Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: pandemic

  • The Best of Bhutan

    “Bhutan’s approach as a Buddhist country,
    a country that values Gross National Happiness,
    is different from a typical technocratic approach.”
    ~ Tenzing Lamsang,
    an investigative journalist and editor of The Bhutanese

    Those who know me well are well aware I rarely read news. Today, I was drawn to read the article about Bhutan’s experience of the pandemic.


    Read the entire article here: How did a tiny, poor nation manage to suffer only one death from the coronavirus?

    While many points in the article moved me near tears, the most uplifting aspect of the article is that it gives my mind a space of hope. I have had many conversations about the need for a new model of leadership in the world.

    Could this tiny country be a demonstration of what is possible?

    Lets look closely at each aspect for what we can learn and apply.

    First, hope that you are lucky and your country’s leaders are thoroughly engaged. Bhutan had trusted, smart, and hands-on direction from its king, whose moral authority carries great weight.

    Second, invest in preparedness…. Bhutan’s health ministry staged a simulation at the country’s international airport. The scenario: a passenger arriving from abroad with a suspected infection caused by a new strain of coronavirus. All these measures reflect what Bitton sees as a dynamic, system-wide self-awareness. “You could call it humility; you could call it curiosity,” he said. “It’s this idea of, wow, we have a lot to learn.”

    Third, act fast and buy time…. Bhutan’s system of community-based primary care had sowed the concept of prevention, and its free universal health care and testing meant that logistics and supply chains were already in place.

    Fourth, draw on existing strengths. (They shifted workers from one segment to another as needed, and provided additional training where necessary.)

    Finally, make it possible for people to actually follow public-health guidance by providing economic and social support to those who need to quarantine or isolate. Nuzzo calls these “wraparound services.”

    First and foremost, we must understand ourselves: when humans are naive to the thought viruses that infect individuals, communities, and species, we are very vulnerable.

    Whatever it might take, it is time for US (ambiguity intentional) to adopt a higher standard of collective being. If you are not familiar with the polyvagal theory of happiness and well-being, please enlighten yourselves. Creativity, productivity, respect, kindness, wisdom — all the virtues of a healthy relating — are needed for us to reach the other shore.

      The Other Shore

      Sitting
      gazing longingly
      across the surface
      of the water at the “other” shore

      Breathing
      releasing contractions
      throughout the body
      all caused by distortions in the mind

      Feeling
      wholly spacious
      emotions rise, fall
      denying nothing and at ease

      Hearing
      birds sing
      birds’ songs dance in the air
      the air, joyful, joins the movement

      Thinking
      memories float
      some pleasant, some not
      illusions seen now for what they are

      Debra Basham
      February 11, 2021

    Note* This poem is about the five aggregates of self: form (or material image, impression) (rupa), sensations (or feelings, received from form) (vedana), perceptions (samjna), mental activity or formations (sankhara), and consciousness (vijnana)

    Note* Check out How to Use the Polyvagal Ladder.

    “No one can put in his best performance unless he feels secure.”
    ~ Dr. William Edwards Deming

    Deming was an American engineer, statistician, professor, author, lecturer, and management consultant.

    Deming undoubtedly would understand the best of Bhutan….

  • LOVE Came Down at Christmas

    I am grateful John and I had a practice run at not being physically with Stacey and her family for Christmas in 2019.

    Last year we attended a Christmas Day potluck at Pine Island Cove with Michigan friends, Linda and Fred, who also winter here in Florida.

    This year, John and I share our day with all of you in our hearts.


    Our hearts are uplifted by the truth: “We isolate this year so that when we can meet again next year no one will be missing.”

    Today, our home-away-from-home may be empty of friends and family, but my heart is full of love for each of you!

    Our hearts are filled with memories!

    Our hearts are warmed by Christmases past.

    Our hearts are nourished with the true meaning of Christmas:

      That Mary and Joseph—Mary heavy with child—traveled through the countryside.

      She was at the time of giving birth to the child.

      They found shelter, simple shelter.

      And many beings experiencing, “The light has been born! Ah… The light is back!”

      It wasn’t me, it was more that my birth opened the doorway so that the Heavenly light—the Love, the remembrance of Love—could pour through.

      What was that star? Let us metaphorically call it an opening in the dark heavens where the remembrance of light and Love could pour through—pour through to where I lay as an infant, not to highlight me but to remind humans nothing is hopeless.

      Light IS.

      Love IS.

      And it is right here.

      And it was pointing at me, but it could be pointing at any of you.

      Here is the ground of love and light.

      And the earth sang, “Halleluiah!” not for my birth but for the remembrance: LIGHT IS, LOVE IS.*

    * Jeshua, channeled by Barbara Brodsky on Christmas Eve 2020, sharing some thoughts about what Christmas means to him and how we can carry the meaning of Christmas through to our times.

  • What Remains is Enough

    There’s going to be pain that feels overwhelming.
    There are going to be situations
    that come up where
    we just suddenly freeze up and say,
    “I don’t know how to do this.”

    ~ Barbara Brodsky

    This is certainly a time of accepting what is and knowing that what is, is enough. The current version of this process began for me last March when Lee County, Florida, experienced it’s first fatality from a confirmed community-transmitted case of the coronavirus.

    As John and I began to self-isolate, I would gently remind myself of the truth: we can live with what we have for a long time. We can hold the desire for something else with compassion. We can notice the voice inside that habitually insists, “I want it this way!”

    I was naïve enough at that time to see everyone doing what was quite difficult for a short period of time, so together we could quickly move through this pandemic with grace and ease.

    Of course, I notice subtle judgment about those who continue having big gatherings, “We could be done with this if THEY would do what is needed.”

    I watch mindfulness to conserve.

    I still move a new sheet of paper towel from “use with food” to “use to clean,” rather than grab a clean sheet and then toss it. In the toilet, I limit most wipes to four squares, if you know what I mean.


    Okay. I don’t know how to do this.
    Can I give myself permission
    not to know how to do it?

    And then finally
    I can come to the part that says,
    “Yes, I do know how to do this.”

    ~ Barbara Brodsky

    As we traveled from Michigan to Florida this past weekend, we took what we learned from our trip home last April. We had food, water, and potty preparations in the van with us. I used safe protocol when we had to stop for fuel.

    We opted for a Zoom Thanksgiving with my sister, Janis, and brother-in-love, Larry.

    We chose to stay in a hotel near Stacey, and to wear two masks while visiting with Stacey and Doug, Brad and Christina, and Adam — and Baxter and the cats!!!


    Later today I will make a sign for the lanai door here on Bounty Lane saying we are safe-sheltering. Not at all our normal, not at all our desired — but enough.

    I have some curiosity about those who have tested positive and are navigating the virus but have requested that information not be shared. My wondering about it is, “Are they experiencing guilty feelings about having contracted this virus?”

    We played our first Zoom dominoes game last evening with Linda and Larry while we are here on Bounty Lane and they are still at Lot 101 at home in Glenaire. While our location has changed, much remains the same.

    The theme of our meditation retreats has been about what remains.

    What remains in my cupboard? What remains as we continue to navigate a global pandemic? What remains when a loved one passes?

    What remains is LOVE. What always remains is LOVE. And LOVE is enough.

    It was great to take Michigan apples to Stacey. It was wonderful to deliver her favorite sauerkraut casserole. We loved seeing the beautiful improvements to their home. It was sweet to share homemade caramel corn with Christina.


    The ego doesn’t
    know how to do this,
    but the deeper self does.

    The heart mind,
    the wisdom and compassion heart,
    knows how to do it.

    ~ Barbara Brodsky

    We have already started getting mail here. In addition to having sent John his usual insulting (it’s a game they have played for years!) birthday card, Lee Mapes sent us a very impressive Christmas card, appropriate for snowbirds!



    And he gifted us with an Echo Show 8!

    Lee is a loyal friend, but it is not about what he buys (although he is generous that way too). Lee remains. Lee’s love remains.

    Lee navigated Stacey’s adolescence with us as John was on the road for Morton Shoes. Early one Sunday morning he went to our house in Saint Joseph, broke into our garage to get the suitcases that were inadvertently left there, and drove them to Midway Airport in Chicago.

    I took him to the hospital when he had hernia surgery. I brought him to our home and cared for him until he was able to go home. Stacey is Lee’s legal and medical representative.

    There is enough love, enough generosity, enough wisdom and kindness to get through this with grace and ease, regardless of how long it takes, because what remains is enough….

  • Poetry – Brandon Leake’s Got Talent!

    Anyone who lives art knows that psychoanalysis has
    no monopoly on the power to heal.

    Art and poetry have always been altering our ways
    of sensing and feeling
    — that is to say,
    altering the human body.

    ~Norman O. Brown

    Reality TV, like everything else in this human incarnation, has its ups and down, strengths and weaknesses, benefits and costs. This year’s America’s Got Talent cost me a lot of tears.

    As a poet myself, I am no stranger to the experience of having words make me cry. And this year’s AGT winner, poet Brandon Leake, touched the world with words like “Pookie” and “generational healing” and “no more time left for fear” and “you are so much stronger than you think” and “as soon as Covid hit, everything changed.”

    Here is a link to a significant 14 minutes and 11 seconds: ALL of Brandon Leake’s Performances on Season 15 of AGT! on Youtube.

    Brandon Leake said it best, “As soon as Covid hit, everything changed.”

    Last evening I shared a meal at a table with someone other than John for the first time since March 15, 2020. Interestingly, I knew before I got the call inviting us that I would be doing that. Even so, it was not an easy decision when I learned that four households would be gathered!

    I sent a text message to my friend:

      Honest answer: Are you expecting/asking guests to arrive in masks for pre-dinner conversation; remove masks for eating (6 feet or more distance); and to put masks back on for any after-dinner conversation?

    She responded:

      Absolutely. And they all follow these guidelines all the time, the best I can know.

    I wrote back:

      We will see you there.

    I cried when I read her next message:

      I love you and appreciate your process in getting to this decision. ❤️🙏😷

    You see, this was not just four households selected willy-nilly because we are going stir-crazy. These were two of our dearest friends hosting two other families who had been touched by recent loss. We share deep connections through church and loss and Covid.

    Seated to my right is a mother and her beautiful adult daughter, who is currently living with her mom. Their husband and father died late May of a post-Covid complication: stroke. They were unable to be with him as he was moved from facility to facility, until the very last hours of his life in this body. After he passed, they were unable to gather with friends and family to celebrate his life.

    Across from John and me were our hosts. Her mother passed just weeks ago… and they, too, have been unable to gather with friends and family for a formal Celebration of Life.

    The fourth household is a woman seated alone. She just lost her husband to Alzheimer’s disease, after having kept him at home as long as humanly possible, evidenced by the fact that he lived only a very short time once moved to a facility. Everyone at his visitation and funeral were required to wear masks and social distance.

    The serving table stretched about 12 feet with concrete landscaping blocks strategically placed to hold down autumn-colored table cloths. Placed around the perimeter are seven TV trays; each adorned with a brightly colored place setting. Cloth napkins compliment the loving atmosphere. I hear the words from the communion liturgy inside my head telling me this table has been prepared for you.

    The warm autumn wind was blowing as “Eau de Cologne” of garlic wafted from the house.

    After a feast fit for royalty, it was already dark as we slowly rose from the table. It was awkward to not help clear the table, go into the house to help load the dishwasher and wash the pots and pans. We were obviously all grateful for what we were able to share but also profoundly aware how very difficult it was to say goodbye without hugs. The desire rose up in my chest and left a lump in my throat.

    Today I see this message from another friend, along with the photo:

      Here’s my two flightless friends — Rowdy, who can’t fly but ran five miles at 4 a.m. and this monarch who hatched on Monday with imperfect wings. So he hangs out in my office on fresh flowers during the week and here at home on weekends. I feed him sugar water 1-2x day. Rowdy is getting used to sharing his home with a monarch companion.


    Just as Rowdy is getting used to sharing his home with a strange companion, we are getting used to sharing our lives with this pandemic….

  • Mario’s Italian Market Remains!

    In response to “When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains?” posting, I received a precious email message from a Florida writer-friend.

    Thank you, Paul, for igniting my heart by sharing your powerful writing of your poignant experience.

    (Soft edits only!)

    Welcome to the Yellow Brick Road, and please come again….

      Dear Debra,

      I stared at the title of your recent blog for moments before I opened and read the email.

      The title described exactly, in a few short words, what I’ve been feeling for weeks. Seems that we’ve experienced a string of negative events these past few months that have made July/August 2020 among the most unforgettable in recent memory.

      I’ve tried to remain positive, yet have found this challenging.

      Although not the root cause, COVID-induced separation is a likely contributor to a nagging sense of disconnect.

      I wonder sometimes if we’ve gotten too good at “social distancing.” We stay at home; work from home in separate rooms; spend all day in different mindsets. We frown under our mask if someone is shopping in the wrong direction in the supermarket aisle. We are cautioned to avoid people who are sick, when we used to be encouraged to do the opposite.

      E.M. Forster begins his novel “Howard’s End” with the words “only connect.”

      A final thought on human interaction and connectedness: One of our favorite activities since moving to Southwest Florida is shopping at Mario’s Italian Market in Fort Myers.

      Having grown up in Brooklyn with parents who were raised in Little Italy, I feel qualified to comment on the salumeria experience in America.

      The magic of Mario’s is that everyone there—regardless of ethnicity or nationality—is for that moment bound together by a familiarity and fondness for this food. We make sure that number 75 doesn’t answer before we hold up our ticket number 76. We ask the woman who ordered the long-hot peppers if they’re really hot; she replies with a smile and left-right wag of her hand. The counter man offers a sample slice of Calabrian salami—an inducement to order a half-pound instead of a quarter. We discuss the merits of gorgonzola versus blue cheese with a stranger.

      Perhaps this is what will remain when everything falls apart.

    Perhaps, when everything falls apart, what remains is everything that is loved….

    You are loved, Paul!

  • When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains?

    I am technically practicing silence in a meditation retreat at Heartwood Refuge and Retreat Center in Hendersonville, North Carolina. But I am attending via Zoom and my fingers are on the keyboard. The focus of this retreat with John Orr is When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains? This was John’s blurb about the retreat:

      Our world has seen a massive upheaval as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, the continuing racism and political divisiveness. We are all having to deal with changes in our lives and the communities we live in. At times it may seem like everything is falling apart and we are left with a profound feeling of uncertainty. Now more than ever the dharma and our meditation practice can be a refuge to meet the present challenges.

      During this retreat we will explore the ancient teachings of:

      The Don’t Know Mind (making friends with uncertainty)

      Impermanence (this too shall pass)

      Dissolution (when everything falls apart, what remains?)

      Non Duality (Something isn’t separate from Everything)

      Our meditation draws on Mindfulness, Vipassana and Pure Awareness. Clear instruction will be offered for all levels.

      Loving Kindness and Compassion Meditation and chanting are also part of our retreat together. A special focus will be how to practice and hold our hearts open with the inconvenience, discomfort and uncertainty of today’s world.

    On Wednesday afternoon before the retreat began, I had yet another tender conversation with our daughter about our diverse approach to precautions related to this virus. We did not argue, but we make very different choices. A few hours later, during the opening introductions, I received news from a good friend–also attending via Zoom–that she was not feeling well. Here is the rest of the story, posted on Facebook a few moments ago in response to another friend, Kate:

    Kate posted:
    I feel like I’m one of the few people still practicing social distancing, and sheltering in place. FB is full of pics of people out to restaurants, at pools and beaches or sharing space with relatives they haven’t seen in awhile. I would love to see our kids but I can’t guarantee I’m not infected nor can they. Am I just over sensitive to this?

    I responded to Kate:
    Kate, THANK YOU! I could have written this post. Today I would add that another friend, thinking the same way you and I have been thinking, relented and got together with her family.

    Her adult children drove in from out of state, each household traveling in separate vehicles, taking proper precautions along way.

    Each household brought a tent. My friend rented a party-potty and set up an outdoor kitchen. My friend’s family did not enter her house, and when the family went hiking each family drove in his/her own car. They maintained social distance along the trail.

    Shortly after they arrived, her daughter’s partner received a call from work that his colleague had tested positive. He got in their vehicle and drove to the nearest location and had a Covid test.

    Of course the results from his test didn’t come back until AFTER he was already back home, and not until AFTER he was already symptomatic. His test came back positive.

    On Wednesday evening, gathered via Zoom, my friend reported that she had a “wicked cold” and had gone to get a Covid test. She would know in a week.

    Yesterday, she sent a private message via Zoom chat, “I tested positive. I have COVID.”

    Even the precautions level that you and I are committed to, may not be enough….

    Kate, keep teaching by example! So much to learn from this.

    ❤️🙏🏼🦋

    Deep Spring Center
    Thought for Today

    It is not the teacher who is the authority; it is the dharma that is the authority. It is sati, mindful presence, which is the authority. It is awareness, which is the authority. It is the deeply loving and open heart that is the authority. It is the Ground of Being, the divine essence of each, which is the authority. The teacher who has done his or her work, understands the practice and has developed a depth of realization of how things are, has no need to be the authority to another, but is willing to offer what he or she knows with a certainty, offering it for the guidance of others, but with no need to say, ‘This is it!’ If it really is it, others will discover that through their own practice. ~ Aaron

  • Overcast

    Overcast

    It is overcast today
    Four months since I
    freely hugged
    or leaned over the
    puzzle table
    saying, “Where do you think
    this piece goes?”
    to my companion

    In search of where each piece fits
    Longing for the satisfaction
    completion brings

    The sun is up there
    Still shining
    but my world feels grey today

    I still embrace those I love
    In my hands I cradle
    sweet faces
    in my heart
    even though it is overcast today

    I wonder how you got where you are, here by the edge of the concrete, where you bloom.

    I also wonder how I got where I am.

    It occurs to me that I might be a volunteer like this precious petunia. The conditions are right for our growth. Mine and this purple pretty.

    As a writer, I have never been afraid I would have nothing to say. Never has the empty page intimidated me. The space is invitation. The movement of my fingers on the keyboard itself an inspiration. I watch letters appear as if by magic, having left my discursive mind at the door.

    This is a time like none other. What I have to say seems to have been said better by others.

    I witness this blankness on the page as evidence of the void my heart feels. Not once in his thirty years have I gone this long without being with my him. My first grandchild. My grandson. I remember well his words, “When I am not in my house, and you are not in your house, I am going to miss you.”

    He was two.

    We have met half-way, in Colombus, Indiana, for the weekend. We are staying in a suite at the Holiday Inn. His grandpa and I sleeping in one room and his mom and he sleeping in the other.

    We two are the only ones awake. The small round table and the two chairs where we are seated as he moves the cheerios around in his bowl bear witness to our soft voices as he verbalizes our one heart.

    He points to our separate rooms as he speaks. He has a good sense of what is to come. He knows his grandpa and I will go back to Michigan and he will go with his mom back to Tennessee.

    He knows we will long for one another.

    He knows his mom will wait until he is asleep before she heads south as his grandpa and I head north. Otherwise he would cry and nothing would console him.

    I now gather these memories in the tendrils of my current longing — my longing to hold so much and so many.

    It is overcast today.

    I allow my mind’s eye to blink away the tears until I can see far enough into our future to touch his flesh, smell his breath, and feel the roar of relief.

    We must be gentle with ourselves as we navigate the waters of our emotions.

  • Through the Darkness

    Start where you are,
    use what you have,
    do what you can.

    ~ Arthur Ashe

    I am tempted to schedule this to post so readers don’t know that I have my fingers on the keyboard at 4:21 am while on retreat. If I were not retreating via Zoom because of COVID-19, I would not have the option. I would have a room mate and I would be awake and watching the mind movements. I am awake. And I am watching the mind movements. And my fingers are on the keyboard.

    This week I have been doing seva (service) by transcribing audio for our teacher, Barbara Brodsky. Most of you know that Barbara is deaf. Because she is channeling the teachings, she “hears” what was taught only after someone listens to the voice memos and sends her a document. I have been doing that for her almost real time. This, along with Barbara’s releasing the raw audios to the students, is a huge change.

    The catalyst of these changes is COVID, but, the benefit of the changes is trust.

    Last night’s evening talk, a summary of this group’s two-year commitment to the Dharma Path, began with the question, “What is the Dharma Path?”

    First, is the truth of duhkha, a Sanskrit word usually thought to mean suffering. The clearest meaning is a wheel that is off center causing the vehicle (car or cart) to lurch. Lurching makes the ride very uncomfortable, further amplified by our expectation that the ride should be smooth.

    Human beings can get off center and lurch. Suffering because we have aversion to the lurching, we grasp for the expectation and desire for no lurching.

    COVID-19 has amplified the lurching, and the aversion and grasping. Lots of duhkha…. but there is a path out.

    Earlier in the retreat, we were to answer the questions, “In this moment, what is the hardest thing for me to hold in love? What seems to sit outside of the heart?” I wrote down one word: IGNORANCE. A saying that represents ignorance is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Wasted effort. Squandered resources. Denial. Refusal to look with the eyes of love.

    A couple of evenings ago watching two juvenile birds at the bird bath inspired a poem:

    I AM That

    The juvenile bluebird
    standing stiffly
    in the center of the bird bath

    The young starling
    watching in amazement
    before jumping in and splashing exuberantly

    As much as saying
    “Here, I’ll show you
    so you can enjoy it too”

    Exiting the bath
    Making space for the willing-to-learn
    “I-can-do-that-too!”

    Bluebird to follow suit
    Again and again
    We teach and we learn

    We center our wheel by holding clearly in view several highest intentions for our lives. I wrote: I serve those who serve. I assist humanity to transcend seeming limitations and move out of delusion and awaken to our true power to bless all.

    Lofty aspirations, for sure, but we are not alone in these endeavors. The creator of worlds is here offering us support. We are often like that juvenile bluebird, standing stiffly in our human form, ignorant of the amazing joy available to us.

    There will always be pain. The conditions around the pandemic, racial inequality, violence, desperation, despair — lurching, lurching, lurching.

    As Chris McCall sang “Here I am Lord” for us I was crying like a baby. Many of us were. Humanity is tired of the uncomfortable lurching. “I will go, Lord, if you lead me, I will hold your people in my heart.”

    If a juvenile bluebird and a juvenile starling can do it, so can we. We are not just humans. We are also divine.

    One of the closing lines in last night’s dharma talk: “Ahhhh, I see we have passed through the darkness….”

  • Emerald Isle Musings

    WORD FOR THE DAY

    We did not ask for this room or this music;
    we were invited in.

    Therefore, because the dark surrounds us,
    let us turn our faces toward the light.

    Let us endure hardship
    to be grateful for plenty…

    We did not ask for this room or this music.

    But because we are here,
    let us dance.

    ~ Stephen King
    (visit GRATEFULNESS.ORG)

    The closing “circle” for the 2020 Emerald Isle meditation retreat was—like the entire week—happening on ZOOM.

    The title of the retreat was “Deepening Practice in Challenging Times.”

    While I had planned to use the week letting go of the stress of the past month of Pandemic and Post-Mold-Remediation experience (see my previous posts), at the last minute, I became Debra the Deva-in-Demand, functioning as the ZOOM co-host/moderator for the week.

    Note* I have no previous experience hosting a group on ZOOM.

    A difficulty with the platform is how to effectively experience group chanting. We are still working on that….

    Although I did not ask for this room, or this music, I was there, so I danced. The ZOOM room was welcoming, the messy music was magical, and I was so blessed to serve.

    Adding an intricate layer of dance moves to our virtual/residential retreat is the fact that our beloved teacher, Barbara Brodsky, is deaf. Our beloved co-teacher, John Orr, did a lot of simultaneous speaking while finger-signing for Barbara, including an entire dharma talk! Volunteers did much typing into the chat box, and I was often directing Barbara via closed-caption. A retreat moto might have been, “Slow down, slow down… a little bit slower, please.”

    The Pali term, Katavedi, is related to gratefully giving as a result of having fully received.

    The one who is grateful (kataññu) helps in return (katavedi).

    For the closing circle, we gathered at the appointed time, and one-by-one people let me know when ready to share. That person’s face would be spotlighted, their words (which had been emailed to me) would be shared on the screen. Each person (sometimes tearfully) would read. Here are my closing words:

    There were some rough spots with the technology of this retreat. Contraction, grasping, wanting to help. I am totally new to hosting ZOOM. Patty and Tana and I had a crash course last week. Tana received more than a few SOS messages. WE did the best we could. Not at all easy, but so much learning! We will do better next time.

    Additionally, two friends are in ICU on ventilators with COVID-19. I have had my phone and email active this week to host ZOOM. I am grateful to have been available to both of these families. Ordinarily, my phone and email would not have been checked at all during the week of retreat.

    My husband, John, had sciatica so severely at the start of the week he could barely walk from the bed to the bathroom. At the end of each night, I would do reflexology for him.

    John Orr spoke of katavedi, which is giving back from that place of appreciation and gratitude.

    This week I have been giving back. We could never ask for better teachers.

    I have infinite love and gratitude for Barbara, and John, Aaron, The Mother, Jeshua, Father John… LOVE, and for each of you, my brothers and sisters of light.

    I could write a book titled “SNAFU” related to the ambitious decision to offer a week-long, silent, residential retreat with people safe-sheltering at home, but the difficulties did not diminish the benefits.

    Most participants were surprised, pleased, and affected by their first residential retreat at home.

    Writing this, my heart sank as I realized Rita asked me to share for her, and I forgot to do that. Here are her loving words of gratitude: It was an honor to participate in the retreat with each and every one of you. The strong feeling of connection with so many, most of whom I had never “met” before, was so warming and affirming. I want to thank Aaron, Barbara and John for sharing their wisdom, personal stories, encouragement and Love. I truly feel blessed to have had the opportunity to be in the presence of such skillful loving teachers. Namaste’

    We practice where we are. Where we are is in social-isolation. This bird on the shrub is outside my virtual “meditation hall” window:

    Iris shared a Terry Tempest Williams poem (also one of my favorites): “Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”

    The world—even the current pandemic world—is meant to be celebrated. Even in social isolation, we are never alone. LOVE is always with us.

    And so LOVE must have the final “going home” instructions:

    YOU are LOVE. That essence of you can never be destroyed.

    It can be hidden.
    Let it out!

    It can be forgotten.
    Reawaken it!

    I want friends to dance with me in the garden of LOVE.

    You are so special and beautiful—each of you. The millions of beings on this earth who had the courage to incarnate, to move past old, limiting habit patterns of fear, and remember the essence of LOVE. This is what your practice is for.

    I want to thank you for giving this week of your time to this practice.

    Giving and receiving…. giving and receiving…. giving and receiving.

    My heart to your heart.

    I love you.

  • Cookies

    I have been safe sheltering for one week because of the global outbreak of COVID-19.

    Today I baked cookies.

    I used all of the flour, all of the brown sugar, 4 of the eggs, and almost the last of the butter.




    While my action might seem mundane to some, to me it was holy.

    Canadian friends, Davey and Eli, are heading home tomorrow. Davey loves my chocolate chip cookies. I wrote: “Health Food for Your Safe Travels” on the lid.

    After Fred repaired my built in microwave a few years ago, I gave him oatmeal raisin cookies and a card: A dozen cookies and a million thanks. He quipped, “I would rather have a dozen thanks and a million cookies!” Since that time, I always bake and pack the baker’s dozen for him. It is a sacrament.

    Nancy Green was offered either or both. She chose oatmeal raisin. I learned today they are her preference. This is a time for learning….

    Along with Nancy’s cookies, I delivered an N-95 mask for a friend-of-a-friend. (See Sacred Story: N-95.)

    Yesterday, I used the last half-cup of heavy whipping cream. Our friends/neighbors generously take us out on their pontoon boat, so she received the last two vegan bran muffins with her favorite devonshire cream.

    I wish I could get the oatmeal raisin cookies and vegan bran muffins to Joel Bowman in Michigan. Those are his two favorites.

    I wish I could get chocolate chip cookies to the folks across the street who are back in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I had planned to take some to them when we were in Chattanooga to attend the college graduation of our granddaughter, Courtney Nicole Ross. No graduation ceremony at UT this year of COVID-19.

    I told Courtney we will have Larry Britton use Photoshop to create a blast of an event for her. Their motto is “If you can dream it, you can make it.”

    Her grandpa and I paid the $100 for her gown. She is the first woman to graduate college in my family line. My grandma did not, my mom did not, I did not, and Courtney’s mom did not. Congratulations, Courtney. We are so proud of you.

    I would make pasta salad with nothing but dressing for you. And Kraft Mac and Cheese.

    Preparing and sharing food is as ancient as human civilization.

    I think of events I have been in the kitchen for.

    I have worn out many an apron….

    Earlier today a friend sent this powerful prose about how our staying at home is healing the earth.

    “And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened and rested, and exercised, and made art and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently. And the people healed. And in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless and heartless ways, the earth began to heal. And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses and made new choices, and dreamed new images and created new ways to live and heal earth fully, as they had been healed.”

    ~ Kitty O’Meara

    Today I am no less aware of the unfathomable losses and unprecedented uncertainty related to the COVID-19 pandemic, but I am more aware how the majority of the people on earth slowing down for this time is having an immediate and potentially everlasting benefit to the planet itself.

    Many are being kinder.

    Many are realizing how fortunate most of us are.

    Many are learning the distinction between needs and wants.

    I am grateful to be part of all of this. My pantry may be running low on some things but my heart is filled to overflowing with gratitude and love….