My Pussycat Hat

The other night I was lying in bed and I thought, I want a pussycat hat. They are cute, and I like the little ears and the pink color. Ok, yes that is frivolous, silly and "girlish”, but that is one part of me. That is not the only part, I am also a strong and powerful woman and am not afraid to roar. Sometimes I meow, or purr too, and sometimes I am silent and just want to curl up on a blanket

or bask in the sun.

I am a woman in all her creative complexity and proud of it. I did not choose to march in the "women's" march on several fronts. I don't feel the same "protests" that many of these women feel, and practically speaking it would have been a lot. Instead I substitute-taught two yoga classes that morning so that another woman could march. So perhaps in my own way I was supporting women by supporting her.

I did feel a sense of disappointment and a tinge of sadness on the way to class that morning. I was listening to NPR and they were talking about the march, and mentioning how there were some divisions in the organization process. There were a group of women who were anti-abortion and wanted to be a part of the march but were banned. Sigh. Later I found out one of the organizers is a Palestinian Muslim woman who proudly wears her hijab (traditionally a sign of submission, not only to God, but also to men) and she is proposing Sharia law for all. She tweets: "Who cares if women do not have the right to drive, when they have ten weeks maternity leave"... I do.

As both a working women of off-hours which also allow me to be a stay at home mom, I can say even one day without my car when it is being serviced, feels unbearable. I like knowing I have the freedom to go and do. I like knowing I am not confined to my home or dependent on another to take me to the store or the gym, or anywhere else I might choose to go, should it spontaneously come to me. The question one might ask is, why not have both?

A yoga teacher of mine several years back once said casually over a meal, when the solution only has two choices, right, wrong, black or white, we can be sure that we are not thinking in God-like terms. Those were not his words exactly, but that was the idea. It struck me at the time and continues to stay with me. I think it is true, and tend to agree. God is love, a creator who creates out of love. His knowledge is that which passes all understanding. Anyone who has been madly in love may have experienced a tinge of that invincible sense when all things feel possible. Love by its very nature is complex and magical, not linear. When we find ourselves saying it must be this way, only this way, or that way, we have limited ourselves. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4: 13)

I don't agree with this woman, but I think it is fine for her to march and state her views. It seems things have gone askew. If it is a women's march it should be for ALL women period. Women are complex, diverse beings and they should be honored, period. Each individual has their own path and life which leads them day by day, moment by moment to the convictions they hold and the choices they make. Some are sensitive to the earth, the animals. Some will cry save the planet, save the animals, who have no voice. Others will say, save the unborn child, it has not a voice. Some will say I like a gentleman who holds the door, others will call it benevolent sexism and be offended that they are being treated as not able.

In my opinion women must stop being at battle with men, with themselves, with each other and the world. Can it not start with a simple idea: all women are a manifestation of the Divine feminine, all women deserve honor, regardless of the path they are on? Jesus for one understood this. “There is neither Jew nor Greek . . . there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3: 28)

That is my pussycat hat.

Dying to Be Wrong

We have all heard the expression "dying to be right". People literally do die to be right, or rather because they believe their system of belief, their ideology is indeed the right one, worth fighting for and in fact dying for. That feels extreme, but I think when examined closely it is not so extreme. We are not all brave soldiers willing to give our physical lives, but we are willing to sacrifice our souls. Who has not experienced that moment with a spouse, friend, parent, or colleague when we are one hundred percent convinced that our way is "the right way"? Maybe it's more efficient, more logical, or even conversely more creative, more beautiful. At the end of the day we are right and we know it, and we want to prove it. I think those moments become less about doing something "the right way" than they are about convincing the other of our own rightness. We lose sight of the fact that “There is none righteous, no, not one.” What’s important is “the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ.” (Romans 3: 10, 21).

Sometimes we may secretly wish harm, distress, or difficulty on another so that they will come to recognize how right we are. In the end we ARE willing to die, but not in a good way, and it is sad, very sad. In the end we create suffering both by wishing (yes even unconsciously) ill on another and also by being stuck and hardened by our own righteousness. Our stubborn, grasping self wants to hold on with all our might, our ego wants that empty pat on its forever-yearning-back.

We convince ourselves of how good we are, desperately justifying our falseness to our deeper truth. “I just want them to learn, it is for their own good. If they don't get it now they'll see when...” We go on and on. Somewhere we know, but we don't want to see the truth of our false righteousness. What we really should be yearning for is dying to be wrong. That sweet moment when we let go of our grasping, longing, justifying, fighting, and release. When we can flow freely like a rolling stream around the rocks and through the crevices. When something comes at us that is just a little too different than our way, but we are able to say: “Hmmm, that's interesting, unusual.” Jumping into the unknown with nothing to prove and everything to gain.

Maybe it will take longer or we will even have to do it again. With a moment of pause perhaps we can change our automatic judgment response of correctness, or rightness to one of acceptance. Maybe we could think something like, if it takes longer great more time with a friend. Allow our initial reaction to softly mold to something new. Create a masterpiece in the mind, not a war zone.

When we can change our grabbing into receiving we might possibly gain an unknown gift that will be revealed through the doing, and the letting go. What a blessing when we die to our hardness and find softness. When we replace stubbornness with willingness, understanding, and patience. What are we trying to hold onto anyway? A thought, an idea, suddenly it seems so silly, so intangible...certainly not worth hurting another or our own souls.

Spiritual Bulimia

'Tis the New Year, and many resolutions tend to revolve around food and health changes. Recently at the gym one could notice an unusual crowd. In the sauna I could not help but overhear two very big girls discussing their disgust with themselves for slipping so far off their diets -- "Eating like pigs. It is now time to detox”, they said. The one was informing the other about healthy alternatives and how they are easy to make and delicious too. She clearly had a certain knowledge as to wholesome eating verses empty calories or too many carbs. However, from the looks of her she was still struggling greatly with portion control.

Last summer we had a visit at my in-laws. My mother-in-law said something that struck me, and the sentiment stuck with me. The conversation was around the subject of communion. I do not remember her exact wording, but the idea was one of disdain for other churches that have communion weekly. At first I couldn't quite wrap my mind around why this would bother anyone, but after some time, I think I now grasp the essence of what she was saying, and why for her this was bothersome.

In my in-laws spiritual practice of Christianity, they only take communion once a month. It is a sacred ritual and it is a big deal. They always prepare for each Lord's Day (or Sunday) by bringing their hearts and minds off of earthly pursuits and making it a day of worship and rest. It is not a day of entertainment or shopping after church is over. When a communion Sunday is approaching the preparations are even more diligent. As they approach the sacred ritual, there is an extra keen sense of what the day will bring. It is a time to be sober and quiet in order to receive his gifts of blood and wine and truly embody the deep spiritual significance that this ritual brings with it.

The more I learn and read about rituals, the more my understanding of them shifts. The outward actions are really a mirror for an inner transformation. They can also be seen as a sort of spiritual Tai Chi. You go through the motions, but not like a mindless workout, but rather one with breath and focus and full awareness. The outward actions are done with care and attention for what they represent, then what they represent begins to transform the being who performs them, to a place of communion. It is not meant to be a mere task to be checked off a list, nor to take the place of an addiction in the sense of believing. It is the only way to connect and doing to appease the drive, the obsession. It is not to be motivated by a sensation that was once attained. It is a sacred honor, an act of worship, to be handled with care. I am beginning to see what my mother-in-law was bothered by.

In my family and extended family, I have experienced personally and seen a lot of bulimia or varying forms of eating disorders. One aunt who drinks barely black tea with lemon all day long, occasionally allows herself a yogurt at lunch and then binges at dinner. Some nights are reasonable, and others the hunger takes over and later is the complaining of being bloated, only to start the fast again first thing AM. Another used to run marathons on mustard sandwiches and cough drops, until a nutritionist set her on a better program. My brother was a model of health, a triathlete who ate grape nuts and wasa crackers, but occasionally he would overdo the ice cream and so would visit the bathroom for the purge. One could call it a family curse, a penchant for extreme and obsessive behaviors in regards to food – binging and purging.

I experienced a short bout of traditional bulimia with food as an adolescent. I wanted to look like the models’ bodies I saw in the magazines. This unhealthy eating cycle for me did not last too long. I was thirteen at the time and the household situation was particularly turbulent. Perhaps I was not diligent enough in my bulimia, or my binges were greater than my purges, but basically I did not begin to resemble the models in the magazines. I was still a rather short, very athletic and curvy young lady. I decided to stop one day, my inner self knowing it was not a good thing, and I did.

The body image issues persisted, and perhaps to a much lesser degree at certain vulnerable times still do. I did become quite thin at some point, but not from binging and purging – more from not eating much at all, meticulously counting and measuring calories and exercising (a lot – a whole, whole lot). I was a dancer now, and had the affinity for pale skin and protruding bones, although I do not think it could be categorized as true anorexia. I liked being this thin. I wanted to see bones and muscle, and I did and it felt good. I did not look in the mirror and think I was fat, but nonetheless, it was extreme in its nature and not a healthy nurturing approach to food and body image.

Yes, I have witnessed and participated in different degrees of "eating issues" along with my family. As I go through life I see how this same binge/purge, addictive/obsessive type behavior can manifest in many, many ways and areas. A relative of mine a few years back asked if I had any advice about her daughter who was currently struggling with bulimia. I was not sure exactly how to respond because as I mentioned earlier, I think my case with bulimia was a bit different and mostly short lived. But at the time I advised her to seek out Christ. I wondered subsequently if this felt like an empty response, that maybe she was looking for more practical tips? Today though I think my intuition was right, if understood properly. "Seek Christ and one WILL find" not just him, but the deep spiritual issues that cloud our very way to him. I truly believe that all problems or issues that one struggles with in their nature are spiritual. Perhaps one is hoarding, or stuffing because they have forgotten God's abundance and are living in a mindset of poverty, fear of not having enough, not being enough. Perhaps one is trying to be in "control", unable to trust that all is already perfectly in control and properly guided.

There are so, so very many possibilities, but in the end one truly has to seek within and find where their own fears, lacunas, insecurities exist, and then begin to replace these falsehoods with Truth. Then one's life which is being transformed on the inside will begin to reflect those changes in the outside world. The daily practice of seeking will not only reveal one’s inner state, but also the keys to what needs to shift and why. It may not happen in a day, or a week, or a year, but eventually these subtle shifts begin to manifest and transform our existence. One is being regenerated in his image, because he beholds the image we crave, and no substitution will suffice, nor fill the void.

Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes - Part 2

So the other night I was spending time with P after reading his bedtime story. We were lying on the bed comfortably, our heads touching. And as usual, P had a lot to say. Sometimes P can read my mind. If it had only happened once or maybe even just two or three times, I might put it off to coincidence. But it has happened so very many times that I no longer do. 

I remember reading a book called "Autobiography of a yogi", and in a certain section, the author is speaking about his time in India as a young boy. He was at a boy’s camp, maybe a sort of ashram, and they were forbidden to speak for some time. I don't remember all the details, but it was for more than an hour, probably at least a few days, if not a few weeks. He spoke in his book how initially it was difficult, tempting, and maybe at times frustrating. As time went on though, something amazing happened. The boys began having conversations and communicating without speaking. In other words, they could hear each other’s thoughts and respond in kind.

On this particular evening with P, he seemed to me to be acting a bit odd. It was around the time of the super moon. He had a funny, whimsical grin, as if everything was just a little bit comical, a sort of light-hearted giddiness. I had not noticed this quality in him before. As I lied next to him, I was pondering about going more or totally vegetarian. I have always tried to eat a healthy, varied diet with lots of veggies and fruits, and things that are good for you. At times I have been vegetarian or cut out all meat and just eaten fish. When I have been pregnant, I have generally just eaten what my body craves, and for the most part the same goes for nursing. Since nursing would probably be winding down within the next six or so months, these subjects were on my mind. I had already begun to cut back on the amount of meat, and many days would go by that were already vegetarian.

Suddenly P blurts out: "We should not eat pigs". "Really?", I say, just a little taken aback. “Why not?” He responds: "Because they scream when they die." "How do you know?" "I saw a program on the TV in France." Hmmm OK, "Well, what about cows?" "No." "Chickens?" "No, not chickens either, but fish are ok".

I am amazed. Where is this coming from? He just seems so all-knowing, still with that odd little comical look. Suddenly in an instant he looks like his usual self, he waits just a beat and then blurts out with all the huge emotion of a lion: "But the chicken sandwiches are soooo delicious!!" And there it is, from the mouth of my babe. There are these parts of our being that know what is right and good, what might be the best choices at the right times for our personal health, or perhaps just exercising a higher level of compassion and empathy to the animals or mother earth. And yet our very humanness is tempted to satisfy our base desires, be that physically, or emotionally. Both exist and co-exist and we swing back and forth between our knowing, and our being, and doing. Sometimes we are trying and other times letting go, because after all life is sooooo delicious!

A Modern Feminist's Christian View

The other day Calvin posted this tweet: "I swear to god if Mike Pence tries to regulate my uterus I will mail him a monthly bag of period blood." Wow! OK, breathe. Yes of course in its very nature it is meant to be provocative and shocking. For that end it works. But from a spiritual perspective is it really accomplishing the higher loftier goal that this poor pained woman is trying to achieve? I personally am not so sure. As grieved as I am by the "bad" behavior that this election season has brought forth and the true pain that many are feeling, I cannot help but come back to the same idea. Is the modality for channeling the pain, frustration and outrage the most productive one in achieving the very goal for which one is fighting?

All people experience fear. It may come in different colors, varying degrees and shades. We all face the age old existential dilemma and the very real concrete fear of death. As for this particular blog post, and in regards to the election, people are fearful on both sides, and rightly so, for good reason. We should fear returning to outdated modes of thinking that degrade and suppress a woman's power. We should be wary that if we let in hundreds of thousands of immigrants from societies that do not value the same values we do – e.g., women's rights, or freedom of speech – that there will be real repercussions.

Fear can be a productive catalyst to stand up for what one deems to be right and good. It can propel us to action to stand up for our deepest convictions and be an agent for change. I have friends in Paris who just weeks before the terrorist attacks were at the very restaurant that was hit. These same friends were planning a dinner out that evening and discussed this same restaurant with other friends of theirs (and mine) as a possible choice. Thankfully and perhaps a bit selfishly for me, they chose to eat elsewhere and remained in lockdown behind the closed bars until the wee hours of the morning. They were looking at social media on their phones, monitoring human butchering outside their door steps, for fear of leaving too hastily before the last acts were yet to be done.

I have another set of friends from Paris. They are a gay couple. A few years ago they bought a house in the Northern suburbs of Paris. They fixed up this house with their own hands, making it uniquely their own and turning the house into a home. Several years later this same gay couple told me they were moving. The neighborhood had become populated with people that did not value their secular French values of fraternity, liberty, and égalité. They were afraid for their lives, literally, and chose to move.

I come to see more and more, we are all fighting for the same values. We just prioritize what that means and how it plays out. Things like election season force us to choose between " the lesser of two evils" and so we reach down into the bellies of our core and find what speaks to us the most? How has my walk on this earth led me to the place I am now, why, and what does it all mean?

It just so happens that all of these same friends above would not favor shutting out immigrants, for fear of their own safety. Which is brave and noble indeed. As one friend above put it: "This is about civil rights, rule of law".

This recent Facebook post of this feminist’s tweet, and Calvin's reaction, stirred a discussion among men of varying views and opinions on the subject. Some were fighting for the life of the unborn child, others leaving the choice solely to the woman. The rhetoric from those who wanted this to be only a woman's choice said: “Stay out, this is not our place to say.” Another said: “I really don't know, but I trust that she does.” In other words, our opinion does not matter, for the woman has suffered and deserves to be "honored" at all costs, even if that cost means killing a child. Others chimed back: “No, these are human beings and they are being butchered, how can we make an arbitrary distinction about when it is OK to kill a human being, fine thirty seconds before birth, but not fine thirty seconds after?

Should we not honor our women by protecting them, and caring? Does not this very

language in this tweet say: “I have lost my way and am unable to be trusted?” (I will explain below). They are all valid points, albeit very different. They all care about their wives, sisters, daughters, and mothers.... a lot. These men are discussing civil rights and fighting for them in their own way. Women do not want to be shut down, and neither do men. It is a good and noble thing for a man to want to protect the life and well-being of his unborn child. We as women should not shut him up and down. It is also a good and noble thing for a man to trust a woman with her own freewill, and believe she will do what is right for her body and her life, in other words give her the benefit of the doubt and empower her to "fend for herself".

We live in society, a democracy with rules of law, everyone counts. I have one friend who is a true anarchist, but most people do believe and fight for rule of law. We all value our freewill, and well, we should – it is the gift that God has given us, not only to make choices in our secular daily walk, but also should we hear his call.

My response to this woman's post is one of frustration, and disappointment, and yes shock. In my view, we as women should not take that which is sacred, our own deep feminine nature and unique gifts and abilities as a woman and turn it into something vulgar to be used as a weapon against men who care. This is war, a war of ideologies. And in war we pull out all the stops, we are willing to die. We kill ourselves in order to attain what is deemed a loftier goal. Sometimes we kill ourselves just to be right.

I say let us stop the war and find peace. Let us confront our deepest darkest fears head

on. Let us listen to that small soft voice that whispers our truth, and call out our truths, and may those calls lead to right action. But let us follow Christ and cast out our fear with perfect love. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” (I John 4.18)

Honor the inner, but honor the outer. Honor to All. Sacrificing one for the other is missing the mark, a literal translation of sin, and sin causes death, not life. If we are fighting for our lives, let us fight a battle that can actually be won, not one that is destined to fail at all costs. My pain, is your pain. Pain is pain. Civil rights are civil rights.

Let us not commit spiritual suicide. Let us not quench our deep inner thirsts with vinegar. Rather, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matt. 6.33)

The Lion and the Lamb

I have a longtime friend. I miss him right now. He is sweet and kind, gentle and funny. Oh sure, he has a witty side and can appreciate a bit of sarcasm and cynicism, but even in his sharpest sting, I feel his love and kindness. I miss him so much. I often think of him as one of the best Christians I know, although he is actually not a practicing Christian. Funny huh? But for me he displays the fruits of the spirit daily. I know he wrestles with darkness and pain, as we all do, but he does not bring his burdens to the world around him. Sometimes he is like one of those large puzzles – you are given a small puzzle piece of his inner being and he is sharing his pain, his struggle. But most times he is walking in joy. He shares his joy, and gives light to your struggles. He is a giver, not a taker; he is grateful when he’s given. He seeks to understand, not be understood; he seeks peace not conflict.

There were times in the past of this long and dear friendship where I have felt frustrated. I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper, dig to the bottom of the well of life and all its complexities. Till the soil of the nitty-gritty, get my hands full of mud and grit to then plant new seeds of understanding. But he would keep things simple and light, unwilling to join me in my digging. I used to think this was cowardice. Alas, time keeps passing and the years go by. The changing seasons have brought grey hairs, lined faces and saggy skin, and hopefully, just hopefully a little bit of wisdom too. I no longer see this unwillingness as cowardice. My eyes have grown weary and my sight has diminished.

At times when I have lost my humor, I feel frustrated that I need my glasses to read the directions on a pizza box. Grrr, argh... What petty annoyances. However, when I step into my older, wiser self, I find humor in the little incontinences (OK, that was actually a typo, but it is so funny I think I will keep it!). Yes, that too, childbearing is brutal. I mean, inconveniences, and now see my dear old friend as bravery and courage, but of a different kind. It takes a brave soldier, carrying their pack of personal trauma on their backs, to leave that for later, to trust that it will eventually be resolved at a later date. For now, the priority is to selflessly be there for the other. Trust in the unknown of a date or time, trust that all will be well. Now is the time to focus on the urgency to serve.

I know for a fact this friend received arrows in his life, not only from the outside world, but by his own nearest and dearest family and friends. He is exemplary of the courage of the lamb; he may be slaughtered, but he will not die. He is alive and well and doing his perfect work in the world.

Admittedly most of my other dear friends are lions. I love my lion friends because they too are brave and courageous as lions are; however, it is of another sort. They are also warm and nurturing. They may be lions, but they are also mamma bears. They have big hearts and are kings of the jungle. They are proud by nature, but this pride propels them into the world to fight for others. They will protect what they deem as right and true and rip to shreds the poor prey that walks in their path. Their hunger is righteousness, and they will pull out all the stops to achieve their lofty and noble goals. They too are soldiers, but of a different kind. They are the great protectors of mankind. I am still learning about my lion friends, and it has taken time to understand them also and their unique role and pride.

I was in a yoga class years ago, and the subject of ego came up from the teacher. She said the ego is a good thing. I had a moment of pause. Hmmm....I thought that the ego was a bad thing, that we were to aim to eradicate our ego for higher principles? Aren't we supposed to be egoless, enlightened beings? I am confused. She went on to explain that the ego propels us to do things, to accomplish things, and that is not a bad thing; it is there for a very real and good purpose. It is in the things that we do, propelled by our egos, that we learn and grow and ultimately walk through this life gaining the perspectives and wisdom that each of is here to gain. I think it has taken time to sink in, but I can today say: I get it.

As I look back and reflect on my life, I can see this to be so true. I thought at the time I was just doing this or that, perhaps following a desire, or a heart-led action of what I felt I wanted or "needed" to do at that time. Now I can see the bigger picture, I can see the greater purposes in the paths I walked and how they led me to the pearls of wisdom that I now possess. Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty.

A powerful healer friend of mine told me that when we use phrases like "I need" that might be a clue that it is our ego speaking. So listen extra closely, our ego can and does indeed propel us to the things we are called to be and do. I would also say take heed to not bow down solely to our egos, for they can indeed lead us astray. There is a reason the ego gets a bad rap. It is a tightrope and a balancing act, or as our Lord says:

“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”

Sometimes clarity comes in an instant, and sometimes it takes years and years. Sometimes it is there for an instant and then gone. Sometimes when we let go completely and trust, it stays and seems effortless. I have an aria that I have been working on by Mozart for almost twenty years, yeah no lie. It's been said that Mozart did not like women. Anyone who knows his music knows his cunning sense of humor. It is said that when he had a particularly proud diva, he would purposely write near impossible, yet exquisitely beautiful pieces for them to sing. In my own experience with this particular aria, this has been my experience. I have turned this piece into more of a vocal exercise, but every now and again I pull it out and am on occasion asked to sing it. It brings up all my fears and worst vocal enemies, but I also love it deeply. I have nailed this piece maybe a couple of times when all the stars aligned. It demands extreme focus, steadiness of breath, depth of emotion, without going over the top – and for me, a great, great deal of trust and letting go. I try not to get discouraged. Even a world renowned musician who works with the very top singers in the world has said that he has heard it crash and burn at the Bastille (one of the best opera houses in the world). He then adds the added pressure of saying that I have the right voice and tools to do it perfectly. It is a hit or miss aria, a tightrope to be sure. Mozart may have been many things, but no one can argue his musical genius. Within his genius I continue to find more pearls of wisdom.

The lion and the lamb, two very different approaches, both valuable and wise. I think I have grown in understanding about the meaning of the lion and the lamb and their lying down in peace someday. This is in part by my dear friends and for them I am ever grateful.

The World's Gone Mad Part 3

The book of Revelation in the Bible is a bit of a mystery to most who are familiar with it and probably unfamiliar to many. I took a Bible study on Revelation a couple years ago. It is filled with vivid imagery of the "end times" when all humanity comes face to face with the great Creator and Lord of life. He is here to judge and make right all that is wrong. There will be a new world, and it will be glorious. But, the reckoning is intense and scary. Some might liken it to a "bad acid trip".

Some people view the Bible literally and some metaphorically. The Bible as a whole is designed to operate in different ways. Some parts are historical, some metaphorical, some allegorical, and some parts, "the voice of the people from time immemorial." The Psalms, in particular, speak to the deep realm and spectrum of emotions and human experience.

For me whether you take the bible literally or metaphorically is really a moot point. Let me explain. From a Yogic perspective our inner world shapes our outer world. In other words, our own perspective shapes our reality. As our perspective begins to broaden, so does our understanding of the events around us. In my opinion our feelings are a mere key to inform us of our own perspective. Our feelings can shape our thoughts, and our thoughts create our reality. What we think matters – a lot. “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.” This is warning not only to our words and actions, but taking it down to the core, changing not just the outer man, but the deep, deep inner man. This is one of the reasons I reject the notion (from part one of this blog series) that our feelings are of supreme importance and deserve to dictate at all costs. I think it is a step in the wrong direction, a diving into sickness at all costs – all the while justifying the decent all the way down the rabbit hole.

Think Dante's Inferno. Allow me to clarify. Feelings are important, they inform. We should honor them as the sacred messengers who are informing us of our own deepest prejudices, wounds, and places where we are "stuck". Should we stifle them, repress them, shut them down, and up, just move on? Of course not. Should we wallow in them, make them the only thing that really matters, allow them to dictate our truth and shape reality? No, of course not. “There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” In other words, acknowledge them, honor them, explore them for the end goal of moving on and through. Everybody has their journey in this thing called life.

I cannot answer the questions of why I am " white privilege" and do not deal with the plight of racism. Whether a person of color experiences "real" or perceived racism, the feelings of pain are the same. I do not need to try to enter into their deep well of experience and convince them that what they feel is only a perception and not reality as they feel it. It is not my "job". My "job" on this planet as a spiritual being is to be a human being and show them empathy, kindness, compassion and ultimately love. This is what our Lord Christ taught as Truth incarnate, as well as a human being.

Getting closer to being walking Truth makes us more human, not less. If this same person comes to me asking for my perspective, I might step into one of the many roles I play in this walk called life (a friend, a teacher, a nurturing mother, a sister, etc.) and show them my perspective on the situation. Perhaps, if it is the right time, and place and situation, this wounded soul will be able to open a window to a new reality that is broader and kinder, a healing balm. It may well be that the situation they confronted is "true racism". There are “people that walk in darkness", like those who are racist from their own deep fallenness, But for the person who is confronting that, when their own inner wound has been healed and they know on a cellular level that they are not less than, these things will not affect them, or at least in the same way as before. It will no longer be putting salt on a wound, but rather a more tempered and legitimate, manageable reaction. Their core will not kick into panic in "fight or flight mode", but rather they will hear, see, and experience the situation much more objectively because they know the Truth. They may feel sadness for the fallen man, or man's darkness. After all, Christ sweat tears of blood in the garden of Gethsemane and experienced great sorrow for the state of mankind. This is part of the human experience, but he "did not take it personally".

So it all comes back to the basic question: Is there such a thing as objective reality or Truth? And if so, how can we embrace that objective reality and not fall into the trap of being convinced that our subjective perceptions are reality as it is. For me the answer lies in coming back daily to that objective Truth and then measuring that against what is felt and perceived. I was at a heart opening conference at the Himalayan Institute a couple years ago. We were handed out a sheet with some texts from the Ancient Indian scriptures (the Bhagavad Gita) as well as some quotes from the Bible. We started as a group to "work through" these texts, and there were especially strong rejection reactions when we came to Isaiah 45: 6-7: “There is none besides me; I am the LORD, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness, I make well-being and create calamity, I am the LORD, who does all these things.” This was followed on the page by Augustine’s interpretation:

All that happens to us in this world against our will (whether due to me or to other causes) happens to us only by the will of God, by the disposal of Providence, by His orders and under His guidance; and if from frailty of our understanding we cannot grasp the reason for some event, let us attribute it to divine Providence, show Him respect by accepting it from His hand, and believe firmly that He does not send it to us without cause.

“All that happens…” People were mad, even hostile. Some of the responses were: "That sounds just like the fundamentalist garbage I grew up with", "What about the poor, the needy the sick, the wars, the list goes on and on....????" Our master responded calmly. And being a master the tone and sea of emotions were calmed in an instant. He responded empathetically (hint hint) and said these are such noble pursuits and feelings (being concerned, wanting to change these situations) and softly went on.

I went to another conference at the institute where Swami Rama was teaching from a video (which had been taken before his death). He spoke about the book of Revelation. From his great wisdom and Yogic perspective, this is an inner experience that one has when they are able to pass from the depths of their fallenness into the fullness of Christ (he did not use those exact words, but that is my understanding) – when the last bit of Maya (illusion, darkness) has the light of Truth shined in its face.

Now weeks after the election people are still spinning. As I have heard so many times from different people, PC has gone out the window. For so very many salt is being poured on people's deep wounding. The fallen nature has reared its darkness and "it ain't pretty".

What I do know to be my personal truth and present perception is that this is not in the end about whether Donald Trump or HRC is president, but rather that there is a much greater plan at work by our Creator that will play out as it is meant to play out.

I had a conversation a few years back when I was in Yoga teacher training with my teacher of that course. I explained my own existential dilemma about my "role" in life. I have followed my heart and have been an artist, a mother, a teacher, a yogi, but are these my true calling? Should I be doing more for the state of humanity? Is there something bigger, something better that I should try to do and be? Her answer to me was so simple and so very helpful. She said your job is to do your daily practice. I can tell you, this changed my life and lined up the order of importance of my being.

Come to the Lord daily, consistently with seeking and He will guide your path. "Seek and ye shall find.” I did not have to suffer endless hours of questioning, tugging back and forth with this and that. Most times we over-complicate things so much. Being simple can seem to be so very complex. Time to follow the Nike slogan and "Just do it." What a burden lifted off my shoulders that I was carrying, when it needed only to be handed over to Him. I do not have to figure it all out, just like I do not have to be the moral judge of the world. That is his job, and he does it perfectly. The world we look at might not always seem so, but look very closely: Is that Him, or is that fallen man?

Come back to nature and see his perfect creation, and beauty. The Creator creates out of love, for that is his very nature. So "be ye therefore perfect even as the Father". Be love, be empathy, be compassion. Discard your fallen nature, gently, and embrace your divine nature daily. The end.

The World's Gone Made Part 2: The Shattering of the Glass Ceiling

Calvin came home from work the other day and told me about a colleague who "cannot do Thanksgiving" this year because of the election. Daily he comes home and tells me about the latest conversation, the varying topics that now divide her and her family. It was her husband who first brought up the notion that her parents "likely voted for Trump", and with a bit of probing the suggestion was made truth, and her world began to shatter.

Another friend of mine, a singer at church, told me on Sunday that he "cannot do Thanksgiving" this year. He was having a conversation with his parents: his daughters are crying, they are torn, but cannot be with grandparents who voted for Trump. A father's heart breaks; this year, they are a family in mourning and disarray.

The ceiling has been broken, but not in the way we thought. The ceiling of limited thinking has been pried open, and people are being forced into trying to understand the un-understandable – and it hurts. I have experienced my own deep pain, not only for the true sorrow of others’ pain and sadness that I feel in various shades, but also by some of my personal, deep wounds that were wrenched to the surface. When I tried to share my personal wounds, I was hit with a backlash of criticism, name calling, and judgment.

How can standing up for all women, saying I reject the outdated rhetoric that shames and blames women without even thinking garner so much hostility? I am baffled...truly. I used an article which resonated with what I had been feeling. Basically, you can reject what you believe Trump stands for without feeling the need to denigrate a woman to justify your stance.

Is this a defense of Melania Trump? No. Do I think that Melania's pictures, particularly the very sexualized ones, are a good model for young women? Do they represent sacred sexuality? Do they conform to many scriptures that advise a certain bodily purity? Of course not. Do I ideally think that this is good for the spirit and going to help produce fruits of the spirit? Most likely not. Many would argue that this kind of exploitation helps to destroy the spirit. Texts dating from thousands of years, from sages to the Bible, would perhaps confirm that. Am I here with such high arrogance and intelligence to dismiss these sacred texts? Absolutely not. In fact, I aim to the best of my ability to not only follow these very scriptures but to truly honor them.

On the other hand, am I the Creator of the universe, here to judge all of mankind? Thankfully not. For He is so much greater and bigger than any of this. I would also add much kinder and so, so, so, much more forgiving. I know, for I sit in his presence at times and feel his grace penetrate the depths of my being. That little girl inside was once told she was too fat, which then turned into not-good-enough, which got piled on with not-smart-enough, not-nice-enough, not-patient-enough. Enough, enough, enough! My mind is spinning. Don't worry, I can take control of this situation, I have got it. I will prove them wrong. I will be thinner; then I will be enough. I will be better than him or her, I will do and make and be, and, and, and… I am so very tired.

Then I sit with him again, basked in his perfect love, and he says: "Silly child, come rest with me, all is forgiven. In fact, there really was nothing to forgive, you have come to me and I embrace you fully just as you are.”

I read my feed again. What is so hard to understand about not blaming and shaming ALL women? I want to scream: “Why don't you get it?” The same way perhaps others of color or a certain religion are screaming: “Why can't you get it?” I want to say, “I do get it.” Yes, my pain is different than your pain. My walk in this world is not your walk in this world, but pain is pain, is pain. Where is the empathy, where is the compassion?

The shard of glass dug deeper into my already bleeding heart. Does anyone remember Mary Magdalene? Hmm, interesting thought. Melania Trump has become the archetype of the female prostitute, and people are eating it up. They have gone from insulting her mildly to holding up signs that now say: "Rape Melania". Is this the 2016 election, or is this some bad medieval dream? Again people, not about Melania Trump; this is about honoring the sacred feminine. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

People are in pain from the daggers of glass, forcing us to examine our darkest thoughts and deepest wounds. Some people fear it is the end times. An acquaintance came up to me at church, someone I know (just a little). She said, “Come here”, and gave me a hug. "I see people being ugly to you, and I just want you to know I am here for you." My eyes well up. Kindness and love bring forth the well of tears that heal the soul.

Let us be healed with His sweet and perfect water that we may thirst no more. Let us meet the Samaritan woman at the well, not with judgment and condemnation but with empathy, understanding, and perhaps with a bit of extra effort – forgiveness. And may we truly find hope.

The World's Gone Mad (Part

So the election is over and the US of A has been turned on its head. We all thought Hillary would win, which really was not even a question. Time Magazine had a beautiful cover of Madam President ready for press. The inauguration party was planned; I saw an invitation on Facebook. Kaboom! Not so fast! And then the world went mad. “How could this possibly be?”, cried some 55 million people (plus some 200 thousand more people than the total Trump supporters).

Reality is not what we thought it was. People are shocked, amazed and in total turmoil and chaos. Yoga speaks about an inner world and an outer world. Ideally, we are not to be controlled and dominated by the outer world. One works daily through prayer and meditation to gain a steadier inner world. However, today's outer world tells us the opposite. It says the outer world rocks and controls us, sends us into a frenzy. It stirs our emotions which are put in the forefront, and our emotions dictate reality. It is a collective neurosis, and personal responsibility has gone out the window. Everyone but me is responsible, not only for how I feel, but also responsible to make it better. Universities have cancelled exams and created even more safe spaces, with chocolate, crayons and puppy hugging. Seriously? It sounds like preschool and would be rightly appropriate for preschool.

We send our little ones out into the world for the very first time from the safe space of mommy’s and daddy's home. We want them to feel comforted and alleviated of their fears. But college campuses? Isn't this the very last stop on their way out of mommy’s and daddy's home? Isn't this where they are to have heated discussions, the free exchange of ideas and then be ready to face the big bad world? Believe you me, it is indeed a big bad world out there, painfully so at times. Look at our dear mother nature and how fierce she can be. I can assure you, human nature is not much softer at times (you need only scroll down my Facebook feed). My homosexual, Buddhist friend is posting a particularly provocative nude picture of Melania Trump. He calls her a SLUT in capital letters! Really? I cannot believe my eyes, and my heart feels just even more heavy. Are not major tenets of your religion compassion and empathy? Now you, who so detest those who morally judge your lifestyle, feel so free to do so to Melania? She is a woman who has been given the gift of physical beauty, and who am I to say she should not use that gift to gain power and financial gains in the world? Do I think women's power resides solely in her beauty? Very obviously not, but it is indeed a power that women have, along with intelligence and skills they can develop.

Since when did the liberal, tolerant, left become so incredibly intolerant? What happened to "love trumps hate" now? Another friend says that she has come to understand what happened as follows: 55 million people who voted for Trump are infected with a disease that in due season will take its course and be revitalized into something fresh, new, and good, kind of like the changing of seasons in nature. Another goes to the oft-repeated rhetoric that 55 million people are racist, bigots, homophobic and xenophobic. Neither of these friends mentioned the 55 million number, but I do because I think it is important. One, because it is a huge number, and two because how can you possibly simplify 55 million people into a few epithets or one pseudo-science diagnosis?

Anyone who is close with a family member or one long-term friend can attest to how understanding another human being fully is a really, really complex, multi-layered, multi-faceted task. So without being insensitive to anyone's pain, can we all grow up and act like responsible adults here and try to wrap our mind around what is really going on?

I, for one, although truly disheartened by hate (on any side) am absolutely fascinated by some of the more productive dialogue going on. I have been gaining perspective into worlds I know nothing about. One article was written by a single mother, Muslim immigrant. She explained that she felt unsafe in the current administration, having escaped horrible oppression herself in her homeland and seeing it come to America. She wanted Islamic terrorists to be called out by name and be reassured that she would not be faced with the very things she aimed to flee. She also had some disappointing issues with her Obamacare, and in the end it became too expensive to continue. So very interesting, who would have "thunk" it? Another show on NPR talked about how the democratic party's "identity politics" failed them. Women spoke out about how they felt insulted that it was assumed they would vote for a woman just because she’s a woman. These women want to be treated as full-thinking, feeling individuals, not reduced down to a statistic because of their gender.

Such informative and interesting conversations, but also how nice. How nice that people are indeed not so simplistic that we can figure them out by some hypothetical statistic based on gender, or race, or even religion. Can we not rejoice in the complexity and mystery of the human spirit and stop labeling and going to war with those we don’t understand at first glance? Or is that too scary a space? Is it a safer space to rest within our small world, convicted of our own rightness? The other 55 million plus is just a label, and ultimately the enemy, baffling as that may be.

I saw on Facebook a video of Donald Trump from many years ago, various interviews where he spoke of his love for this country. He was calm, quiet-spirited and sincere. It was lovely to see him speak from his heart long before political campaigns. I find extremely appealing the old footage of Hillary Clinton when she was fresh out of college. There she seems so bright and vibrant, ready to change the world – so lovely to see, before the political campaigns. I saw an old footage of Bernie Sanders.  He was young and handsome and looked so sensitive and vulnerable. He spoke of human beings. He was expressing how we are all intimately connected and affect each other in powerful ways, ways we cannot fully comprehend. It was beautiful and moving, so long before the campaigns. I think often on that Bernie Sanders video, and it reminds me of great music that seems to penetrate to the depth of our souls – no barrier of skin, flesh and bones.

I think about times when I have felt particularly down and vulnerable and the very powerful effect that can be made by one who loves and supports you, who comes in and sits in your presence. Sometimes a word or even a touch begins to diminish that power. But when someone is just there – no agenda to make better, just there, present with you – something magical happens, something deep and penetrating and unexplainable in words, but worth a million in feeling.

Perspectives de Paris and Return to Richmond

Good morning October 26th.

What? Where did the summer and early fall go? Summer was kicked off with Soren's first birthday, which was immediately followed with a whirlwind of non-stop travel and family visits. I came back to a spinning fall, a giant opera monster project, and here I am coming up for air – much needed air, time to digest thoughts and emotions so many to number. It has occurred to me so many times how last summer was different than every other summer so far. Why? Because it was marked by Soren's first birthday. This little beautiful being has changed the course of what was to what is. From now on summer will always begin with Soren's birthday. It seems to be a simple thought on one level, but so profound on another. Sometimes it is these little changes that effect another small change and suddenly a world is transformed.

Traveling so much and seeing family in many places was wonderful and terrible too. I realized how my daily routine at home really facilitates a strong spiritual practice. Each moment has its place and is accounted for. There are bedtimes and school bus hours – they give us a framework and dead line, so to speak – to fit in what is important. When that is gone, there is a certain freedom, but a certain loss too – a loss of structure and discipline, which in short spurts is exhilarating and fun. But over time it can lead to a sense of ennui. I began to feel this at the end of summer after long days in Paris, many responsibilities of entertaining and training children all day, and tending to elderly grandparents who need shopping and meals. The tasks and activities were many, but without that clear framework there seemed to be less motivation and less satisfaction. I missed singing and writing and our two dogs. I had several moments of inspiration with thoughts on what to write, but somehow they were never realized. It is that funny little irony: when you have more time (but unstructured) one sometimes accomplishes much less than with a structured, busy schedule.

Nonetheless, it was a wonderful summer. We began at the beach in North Carolina, then moved on to Northern Michigan. On our way home we had an especially meaningful visit after so many years at my Aunt Suzanne's home. We were blessed with good food and many new plants. We came back to Richmond very briefly. I sang at a gala in DC, and we headed off to France. We did some mountain climbing in the Alps for two weeks and then finished up our trip in Paris for three weeks.

On one of these long summer days in Park Montsouris, I had a particularly interesting conversation with a young Muslim man. It was a beautiful day and I had set up my yoga mat and many toys for Soren on the grass nearby. Pierson was playing independently at a nearby playground and checking back from time to time. This young man was with a couple of buddies and they were chillin’ in the sun. One was playing Pokémon Go (all the rage in Paris). I began to talk with him about his faith and thoughts – thoughts on the terrorist attacks in particular. He said, as one might expect, that he did not agree with these terrorists, but he said a particularly telling statement: "Chacun pratique sa religion comme il le voient." Hmmm, “Each person practices his religion as he sees fit.” Yes, but...if they see fit to kill innocent people because of how they practice their religion, do we not have a certain responsibility to intervene? At what point do we allow freewill (his perspective), and at what point do we say not OK? He also told me that he believes that Donald Trump and Barrack Obama are both Zionists, by which he meant people who are aligned with the Jewish people want to control and dominate the world. This is coming from a young, healthy, vibrant, French Arab college student. Wow, my mind is blown! Imagine trying to convince anyone in this country, particularly now in this acrimonious voting season, that Trump and Obama are actually in cahoots. To be honest, I am not sure what it all means, but it is a testament to how our own perspectives form in part our experience of reality, and how vastly different those realities can be.

Back in Richmond I continued to pour my heart and soul into the monster opera. The monster is not kind and nurturing and supportive. The monster takes and takes and asks for more. In the end he notices the lacunas first and criticizes what is wrong, not noticing all the rights and the goods. I push through to the end. There is success but not without a price. I feel tangled inside. My small, broken child wants to be loved and supported and told I have your back. I feel unsettled, unresolved. I am constantly apologizing, trying to please everyone and yet I feel a lack of respect, under-appreciated.

I reached out to a spiritual advisor at the end of it all. Now that the monster is gone, I want a new challenge – maybe the gold standard 10 mala bead prayers a day. He replies with a small bit of advice: "It should come from an inner inspiration." There it is, put so simply yet just what I needed to hear in that moment. The window opens, the air is fresh and pure. I can see clearly once again. I have been giving, reaching and striving, pouring out and desiring to be filled up, and yet I am left empty, dissatisfied, and perhaps a bit sad. I sit, close my eyes and begin my deep prayers. My mind and breath soften, and gently I am coaxed and lulled back to the truth. My support is there; it is holding me within. It was always there, but I let it go. I was looking outside, caught in the illusion for what can only truly be found within. He is filling me up, holding me, supporting me, loving me. My Lord never left me, and others cannot take his place. The more I long outside, the lonelier I become. I know this, but I forget. I come back and I am reminded of the truth once again. All the longed-for explanations, empathetic comments and acts of kindness disappear. I am fine. I do not need from the outside world right now, and I can rest within. I am home once again.