This morning, like almost every other morning since the middle of March, I enjoyed practicing yoga with my dear friend, Kathy. Right now, we are meeting via ZOOM, and recording the videos for her YMCA classes. It does not appear likely that our (mostly senior) students are going to be Studio B any time soon.
Amelia Vogler, Executive Director of HTPA (Healing Touch Professional Association), sent the membership an email message today which included a link to “When Life Is Good Again” which was premiered exclusively on Entertainment Weekly on the 27th of May, 2020.
Dolly Parton was inspired by the COVID-19 quarantine. She told People of the quarantine in April of 2020, “We will come out on the other side of this, and we’re all going to be better people for it. Take care of each other from afar and continue to send love to your friends, family, and everyone suffering.”
I resist grasping at social-distancing being necessary for so long that it no longer feels odd. I resist clinging to the ease of hugging those I want to hug when I want to hug them, meeting for hours of sharing over tea, having a house filled with musicians, and doing jigsaw puzzles with friends.
Dolly’s last stanza says is all:
God’s the reason for all things
You want rainbows, you get rain
We’ll all be forever changed (Forever changed)
I’ll sell my boat and fly my kite
Walk in the park, go out at night
And hold my loved ones extra tight
When everything is on the mend
I’ll even drink with my old friends
Sing and play my mandolin
We’ll make it through this long dark night
Darkness fades when faced with light
But everything’s gonna be alright
When life is good again
The next email message I opened was Alan Seale’s weekly newsletter, also dated May 27, 2020. Forwarded by my friend, Roann Altman, moving home today after having spent these past couple of months quarantined with a friend with cancer. Roann’s friend, Richard, transitioned this week. In the newsletter, Alan quotes Etty Hillesum, a Jewish diarist who lived in Amsterdam and died in Auschwitz in 1943.
Through me course wide rivers
and in me rise tall mountains.
And beyond the thickets
of my agitation and confusion
there stretch the wide plains of my
peace and surrender.
All landscapes are within me.
And there is room for everything.
Yes, there is room for everythingin your heart at this time….
This week is the anniversary of my mom’s transition. May 20 is also the date Ursel, the former owner of our home, passed, as well as the date Ursel purchased the home 33 years earlier. Both Ursel and my mom had their funeral/celebration of life on May 23. (See the Sacred Story: May 20).
My mom passed in 2003. That was also Memorial Day weekend. No picnics, no parties, no plans this year.
I am choosing to find ways to enjoy the moments.
The leaves have come out this week! Scrumptius spring greens are silouetted against the sky.
I continue to wear a mask when I go for a bike ride. I do not feel a need for a mask when I am out-of-doors doing activities on my own, but it is an important reminder.
Yesterday I made some more no-sew masks, as it looks like social-distancing and safe-sheltering is going to be with us for a while longer. Let me know if you want a couple of easy patterns. One is made from a sock, and another is made from a sleeve. Stretchy fabrics are preferred….
One of my mask-enhancements (inspired by a Dharma friend) is a photo of my smile! It is a black and white printer-quality paper print that I colored with crayons. Quickest teeth-whitening ever! I used clear packing tape to cover both sides and to adhere it to my sock mask.
Ageless in this Moment Debra Basham May 22, 2020 (WC 250)
Hiking in the western US for the first time we were
stepping on rock beneath our feet instead of soil
nothing seemed familiar except the sun overhead
A small pool of water caught the sun’s light
and I kneeled down to take a closer look
myriad life forms were swimming together
Precious life-giving water is at a premium here
nature taking full advantage of resources
as they present themselves
This modest puddle is teeming with activity
but I feel like a voyeur as
I silently watch closely in awe
Tiny minnow-like swimmers
unnamed bugs skating on the water’s smooth surface
a small lizard lounging
In the distance I hear others approaching
I notice a sudden feeling of protectiveness
hoping those coming along will also be mindful
A young girl—perhaps six or seven
wordlessly asks permission to join me
we peer together into this pool of possibility
We both have a zillion questions but
only our eyes give hint to the intellectual activity
our lips remain still as we keep vigil
She is motioned to rejoin the others
reluctantly she leaves our shared perch
glancing over her shoulder as she obeys
Many times I’ve abandoned my delight
when beckoned by some outer call
wishing I had been able to stay where I was enjoying myself
I am no longer I but she and all children and adults who can remain ageless in this moment in time and space if we take full advantage of the resources as they present themselves
When you are in complete alignment
with your authentic self,
you will attract everything
you desire in life.
~Brahma Kumaris
Last week I heard again the message from Aaron, “If you were not ready, you would not have taken birth at this time…. You did not come to fail…. Are ready to trust your heritage as deeply loving?…. You cannot fully express light until you live in darkness…. You and the earth are inseparable…. Be a lamp until yourselves…. It takes your human vibration to co-create the future earth…. You are ready…. You are not alone.”
I have been living in the darkness. I confess to have been struggling with Stacey’s choice to continue to move about during the pandemic. I opened my journal and let myself be honest: I did not agree and I was mad. In Heart of the Soul, Gary Zukav, encourages us to continue again and again to challenge our anger. First comes the pain, then the fear—the terror of realizing you cannot control all that you feel is essential to your safety and well-being.
I was making dinner when I looked out on our front porch and saw John and the guy who does maintenance here on our home for us shoulder-to-shoulder with one another! I shot across the great room like a stone out of a slingshot, flug the storm door open, and yelled at them both through gritted teeth: “What the hell are you two thinking? Kissing distance is not social distancing!” It was awkward, painful, embarrassing, and maddening. For all of us.
It got more painful when Stacey called and asked me how it was going. I shared the experience and felt the pain of the gaping whole in both of our hearts when she asked me what it would take for me to be willing to risk her dad’s being with someone. I told her I was mad at her. I asked her what she would be willing to do to help keep her dad safe. We both cried—the distance between personal viewpoints was a lot wider than six feet.
The following morning I again wrote in my journal: Some awkward exchange with Stacey about COVID-19. What would you have me know?
V: Fear is fear, Dear One. Your fear is not helping you. What are you afraid of?
D: Being on a vent! Being ill in a hospital without my friends and family. Dying in fear.
V: It is any worse to die in fear than to live in fear? No one is ever alone. You are giving up so much false belief.
Later that evening, playing ZOOM dominoes with good friends, I tearfully confessed that while extra caution is warranted because of John’s comorbidity risk factors (diabetes, hypertension, and on steroids for Polymyalgia), the anger was covering up my fear. Fear which had been my companion for a long time: I was hospitalized in isolation diagnosed with polio at age five, and I experienced post-surgical complications and ended up in the cardiac intensive care unit due to aFib related to having had a nasal gastric tube in 2012.
It has been such a tender process, realizing we are incapable of fully expressing light until we live in darkness, but I am willing to trust our true heritage.
This message came with Darshan yesterday (Darshan is an opportunity or occasion of seeing a holy person or the image of a deity):
You are so radiant. So beautiful. I am saying this to the one present before me, but to all of you. You are all radiant and beautiful and I love you. Sometimes your forget how beautiful you are. Imagine a very lovely silver pitcher — radiant. But here is a spot of tarnish (just a little one). Does this make the pitcher any less? When it is appropriate, it can be polished a bit, but the form of the pitcher and the radiance and the quality of the water that the pitcher holds is not diminished by the spot of tarnish. And, remember that when you get that spot cleared off, you are go to say, “It’s perfect. NO…. there’s another one!” So relax. Focus instead on the radiance of the entire pitcher, the entire being that you are — mind, body, and spirit — with great appreciation. Pride is not going to come up and destroy your radiance. You’re past that. Now is a time for relaxing and cherishing. I love you.
Deep Spring Center
Thought for Today
Watch what pulls you out of balance and
add what’s needed to bring you back again.
This is a dance which you learn,
swaying to the movement of the winds of the world,
deeply rooted in your true being.
This essence of being knows what is needed.
Trust this innate wisdom and goodness in yourself.
Trust that which I call the angel.
~Aaron
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The rhythm of this social-isolation is having it’s way with me. Today is Friday. Meditation with a handful of others via ZOOM, at 6:30 am, then ZOOM yoga with Kathy at 7:45. My fingers on the keyboard now, writing with the Southern Circle of Poets, who will meet at 11:15 to share—also on ZOOM!
I find myself wondering what the metaphor of a platform called ZOOM has to say about this time of virtual living when I feel like both Frodo and Gandalf….
This is the current view out my front window.
This morning’s musing:
Life is moving from the inside out
Paying attention to an inner sense
Dancing to music unheard that blows through the breeze and falls on some deaf ears
Birds fly overhead, beads adorn our bodies, beach glass lands at our feet
I dreamed of breathing under water
Gold chains; rubies, emeralds, sapphire
Adorned with abundance and beauty
Moments rise up and move out into the world
Each day Anne Frank’s spirit reminds me she
Endured safe-sheltering for over 700 days
Khanti—one of the paramitas—the mixture of endurance and perseverance
To keep going (out of love) even though things are uncomfortable or difficult
“The flower is always the bud’s undoing”
Each new day evidence that the previous is no more
No more do we cling, it is futile to hold onto the illusion
It is now our true nature to surrender
Surrender to the way things are without abandoning the dreams planted in the heart
Holding him in my arms for the very first time, whispering a made-up name
“I am your Gammie”
I went kicking and screaming into grandparenthood
At 39, too young to be a grandmother
Too busy to take on another
Role
But the role fell away as I held you
Watching your beautiful face
Feeling your breath
Smelling you
30 years
Now watching you from a distance
Recalling your breath
Imagining the fragrance of your being
I am your Gammie; a role I find much peace in
The bud is being undone yet again all of our roles dissipate like dew in the morning sun
The Bud’s Undoing Debra Basham 05-15-2020 (WC 260)
I had some text exchange with my firstborn grandchild, Brad, sharing emotional reactions and perceptions of the current conditions. Some we love dearly entertain the notion that COVID-19 is a conspiracy. I shared with him a recent writing:
Daily Doula Duty
My book, I Learned Everything I Needed to Know About Life Working as a Doula, is not yet written, but the awareness is etched into my days nonetheless. The last trimester of pregnancy is no picnic. Sleep is illusive as pressure on the bladder likely means many trips to the bathroom. The rapidly growing fetus works hard to finds comfortable place to stretch out in the tight quarters—often right on the mom’s sciatic nerve. Back pain, leg cramps…. Perhaps all of this is preparation.
Most women go into labor exhausted, and after that there will be long days and short nights of having an infant to care for.
The job of the doula is to coach the woman into conserving what precious little energy she has. She is going to need it.
No matter how long or how difficult the labor, the hardest work comes after the cervix is dilated¬—in the second stage of labor.
The second stage of labor is when the woman really needs stamina. And stamina takes energy.
One of my clients had to be put on oxygen to be able to push. Not only was she exhausted, she also had bronchitis.
My sister delivered her youngest just as intestinal flu was ramping through her family of five, the normal work of laboring was clearly distorted by the accompanying vomiting and diarrhea.
The human mind is very prone to vomiting and diarrhea….
When all is said and done, we may be among the fortunate ones to have survived the pandemic of 2020. Suffice it to say, humanity as a whole is likely going into the second stage of labor exhausted.
High-powered executives confessed to hoping for a scheduled cesarean delivery….
It is important to conserve our energy. We don’t know what more is going to be demanded of us.
Bonnie’s daughter is celebrating Mother’s Day this year having just lost her mom to COVID-19. There was no access to the hospital. No visitation or funeral. She writes: “I am going to go pack up some of her things on Sunday. I have some other ideas to share some special moments with her, too. I feel her a lot. It almost feels like she’s not gone because she is around so much. Meaning I don’t miss her physical presence (as much) because her spirit is so strong.”
The second stage of labor can last a few moments or a few hours.
Take heart: the second stage of labor means the cervix has already dilated.
Your body, your mind, and your spirit can do what is being asked of it.
Key awareness at this point: Don’t be a prisoner to what you cannot change.
• Remember this is not your birth
• Remember to rest when you can
• Remember to breathe through contractions
• Remember you are not the first or the only to go through this
• Remember everything you have done to be ready
• Remember getting through this is the most important thing
• Remember you will forget the pain
Debra Basham 05-08-2020 (WC 500)
Brad responded, “Is this some ninja level NLPing?”
Zan Lombardo, my friend and artist extraordinaire, was doing some creative mending during our Southern Circle Poets virtual gathering. On the shirt in the photo below, what seems to be a pendant, is actually where a moth hole was. The turquoise is a random doodled line that Zan stitched.
The observer’s perspective is both caring and disinterested, free of attachment, neither fearing nor desiring a specific outcome, but wanting only what is usually called the Highest Good for all. That doesn’t mean they have given up playing an active role in causes and activities they think are beneficial. It just means that they do so from a more peaceful and less judgmental perspective.
Old doors close
so new ones can open.
Don’t get stuck on what
fell apart just because it hurts.
Transformation requires
growth and letting go.
~Brahma Kumaris Thought for Today
My friend, Kathy, lost her husband on January 18, 2020. She had been his care-giver. Their home was visited almost daily by friends and a devoted team of home-care and hospice-care helpers. For weeks now, she and their dog and cat are there. The pandemic means EVERYTHING social is lost. It hurts.
Yesterday was to have been the college graduation ceremony of our only granddaughter, Courtney Nicole Ross. All face-to-face classes at UTC went online Monday, March 23, and for the remainder of the spring 2020 semester. Courtney is the first female college graduate in my line. With all A’s and B’s, she has graduated, but the ceremony and our family gathering together to celebrate as we watched her walk in her cap and gown did not happen. It hurts.
My client/friend/colleague, Bonnie, passed away from COVID-19 in a hospital—a hospital her family was not allowed to enter. I had to decline an invitation to come offer a brief ceremony at the funeral home or cemetery, saying, “Let’s wait and honor her Celebration of Life when we can be together.” It hurts.
In May of 2003, my mom was nearing the completion of her transition. I was finally alone with her for a few moments. I began to spontaneously sing (badly) a made-up song, “Momma’s gonna get a brand new pair of wings, fly, Momma, fly….”
A social worker walked in and, embarrassed, I stopped singing.
The social worker softly whispered, “Please, go on….”
I continued to sing until I felt my mom’s center of gravity shift from her material body to her energy body. My mom’s face softened into a beautiful shade of pink as she relaxed into her wings.
Moments later my sister and her son and daughter-in-law and their young son returned from having gone to get something to eat. I knew it was OK for me to leave. It hurts.
Soon after, my sister was alone with our mom. My sister said, “Mom, I would really like to be with you as you cross. If you want me to be with you, it is time, because I am very tired and I need to go home soon.”
Three minutes later, our mom was soaring with her brand new pair of wings.
Old doors do close so new ones can open. We don’t have to get stuck on what fell apart just because it hurts. The transformation of humanity and our soaring with new wings requires growth and letting go.
I found myself singing another ditty about flying with new wings while I was out riding my bike wearing my mask.
I sent the voice memo titled “My Bonnie” to Bonnie’s daughter, Melody.
It makes me laugh because my Bonnie had a semi-professional singing voice!
Today is May Day.
It is a day to hang flowers
on the door of someone you love.
In 1886, more than 300,000 workers walked off their jobs demanding 13,000 businesses honor an 8-hour work day on May Day.
We know the value of doing something that benefits another. And we value doing what benefits us. Making May Day 2020 a Mask Day is a way of doing both.
The Task of the Mask
Beneath the mask, beyond the persona,
beside your humanity is your true divine nature
My friend died last week
she went into the hospital with acute pancreatitis
Her final ride home was on the coronavirus
People keep asking
if the masks are necessary
They think they
or the ones they love to touch
Are surely free from COVID-19
Another friend wore her mask
while the plumber came to plumb
But she did not ask him to
protect her from his exposure
I once hit a dog, driving home in the dark
Would that plumber sadly feel
remorse—a lifetime of guilt
Were he without malice aforethought
to have left the grim reaper running amok?
He thought he came to help
One simple “No,” fueled by true compassion
is an act of wisdom and kindness for all
I said “No,” when asked if I would consider
coming to the cemetery or funeral home
Doing a short ceremony for my beloved friend
“Let’s wait and do a memorial together,
really honoring her”
Let’s wait
Let’s not waste a moment
Each time you act from wisdom
and compassion
You are revealing your divinity
Debra Basham May 1, 2020 (WC 190)
We may not be able to hang flowers in person on the door of every person we love today, but we can make this May Day a Make-a-Mask day.
Making a no-sew sock mask is easy!
Let me know if you would like to see the little video instructions.
Is the task of the mask necessary? You can bet your sweet life on it….
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.
Up way before the first bird sings a song of the light soon coming, I wonder if it is breaking the noble silence to have my fingers on the keyboard writing to you while I am still on retreat. The lines are blurry at this retreat. It is being held on ZOOM and people are not just sheltering-in-place, now they are also retreating-in-place. Our meditation hall is a photo on my computer, using “share screen” on ZOOM.
So many of the benefits are here; being with others dedicated to the practice, clear seeing into habitual tendencies, helpful instruction, and deep dharma talks. I am so grateful we are instructed to see everything though the eyes of LOVE.
I do miss really some aspects of a residential retreat: having meals prepared, hearing others cough or breathe or chant or cry, and the walk to and from the meditation hall in the stillness of the darkness.
COVID-19 has certainly brought a lot of changes….
I will save more personal reflections until after the retreat ends and be content now sharing some highlights of the teachings:
1. Rejoicing in the good efforts of others is the easiest way to contentment. (This is usually thought of as rejoicing in the good fortune of others, but one student learned to use this principle related to the good efforts of others. I liked that a lot.)
2. The only way we can resolve habit patterns of mind is to experience them.
3. This pain is bearable, but there is still aversion. Think, “Ahhh, I can have compassion for this human.” Notice what this aversion feels like in your body. Is is hot? Icy? You can bring compassion to these sensations.
4. In the depth of wisdom and compassion, there is no grasping or aversion, just space for the experiences of pleasant or unpleasant or neutral.
5. Is there anything here that is not an expression of the unconditioned? (God / Source / All That Is)
6. To give and receive love means to release the ego enough that there is little distinction between self and others. From your profound intention to alleviate suffering for all beings, cherish yourself and all equally.
7. Story of Jeshua as a child having hit a bird with a slingshot. The intention was not to hit the bird but to hit the target. The bird was bleeding. The subtle thought, “I am bad. I am evil.” His mother guiding him to forgive himself and to forgive the bird for being where it was able to be hit. Offering the bird forgiveness for having eaten a worm. He took the bird into his small hands, “Cherishing the bird and cherishing myself.” In a few moments, the bird shook itself, looked at Jeshua, and then flew away. Jesuhua said, “I don’t know why the bird lived. Perhaps it lived because I reminded it it was loved and the world needed it….”
I hear the first bird singing outside my window now. You have time. Drop your old beliefs about self and others. All are loved. The world needs all.
Mourning doves puff up as they sit on the white-blanketed ground.
Hunkered down, they seem to know this is not a time to search.
The sun and warmth will return. Most likely, sooner rather than later.
Another friend hospitalized with the virus.
Some continue to wonder why this is such a big deal.
Like the doves, I am hunkered down. I, too, have stopped searching.
I follow my breath in daily yoga. My teacher, friend, colleague buried her husband in January. Still the snow falls.
Song lyrics, “Why do the birds go on singing? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?”
But it is not.
Spring snow showers are evidence it is spring.
What will I remember most about this time? I will remember the precious moments of connection.
Pimpled-faced youth, watching my masked face from behind the storm door. Setting the pizza boxes down, taking the dollars I had left in the plastic container that my favorite gum comes in. “Stay safe,” he says, walking back down the porch steps and heading to his car. I hope people are generous to him.
We have been pizza hungry. Usually our last meal on Pine Island is a good-bye dinner at Ragged Ass with friend Nancy, who stays behind, returning to Michigan sometime around Mother’s Day.
I carefully wrapped the left-overs in two separate packages and place them in the freezer.
Likely, we will be hungry for pizza again before this is over.
I hope I will remember how grateful I feel about so many things. Grateful the dishwasher now both fills and empties. Grateful the washing machine does not leak. Grateful water is no longer dripping from the bottom of the water heater.
Soon, I hope, I will be grateful the toilet in the guest bath can be flushed without having to turn the water off down at the floor to prevent it from continuing to run.
Already grateful for the precious commodities that get delivered to my porch. Easter dinner, daffodils, tea ordered from Target, and a sewing machine (with fabric and elastic). I will begin sewing masks.
I may remember those who survived the virus, and individuals who did not. Both contribute to our well-being. Each is helping this virus find the sweet spot, where parasite and host co-exist.
Meditation and prayer, yoga, chanting, writing, and ZOOMING — witnessing it all — everything helping us to find the sweet spot, where fear and frustration co-exist with hope and trust.
Spring snow showers are short-lived….
Many of you will find the Easter Message with Jeshua (channeled by Barbara Brodsky) uplifting, so I am sharing it with all.
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