a quote to make it through a tuesday


exupery was a genius. obviously. his “le petit prince” will always be my favorite novel. scores of my former french students will tell you i was (and am) completely obsessed with that book.

but this quote from exupery is further proof of his ingenuity. and he’s not the first person to come up with this (see ecclesiastes, teachings of Jesus, shakespeare and scores of other people who lived without dualistic thinking).

on a good day, i can join them. i can see the world with equanimity: the ability to see situations simply as they are, without judgement.

today, we are waiting with baited breath for news about an important, program changing grant. and all morning, i can barely stand it. i have no idea when we’ll hear, but my heart can only think in terms of good or bad.

for the next few minutes, i’ll try to remember that “life may grow from it,” no matter what.

at the last minute


i am never sure when hope will show up. it is almost always late to whatever catastrophe has come. it sneaks in, subversively and then peaks its head up just when you thought it was all over.

this morning, we talked about subversive in our storytelling class. we talked about how sometimes everything looks dire, but really, under the surface, there are pieces moving and things happening. these paths to denouement are usually things we could never have dreamed or imagined.

this morning, my homeschooler french class discovered this treasure in the garden. we went out to talk about “Le Printemps” because of course Spring is springing all around.

the flowers are scattered through the garden generously in violets, reds, yellows, and splashes of white. but this tiny blue egg, well within our sight was a burst of hope in a world where sometimes everything seems grey.

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tell ’em the cutie pie sentcha!

Do some good today!

in the interest of full disclosure

too many times, we are afraid to step out because the unknown is far more risky than the places we’ve already been.  we might think we’re safer, but the truth is safety is an illusion.

i watched the half time show last night of the super bowl, and while i think Katy Perry’s songs are as catchy as the next person, i found myself a little heartbroken inside.  all i could think about was the hunger games.

the movies, the books, whatever.  if you haven’t read/seen them, you should remedy it immediately.  it may be juvenile fiction, but the lessons and metaphors are profound.

last night, katy perry dancing with golden eyeliner and sparkled shoes was not unlike katniss everdeen dressed up before the cameras.   the largest human trafficking event of the year happens in the shadows of dancing sharks and defense teams punching the opposition.  katniss everdeen eats well at the capital knowing that her family back in district 12 is starving without her to hunt for them.

but most of us gathered around the screens, puppy bowls, nachos, buffalo wings, fed and happy to be hanging out with friends at this traditional display of good ole fashioned american fun.

but what would happen if we cared more about injustice than we did about filling ourselves?  what mountains might be moved by our unwillingness to be silent on the devastating realities of our day and time?

martin luther king, jr said “a threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

i feel overwhelmed by that thought sometimes.  as though i cannot imagine doing enough to make a real difference and so it would be better to do nothing.

which brings me back to the place i started:  we cannot imagine what might happen if we step out.  we must risk ourselves and our illusions of safety to do what is daring, bold, vulnerable, and probably appears foolish on one level or another.

so, what will i do today?  i started with this blog that i am often too afraid to write for fear of upsetting people.  next, i will be advocating for my refugee friends who need work and who need champions on their sides.

how about you?  what are you willing to risk today?

ps. if you’re unfamiliar with the issue of human trafficking, consider visiting https://secure.enditmovement.com/#enditmovement to learn more and take action.

waiting and forgiveness

Advent always reminds me of forgiveness.

when i think about how this time of year, i feel like vacillating between extreme emotions (complete, total elation and despair), i wonder what it is that sends us on an emotional roller coaster through what should be a time of peace, love, and goodwill towards humanity.

i could be wrong, but i think it is about forgiveness. i think it’s because we come to this time of year afraid that all of our past failures of the year, all of our wounds, all of the places we are afraid for anyone to know about, will suddenly pop up on the hallmark channel during a Christmas movie special.

this week, while talking to the sewing artisans, again i heard them say that there is no forgiveness for terrorists. the bad was too bad to forgive.

and i understand. not completely because i’ve never been worried that my parents were going to be hit by a bomb on the way to the grocery store. but we all understand some level of grief and pain if we’re honest.

but if there’s no forgiveness for that kind of bad, there’s no forgiveness for my kind of bad. and if i believe that hating my brother is the same as murder, then i am as guilty as they are.

we approach this season of giving with a mindset that it is our job to give freely. and it is in some sense.

but what if today, we chose to give a little forgiveness. forgive ourselves for not doing, being, behaving perfectly. forgive each other for the same. and forgive the world for being the broken place that it is. and forgive ourselves because we cannot fix it completely.

in the freedom of forgiveness, we might find space to make tiny changes with great love that will, as Mother Theresa said, change the world.

dreaming may be the business of fools . . .

i meet their gazes, one by one. they are afraid to look me in the eye because i am crying. i’m not a pretty crier, if such a thing exists. my eyes get huge and red and swollen, i can’t speak clearly and my mouth makes an odd contorted shape as i try to squeak out my thoughts anyway.

brené brown says there is magic in vulnerability.

i didn’t really believe her. when i meet the gazes of the strongest survivors i know and told them we were growing because the opposite of growing is dying, that i couldn’t let the darkness win, they each surrendered. all their defenses melted away.

they cried too. after so many years of the darkness beating at their windows and doors, demanding they keep quiet, it is hard to imagine a place where the darkness wouldn’t win. while their homelands and family members are ripped apart by terrorists and people who have lost complete touch with even the most basic tenets of humanity, they sit empty handed waiting, not believing anything matters.

but the light is winning, in their little studio, their creativity is marching forward, boldly into the place where their past traumas become transformed into compelling compassion and wisdom. they are women of substance and they are dreaming.

and i am the chief among fools to have the privilege of dreaming alongside of them.