30 April 2020
Yesterday I caught the Happy Virus from my beloved friend Francesca, who spoke to me through the fence. She left me flowers and a lovely lotion on the wall that stood between us. Not being able to touch her made my heart ache. And gazing into her shiny eyes, being in her radiant presence was a balm – lifted my heart and my spirits.
It’s so beautiful to think of the many and surprising ways I have been loved up in these past too-many weeks. The gorgeous green veggies that land in my kitchen every week from Can Carbo. The radiant Mariana raising our kundalini and our personal mastery every. single. day. Lyrical wisdom proffered so generously by wondrous Mirjam. Lemons, eggs, and sweet treats baked with love, from our dear next-door neighbors (not to mention the applause and shouts of "¡Ánimo!" from our balconies every day at 8 p.m.). Courageous conversations, idea exchanges and deep laughter that rises from tinny speakers and winds its way into my waiting heart.
I desperately miss the hugs, the touch, the simple ease of being together. But these gestures, these personal encounters – however they’re served up – keep infecting me with the Happy Virus.
I don’t always feel it, but I know I always have the Happy Virus. My beautiful and generous friends have it. The stars and night jasmine and spring flowers have it.
I hope you have it too. If you don’t, it would be my pleasure to give it to you.
IMAGE CREDIT: Brent MacKay
22 April 2020 - Earth Day
Today I take refuge in the clouds.
Cottony and low, backlit by the morning sun. Gray and wispy in the mid-sky. A front portending rain. All in one sweeping view.
Nature’s exquisite offerings – each one unique and full, effortlessly unfolding and rolling and welcoming. A simple and generous and ever-present embrace of me as me – with all my magnificence and messiness.
These morning clouds have something to teach me. I awaken today to learn.
9 April 2020
I spotted these beauties and their shining yellow faces on my way to the market this week. Growing wild along the urban sidewalk, peeking through a chain-link fence, their joyful audacity caused a smile to blossom on my mask-clad face.
I thought I was being so subversive when I picked them and tossed them into my shopping bag. Then I saw the man patiently waiting for me to finish my sweet thievery. And he was wearing a smile, too. It’s good to remember that delight is contagious, too.
Deep bows to each and every act of quiet courage and simple joy that keeps our human family knitted together.
2 april 2020
Since we’ve been “in containment,” some visits to public places have triggered my fear. One time, there was a lady coughing in the fruit market. I totally flipped out.
I don’t want it to be like that, so I’m trying to make other choices. Today when I prepared for my trip to the grocery store, I pocketed my mask, my gloves, my hand sanitizer, and a heart full of loving compassion.
Picking up the coffee and eggs and (yes!) toilet paper, I decided to see the other shoppers not as threats or enemies but as the human beings who they are. All of us – together – are navigating these strange and scary times. All of us are in need of more love, more connection and more tolerance than ever.
I encountered dozens of people walking up and down the store aisles. My attention strayed from my shopping list to each of them. Spontaneously I began to say silently to each person I encountered, “May you be healthy and well.” “May you be healthy and well.” “May you be healthy and well.”
Almost instantly, joy, peace and ease took their rightful places in my mind and heart. Love won the day, and fear was nowhere to be found. .
So simple. So powerful. So easy to forget. So mercifully beautiful to remember.
May you be healthy and well. May you be at ease. May you know peace.
Here you'll find some of my thoughts about communication, contemplation, yoga, life and various other topics. Thanks for giving them a read.