Announcing: Been There Voices ... stories of wisdom from women who have lived long and learned much

From diversity comes wisdom

"I wanted a perfect ending. 

Now I've learned, the hard way, 

that some poems don't rhyme, 

and some stories don't have 

a clear beginning, middle, and end." 

 -- Gilda Radner

Few of us have fiction-perfect stories; all of us have struggles and joys, lessons learned, lessons forgotten and learned again. What we have after decades of surviving the ups and downs of life is Wisdom. Hard-earned wisdom stories that can be shared with others and, possibly, help them on their own journeys. 

The purpose of Been There Voices is to create an ongoing series of stories and thoughts from a diverse group of women who have lived long enough to gather wisdom and are caring enough to want to share what they've learned. 

To start the ball rolling, I invited several women friends who have had varied lives to join a loosely defined process of sharing our stories and our wisdom. The ball is rolling slowly as we gather biographies and ideas into the Been There Voices tab shown at the top of this blog. Click here to meet the women who are sharing their stories.

Early in the pandemic, Barbara Gaughen-Muller, one of the voices of this project, invited me to be a guest on her peace podcast. It was a chance to share some of the thinking I had been doing about gratitude and generosity and their role as two sides of the same coin. I had been fascinated by so many of the pandemic scenes: generosity -- a pianist playing to Venice from a gondola -- and greed -- people stripping store shelves of toilet paper -- and how those actions related to feelings of gratitude.

Barbara suggested I use the podcast in the opening announcement for this new group as an introduction to me as well as to this fledgling process of increasing the number of us who are sharing our wisdom. 

We women who have reached the wisdom stage of life (and some reach it earlier, or later, than others) now live in a world which offers us multiple opportunities for sharing the lessons we've learned; however, sometimes we forget how much wisdom we've gathered, how much we've survived and how we have thrived.

These strange and challenging times desperately need wisdom. I hope we can be an example of shared wisdom and encourage others to tell their stories whenever possible. It is through story that we share our human connections as well as our collected wisdom.

Click here to watch

Please join us … please share your own wisdom in the comments section, or if you would like to be a guest contributor or a contributing member, please send an email to jwycoff at me dot com.

A question and a thought for you:

How might you tell your story ...

and to whom?

"Our species thinks in metaphors 

and learns through stories." 

-- Mary C. Bateson

Love Letters to My Life #38: Choosing Gratitude Resilience

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day: the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.)

Some images sear themselves into our consciousness: the Twin Towers collapsing, the young girl running down a road in Vietnam after a napalm attack, the picture of a struggling mother during the Great Depression. For me, another one has been added to that gallery as thousands of panicked people of Afghanistan mobbed the airport in an attempt to flee their country.

On this day dedicated to being grateful for my incredible life, I’m having difficulty getting past the raging monster fires spreading across the west, including my own beloved Lake Almanor area, the Delta variant threatening our health care system, the melting icebergs, lost animal species, and the incomprehensible rise in violence as our political differences turn toward madness. 

Watching desperate people flee a disintegrating government only deepens my rising sense of despair and hopelessness. My rose-colored glasses are circling the drain. Stop! 

But, stopping this cycle is like applying brakes to a locomotive. All I hear is the squealing of metal on metal as sparks fly. However, stop I must. Beyond this point, there be dragons.

I know gratitude helps. It’s a light in the darkness, but the shadow that holds me does not want to let go. It feeds me “but-what-abouts” until I gag. It tells me horror stories of past and present, paints pictures of apocalyptic bleakness, hellscapes of a dying world.

This, too, shall pass.

 The words are a whisper, but enough to calm my breath.

This, too, shall pass.
Everything changes.

I begin to list my right-now reality: I am alive, I’m amazingly healthy, sitting in a beautiful place surrounded by mountains, trees, and pristine air. There is food in my refrigerator, clean water from the tap, and the wifi is working. Friends are a phone call away; birds are singing; it’s a brand new day.

I remember what I have survived: death of loved ones and friends, disappointments galore, divorce, financial set-backs, lost jobs and homes I loved, a lonely childhood, and almost 76 years of life.

Gratitude slowly seeps back into the day as a blue bird explores the screen of my front door. I hear a squirrel digging through gravel to find a buried acorn and feel the cool morning air. All around me new acorns are growing, green apples are slowly turning red, and the top leaves of the poplars are turning yellow. Life is going on, turning into autumn, dancing to its own rhythms. I can’t control it, but I can flow with it.

Resilience and Gratitude

In a Psychology Today article, Jeff Thompson, Ph.D., Adjunct Associate Research Scientist at the Molecular Imaging and Neuropathology Division of the New York State Psychiatric Institute at Columbia University Medical Center, states:

“One key aspect of resilience is having gratitude practices.”

Canadian life coach Ray Samuels defines resilience as “functioning with a sense of purpose, meaning and forward momentum in the face of trauma.” Today’s world overflows with trauma, to the point that all of us seem to be just a bit shell-shocked, reacting to the many challenges of the world with fear, anger and symptoms of PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).

Gratitude may be the best healer. It doesn't change the circumstances, but it helps us manage them. As Jeff Thompson reminds us: “It reminds you that if you stop and pause, there is still good all around us and it is happening each day.” That’s what helped pull me out of the feelings of despair that surrounded me this morning: recognizing the good that surrounds me, remembering that I have weathered other storms, and knowing that I’m not alone.

4-word advice

Actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt asked Facebook readers what advice they would give their younger self … in exactly 4 words. The responses were golden (choose your friends carefully) … and sometimes brutal (do not marry him). The one that stuck with me was the most was “life does not wait.” I decided that my addition to that list would be Brother Steindl-Rast’s famous dictum: Everything is a gift!

 On my morning walk, while the jays squawked and the squirrels scurried, my mood lifted as I absorbed vitamin-N. I realized that I am actually grateful for the pain I’m feeling for the world right now. It means I’m human and have a heart. It means I can feel the pain of others; that I am connected; that we are all connected. 

In a life where I’ve often felt alone and disconnected, I am grateful for these feelings; grateful to be a part of life with all it’s sparkling joys and all its piercing disappointments. 

Topping off the morning walk was a gift: a small, blue Stellar's Jay feather: a reminder of other days, in a world where Jonathan Livingstone Seagull soared and the sequel Illusions introduced me to the power of rare, although simple and believable, gifts. I've been here almost a year and this is the first of these beautiful feathers I've found. This one was right in the middle of the path where there was no way to miss it.

Choosing to feel grateful is a choice; choosing to practice gratitude in the toughest of times is a choice which yields amazing gifts and results.

Read more:

“Resilience and the Practice of Gratitude. How a gratitude practice can contribute to your inner strength,” Jeff Thompson, Ph.D., Psychology Today, March 29, 2020
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/beyond-words/202003/resilience-and-the-practice-gratitude

New purpose emerging from old losses

Ideas breaking on Cambria beach

12/19/2019 - this morning as I begin a new phase, I was called back to old threads that are being woven into a new tapestry. Ten years ago I was lost, alone, filled with grief from three years of loss. A stranger said four words that changed my life and set me on a path that now offers me a new purpose.

The blog post history about her four words is below, however, what I'm celebrating at this moment is the wonder of the Universe. I've reached an age where loss and grief are becoming more common ... mine and that of friends and family. Nothing will stop this relentless motion; however, it comes with new offerings to be accepted when we can, or rejected when we're not ready.

It's easy to be trite when dealing with heart-wrenching experiences. There are no words that will fix the wounds of grief. I have little to offer those who are suffering other my caring and the story of my journey. Since joining the legion of the wounded, I have slowly become softer, more vulnerable, and, gradually, more peaceful. I also hope I have become wiser and more understanding.

The past ten years have been a blur of motion ... moving, changing, trying this and trying that. Most weren't particularly conscious choices. Since returning from Mexico, it has felt like it was time to stop and reflect on where I've been, what I've learned, and what comes next.

Two days ago in my 18th love letter to my life, I talked about a new project that I was launching ... helping people make personal photo books ... a process I'm calling foto journaling. New projects are always exciting. However, sometimes the excitement is only momentary, so I've learned to let them steep for awhile to make sure they fit me ... my interests and skills as well as my values and intentions.

This morning, a random article** offered a question that demanded my attention: “Will it make the world better?"  Of course most ideas won't heal the planet or cure cancer, however good ideas will always help others in some way. 

As I contemplated how making personal photo books would fit me and help the world, it reminded me of a conversation I had with Richard before he died. I asked him if he was afraid of dying and he said he was only afraid of being forgotten. I had thought frequently about trying to capture some of his stories on video, but it was too late; he was too weak. 

The pain of remembering that lost opportunity helped me realize that encouraging and making it easier for people to capture their memory stories before it was too late would make the world a little better. Perhaps, in a small way, it would help them keep their own memories, and their memories of their loved ones, alive in a tangible, shareable way.

**Interesting article: 20,000 People Just Explained How Creativity Works

8/31/2016: Almost seven years ago, a stranger who would soon become a friend, changed my life with four words. She also reminded me of the world of blogging, something that had slipped away during the years of illness that ended with the death of my husband.

This note is for Diane Walker, a remarkable artist/photographer, creative being and generous soul. Above is a small sample of her art from her Facebook page: Contemplative Photography by Diane Walker:

Facebook cover art by Diane Walker

I met Diane at a Miksang photography workshop taught by Michael Wood in Boulder, CO.  The workshop was already in the process of changing forever the way I see and take photographs but it was at lunch one day when I found myself pouring out my story and Diane said the four words that woke me up.

The words don't seem all that magical by themselves, but they were like a key finely ground to fit a particular lock. I told the story in my second blog post on this blog which I started within days of meeting Diane and seeing her blog. You can read it below.

Finding that old post, reminds me that we never know the effect we have on others with our words, our actions, and the example of our own lives. One of my favorite quotes comes from Bali ...

Someone out there needs you.

Live your life so they can find you.

What I want to say today, seven years later, is ... thank you Diane for your words at that critical moment in my life when I truly needed them. Thank you for the continuing example of someone living and growing in creative expression. Thank you for the kindness and beauty that you pour so generously into the world.

Meeting you was a miracle. I knew it then and I look at my life today in all its joy and fulfillment and it has your fingerprints all over it. Thank you so much for being you and for the gift of knowing how to fill my cup!

Coffee in Grass Valley in 2015

Blog Post: September 15, 2009 - 

My Cup Is Empty

We are sitting at lunch at Boulder's Pearl Street mall when my new friend Diane says, "Your cup is empty" and the words telegraph through my body and find their mark deep in my heart. And, as tears begin to flow, I realize that I am empty ... broken open, depleted and disconsolate, far from the dyed-in-the wool, rose-colored-glasses, cheerful optimist that I had been.

Three years of loss piled one upon another until I am sitting here in this strange state feeling utterly alone, homeless, rootless, without solid ground to hold onto. I suddenly know that I am an empty vessel and am not completely sure that I am not too broken to ever be filled again.

Mary Oliver's words from "The Journey" echo in my mind, "It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones." My path seems confounded and blocked by the fallen branches and stones, and perhaps I will never be able to clear them. Sorrow, fear, pain and aloneness envelop me and I'm not sure I have the energy to find my way out. By myself, I feel too weak to grapple with this challenge and I find myself clinging to a past-relationship as if it's my only hope.

And yet, the simple act of admitting that I am empty seems to let me hear a small, new voice that says simply: "Begin, do what brings you joy, take one step at a time and tend your spirit."

What brought me to this place and introduced me to my new friend, who with just four words stripped me bare of my false-front of strength and independence, was a Miksang workshop about seeing in a new way and capturing those new perceptions through photography. Miksang is a Tibetan word that means "good eye" and is as much a meditative practice as a photography technique.

We had been using the technique for two days and, as always, the act of taking pictures, capturing small pieces of beauty, was bringing me joy but, in some ways, it felt like layering wallpaper over a wall that had not been washed clean of years of grime and debris. The pain was still swirling an indelible pattern below the surface. Admitting to myself my vulnerability to pain and loss seems like a first step in cleaning that surface. Perhaps now the Miksang practice of awareness and perception, the slowing down and taking each step with intention, will allow the joy of each perception to stick and gradually begin to refill my cup.

I feel a great sense of relief. I have been looking around rather desperately for a project, a mission, a way of serving, in actuality, anything that would distract me from the pain. Now I realize that I am not ready to go out into the world. I have nothing to offer because I am empty. Who I was has drained away and who I will be has not made an appearance. So now I am unformed, uncertain of anything except my emptiness and a willingness to walk toward spirit, a willingness to be filled.

Doing what I thought I'd do at 20 ... or had no idea I'd do at all.

Oaxaca blossoms in many ways.

My life is a surprise in so many ways.

At 20, I thought I’d be a world traveler. I had already been accepted into the Peace Corps for Afghanistan. Adventure awaited ... until my own cold feet and a guy with warm hands changed the trajectory of my life.

However, on this blue-sky morning that turns all your cells into cheer leaders, I’m walking through a remarkable, old city with thick-stone-walled churches, wide walking streets, and art, old and new, everywhere. Sophisticated tourists mingle with village vendors in their colorful, traditional clothing. Coffee shops open slowly around 8:30 and chocolate shops and pastries are everywhere.

Lisa Sonora and I

Every morning, craft vendors recreate their tiendas to display their wares. They don’t just go to work, they live their work, and carry it with them for another day of sales in the shadow of the cathedral. I walk the streets, once again giving thanks for having a relatively easy and safe life. And, for living long enough to enjoy so much of the world’s feast.

I love creative signs.

I’m staying at Art House Oaxaca, owned by Lisa Sonora, a friend from the US and one of my creative muses. Her extremely well-located art retreat center has five private studios and a well-stocked-with-art-supplies outdoor studio. Yesterday as I was on my way back to Art House from wandering the city, I stopped in five art galleries within blocks of “home.” I love being able to see local contemporary art as well as all the traditional folk art in the shops and streets. I was so inspired, the evening was spent on a new art piece (see my new blog Mexican Art Villages.)

All of this abundance makes me wrap gratitude around myself as if it were the finest, hand-woven rebozo. Yes, it took me fifty years to get here … but I’m here. I’m healthy, energetic, financially sound and delighted to be exploring the world. The young girl who grew up in a small, southeastern Kansas town never, ever imagined the life that has, step-by-step, brought me here.

Sometimes, remembering that time so long ago when I had no way of imagining what lay before me, I wonder if I’m still as unaware of the future as I was then. Two years ago I thought I was living in my forever place. A year ago, I was just starting to think of Mexico as a part-time experience. Today, I’m living in Ajijic on the beautiful Lake Chapala and spending three weeks exploring Oaxaca, the city and the state.

Where will I be next year? Who knows? I might not even be earth-bound this time next year, but I do know that on this particular day, sitting in a small café in the amazing city of Oaxaca, I am happy, grateful and delighted to be alive.

PS ... to keep up with my travels, please see my blog: Mexico Stories.

Gratitude Roses for those thorny problems, issues, challenges, set backs

No, it's not a rose

Funny how things come together. This morning I read an article about gratitude that made me stop and think. For about a year and a half, I have been consistently keeping a gratitude journal. (Not bad for someone who has been consistency-challenged her entire life.) 

I believe passionately in gratitude and my journal has served me well. Recently, however, it has become something of a chore rather than the delight it was in the beginning. (Of course, the fact that I decided to smush two things together and write it in Spanish, probably didn’t help.)

As I was syncing the article to my Evernote folder, I came across something I wrote several months ago when my life was, somewhat unexpectedly, turning upside down. I was feeling stressed and uncertain about my decision to move to Mexico, so here’s what I wrote and what I did in hopes that it might help some of you who have made a life-altering decision and are now wondering about the wisdom of it. 

This morning's article and finding this writing is bringing me back to gratitude and how to make it fresh, delightful, and powerful again.

March 11, 2017

This came to me in a dream, waking me up at four am. (Which, of course, reminds me of John G. Rives great TED talk on the subject … https://www.ted.com/talks/rives_on_4_a_m?language=es).

I have been practicing gratitude now for 40 weeks.

 

That sentence needs to stand alone because I have never, ever practiced anything consistently in my life (other than teeth brushing, etc.). But, yesterday, I wrote my 280th consecutive entry in my gratitude journal. You may not be amazed, but I am.

A few weeks ago, I was reading Pam Grout’s books recommending that we notice the absolutely awesome things that happen to us every day. I decided I needed to add that to my gratitude practice and, because some experts recommend writing three gratitudes per day, I started a 30-day Facebook process of writing three gratitudes and recognizing one absolutely awesome thing every day. I finished the first 30-day process and am now half-way through the second.

So, what has this practice done for me? Who really knows? This is not a double-blind study. There’s no way to know if my life is one whit different than it might have been without the gratitude practice. All I know is I’m as happy, healthy, and contented as I’ve ever been. My life is an adventure and I’m meeting interesting people, following the passion of writing that called to me as a child, making art that I never dreamed of making and about to change my life in a way that excites me and brings me joy. Not bad for a 71 year-old woman, I’d say. With all the gifts I’ve been given, not to be grateful would be ridiculous.

So, which came first, the chicken or the egg, the gratitude or the gifts? All I know is that being grateful calms me and reminds me of just how fortunate I am. And, what is this four am thing? The idea that woke me up was about creating Gratitude Roses around a particularly complex, stressful, challenging or thorny (sorry!) idea … a deep dive into the gratitude of something that looks more like a pain, trouble or discomfort.

I’m excited about my upcoming move to Ajijic, Mexico … the color and beauty, the weather, the culture and language, the walking lifestyle are all things I’ve wanted for a long time. However, it means doing one more really deep downsize. I’ve done three major downsizings in the last ten years. I like to think I’ve trimmed most of the fat. Now, I have to go even deeper and get rid of almost everything. I have to look at everything around me and ask if I need this thing, this bright bauble, this memory artifact, to bring me joy.

 

I’ve been stressing out about this a bit. Sometimes more than a bit. I’ve even waffled about the idea of moving. It would be so much easier to stay where I am. I have a comfortable home in a lovely part of the country with good friends and interesting volunteer opportunities. Nothing is making me move … except whatever it is in my core that calls to me to live in Mexico.

The image that was in my mind as I awoke was like a flower with all the gratitudes for why I’m making the move on one side and all the gratitudes for the challenges and discomforts on the other side. The number 12 came with the image. I opened Scrapple, my favorite, simple mind mapping tool, and created the map below. It may not be a pretty rose, but I now feel much calmer and ready for the challenge ahead of me.

I'm going to print this out and stick it on my refrigerator to remind me why I’m doing all of this and how grateful I am to have the time, energy and resources necessary to free myself from stuff and make an international move in this new stage of life.

Gratitude Rose about moving to Mexico

Plug for Scrapple … any form of mind mapping stimulates ideas and helps bring order to your thinking. At only $15, it’s a deal. Great for writers and project organizers as well as all the rest of us just trying to make it through the thorns.

41/100

An incomplete thank you for the miracles of the world

Morning in Mexico

On this day as I begin my second year of gratitude practice, I give thanks for where I am and where I’ve been and hope this poem makes up for some of the moments of gratitude I’ve missed along the way.

for all the people I never thanked:


the authors, teachers, artists, carpenters,

the fighters of fires, the doctors of disease,

those who built the roads through the mountains and deserts,

those who grew the vegetables and fruits for my table,

all the meals and makers-of-meals who went unblessed,

all the garments and sewers and sellers of them 
that kept me dressed,

and the thousands, millions, of other unthanked souls

who have made my life possible, made it a joy.


for all the beauty I forgot to acknowledge:

the mountains, meadows, moonglows and manatees,

the soft summer days, the snow-covered pines,

the cactus blossoms of spring, the yellow aspens of fall,

all the trees I never thanked for my breath,

all the clouds I never thanked for their beckonings,

all the rocks I never thanked for their stories,

all the rivers and lakes, puddles and ponds,

the oceans of water that refreshed my days,

never once asking for my thanks.



for all the people who made me laugh or cry:

the jokesters, writers, actors, makers of movies,
the merry whistlers and designers of Tilt-a-Whirls,

all you bubbling fountains of mirth and magic
who brought forth giggles and guffaws, chuckles and chortles,
tears and torment, glimpses into alien worlds and other hearts,
graciously accepting my laughter and tears as thanks enough.


to all of you ... friends and family,

those recognized and total strangers,

finally and utterly incompletely,
thanks. ... Thanks! ... Thank YOU!

Gratitude and Self Promises

In the Gratitude Miracles Journal, Cycle 7 is Gratitude Creates Wonder. 

Part of the wonder I feel after having completed that cycle … 28 weeks … 196 days … of writing my gratitudes is a sense of consistency, of being able to trust myself to do what I decided to do. Perhaps that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but for me it is. My life’s journey is littered with broken promises to myself.

Fortunately, most of those broken promises were discretionary, like the new year’s resolutions we make, almost expecting to break them. Gradually, as the pattern of broken promises became clear, I realized that one of the problems was not being sufficiently committed to the promise in the first place. Every commitment has a price: time, money, effort, discomfort, giving up something in order to achieve something bigger. Every change requires moving out of our comfort zone into discomfort. Making a promise without considering the discomfort factor paves the road to failure.

Whim promises. When I promise myself that I will train for a marathon (something I’ve done a couple of dozen times over the years … and never completed), I imagine the satisfaction of completing the marathon, building strength, becoming fitter, without contemplating the hours, miles, aches and blisters along the way. I neglect the discomfort factor. I have no strategies in place for dealing with the realities of training. I quit.

In the movie Glory Road, Coach Don Haskins, hall of fame basketball coach who broke the color barrier by starting five black players, said to one of his players, “If you quit now, you'll quit every day for the rest of your life!” Quitting becomes a pattern of behavior. Before making a commitment, I’m starting to consider the price and think about how I will handle the discomfort needed to keep the promise to myself.

Perfection promises. Some promises beg to be broken. No more sugar. 10,000 steps a day. Meditate an hour a day. These “shoulds” often come clusters, and I find myself embracing them as if I were perfect, as if I should be perfect. I am letting go of these perfection promises in favor of intentions to avoid sugar, walk more, find a quiet time in every day. 

Writing in my gratitude journal every day takes five minutes and focuses me on the positives in my life. It reminds me to notice the miracles in my life. It’s a promise to myself that I can keep, and keeping this small promise to myself makes me feel confident in making bigger promises.

I am currently on day 12 of a 30-day juice fast. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead a few years ago. My cholesterol tends to run moderately high and I want to know if a juice fast would lower it. I’ve tried to do 30 days before, but the furthest I got was 14 days. 

There is definitely discomfort involved in this promise. Not only hunger, which comes and goes, but the challenges of having a social life in this busiest of all holiday seasons. I spent a fair amount of time before I began this promise, asking myself if it was important enough to warrant the discomfort? How would I handle the worst hunger moments? (Interestingly enough, it comes exactly at 4:00 pm every day, but it turns out that a cup of hot V8 gets me through it.) How would I handle the temptations … the little voice that says, “this tiny little bit of cookie won’t matter?” (Oddly, those tiny white paper cups of free stuff at Costco … stuff that I would never want otherwise … are one of the most devilish of those little voices.) What would I do when someone wants to have a birthday dinner? (Delay … the 30-days will be over soon.) What would I do when I forget why I’m doing this in the first place? (Rewatch the movie, schedule the appointment to have my cholesterol checked, write about why I’m doing this in the first place.)

Keeping my commitment to write my gratitudes every day is making me more confident in making bigger promises to myself. To help with this specific commitment to do a 30-day juice fast, I am going to comment to this post every day or so until I reach my objective. I’ll also report the results of my cholesterol check.

Love Notes: Barbara Gaughen-Muller

Barbara Gaughen-Muller

Some miracles happen instantly: a call out of the blue, a sudden connection that takes you in a new direction, an insight that greets you when your eyes open in the morning.

Other miracles develop over time, building momentum until you’re finally gobsmacked by their magnitude. Barbara Gaughen-Muller is one of those slow building miracles in my life.

Barbara is a gift to everyone she comes in contact with. I call her a happy pill. She sees the best in everyone and never holds back in telling them how wonderful they are. I hope to someday be the person she thinks I am.

As often happens to people with an attitude like Barbara's, she has led a charmed life. She is a beautiful, larger than life presence who sweeps you up into her energy. She focused that energy into public relations and her talent for connection created magic from Hollywood to New York.

I met Barbara about 25 years ago and had the fun of watching her fall in love with Robert Muller, a life-long leader of the United Nations. Together they toured the world and hung out with a stellar crew of world movers and shakers. She lost Robert a few years ago but still pours her energy into the peace movement and played a key role in the Rotary World Peace Conference 2016 held earlier this year.

Over the years, in all my many zigs and zags, she has always found time to be a cheerleader for me. Talking to her for just a few minutes always gives me an "OMG I can do this” shot of adrenaline. And, sometimes, that’s all it takes … one person who believes in you.

Thank you, Barbara … I love you.

Barbara is also the co-author of Revolutionary Conversations which offers readers the brilliant SHARE model …  Stop-Help-Ask-Risk-Explore, which, once you understand it, becomes an almost automatic way of thinking.

Read more about Barbara here:

http://www.peaceconference2016.org/barbara-gaughen-muller/

https://www.seeintl.org/gaughen-muller/

I Dream - Two Years Ago Challenge

Here's a challenge for all you bloggers ... find your post from two years ago and repost it.  Think about where you were then in connection to where you are now.  


This was my post on January 11, 2010 ... a poem that came after a hike into the Rockies with a friend.  This image of life struggling forth from hard rock moved me.  My life felt like that back then ... like little was supporting my growth but yet I was growing.  I am so grateful for all the miracles that happened in the past two years.

I Dream

"If one is lucky, a single fantasy can totally transform a million realities." 
-- Maya Angelou

I Dream

I dream of being.
I dream my roots deep down into the impervious,
sun-warmed granite where their tendrils drill into
the tiny cracks and crevices where life hums.

I dream of truth.
I dream my dark spine rising upward
into the harmony of sun and earth and rain and wind
until it sings one clear note of an ancient melody.

I dream of love.
I dream my green needles into the crystal air
dancing light beams back to the sun
in a forever rainbow waiting simply for rain.

I dream of death.
I dream my shadow across the lichen children
reaching outward further, further each hour
stretching beyond, yearning ... yearning for ...

Celebrating Gratitude

Oh my God! We have one more precious day. This beautiful video is the perfect reminder that each day is a gift. May you enjoy every second of this one.

Gratitude Sunday: Oakhurst

I am ... was ... a rolling stone. A quick count this morning showed that I just finished move #43 ... or a move on the average every year and a half. Not all of those moves have been to different cities but the count also shows that this is my 25th city in 12 states. Moving that frequently meant that I never formed deep ties to the communities I lived in.

It's time for a change and I think I've found the right place. Oakhurst is a small community of 15-20,000 about 15 miles from Yosemite. Because of the traffic in and out of Yosemite, Oakhurst has a few more amenities than a town of this size might normally have ... a very good grocery store, a few more restaurants, and routine exposure to a myriad of languages. But, basically it's a rural community in the Sierra foothills ... an area of little ethnic diversity but a wide spectrum of diversity in the areas of politics, religion, education and lifestyles. The natural beauty and slower pace of the area attract the highly educated, the exceptionally talented as well as the misfits and dropouts.

Somehow, it all seems to work. A neighboring community, North Fork, claims its status as the geographical center of California and is the home of the California Vipassana Center  where people routinely do ten-day silent meditation retreats, In the other direction is the Chukchansi Gold Resort & Casino where you can eat at seven different restaurants and then feed all your spare change to the slots. Bass Lake, where I stayed for four months till I could move into my house is a beautiful small lake that was once featured by Sunset Magazine as one of the best in the West.  There are several other beautiful lakes in the area which help make it an outdoor person's dream-come-true ... the picture above is of Mammoth Pools, one of my favorites.

While I don't know where the numbers come from, locals artists are fond of claiming that the area has the highest artists-per-capita of "anywhere." There are indeed a lot and most of them are brought together by a fun, open-studio event known as Sierra Art Trails which happens the first week in October.  It's a beautiful time to wander through the foothills, peek into the inner workings of the creative process and see, and perhaps buy, art directly from the artist who can tell you all about how and why he or she created it.

Yesterday was "Art Hop" day here in Oakhurst and I spent the day hopping around the galleries and fell into a meeting of my tribe at the Positive Living Center.  It was a magical day that ended with listening to live music under the stars with new friends and old. All in all, I think I've finally come to a place where I can rest and grow roots. And, for this I am truly grateful.

Gratitude Sunday: Writers

Yesterday was a book day.  It began with seriously contemplating, for the first time, purchasing a Kindle and ended with a new book club meeting.  As I think about things I'm thankful for on this gratitude Sunday, I think about all the gifts books have given me through the years.  As an awkward only child living in the country, books gave me a glimpse of the world beyond the small Kansas farm community where I lived.  Through them I learned which fork was my salad fork, what life was like in different times and places, and about the many possibilities and opportunities that were open to me.

It's been an interesting journey ... beginning with weekly trips to town to visit the Carnegie Public Library (thank you, Andrew!) where I started at A and was proceeding slowly through the alphabet when a kindly librarian explained that some books were better than others and gave me a reading list.  And now I'm about to buy an 8 ounce device that will hold thousands of books ... and there are over 600,000 available for instant download.  That little Kansas girl could never have dreamed of such abundance ... even if "some books are better than others," that's a lot of books.  Jeff Bezos of Amazon recently announced that they are now selling more electronic books than paper books.  That one revolution may save more trees than all of our recycling programs.

Last night ended with the first meeting of a new spiritual book club, dedicated to reading one chapter every two weeks of Deepak Chopra's "The Book of Secrets."  His first chapter ties a lot of this thinking about books together as he talks about the incredible wisdom of cells.  It is estimated that there are around 50 trillion cells in the human body.  So far we don't know what holds them together in the forms we see walking around every day but we do know that the cells are in constant contact with each other.  Information flows and each cell shares its information freely.  And that's what writers do ... they ... we ... share information.  A lot of the time we don't completely understand why we are so compelled to share what's on our minds, what happened in our childhoods, how to use the latest gadget, or our deepest, darkest secrets.  But thinking about cells makes it a little more understandable.  We are cells in the Universe and it's in our nature to share information.  It's just what we do.

So, today is a special day of gratitude for writers everywhere ... writers of all types ... writers of books, writers of movies, writers of blogs, writers of graphic novels.  Writers write and the information flows.  And, perhaps, it's information that holds all the cells of the body together and maybe it's information that holds our world together.

Gratitude Sunday: Dogs

Anyone who has ever lived with a dog understands the magnetic pull of their unconditional love.  Since this is gratitude Sunday, I will attempt to express my gratitude for all dogs and the love they give us and, most specifically, for Missy, the ten pounds of dog that warms my heart every day.

As I was thinking of what dogs bring us ... besides love, they make us laugh, teach us patience and at least try to improve our health by requesting, not so patiently, that we walk them once or twice a day ... I had to wonder what the world would be like without them.  Love changes us so what would we be without the daily dose of pure love from our four-footed companions?  Could we stop wars by encouraging dog companionship?  Imagine if everyone in Congress were accompanied by their dogs.  Conversations change when dogs are around ... we talk about their cute tricks, their allergies, what toys they like best.  Maybe we should elect politicians based on how well they take care of their dogs.  It couldn't be much worse than the criteria we currently use.  Maybe they would be so busy taking care of their dogs and cleaning up their messes that they would be too busy to make more of a mess of our economy and social systems.

Dogs teach us to read expressions and body language and I know that Missy often thinks I'm a dunce when she's making it very clear what she wants and I keep saying, "Just tell me what you want."  The slightest twitch of an eyebrow should be enough to tell me whether she's wanting to walk or is simply bored and wants to play.  But all too often I miss the point and she repeats the message a little slower and a little louder, carefully enunciating each signal as if to a befuddled child.  But she never holds my shortcomings against me.  Finally I get the message and every inch of her body celebrates the success in a wild yo-yo dance of delight.  One step forward in my training.

A friend of mine was fond of telling me that dog is God spelled backwards ... perhaps he's right ... maybe dogs are God's way of teaching us what love is and what life could be like if we just accepted and loved each other.  Our dogs give us that gift ... perhaps they could teach us to pass it along ... maybe that's what they're here to do and trying to do and we're just too slow to get the lesson.

Water

It's gratitude Sunday and I just came back from kayaking on Bass Lake so this week's gratitude is water.  How fortunate most of us are to have clean drinking water and lakes, rivers and streams that invite recreation and renew our spirits. After the BP oil spill in the gulf, there is an even deeper feeling of gratitude for this abundant and life-supporting gift.

But what is this stuff we call water and know from grade-school science as H2O?  It turns out that even scientists don't know everything about this most basic substance and it has some very strange properties.  Livescience.com states:

• The solid form floats on the liquid form. This property also explains why water pipes will burst when they freeze - something opposite of nearly every other simple substance. Mercury thermometers, for instance, do not explode when the temperature drops below the freezing point of mercury.

• The temperatures at which water boils and freezes are both higher than other molecules of similar size.

• Water has a large heat capacity; it can take in a lot of heat without its temperature increasing very much. This makes it an especially good coolant for a car radiator, and it's the main reason temperatures are moderate for coastal communities - as the ocean is slow to cool down or warm up.

• The high surface tension of water - its tendency to fight being pulled apart - explains why it forms droplets and why it climbs up the sides of a straw. It may also play a part in how the water strider walks on water.

Perhaps even stranger, there is a widely-held belief that water holds memory.  While not completely accepted by the scientific community, it is creating a lot of conversation and controversy.  Below is an interesting video telling the story of this thinking (this is just the first part of a multi-part series).  In the meantime, it's probably enough to marvel at this mysterious substance that forms most of our world and our own bodies ... and be grateful for it ... whatever it is.

To the Ones Who Can

It's Gratitude Sunday, when I look for a new gratitude.  This morning's gratitude started with yesterday's unsolvable dilemma.  A call for money from an addict prompted another round of "is she really in recovery this time? ... or is she just trying to score money again?"  It prompted a call to my blog sister Louise who works in a homeless shelter in Canada.  She, of course, could not answer the question but she did offer empathy and insight.  It made me realize how grateful I am to the people who offer care and shelter to the bewildered, bedeviled and lost souls who live among us. 

The Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) reports that 1.6 million people spent at least one night in an emergency shelter in 2009.  And, the National Health Care for the Homeless Council estimates between 750,000 and 2 million men and women ages 18 to 24 experience some form of homelessness every year in the U.S.  It's a multi-faceted and hugely difficult problem.  The success stories Louise tells in her blog at Recover Your Joy are inspiring and encouraging but I'm sure for every success story, there are many heart breaking ones of people who never find their way back.  Louise is one of the many unsung heroes who work in this challenging field.  I am grateful to all of them who offer compassion, a warm bed, a hot meal, job and life training and hope for a better way of being in the world to all of those mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, daughters and sons who have become lost in the world of homelessness and addition.

I am also grateful for Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), an amazing, self-organizing, free recovery program that has offered help to millions of people around the world.  For the past several months I've watched a young friend turn her life around with the help of the AA program and the generous support of sponsors and other AAers who have learned how to live sober in a world that often seems deliriously drunk and out of control.  Without AA (and it's related NA, GA, OA), the level of homelessness could be even higher than it is.

There are people in the world who have the empathy, compassion, skills and patience to deal with the most difficult problems facing the homeless, the nearly homeless, the alcoholics, drug addicts and mentally challenged.  This morning they have my extreme gratitude.

There are also people in the world who hit bottom (at whatever level) and have the strength, courage and determination to reach out for help and then accept it with humility and honesty.  They also have my gratitude for each in their own way has made our world a better place.

Remembering Where We Came From

It's Gratitude Sunday ... and also the 4th of July.  Seems like the two go together.  I've always been grateful to live in this country and feel like the taxes I pay are the best money I spend even if some of it goes for things I wish it didn't.  However, Gratitude Sunday is supposed to be about *new* gratitudes so I had to look a little deeper to find the gratitude that I haven't thought about or expressed.

It came as I was walking this morning and realized how grateful I should be ... and am ... for the four people who many long  years ago risked everything for a dream.  I'm not sure who they were, when they came or exactly where they came from.  I don't know if they came as couples or single people taking their chances in a new land.  I am relatively sure I know pieces of their stories ... a hard crossing of a vast ocean, little money, little education, little to depend upon once they reached this land except their wits and faith in the opportunity.

I don't know if they came before or after The Statue of Liberty was in place (1886) but it is likely that some of them entered through Ellis Island and may have seen her welcoming presence and read her comforting words:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

I hope some of them at least read those words as they headed out into unknown futures that would weave together to create, among many, the new life that is me.  I am grateful for their risk-taking.  I am grateful for my country that has shown as a beacon to the world's tired and poor.  May we remember our beginnings in all that we do.

A special thank you to Louise at Recover Your Joy, a Canadian who writes very beautifully about our national birthday.

Happy 4th of July to all ... and may it bring peace to our hearts.

Gratitude Sunday: Water Blessing

"The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude." -Friedrich Nietzsche 

I try to live in gratitude but have decided to dedicate Sunday's blog post to acknowledging a new gratitude, some new gift that has come my way.

Maureen at Writing without Paper is one of the most eclectic and prolific "finders" I've ever met.  She is constantly introducing her readers to new artists, poets, musicians and people who are changing the world.  This week she introduced me to Annette Cantor and I fell in love with her music and angelic voice.

Cantor is offering a free Water Blessing at her website:  http://www.annettesings.com/music.html.  What a beautiful way to remind ourselves of our gratitude for one of our most precious gifts.