread. Intellectually I know that the others are still there, but a feeling of anxiety will narrow my perception.

It feels like a dance between harmony and chaos. In the frames of chaos, while they feel aggravating and invasive, I get to see the specifics of that particular thread that is holding me down or confining me. Like a mirror that has shattered into many fragments. I get to rest in one shard and notice the details of what it looks and feels like. What is being reflected back to me? I learn its uniqueness. And during the melodic phases it all spins together, the colors blending, creating a new beauty that is birthed from all the connections.

In my heart and body, this all plays out through a huge spectrum of emotions that I feel, that catch me, control me, tickle me and invite me to pay attention. Sometimes the pace at which I swing from one end of the feeling spectrum to the other is fascinating. I'll fly in open-ended freedom sparkling with possibility, promise and potential. Confidence glowing through me. Excitement adding pep to my step. Joy twinkling out the corner of my eye and life wrapping me in an inner smile.

And then suddenly that openness is abruptly punctuated with a barreling thud of doubt and anxiety. Mischievously those contracting emotions creep into my skin and bones, throbbing through my heart and thoughts in unexpected moments. They burrow into my eye brows, yank at my heart, tug me down, spin me into confusion, agitation, uhggg, huh?, and not quite right. A shot of insecurity is injected into my blood stream. Without knowing it, I begin to take myself, my life, my experiences oh-so SERIOUSLY!! (and fortunately, even when all of this is going on, there is a steady constant of content. Of trust. Of knowing that it's all just right.) And yet... I'm feeling the effects of taking myself so-very seriously!!

and then...
ack-a-lacka- splack
spiff, pooof, a wac wac

{shake, shake, shake, shake}

My love for life comes funneling back

The journey feels a bit like an amusement park. Riding the rides, roller coasters flying up and down, tumbling this way and that. Pure joy and passion is the ground where I stand and yet underneath there is an intermittent thrum of fear that surfaces, mumbling rhythms of 'you're not doing it right'... Continuously inviting me to slow down. Notice what's happening. Accept. Love what-is. Rest in stillness. And before I know it, I've moved onto the next ride!

I was on a walk one morning after a particularly emotionally/energetically active and aggressive day. I had this feeling that I was disintegrating. I could feel the spaciousness in my body and cells. An airiness. Pieces breaking apart and disappearing, a field of emptiness present within me... as me. A peaceful calm. I felt how clearly the only thing that mattered was the step that I was taking. And the next step. And the next breath. Exactly what I was supposed to do was to take in, really savor, each moment and the environment around me and inside of me.

I then had the realization that I had no typical identity handles to hold onto. I don't have the habits of being that generally help to shape my identity. In that moment I had no job or profession. No significant other. No home that was my own (I'm 'boarding' in another family's house). No active community that I was tightly woven into. None of those typical outwardly obvious things that one might generally define themself by. I had me. I had life. And this step. And the next, and the next.

This recognition helped me open deeper into a breath of rest. Here it is. I'm living in the unknown. There is little habit or familiarity hinting at what might come in the next moment for me. There aren't the usuals to predict or inform. And yet... there really still are. And here I am. Living what-is. Learning to love what-is in new ways. Continuously being reminded to be gentle with myself and to be patient.

That's a sliver of my inner world.


Many photos are from my Flavors of Life album
Swinging in the Sky by McMorr
Roller Coaster Thrill by Carlos Lorenzo
Path - Should I follow? by Azzazello

Celebrating Life

My soul is glowing with recognition, opening wide in awe and wonder and resting in familiarity as I experience Autumn emerging in the mountains of Appalachia. The leaves are changing with their bright life bursting forth, one last powerful hurrah before they let loose, releasing into the heart of winter. It's such an honor to be here for this process. It invites in me to celebrate the exuberance of life and the beauty of change!

(ooh, the photos seem to lose their punchy color in these images. They are a bit better when you click on them... and if I played with them, they'd be even better... another time!)

A Bright Welcome to This New Year

"Release painful patterns through embrace and not through struggle. We open our hearts to ourselves, each other and to the Universal Presence in which we are sustained. On the brink of this new year, we awaken to renewed choice. We seek the thoughts, images, feelings and actions that will more clearly reflect the Loving and Peaceful Heart always at the center of our being."

~ Bet Alef High Holy Day Prayer Book

Last night began the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah. This marks the beginning of a new year and according to the Jewish calendar it is the year 5770. Rabbi Ted Falcon pointed out that this is a one-year (add the numbers up until you get to a single digit). A one-year symbolizes the beginning. We are at the beginning of a new cycle right now. What kind of a cycle do we want to create in our lives, in our communities, on this planet? What impact might we have if we actively take responsibility for how we grow into this New Year? Wouldn't it be amazing if as Rabbi Ted said, this could be the "big one year" in which we realize our oneness?

And so I ask myself: What thoughts, images, feelings and actions do I want to live this year? How will I more clearly reflect the loving and peaceful heart always at the center of my being? How will I more clearly see and reflect the loving and peaceful heart always at the center of your being? Of our collective being? What does it feel like for me to open my heart more fully to myself, others and the source that sustains me and us? This year, I will discover new ways to wake up, recognize and live the fullness of who I am, the depth of my yearnings, the bright vision and sense of possibility that I see.

"This is a year that needs you to be you."
~ Rabbi Ted Falcon

These are the questions I will be resting in today and for the next 9 days until Yom Kippur - meditating, listening, setting intentions, singing, dancing and dreaming what's possible into being. I will follow Rabbi Ted's instructions that it is my job right now to dream the biggest dreams and see visions as large as I can. I will do this for the sake of being an active servant to life, nourishing love, peace, healing, and wholeness in the world. This year the universe needs me to be me. Rabbi Ted invites us to ask ourselves,

"What am I being called to bring to this time?"

I think about Chris Corrigan's recent post about intention... Now is a time to cultivate action that is rooted in intention and to keep asking, "What is my life dedicated to?”


If any of these questions spark something in your heart, please listen and follow that spark!! And if you'd like to share what emerges, I'd love to hear.

Playing in the Waves

My life feels very interesting right now!! Some personal story telling.

In the Fall of 2004, as I was finishing up graduate school, I was in communication with a non-profit that worked with teenagers in foster care. This program was located in North Carolina and they were expanding to include a camp for youth and families. Among other things, part of their aim was to provide these children a consistent place and community where they could return each season, reuniting in their village, held by the wilderness, joining with a community of peers and self-discovery mentors while uncovering even more of the wonders of their being and the gifts they behold. The hope was that they would receive support, find strength in their sense of self and feel like they belonged, providing ground for them as they prepared for the often abandoning process of aging out of the system. And most importantly, that they would know a genuine sense of home.

I was deeply engaged in the creative process of this new camp being born and had the great fortune of writing my own job description that was enthusiastically embraced. I was astonished by the blessings unfolding. About to receive a Masters of Education in counseling, here I was creating my dream job and being invited to live it. Wow! Amazing!

And... life is always filled with surprises! In November of 2004 I traveled to North Carolina to help facilitate staff training and to meet the team. And then in early December there was a sudden shift. Things had changed and this perfect unfolding of what was to be next in my life had another course in mind. I would not be working at the camp after all. Time to recalibrate.

So in January of 2005 instead of returning to North Carolina (where I had been living before attending graduate school in Texas), I set off on an adventure into the unknown. I stuffed my three new letters (M.Ed.) into my glove box and set out to experience the Pacific Northwest. I had many friends and colleagues between Seattle, Washington and Vancouver, Canada. At two other points in my history I had almost moved out to the northwest. It felt like now was the time to explore this region and see if it wanted to invite me to stay.

My plan was simple, give what I have to give whenever I can, wherever I am. Offer my skills and talents. Be open to what's possible. Notice what emerges. Follow my heart when I hear something calling. I gave myself 6 months to try out living in this way and to see if I wanted to live in that part of the country. I figured if I was genuinely giving whenever I could something in the form of a job would open up. What else could the universe want of me? And if no job or practical plan emerged, well then I would hit the classifieds and take the traditional route at the end of that 6 months. Travels and visits unfolded... and in May I was offered a phenomenal job at a school in Seattle with a beautiful mixture of creative freedom in program development, a variety of ways to use my skills and talents, the joy of working with children and adults, and being in a thriving community of learners. And so began the next chapter of my life... the chapter which wrapped up this June.

I'm reliving the a fore mentioned pattern of surfing in the unknown, giving what I have to give, dreaming, listening, noticing, learning and following "the spark of yes." This morning a big belly laugh of surprise caught me when I ran across the job description for the camp that I wrote in October of 2004. It actually splashed me in the face with an awe-inspiring, cosmic-laugh that barked: of course! The job description is posted below and the humor is in how clearly it expresses the path I am on right now, articulating the kind of work I would like to do more of wherever I end up landing next. You can compare it to the document that I wrote in June of this year (along with other information at my current website) talking about some of my current interests, passions and offerings. You might also notice that somehow in these last 4 years I got a lot more wordy! (grin)

I'll be leaving the Seattle area on September 29th coming full circle as I head to North Carolina. Please feel free to help me dream forward a lively future and stay tuned as I continue swimming in the unknown, riding the waves of excitement and anxiety while holding sacred my dedication to follow my heart, practice deep listening and keep on learning!

This Little Seed of Mine, I'm Gonna Let it Shine

Tick tock, fingers locked.
What to write?
How to talk?

a rhythm, a voice, a harmonizing force
fluency, disruption and curiosity, of course!

Ever since some point in my young life, I’ve identified with trees. Mom, dad, do you know when that started? They are my teachers when I need wisdom, friends when I long to experience belonging, mirrors when in a search for validation and reflection, support to rest upon and give my weight, and elders willing to make contact with me, hold me close, and shelter me from the rest of the world. The trees, they help me let go, they allow me to release from the habits and contractions, the mind looping and obsessing, the wondering and searching. They hold me still and steady and provide space for me to open -- expanding, releasing into the essential beauty and oneness of this sacred moment, feeling connection with all of life, and grounding in the solid wonderment of me, of life. Thank you dear beings of wood, earth, soil, sun, water, rain, breath, fun.

A brief pause for an update on my life:

Change, change, everywhere

asking questions
listening to what’s here
recognizing aliveness
centeredness that’s clear…
and crumble, crumble, crashing it goes
breaking up perceptions
of clarity and form
scattering ideas and concepts
building a foundation for a future that’s near

following my heart
pause, pause, pause

listening for guidance
pause, pause, pause

thinking, scanning, action planning
pause
pause
pause

repeat

In March of 2002 this image peeked out of my subconscious and invited me home. While the drawing didn’t quite capture the beauty of the tree and the alive posturing of the young girl, I heard its song and my bodybeing felt the familiarity of that existence. At home and at peace I feel when tucked away in the base of a big solid tree. Protected. Free. Spirited. A pulsing life force emerging through grounded essence, connected to a web of existence, alive, as is, of service, here.

Right now there are many elements about what is next in my life that I don’t know. Where will I live? What will I do? As I listen and look for these answers, I continuously invite myself into deeper inquiry and discovery around the aspects of my being that I do know… or think I know!!

I am called to become rooted in purpose and place.

Which means… much inquiry (writing, drawing, visioning, thinking, dancing, talking, looping, dreaming) about what is the purpose I feel called to, what kind of place (what all is included in my idea of place) do I want to root and roost in?

And so this illustration by Terry Widener captured my attention with a bit of longing. Instead of actually rooting, could I just hang out in the roots? I know that I am being called from the place of hanging out inside the trees for respite and security, into the realm of being a tree… big, bold, beautifully being, breathing, bending in the breeze, beckoning others to believe. . . (believe in ourselves, believe in what's possible, be with what-is)

There are two guiding questions that arrived for me a couple of nights ago… that are steering my listening right now and igniting much energy and excitement:

1. What invitations would I love to receive? What could someone or someones invite me into that would be so evocative and affirming that my being would readily leap and say YES!, recognizing a soul’s calling, a place to step, a direction that might root what’s next?
2. If I am a seed right now, what is in my seed? (am I a seed to become a strawberry plant, oak tree, lilac blossom, dandelion?) What is in my seed?
   

seeding at Rialto beach last month

Good Being is Contagious

“Good being is contagious.”

~ Brandon Leonard, Youth Mentor

I met Brandon at workshop during a mentoring conference. His bright spirit and
compassionate perspective was the highlight of the workshop. This comment rocked my world!

Photo by carf from a powerful story that is part of their Children At Risk Foundation. This organization is an incredible example of using social media to invite involvement for a meaningful cause. I just stumbled upon them because they have very moving pictures that are all under a creative commons copyright. I'm in awe as I look more into this rabbit hole of goodness I've just discovered. It's true, good being is contagious.

Your Story Grows My Story

There are times when someone shares a story with me and it pops me open, spurting me out of the narrowness of my lived world and bursting me into an ah-ha that there are ways to experience the world that I’ve never imagined. I expect these experiences when I travel to new places or immerse myself into new cultural experiences. I love it when this happens and I’m not expecting it… which it did twice the other day. I'm so grateful to these beautiful souls who showed me something new and insightful.

One woman shared an experience of when she was in college and was in a class where part of their grade was based on class participation. She and another woman in the class were very shy and never chose to spontaneously participate. Every couple of weeks or so they would get together and intensely study the material for that class and plan for their ‘spontaneous class participation.’ She said it was always surprising to the professor that the two quiet women in this relatively small class would have something to add on the same day!

Another woman told me about her experience of being in a room filled with people that were passionately involved and invested in the work they were doing in the world. She had never experienced being surrounded by so many people that were passionate about their work. It was an eye-opening and seemingly body igniting experience for her.

There are so many different ways to live in and engage with the world. There are so many different types of people with whom to surround ourselves. In every moment we’re making a choice about how to engage, how to contribute, how to receive, what to offer, what to follow, what to be… so many choices and so many beautiful kaleidoscopic combinations of ways to live.

It humbles me to hear experiences like these, to have other people’s stories shake me awake to realities I didn’t know existed. It makes me stop and take a moment to reflect upon who I am, feel grateful for some of my ways of being and opportunities I’ve had, and recognize areas where I can grow.

I have largely taken granted my ability to jump in, ask a question and engage something or someone that interests me. This is a way of being that has come naturally to me… but doesn’t come naturally to everyone. In my narrow world, I hadn’t thought about the idea of actively planning ahead to participate in a conversation. It makes total sense and I feel such respect for this woman who recognized what she needed and wanted to do and took actions to help herself get there. In our conversation she taught me a lot about planned spontaneity and has opened my world to that pathway for growing spontaneity.

The woman in a large hall surrounded by people passionately living their calling told me, “I’ve been surrounding myself with the wrong people!” I took a moment and imagined myself in a world where people around me were going through the motions, doing what they do because it’s what they do. I felt the sparky pulse of passion and purpose ooze out of the living beings, that reflection and light around me growing dimmer. And, as you might imagine, a gushing wave of gratitude swept in and swallowed me. I was gifted the opportunity, from a new perspective, to stop and really feel my deep gratitude for all the people that I know who live their life’s passion and choose to share that with the people around them. If you’re blessed enough to be one of those people, thank you for letting others know how deeply you care about, believe in and are willing to take action to do what your body, mind, heart and soul asks of you. And if you’re one of the many people who continue to listen to yourself, trying to discover what that sparky pulse of passion and purpose is for you, please don’t give up… it’s in you and you’ll find it. And whoever you are, please share your stories with others.

I am immensely grateful to people like these two women who share little snippets of their life story with me… and thus help me live more consciously my own life story.


photo by //amy//

Blessing Others: A Practice for Opening the Heart

by Janice Lynne Lundy

“Blessings” is the sign-off I use in my e-mail correspondence. It was a conscious choice to do so. I was at a stage in my life when “Sincerely” was just too cold; “Love” a bit too warm for a general farewell, especially to business associates. I had to find the one that fit me the best. “Blessings” felt just right.

E-mail is but one of the many opportunities we have to bless others. Throughout the day, we have many opportunities to offer them well wishes, both verbally and non-verbally.

It’s easy to bless the people we love, harder to confer a blessing of peace and happiness upon a prickly other. More challenging yet, if someone has hurt or betrayed us. I’ve often viewed the presence of difficult others in my life as an opportunity for me to love more; to move from hardheartedness to openheartedness, from expectation-holding to letting go, from grudge-holding to forgiveness. Blessing, in fact, may be one of the most powerful practices we can use to keep our hearts open to one another.

Go Undercover

Without them even being aware of it, we can bestow our goodwill on another. Consider the people we encounter in the course of our day, people who may appear to be “invisible.” The woman who scans our groceries at the checkout counter, the groundskeeper at our condo, the janitor at our children’s school, countless others, too many to name. What if we sent a silent, “Bless You,” as we passed them by? “Bless you for your hard work.” “Bless you for doing your job so I can live more comfortably.” “Bless you for caring for my children.” And so on.

Send a “Body Blessing”

With folks to whom we are more intimately connected, we might employ another form of blessing—a “Body Blessing.” Some of us are reluctant huggers. We give quick hugs, embracing someone out of formality or expectation with no real warmth to be found in it. What if we took this body-to-body opportunity to hug a blessing into them? As we press our cheek or shoulder to theirs, we can silently offer them a blessing of health, inner peace, or joy.

Just Say It

Sometimes the direct path of blessing is best. We need to speak our blessing aloud, face-to-face. This is difficult if we have been raised in stoic families who frown upon such outward expressions. Or, perhaps we are shy about speaking our blessings to another for fear of their response. In any case, a verbal expression of well-being or gratitude may be precisely what is needed to deepen our relationship. A whisper in the ear works wonders; an eye-to-eye confession is even better. Engaging in this way brings boundless rewards, to both the giver and the receiver.

The practice of blessing is good for what ails us. It invites us to express gratitude for the presence of others in our lives. It reminds us to see and affirm their basic goodness. Blessing is so very simple. Two little words, sincerely spoken, can change how we perceive our world. “Bless you” is all it takes ...

©Janice Lynne Lundy, 2009

Janice Lynne Lundy is participating in the WOW! Women on Writing Blog Tour, promoting her book, Your Truest Self.

Celebrating Mr. Clean, Celebrating Life's Force

In case you've been following the story of my dad's health, here's the exciting update. He was photographed on Tuesday (cat scan). Technology peered into his body to articulate the progress of his recovery. The image that came back invites deep celebration as he is clean with no signs of cancer in the picture!! Yippee!!! Sweeth breaths of relief!!! For more details, hop on The P Train. For my own learnings and reflections, keep reading!

Leading up to yesterday, I felt the intense anticipation, fear and anxiety so many people were holding about yesterday's doctor's appointment... How much significance it had... The messenger delivering the verdict of my dad's state of health... A defining moment when a specialist would read the results and share his prediction of the state of a man's life. Each time I would feel into this scenario, I was struck with confusion. That just doesn't make sense to me. Regardless of some person's expertise, how can another human being have so much power and control to define how alive a person experiences themselves to be? How did we as humans get to a place where we allow other people to discern for us the quality of our life, the amount of hope that we should or shouldn't have based on the data?

I have no idea what it's like to be in such an incredibly vulnerable place where there is some unknown aggressor attacking my body and I am forced to join a fight that I wasn't even aware was going on inside my very own skin. I can't begin to imagine what it's like to be a person who is told that I have cancer or some other life-threatening idea*. Should a day like that ever visit my life, I don't know how I'll respond.

Yesterday, however, being in this process with my dad, my family, people I love deeply and my own reactions, I learned some important lessons. I felt my dad's life force. I felt the strength and power of the human life force. The current of creation, vibrancy, beauty, yes!, generative movement forward, LIFE. As I try to articulate that now, I feel the pulsing vibrancy in my own being. Wow, that's magical... that we each have that, we each have access to something so sacred, so powerful, so uniquely our own and so universal to each of us.

I called my dad yesterday and extended an invitation to him that was something like this:

I invite you to take a moment before you get to the doctor's office to connect with your life force. There is a force inside of you that is so alive. I can hear it in your voice. I can feel it in your writing. I imagine I'd see it in your eyes if I were there with you. You have a life force that is vibrant inside of you and will be there when you walk into the doctor's office and will be there when you leave. I invite you to connect with that and stay connected with that, including whatever it is that the doctor shares with you. And no matter what anyone tells you, you are the only one that really knows what that life force feels like, how strong it is, how alive it is, how vibrantly it is moving through your body. No one can tell you about that... only you can connect with and know its presence and strength.

I thank the universe for the arrival of that message through me. For me, it is powerful and inspires me greatly. An invitation that I hope to really integrate into my own being and believing, further allowing me to share that vibrant radiance with myself, others and the world. What a gift that we each have!!

And then, after the doctor's appointment, when my dad shared the news with me.... sweet tears of relief, bubbling with excitement. His life force gets to shine on with the medical world's blessing of a clean cat scan. THANK YOU!!!


*As I was proofreading, I was shocked to read the word idea there as I didn't consciously use it. I meant to use some thing like a life-threatening disease or condition. But I'm struck. Are these life-threatening diagnosis ideas? There is concrete fact and data that there is something going on inside the body... but the notion that it is life-threatening... is that an idea? Our life is always threatened just by the nature of being alive... hmmmm....

photo source

Loving Your Path

An E-card for you from Paulo Coelho ... make sure to turn the page (and play with the way the pages move!)

Fear, Nourishment and Beauty

Last week my heart was nourished as I spent 5 days in Atlanta with family and friends. A place of intimate relationship and comfort with a dear friend of mine was restored. I am beyond words with gratitude. I am touched with love’s grace.

Fear
I also went to the oncologist with my dad and his wife to learn about his chemotherapy treatments that begin on June 5. It's time for me to make friends with cancer. I figure it’s here so we might as well get to know each other.

For me, being directly connected to cancer generates a lot of fear while also illuminating much beauty. I’m witnessing and am an integral part of this story where a cancer diagnosis of someone I love initiates transformation and growth to many in his circle… touching hearts wide open and inviting expressions of life and love to travel closer to the surface. For this I feel thankful. At the same time, I feel guilty for feeling thankful. (My judgment towards myself can be quite harsh.)

And still, there is the big fear of Cancer.

Being back in Seattle, I noticed last night that it feels good to step away from that fear for a bit. I also feel guilty that I am able to take a break.

Cancer is scary. Cancer is powerful. Cancer is unpredictable. Cancer is unknown.

What am I afraid of?

I’m afraid that my dad will fall into the sickness… that he’ll be taken over by being sick and fall away from being alive.

I’m afraid that I won’t have my dad in my life for a long time to come… that I won’t always be able to depend on him to answer my questions, to gather family together, to dazzle people with his charm, to be my little girl’s daddy. That’s a big one. The little girl inside of me won’t always have her daddy around.

I’m afraid of seeing him suffering… of being held hostage to the helpless feeling that there is nothing I can do to relieve his suffering… that he is in pain… that is the reality… and I must just accept and be with him in the pain. I’m afraid that I will be overwhelmed with my own pain… that I will be flooded.

Nourishment
My friend was recently at a workshop for compassion fatigue and she reminded me again of how we can’t take away another person’s pain. No matter how much we would like to, we can’t change what is for them.

Yet we can support them by making the space around them as nurturing as possible. We can be aware of where we focus our own attention and how we tend to their physical space, psychological space, relationships, etc.

I think about creating sacred healing space around someone who is ill (physically, emotionally, spiritually). To me sacred healing space does not mean that it’s somber and serious with New Age music playing and people in deep meditation. Sacred healing space varies for each person. What is sacred to you, what is healing for you? For my dad, I believe that having music playing is healing… it creates a sacred space. Sometimes that music is southern rock, sometimes folk, sometimes world, but music seems to churn his soul to a place of familiarity when it might otherwise be spinning in a realm of fear or anxiety about the unknown.

Sacred healing space has some element of comfort and familiarity. I believe it’s not just comfort for the obvious person in need of healing, but comfort for the whole. Who are the stable figures in the scene and what elements in the environment are a source of comfort for them? For me a prime space of comfort is in the psychological realm. I feel a nourishing deep breath of peace when I have some knowing of what is going on inside of others… when they communicate how they are experiencing our shared moment. This is healing to me, it invites me to surrender to this moment more fully, it expands my perspective to embrace not just my sense of the whole but also a validated knowing of how others are experiencing the whole. What makes an environment feel comfortable for you?

Beauty
If I could make a wish for my dad right now… it would be that his heart would keep opening and surrendering to life’s beauty and this moment’s preciousness. For me beauty is not an idea, it’s not even a perspective (“I find this beautiful, you find that beautiful”). For me, beauty is a profound and embodied resonance of YES!, WOW!, AHHHHH… Life’s Beauty is a sense of completion, perfection, harmony. I feel something is beautiful when my soul knows it. When I relate with something and as a result feel more alive, I know it is beautiful (or our relationship is beautiful).

Beauty is everywhere, everything is of the essence of life and existence. Regardless of how nasty and gnarly or evil and deceitful it is, it is of the fundamental patterns and origins of life. There is always a way to look into something and see the wholeness of what is currently in a not-so-whole state. To see the beauty in the pattern of a pile of shit… or the beauty of an innocent child and the brilliance of human defenses that have given way to a hateful adult. This is my optimist speaking, this perspective is the force behind my shaman. If I slow down and settle into the moment, life is cloaked in beauty and alignment with beauty and grace is effortless.

And so, of course, how can I have this wish for an opening, surrendering heart for my dad without it being a wish for me? At the core of my purpose, it is also a wish for you and all those that walk this earth now and in generations to come. How can we cultivate a sacred healing space for ourselves so that, in turn, we may help shape sacred healing spaces for others?

These are a few of the many questions and conversations keeping me company these days!

Stories of Tragedy and Hope

Today has been a powerful day of hearing people tell their stories and being touched in deep and raw places in my heart.

I don't have energy to share much more than the facts around who I've had the great fortune to learn from today.

This morning I heard Eva Schloss speak at my school. Eva is a Holocaust survivor and the step-sister of Anne Frank. You can hear her on NPR here. A bit from her website:

I was born in Vienna, Austria in 1929. As our family was Jewish, we immigrated to Belgium and eventually to Holland in 1938, shortly after Hitler annexed Austria. After the Germans invaded Holland in 1942, our family went into hiding. In May 1944, we were betrayed, captured by the Nazis and sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp. The whole point of the process was the de-humanization of us. When we were liberated by the Russians and they shared their bread and water with us, I cried. That was a kind, human action.

Only my mother and I survived. My father and brother did not. My mother and I were liberated by the Russian army in January 1945 and evacuated eastward into Russia, as fighting was still going on to the west. In May 1945, we were repatriated to Amsterdam.

It was so powerful to hear her tell her story. Step by step, the places their family moved to and experiences they were faced with.

I was greatly influenced by hearing her story and I feel the same quality of learning that I had when I first heard a Holocaust survivor speak. Here is what I shared with the parents of students at my school:

I heard a Holocaust survivor speak when I was in first grade and it has had a lasting impression on me. It was very powerful for me to experience a live person who was telling a story about their life that was so far from anything I could imagine. I think it impacted deeply my ability to know that the stories I hear are not just stories, but real experiences (sometimes horrible) that happen to real human beings.

This evening I went and saw the documentary, “Prince among Slaves”. The true, little-known story of Abdul Rahman, an African prince who survived 40 years of enslavement in America before regaining his freedom and returning to his homeland. It was a powerful film that I recommend watching.

"Abdul Rahman survived the harsh ordeals of slavery through his love of family and his deep abiding faith," says co-executive producer Michael Wolfe." The film depicts a universal story of perseverance and hope. Abdul endured unimaginable indignities and faced immeasurable odds, yet managed to survive his long fall from royalty with character and integrity intact."

"I was immediately attracted to this story because of its powerful message," re-enactment director and supervisory producer Bill Duke says. "Too many people continue to be enslaved by poverty, drugs and bad decisions. But like Abdul Rahman, they can come out of it and regain their dignity and respect." Source

After the film there was a discussion with a 7th generation grandson of Prince Abdul Rahman, Mr. Artemus Gaye from Liberia. His message, like Eva's, was filled with the importance of sharing family stories and a reverence for life and hope.

There was time afterwards for discussion that was hosted by the Seeds of Compassion Youth Ambassadors. I was in a group with four others all of whom I'm guessing were under the age of 20. Three of them were first generation in America from Hong Kong, Iran and India. The forth person was 4th or 5th generation, her Japanese grandparents having been in internment camps.

I felt so honored to be in conversation with and learning from these youth as they shared their experiences with me, what it's like straddling multiple cultures... and so much more.

I'm so thankful for the many different humans on this planet and hope that in my lifetime I continue to learn the stories and experiences of what it's like to be you... whoever you are.

Visualizing the Number of Humans on the Planet

When I try to comprehend the facts of our world, I frequently feel baffled. The profoundness of living on this Earth with all of its diversity of life, land, inhabitants, people's lifestyles, values, habits, things that happen, things that don't happen, etc... It's incredible and so far beyond my ability to comprehend.

I was recently wondering :

What does the number of humans on the planet look like?

I realized I didn't have the capacity to conceptualize that answer. And so I sent my question to one of my new conceptualization gurus, Chris Jordan. I'd love to share with all of you his generous response in full.

Your question is interesting, because I just recently got to see a profound and moving demonstration of what 6 billion humans look like. It is called the Salt Monument, and it resides in the home of an extraordinary woman named Margot who lives alone in Boulder Colorado. She had an idea something like fifteen years ago to create a living monument containing the number of grains of salt equal to all of the members of the human race. After a long design process that included some engineering, she constructed a huge plexiglass cube in her living room, about seven feet in diameter, and mounted it diagonally onto a burly metal support structure. At the top is an opening into which salt can be poured, and at the bottom is a valve from which salt can be drained. Initially she filled the cube with a number of salt grains (carefully estimated with the use of accurate scales) equal to the then-population of the earth: 4.2 billion people (that was ten years ago). Then, every day, she adds salt at the top equal to the number of people born that day, and she removes salt from the bottom, equal to the number of people who died that day. The whole structure weighs more than a ton.

Along the side of the cube is a scale that shows the progress of time. At the very bottom there is a line that shows the world’s population back around the time of Jesus; it is something like one quart of salt, a few hundred thousand people or so on the whole earth (or maybe it was a few million, but a tiny fraction of today’s population in any event). Then the scale goes up toward the surface of the salt, showing the world’s population increase over time. A whole millennium goes by in between 500 million and 1 billion. Then two billion takes a few centuries. Three billion comes in one century. Four billion comes in a few decades. Five and six billion have come in the last ten years. The exponential growth of our population is astonishingly visible and incredibly frightening.

Every day Margot conducts an elaborate ceremony to mark the passing of 170,000 people, and the birth of 300,000 people. Even if someone dies completely alone and unknown, their passage will be honored by this ceremony— as has everyone who has died in the world in the last ten years. The 170,000 grains of salt taken from the bottom of the monument are dissolved into a large glass jar of water (it is about a teaspoon of salt). The jar stays there for several months, so all of the salt from that time period is dissolved in the jar. The jar then goes in a display cabinet along with the jars from other years. Inside the jar over years, the dissolved salt re-forms into arrays of big clear square crystals that look like miniature versions of the monument.

The salt that Margot adds every day to represent the 300,000 people born gets poured into the top; it is about two teaspoons if I remember correctly. It lands on the surface of the salt below, making a symmetrical cone over time. Each year she flattens the cone out and starts over, so you can see what the year-to-date births look like (a growing cone on the otherwise flat surface, about the size of a large plate of spaghetti when I saw it in October). The one-day old babies are represented at the very top, and the two week-olds are a bigger part of the pile below that, and the 3-month-olds are all in a layer below that, and so on, down to the bottom of the monument, where are the old people are. Each grain of salt will take one human lifetime to pass from the top to the bottom and out.

Around the room she has placed exhibits of different amounts of salt, for scale. There is a black dish with one grain of salt in it; it is the very small kind of salt, where one grain is almost as small as a piece of dust. There is another plate with ten grains, another with 100, another with 3000 (the number of Americans who died on 9/11— much less than the number of people who starved to death elsewhere in the world that same day); the number of people who die from AIDS every year, the number of people worldwide who commit suicide, die in auto accidents, and a few others. These exhibits were mostly about a teaspoon in size, but of course some of the piles where huge compared to one grain.

In juxtaposition, the cube in the middle of the room is astonishing, breathtaking, and incomprehensible. It contains 1900 pounds of salt, equal to the size of several refrigerators. I stood looking closely at it for the longest time, trying to imagine all of the grains of salt that were hidden from view inside the volume of the cube. If I looked very closely, I could make out individual grains of salt right up against the glass, but otherwise it was a sea of whiteness— even a few inches from my face I could not make out individual grains. The amount of grains of salt was far beyond my ability to grasp. I felt like I never even came close to getting my arms around it despite trying pretty hard in a meditative state for more than an hour. I wondered what the Monument would look like if the things inside were marbles instead of salt, and quickly realized that the cube would be something like a hundred yards in size.

Margot has not missed a day in ten years of doing the ceremony. Having lived in a monastic relationship with the Salt Monument for a decade, and holding the meaning of it in her consciousness every day with a spiritual commitment and intention, I believe that she is the person who understands the most of anyone on earth about the enormity of the human race. I wish I could arrange for the Dalai Lama to visit her and see the Monument— I think he would be deeply moved.

Shortly before we left, she brought up another perspective that blew my mind quite the rest of the way. She pointed to the tray that had one grain of salt in it, and said “Imagine that is the sun. In that scale, how far away is the nearest star?” We guessed the other side of the room, or maybe out in the garden. The answer was nine miles. And she said that otherwise, there is absolutely nothing, in all directions. And that is the nearest star; most of the other stars in our galaxy are much further away than that, by up to several magnitudes. We are truly a speck of dust in space.

Then she pointed to the cube, and said that our galaxy has more stars than there are grains of salt in the cube, by a factor of something like fifteen. That fucked me up further—and then she said that there are more galaxies in the universe than there are grains of salt in the cube, by the same factor again. It affirmed for me the incomprehensible scale of our universe, with magnitudes of incomprehensibility; and thus vividly illustrates the enormity of the Mystery. This lovely elegant woman in Boulder just totally kicked my ass.

I turned to her and said “you are trying to deflate my ego, aren’t you?” We had a good laugh. She is adorable, a beautiful and fascinating person. She opens her home to anyone who wants to attend the ceremony and talk with her. I highly recommend it.

And a bit later a second email arrived

Aw jeez, there's a website... Saltmonument.org

I enjoyed reading his description first, feeling as my mind tried to wrap itself around those words and images before entering into the, again, incredibly inspiring website.

We're Alive, Here Now

"Let there be no more holding back on
our commitment to our life on earth."

Quote by Helen Titchen Beeth in a comment at Seeds for a happy planet
Photo by St John found in Kids and Nature

honoring life

this precious reminder/guidance is from chris corrigan's sharing about the celebration of his father-in-law's life.

As Merle Ace. one of Pete's long time academic colleagues said,

the greatest honour is to be remembered in the way in which you wanted to be remembered.

Pete would have loved that celebration.

will you share with us one way in which you want to be remembered? Just think of this as practice ground... as this is precious information that i'm sure your loved ones want to (or already) know.

Comments:

I want to leave so much love in the hearts of my loved ones that there will be no need to remember me, because I will still be right there with them. I want my life and my after life to be a celebration. A full on, huge spread of food, awesome booty shakin music, lots of laughter goodbye party would be cool too. leela | 10.28.04 - 3:05 am | #

Since doing this thing, I have been thinking about how to be remembered, and I would want some kind of party which invites together all of the disparate parts of my life so they can meet each other: Indians, Irish musicians, Bowen Islanders, facilitators, OST people, the whole works. Then I would love someone to run an Open Space with everyone together, looking at extending these improbably relationships into a world where they might all do some good together. My death as invitation for collaboration across impossible divides. That would be great. You up for opening that space ash? Chris Corrigan | Homepage | 10.28.04 - 3:55 am | #

i'll be there, chris (even if my own memorial comes first!) it's funny, i have two pieces of music that are back-to-back on a cd called "the gentle side of john coltrane," and for some reason when i listen to them, i often think, those two songs are all i need for my memorial. they are about feeling it all, and releasing it all into joy. track 11 is "in a sentimental mood," duke ellington's tune, a rare time when coltrane and ellington recorded together. track 12 is called "dear lord," with mccoy tyner back on the keys, & if my life has a theme song, that's it. since you're taking notes for the event ash, they're both slow-dances chris weaver | 10.28.04 - 5:20 am | #

hmm... i would want to be remembered for my laughter (maybe play giggle tracks or something), my love, and that no matter what i did, i tried my best and put my everything into it. i want to be cremated, have no wake (dead bodies are not who we are), and perhaps a celebration equal to my wedding, also on the silver sands beach, where people i loved would gather to watch me (or my ashes) fly into the wind and finally get to travel to all the places i've always wanted to see. becky | 10.28.04 - 3:46 pm | #

Wow. At my father's funeral we played his favorite music; displayed hundreds of pictures; I wrote a journal of what I learned from him, etc. His friends remebered him the way he would want to be remembered. I had a friend call and say, "I don't really know how to say this... and I know it sounds weird, but that is the best funeral I have ever attended." My father must have been smiling from heaven. Rick rick luoni | Homepage | 10.29.04 - 12:09 am | #

I want to be remembered for encouraging others to live out their full humanity. Rick rick luoni | Homepage | 10.29.04 - 12:10 am | #

I want to be remembered for being compassionate and for always being honest. Those are things I am constantly working on in my life and I think it would be great if that's what people remembered about me. The older I get, however, the more I realize that we all have different impressions of each other - to some people I have seemed shy and timid, to others loud and bold, yet to others grounded and calm and to some freespirited and spontaneous. I guess I am a little bit of all of these things, like we all are, so I think realistically everyone would have a slightly different way of remembering me. Maybe not mostly my compassion or honesty. oh well. And that is the crazy beautiful thing about life - that reality is not necessarily a shared thing and we all interpret our time here so differently. ( Kinda went off on a tangent there, but thanks for asking my opinion Ashley. annab | 10.29.04 - 10:57 am | #

i want to be remembered only by a select few. opening up my soul is the greatest gift I can offer someone. i want my legacy to be making a genuine effort into investigating the souls of others and finding those that are indeed worthy of an invitation into who i am. sam | 10.29.04 - 11:35 am | #

i want to be remembered in a way that honors the reverence that i have for life. i want for those remembering me to be drenched in joy, appreciation, and gratitude for the opportunity to be alive. i'd love for each person to celebrate their own life in memory of my life, embracing the fullness of their own gifts that they sprinkle throughout the world. ashley | Homepage | 10.29.04 - 3:02 pm | #

i love this! leela, can i borrow from you... leaving such love in the hearts of others that they know we're still right there with them. YES! corrigan, of course i'd open the space. i got an idea though, let's do one together (with all those people from disparate parts of your life) and then if i'm still around when you pass away we can have at it again. what do you say? it'd be a great model for all of us to follow. weaver, dancing slowly, feeling it all, releasing it all into joy... i can feel it moving through me now. beck, do you have some giggle tracks recorded? i'd love one now! rick, welcome, and keep at the encouragement.. . your blog is most definitely that. anna, such an annab tangent, thanks for gracing us with your presence. i love feeling all of those different parts of you shining through. sam, it's great to see you here again... and watch out folks because he is sneaky in his ways of investigating. those eyes just focus right in and...... really, thank you all for sharing here. i love knowing this about you. with love, ashley | Homepage | 10.30.04 - 1:43 am | #

thinking of your comment to chris corrigan, what a very interesting notion...to have an open space event in honor of a person (who is still entirely with us!) just to experience what sparks to life when a self-selecting web of that person's relations comes together face-to-face. how would one word the theme..."play-time in the chris corrigan portal"? sounds worth a trip to me.... chris weaver | 10.30.04 - 7:33 am | #

I want to come too! An Open Space with an organizing theme of honor (celebration, gratitude, appreciation, love)--what a wonderful attractor. And it's certain that opening space via the "Chris Corrigan portal" would magnetize & draw in an incredible, amazing array of dazzling sparks--I'd love to get to see what would happen! Christy | 10.30.04 - 1:51 pm | #

All right...I'll make sure you're all on the invitation list. But it won't happen for a while *knock on wood!* Chris Corrigan | Homepage | 10.30.04 - 2:41 pm | #

Ashley, I'm so glad you asked this question, it really helped me get in touch with some deeper currents in myself. Through self-inquiry, I realized that my answer reflected both the masculine (agentic) as well as the feminine (communal) impulses of my being--thanks for giving me the opportunity to so intimately touch my truest intentions. I want to be remembered as a person who consciously conquered fear in the service of creative emergence and Enlightenment, and who used the fruit of this vision to recognize the Beauty, Truth, and Goodness at the heart of every being with the intent to help them realize their true nature and fullfill their soul's "blueprint" as written in flesh. I want to be remembered as someone worthy of infinite trust, someone with insight sufficient to reject the seduction of equating the occlusions of ego with the always already Great Perfection of vajra (diamond/indestructible) nature. I want to be remembered as someone who relished every realm of existence, every dimension of being without being identified with any of them, and whose heart beat to the kosmic rythym of joy, joy, joy. Thanks for helping me attend to my own funeral. I love you. Brandy | 10.30.04 - 5:58 pm | #

I want to be remembered as someone who enjoyed each moment -- unconditionally staying with what is emerging. Someone who sees the best in others and holds that vibration, and can find the fun anywhere -- bring on the party!! I want to be remembered as a mischevious grin on the faces of those who know me! Judi Judi Richardson | Homepage | 10.31.04 - 12:02 am | #

Judi...I ALWAYS picture you with a mischevious grin on your face...! It'll be sooo good to see you again in Halifax! Chris Corrigan | Homepage | 11.02.04 - 12:20 pm | #

brandy, you rock. hi judi! nice to see you here! love, chris weaver | 11.02.04 - 11:22 pm | #

I would like for anyone to be able to view life through my eyes, just as much as I would want to do the same with others. It would be such a fine parting gift to say, see what I have seen so that you can fully experience who I was! I would like to be wide open for others to discover me. We are universes ready to be explored. There are so many questions that might be answered for us by fully experiencing one another. There is no end to what we can learn. I can see that from all of the responses!! I am not as graceful with words, but I think the main thing for me to leave behind is how much I love people and see how truly special they are. Thanks for the opportunity to speak! Cathy | 11.03.04 - 10:22 pm | #

Ok, ok, here it goes Miss Asheley! My first reply with you! Yeah! Sorry it's took so long, but you know me and my luddite ways.... Reading over others comments before writing, I think may have planted many different seeds and influenced my thoughts. On one hand (like the life I live), I have this idealistic view of how I think I should be remembered (sort of like how I think I SHOULD be living my life). But this is not always congruent with how I will be remembered, or how I do live my life. The two are connected my nature though, seen? So, like several have said in different ways, I want to be remembered as being a creature of love and one who inspired others to live out LOUD! A person who cared, and was cared for by many equally loving and giving people. I think this answer would have been much different 10 years ago, and will be 10 years from now. Hopefully because of growth. And I think that's the main thing I would want to be remembered for, one who helped others grow in loving and appreciating life. Like Rick described in his reply though, I think the greatest thing someone could say about me after my physical death, is "Wow, what a wonderful funeral!", and say it full of joy and love, not sadness or regrets. Thank you all for being inspiring Souls... Don | 01.02.05 - 1:53 pm | #

Hi Ashley and all, Very inspiring! I would like to be remembered also as one who inspired others to live more fully and authentically. And to be understood as someone who learned how to move from an I to a We. Thank you all! Michael DuBois | 03.19.05 - 11:22 pm | #

this thread began, right about the time that i went to oklahoma for my grandfathers funeral. this experience bought a great inner peace deep inside of me. for the first time i truly felt what it was like to be a part of a family. as i listened to the memories of my grandfather what was common to all of the stories was how loved each grandchild/child felt by my grandad. and how supportive and what a big fan he was of anything that his grandchildren were into to. through this experience something inside of me shifted greatly and i feel like there is this fire of happiness inside of me. when i returned home everyone commented on how shiney or sparkely i was... i want to be remember in the same supportive, nurturing and loving light. and those behind me shining and sparkling. Tracy | 03.21.05 - 6:50 pm | #

my funeral would be a ramshackle shuffle of warm bodies milling around some favorite dive of mine, maybe The Sunlight Cafe, or maybe the lobby of The Harvard Exit.... people there would have a chance to compare notes on chris the freak, chris the open heart, and chris the broken soul. somebody would find some half-written script of a movie idea i scribbled down in my journal based on a recent reverie i had while snuggling with my current love and listening to the snow fall. the reverie entails me behind the wheel of some souped-up hot rod waiting out a red light in heavy traffic, antsy to get someplace. a news reporter sticks their mike in my open window to ask me a question about the giant honey pots in the back seat. "their for the bear," I say, not taking my eyes off the light. "bear? what bear?" says the newsperson, incredulous. "if you don't know, i can't tell you," i say, and peel off down the street. final shot: two bumperstickers on my rear bumper: "got suffering?" next to: "honey inside." ash -- it's been such a gift to know you this past year. you and your many wonderful friends teach me so much about climbing on board this electronic superhighway and setting up nothing more than a lemonade stand.... i'll attend your funeral if you attend mine Chris Fiset | Homepage | 11.30.06 - 10:04 pm | #

Chris Fiset, I so love the way you pull to the surface colors of reality that have never been seen before... I am pretty fixated on gratefulness these days...I want to be remembered as one of those people who was full of appreciation for every small and large thing. Speaking of which, dear Ashley, thank you for all the many ways you invite imagination and conversation and connection. You are a living blessing-being! lots of love, christy | Homepage | 12.07.06 - 9:12 pm | #